littlelamy

[littlelamy]

title: he catches you at a party

warnings: 18+, language, angst, part 1 part 2 part 3

you down another shot, the burn sharp on your tongue, making you a little tipsy. jj’s eyes glint under the pink and red haze, cocky and amused as he watches you. he swipes his tongue over his lip, chasing a stray drop of tequila.

“damn, princess....almost forgot you know how to have fun.”

you roll your eyes but take his hand anyway, pulling him onto the dance floor. it’s messy, probably but exactly what you need. his grip tightens on your hips, drawing you against him, moving in sync like this isn’t the first time. his breath is hot at your ear, saying something really dirty, but you don’t hear it—

because the air shifts.

you feel it before you see it, that heavy weight settling over you, pinning you in place.

rafe.

you don’t stop. if anything, you press closer to jj, tilting your head back just enough to let him mouth at your neck, let his fingers dig in a little harder. let rafe watch.

and he does. for about three seconds before all hell breaks loose.

one minute, jj’s laughing against your skin, the next he’s on the floor, lip split open, blinking up at the ceiling with wide, shocked eyes. it happens so fast you barely register rafe’s fist still clenched, his chest heaving, his face twisted in pure rage. he doesn’t even glance at jj before his hand is wrapping around your wrist, yanking you toward the exit.

“what the fuck, rafe?” you spit, struggling against his grip, but he doesn’t let go, dragging you outside and into the cool night air.

he shoves a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“what the fuck am i doing?” you laugh, shaking your head. “i should be asking you that! you lost your damn mind?”

his jaw clenches, muscles jumping as he swallows hard. “weeks, baby. weeks away from you, and i—I don’t know how to fucking breathe without you.” his voice cracks on the last word, something raw in his eyes. “i was a complete fucking idiot. i fucked up. i don’t deserve you, i know that. and if you never want me again, i—”

the bitch starts crying.

actual tears glisten in his stormy blue eyes, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but knows he can’t. “but i can’t stand seeing you with him. with anyone that isn’t me.”

something in your chest squeezes, but you shove it down, clenching your fists at your sides. “good.” and then, before he can say another word or sink his claws into you again—

smack.

his head snaps to the side, jaw tightening, a slow exhale leaving his lips as he blinks hard. you’re breathing heavy, nostrils flaring, fists still clenched at your sides. then—

you grab his face, fingers pressing into his jaw as you yank him forward, slamming your mouth against his.

it’s fire, it’s so so wrong and it’s everything you swore you wouldn’t do, but fuck it. for a second, just a second, you let yourself drown in it—the way his lips part for you, the way his hands instinctively find your waist, the way he whimpers into your mouth like he’s starving for you.

you pull back and slap him again, harder this time.

his eyes snap open, breath ragged, lips swollen, with a dazed, hungry look on his face.

“stay the fuck away from me,” you spit, turning on your heel, walking back inside without another glance.

rafe just stands there, jaw ticking, watching you disappear into the crowd, already thinking of how the fuck he’s going to get you back.

tags (lmk if you want to be removed): @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

[littlelamy]

supposed to be taking a break but I had to reblog this masterpiece

Dirty Little Secret 𐙚₊˚⊹

Paramour!Rafe Cameron x Married!Reader

warnings: smut. spit-play. impact play. choking. degradation. dumbification? infidelity (not on reader). slight age gap (reader is early 20s / rafe is mid 20s). slight angst on rafe’s end.

a/n: im sorry but Rafe would def be my side piece, don’t lie you know you get it.

········ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆ ········

She should feel guilty.

She should be swearing to never see him again. To be a faithful wife to her husband and give him the loyalty he deserves. He’s truly a good man — she should feel so many disgusting emotions that leave her wrecked.

But the only thing she feels inside her, is the brain-numbing pleasure and intoxicating desire that being around her lover brings.

What he gives to her, over and over again without any hesitation.

Rafe Cameron is everything she desires in a man.

Powerful, affluent, domineering — intoxicatingly handsome.

A menacing air of influence constantly swirling around him as he swaggers through life with an unmatched aura of assertiveness. And she knew that the moment they locked eyes that first night, her whole world, everything she knew — would be set ablaze.

She’d settled down too young. Too quickly. Too blinded by the idea of love and stability her husband was quick to offer her. Too enticed by the idea of living in luxury and getting far away from a place she felt was a dead-end.

Her husband was a good guy. Handsome, fit, in her age range. A trust fund, baby who fell in love with the dancer he met on vacation. Completely infatuated with her captivating beauty and the need to give her a life away from the club scene.

So he promised her a life of grandeur, mumbling sweet nothings of ‘you don’t need this anymore. I’ll give you whatever you want, just come back home with me. Marry me.’ He’d murmured to her— too wrapped up in her, in the sheets of the hotel room he was staying in.

And she did marry him.

It was a ticket out. A ticket to the taste of a lifestyle she desired for herself. So, she let herself fall for him and she went with him. All the way from home and settled into Kildare. The perfect trophy wife with the perfect life.

He gave her everything she wanted, whatever she needed. All to easily with a bat of her lashes and a pout on those lush lips. Whatever she wanted, her husband provided.

Until that wasn’t enough anymore. He wasn’t enough.

Because when she met Rafe, she’d realized the heavy weight of the opulent diamond ring on her finger. Feeling like a shackle tying her to a man and a life she doesn’t know she wants anymore. At least not with the man she calls her husband.

Rafe Cameron had swept her off her feet with ease. Catching her in his line of sight during a gathering, at the island club on Figure 8. Watching the sweet, little trophy wife getting tugged around like a show pony and hanging off the arm of his long-time friend.

Brandon’s pride and joy. His perfect wife, who he catered the world to.

All tight-fitting clothing, stratospheric heels, sultry smiles and gazes — behind sensually done up, lips and eyes. Decadent glitz and glamour that he knows doesn’t belong to this island.

She stood out like a sore thumb. Nothing like the Figure 8 Divas’ or the Pogue Princesses’ he’d been accustomed too. No.

He wanted her, wanted a taste.

Like a child envious of their friend getting a better toy.

A ring on her finger he could easily replace and a weak display of ownership wasn’t going to stop him. And when they caught each other’s gazes for the first time— he knew then and there. They’d end up tangled within each other, one way or another.

He’d make sure of it.

It didn’t take much to he corner her in an empty hall at the gathering; trapping her against the wall and his brick of a body. His darkened gaze staring into her flustered eyes. His lips twisted in a sick, smirk as he dominated her presence with ease. He’d known his hook had sunk in when her faux-lashes fluttered at his lips grazing lightly against her jaw, landing against her ear with a whispered ‘you ever need anything — come find me, minx.’ Slipping his business card in her hand.

He bit the lobe of her ear softly next to her diamond stud, before pulling back and excusing himself with a quick pinch to her chin. A soft threat of ‘don’t make me come find you’ falling from his lips before he excused himself with a triumphant smirk. Leaving her trembling and confused against the wall, inner thighs soaked through her lace panties as she struggled to catch her breath.

It didn’t take long for her to seek him out. Thoughts twisting in her mind at how terrible it’d be. Being unfaithful to a man so good to her. But her desire to uncover the enigma that Rafe was, overweighed everything.

She felt weak, he made her feel weak.

Because after that fateful night she found herself calling him, listening to him when he told her over the line he’d known she would call him. Telling her to come to him. She’d ended up at the front doors of Tannyhill and being welcomed into a whole new world.

One she never wanted to leave, and he doesn’t think he’ll let her.

That’s why she finds herself tangled in his sheets whenever her husband’s gone. Or giving excuses to her absence with small lies of ‘meeting up some girls at the island club’ or ‘going to the beach.’ Making herself scarce in her husband’s life as she fell hard, and deep into Rafe Cameron’s world.

She doesn’t think she’d have it any other way. Especially not with the way he leaves her legs shaking, body quivering and head fucked out — every moment he gets his hands on her.

Tonight is no different.

“He doesn’t know, huh?” Rafe said with twisted, glee layered in his voice. His large hands running up the smooth expanse of her damp back. Taking in her beautiful complexion that he yearns to mark up.

She never lets him.

Only giving him small pieces of herself before she leaves him and goes back to her happy life. The one he’s determined to wreck. Anguished every time he finds her wrapped up in her husband, leaving him wounded and lonely every time she leaves him.

“Doesn’t know that his wife is my stupid, little fucktoy, huh? That she begs me to ruin this sloppy, little cunt any chance she gets?” He mocked, his weight pressing against. Hips flush against her ass as she whines and moans into his ruined sheets.

Gripping them and almost tearing into them with her manicured nails. Her makeup ruined and staining them along with arousal. Whining at his words as she feels the guilt settle in her chest. “Oh, don’t start whining,” he started, bringing his large palm and landing it on her ass with a sickening smack. Watching the skin jiggle under his movements as he grinds his soaked dick into her messier cunt.

His paradise is right in between her plush thighs.

He’s feeling mean tonight. He wants her to understand. Wants her to feel the affliction she cast upon him with the way she disregards him. Leaves him yearning for her.

“You know it, you fucking know you belong to me.” He said with conviction in his voice, leaning his body over her arched one as he lands a hand next to her face and the other wrestles her arm to lay right against her back. “You know that, you’ll always come back to me. I’m the only one who knows how to shut that little brain off and get this pussy fucking, right.” His voice was gruff, desire and hurt etched in every syllable that dripped from his lips.

Like stings of passion that burn her and scar her. Marking her as his and less as her husband’s with everyday that passes.

“That fucking bitch —doesn’t know you like I do, alright? The only thing he did right was getting to you first and bringing you right to me.” He sneered, moving his hips once more and starting up the rhythm that left her ruining his expensive sheets. “Doesn’t matter, I’m going to make sure you end up right where you belong.” His hips were digging into her now, loud squelches filling the room as their bodies met once in that beautiful dance of pleasure —only they seem to know how to offer each other.

“One day,” Rafe started up again after a long, drawn groan. Bringing his hand to grip her hair at the base of her skull. Tugging harshly till she was looking up at him, watching with satisfaction as her tear-filled eyes landed on him. Pretty face contorted in ecstasy at the way he was plowing into her. Their mixed arousal dripping beneath and puddling in a sloppy mess on the sheets.

“One, fucking day —m’gonna make sure he catches us. Gonna show him who’s bitch, you are.” He was so mean. So ready to use that guilt she had built inside her to his advantage, knowing she would argue and fight back against him. Whines of refusal falling from her swollen lips as her brows furrowed at him.

“Shut up,” his voice was gruff, bringing his free hand to grip her jaw as his torso stood up straight. Her hand coming to lay flat against the headboard, nails scratching as her other hand reached back and gripped into his strong thigh, digging her nails in as she struggled to maintain any semblance of stability from his harsh thrust.

“Open,” his voice was full of command. Watching as her gorgeous lips parted and tongue stuck out like his dumb, little puppy. Faux-lashed clumped with tears and makeup falling down her face in messy streaks. Eyes looking up at him like he owned the world. And to her — her did. Her owned her world.

But she wouldn’t let him know that.

Rafe gathered the wetness in his mouth, bringing the hand that was gripping her jaw and wrapping it around her neck harshly. His hand tangled at the base of skull — tugging her harder and forcing her body to bend back deeper. He leaned over, letting the string of spit fall from his lip and land directly onto her waiting tongue. Watching as it dripped down onto her chin.

Spitting harshly against her mouth once more, before bending down and consuming her lips with his own. His tongue dominating her as her nails dug harsher into his thigh and her knees struggled to keep her upright with the way her body was shaking. The only thing keeping her in place, being him. Physically and metaphorically.

When he pulled back, a string of their combined saliva kept them connected, only breaking with he smacked her cheek harshly with the hand that was around her throat and dug his hips harder into her. She could feel him breaking her in, molding himself into her. Pressing against her g-spot and cervix.

Claiming her from the inside.

Rafe wondered how his ‘friend’ would feel knowing his cum burns the woman he calls his wife, from the inside almost everyday. Wonders if Brandon knows he’s licking it out of her when he buries his face inbetween her thighs.

He’s determined to ruin them, ruin what they have.

He’s selfish. A selfish, selfish man. But it’s not like she stops him any way — she’s just as selfish as he is.

He knows eventually this will blow up, they’re getting too comfortable. Too messy. But they don’t care. Because when it all eventually blows up, and Rafe will ensure it does.

He’ll sweep her away and lock her down with a rock of his own. Bigger, better, more expensive. More definitive.

But for now, he bids his time. He can wait.

After all,

He loves being her dirty little secret.

········ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆ ········

a/n: listen … i might even write an alternate sad one where she leaves Rafe all heartbroken and whiny .. we’ll see

taglist: @littlelamy @slut-4-gojo @nemesyaaa @rafesangelita

[littlelamy]

title: birthday sex with your husband

warnings: 18+, smut

notes୧: alexa play 'in da club'

paris still clings to you—on your skin, in your hair, in the way your body feels weightless from champagne and indulgence, like you’ve been sculpted from something finer, softer, made only for pleasure. rafe made sure of that. from the moment you woke up wrapped in silk sheets to the second he dragged you off the private jet, he’s given you everything.

and now, in the sprawling presidential suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, he’s about to give you more.

“birthday girl looks so fucking pretty,” rafe murmurs, voice thick, low, vibrating against your skin as he presses you into the massive bed. the air still smells like roses and sex, like the bottle of wine he ordered before he pulled you onto his lap, lips trailing down your neck while he fed you strawberries, one by one. “been spoiling you all day. hm think i gonna ruin you now.”

his fingers trace your thigh, slow, teasing, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he pushes your legs apart. he doesn’t rush—no, he never rushes, not when he has you like this, spread out for him, waiting, wanting.

“what do you think, birthday girl?” he murmurs, teeth grazing your collarbone, lips soothing the bite with a kiss. “you want me to take my time? or you want it rough?”

you whimper, hips rolling up to meet the teasing stroke of his fingers, already slick, already aching. “rough,” you whisper, breathless.

rafe pulls back just enough to look at you, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “yeah?” his fingers press deeper, teasing, making you writhe. “not very lady-like, is it?” he taunts, smirking as your breath hitches. “but hey, it’s the birthday girl’s choice.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat flooding through you, and you don’t care how desperate you sound when you nod, whimpering, “please, rafe.”

he chuckles, and fuck, it’s sinful, the way he does it, full of dark promise. “gonna need more than that, sweetheart.” his thumb brushes over your clit, featherlight, teasing, making your breath hitch. “use your words.”

“want you,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, legs falling wider as he slides down, kissing a path between your thighs. “need you—need your mouth—”

“that’s my good girl.” his voice is pure sin, all honey and heat, before his tongue replaces his fingers, slow and languid, savoring every moan, every squirm, every desperate pull of his hair as he ruins you with his mouth.

he worships you, the way he always does, but tonight—tonight it’s different. tonight, almost like you’re his birthday gift, and he’s going to unwrap you slowly, thoroughly, until you’re trembling, begging, coming undone beneath him over and over until your body forgets how to do anything but take him.

when he finally slides inside you, stretching you open, filling you to the hilt, his name is the only thing you know how to say, the only thing you can cling to as he fucks you deep, slow at first—just to make you whine, just to hear you plead for more—before his grip tightens and he gives you exactly what you begged for.

hard. deep. devastating.

“mine,” he breathes against your lips, swallowing your moans, rolling his hips just right, hitting every spot that makes you shake. “all fucking mine.”

paris is beautiful, but nothing compares to the way rafe devours you—like you’re the only thing in the world worth celebrating.

edited: going to take a break from this account for a couple days...the last part of catching him cheating is queued for tomorrow around 12 pm! if you need anything ill be on @littlesoulshine <3 as i approach 4k followers i do want to thank every single one of you because i created this account because i was simply in love with rafe and obx and a lot of you have made this community so fun for me and can't thank you enough. i will create a 4k celebration, and on this break, i will finish my requests! OH and please continue to tag me in everything!!!!

tags (lmk if you want to be removed): @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

[littlelamy]

The Race to Love

Reader x Rafe Cameron

Summary: After your best friends race feelings and emotions are revealed.

Part 2 of ‘So You Want a Race?’

Can be read solo

As the sun began to set, it cast a golden glow over the beach, filling the air with a scent only the Outer Banks could offer. It was the kind of evening that made you stop and appreciate the beauty around you. Too bad it was about to be ruined.

I watched as Rafe slipped his helmet on, flashing me a wink that seemed way too confident for someone about to race. I rolled my eyes, but honestly, it didn’t quite match the nervous flutter in my chest. Rafe had already gotten into a heated argument with JJ—of course, the cockiest Pogue of them all. The tension between them was thick, and I couldn’t help but feel that they were both trying to outdo each other, pushing the race into something way more intense than it needed to be.

I knew that as much as I tried to downplay it, I was worried. My heart was already pounding, and with every passing second, the countdown from the announcer only seemed to make it worse. The noise of the engines revving, the crowd’s anticipation—it was all a pressure cooker, and I was stuck right in the middle of it.

And then, with a sudden roar, Rafe revved his dirtbike, his focus sharp. My nerves tightened even more, and I could barely breathe as the seconds ticked down.

Three... two... one...

And just like that, they were off.

Rafe shot forward, his bike kicking up dirt in a cloud behind him. I could barely keep up with the blur of motion, but I knew he was in his element—driven, reckless, and unapologetically determined. The sound of his engine mixed with the chaos around him as he took off, racing JJ like it was personal, like this was more than just a race. I couldn’t help but hold my breath, watching as Rafe expertly maneuvered his bike, dodging obstacles with a reckless abandon only he could pull off.

The race was already a blur of dust and speed. Rafe and JJ were neck and neck, neither willing to give an inch. Every turn, every jump, they pushed harder, faster. I could see the determination in Rafe’s eyes even through the dust cloud that followed him. He was out for blood, or maybe just out to prove something. To himself, to everyone else, and maybe most of all, to JJ.

Rafe’s bike growled beneath him as he expertly navigated the tight turns, his body shifting with the motion of the bike like he’d done this a thousand times before. But JJ wasn’t far behind, taunting him with every move, a grin plastered across his face like he already knew he was going to win. The rivalry between them was palpable, and it only seemed to fuel the fire. My heart raced as I tried to keep my eyes on both of them, watching as they approached the final stretch, the finish line now just in sight.

They were going for it—neither one willing to back down. The finish line was coming up fast, and I knew it was going to be close. Too close. My stomach was in knots as the engines roared, the bikes tearing through the dirt with all the power they had left.

Then, everything happened so fast.

Rafe leaned into a sharp curve, pushing his bike harder than I thought possible. JJ was right there beside him, trying to edge ahead, but they were both too focused, too competitive. I could see it coming, the inevitable clash. They were too close, both of them determined to cross that line first, and they weren’t going to let up.

It happened in a split second—JJ tried to overtake Rafe on the inside, but Rafe, too focused on the finish line, didn’t see him coming. There was a screech of tires, a wild jerk of both bikes as they collided, sending them both flying toward the dirt.

Time seemed to slow as the bikes skidded out of control. I heard the sickening thud of metal against the ground, the screeching of tires as they slid to a stop just inches from the finish line. Dust and debris filled the air, blocking out everything for a moment.

I gasped and rushed forward, my heart pounding as I sprinted toward Rafe. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other Pogues trailing behind, focused on their own. By the time I reached him, he was on all fours, groaning in the sand.

“Rafe, are you okay?” I asked, my voice laced with worry.

His breath was uneven, labored, and he didn’t even acknowledge my question. Instead, he spat a mouthful of sand onto the ground, his eyes narrowed in frustration

He stood up and I followed waiting for his answer only to be given none. Instead he turned his attention to the blonde. “Are you kidding me?” Rafe growled, his voice sharp, laced with that familiar mix of rage and pride.

JJ just laughed, shaking his head, his body still twitching from the crash but refusing to show weakness. “You were too slow, man. Should’ve seen that one coming.”

It was a mess. The race, their egos, everything. But in that moment, I knew one thing for sure—neither of them would back down. Not ever.

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his muscles tensing as he took a step forward, but I quickly stepped in his way and pushed him back. “Rafe, quit it. Let’s just get out of here,” I said, hoping to keep the situation from escalating further.

For a moment, it seemed to work. His eyes locked with mine, and for a split second, I saw that flicker of softness in them. His hand moved instinctively, resting on my waist, and the tension began to ease. Well, at least until JJ had to open his mouth.

“Yeah, listen to Bunny, Rafe! You can’t—” JJ started, but he was quickly cut off as John B slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him back.

Rafe lunged forward, fury in his eyes, but I didn’t hesitate. I stepped in front of him, using every bit of strength I had to push him back.

“Rafe! Please, stop!” I pleaded, my voice trembling. Hearing the tremor in my voice, Rafe froze, his anger still simmering beneath the surface but now his attention redirected entirely at me. He exhaled sharply, his eyes softening just enough. “Shit, I’m sorry, Bunny,” he muttered, his voice low and almost reluctant. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before it landed on my arm.

"Can we please go home?" I asked, letting my hand rest on his chest as it rose and fell with each breath. My eyes scanned his face, noticing the cuts and bruises already forming. He nodded quickly, turning to grab his bike, but I stopped him. "Topper will get it," I said, my voice carrying a firmness that made him hesitate. He looked at me, uncertainty in his eyes, but he nodded anyway. I took his hand, leading him through the chaotic crowd, my focus on getting to his truck.

*:･ﾟ��*:･ﾟ

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the rhythm matching the rapid pace of his thoughts. Without a word, his right hand slid over to my lap, palm up, silently asking for mine. "Bunny?" His voice was quiet, almost fragile, like he wasn’t sure how I would respond.

I glanced over at him. "Hm?"

"Are you upset?" he asked, the question laced with something like vulnerability that I rarely heard from him.

My heart ached at the softness in his tone. I laced our fingers together, squeezing his hand gently. "No, Rafe. I'm not upset. I know how you get when things heat up. I just... I just wish you’d be more careful. I care about you more than you’ll ever know," I said, my voice steady, but with a weight of sincerity that seemed to settle between us.

He glances at me, his voice softer than usual. "I know, Bunny. I’m trying to be better... trying to be better for you." I turn away, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush creeping up my neck. The way he says my name, so earnest, always hits me harder than I want to admit. "I know you are, Rafe," I whisper, barely able to keep my voice steady.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Rafe opens the door, stepping aside to let me enter first. I take his hand and gently guide him toward the kitchen. He leans against the counter, watching me with a mix of confusion and curiosity as I rummage through his drawers, searching for his first aid kit. It doesn’t take long before I find it, and I walk over to him, holding it up.

“I need to clean your cuts,” I tell him, noticing the confused look on his face.

His expression softens, and I climb up onto the counter beside him, giving him a silent gesture to come closer. He steps between my legs, his hands instinctively finding their place at my waist, pulling me a little closer. I don’t miss the smirk that lands on his face.

I gently cup Rafe’s face in my left hand, the roughness of his skin contrasting against the softness of mine, as I grab a towel to clean the cut above his eyebrow. My fingers brush through his buzzed hair, and he lets out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes and resting his head against my chest.

“Rafe!” I laugh softly, nudging him back up by his head.

He just smiles at me, a look in his eyes as if he hasn’t done anything wrong. As I continue to clean and dress his cuts, his gaze doesn’t leave mine. It’s intense, like he’s searching for something hidden beneath the surface, something only I could understand. The air between us thickens, the tension building, heavier than ever.

As I finish cleaning the last of his cuts, I notice Rafe hasn’t broken eye contact once. The weight of his gaze feels different now—more charged, like there's something he's holding back. I finish up, my hands lingering on his skin for a moment longer than necessary. His breath hitches slightly, and I can feel the heat between us rising.

"You're staring at me like that again," I say, trying to brush it off with a teasing tone, but inside, I’m a little nervous. Rafe’s always been intense, but this is different. The usual sharpness in his eyes, the unpredictable edge he carries, is gone. What’s left is something softer. Vulnerable.

He tilts his head slightly, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like he’s trying to hide what he's really feeling. "What? Can't I look at you?" His voice is low, almost too casual, but I know him well enough by now to read the subtle shift.

I laugh nervously, but there's no denying the tension thickening between us. My heart’s racing in my chest, and I can’t decide if I want to pull away or lean into it. "Rafe, what's going on with you?" I finally ask, the words coming out quieter than I expected. "You’re acting weird."

His eyes flicker away for a brief moment, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face before he looks back at me. His usual cocky demeanor is slipping, and for the first time, I see a crack in the mask he wears so well. "I don’t know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what the hell’s going on with me."

I watch his face as I sit on the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Tell me what’s wrong," I say softly, my hands slipping around his neck, pulling him a little closer.

Rafe sighs, his hands resting back on my waist as he leans into me, his eyes hiding something. "This. This is what’s wrong," he mutters, his voice rough.

My heart drops at his words, and I try to keep my voice steady, even though everything inside me is starting to race. "What do you mean?" I ask, struggling to keep calm, but I can’t ignore the fear creeping up in my chest, trying to figure out where this is going.

Rafe doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at me, his gaze hard to read, like he's wrestling with something—like he's about to say something he’s been holding in for far too long.

“I can't keep doing this, Bunny. I’m constantly pushing away the fact that I love you from you," Rafe says, his face hard with frustration. My heart skips, and I can't help but smile. "You... you’re in love with me?" I ask, my voice softer than I intended. Rafe looks at me, confusion flashing across his face. "Bunny, I've been in love with you since the moment we met. Why the hell are you smiling?" he snaps, clearly thrown off.

I pull him in by his neck closer and connect our lips. He stands there in shock before kissing me back with more passion and intensity. After a couple seconds I pull back resting my forehead on his, “I love you too, you idiot.”

He smiles, his hands sliding to my hips as he gives them a playful squeeze. “Don’t get sassy, Bunny,” he teases, his smirk unmistakable. I roll my eyes, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “I see you’re back to your usual self,” I remark, nodding at the arrogant smirk that I can never seem to resist.

He laughs, the sound low and knowing, and leans in just a little closer. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

I laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re pretty confident for a guy who was just about to cry.” His face is anything but amused, but I can’t help it.

“Nah, I don’t do that,” he responds, his tone cool, but there’s something flickering in his eyes.

I hum, teasing him, and he smirks, stepping closer. “You’re lucky I love you, baby.” His voice is low, but there's an edge to it—one that makes my heart skip.

“What happened to Bunny?” I ask, pouting. Rafe rolls his eyes and smirks. “Shut up, Bunny.” He says and leans in kissing me once more.

[littlelamy]

🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

found these on pinterest 🤭 just reminded me so much of cowboy!rafe and farmer’s daughter!reader

i loveeeee!! i need to write something with cowboy!rafe soon..

[littlelamy]

idk if ive said this before but im literally obsessed with ur blog !!!! ur writing n vibe is immaculate

thank you so much!!! that means everything to me 🥹💖 i love your blog so much too!!🤭

[littlelamy]

blue collar!rafe & babydoll!reader…

a word from anaïs ♥︎ — this AU was originally created on my former blog ( bunnyrafe ) july 2024. i’ve decided to write the pair again on this blog with some changes in their story… enjoy !

— blue collar!rafe & babydoll!reader who meet at her school but he’s not one of her peers or fellow students. he’s working at the construction site on campus— she can’t help but stare, knowing she shouldn’t get distracted by a construction worker of all things, but the way he grins as their gazes meet doesn’t make her feel so ashamed suddenly. even if he’s got ten whole years on her… at least.

— blue collar!rafe who finds a way to corner her one day, catching her in an empty hall and surely abusing his limited access to the uni buildings, “d’you usually stare at people while they’re working?” he asks through the same grin she saw days prior. he’s filthy— in every sense. surprisingly, the dirt and dust on his clothes doesn’t put a prissy girl like her off. it doesn’t stop her from looking up at him in wonder as he teases her one last time before getting back to work.

— babydoll!reader who laments about how her parents forced her into college, about how she only wants to be his housewife and serve him with hearts in her pretty eyes as she’s sat in his lap and in his truck. how they got to this point in just a month is beyond either of them, but rafe promises he’ll give her what she wants and needs in no time. manipulating her just a bit with promises of putting a pretty rock on her finger and keeping her dumb ‘n happy, because lord knows he makes enough money to keep up with her spending habits… his words get her out of her pink panties in a matter of seconds every time.

— blue collar!rafe who isn’t exactly sure if babydoll!reader knows what she’s signing up for, caressing her face as she glows in post orgasm bliss and remains cradled in his big arms in the backseat as his gruff voice falls over her ears. “dunno, baby… bein’ my girl is a lot of work, ‘m not sure if little girls like you can handle it.” her eyebrows immediately furrow together, heavy lashes that were previously tearful fluttering open while she babbles out all the reasons why she’s worthy. just like he wanted, a reminder that she’s already devoted to him even if she doesn’t have her ring and a white picket fence just yet.

[littlelamy]

in reference to catching him cheating, the audacity????? the switch up from being "apologetic" when he was caught to saying the reader isn't perfect either??? as if he wasn't just caught in the act??? i am baffled and disbelieved (and sofia is, in fact, also the problem in that situation 💀 if she knew he was taken at least)

RIGHT!!!! he thinks he can apologize and all is forgiven, but you literally cheated and tried to justify it smh I hope you still liked reading it 😭🤭

[littlelamy]

He looks so peaceful

[littlelamy]

Back to regular programming: I AM SO HAPPY YOU GUYS LIKE THIS🤭🤭 I wrote this with blair and chuck in mind!

title: rafe kinks: watching you with someone else

warnings: 18+, slight choking, and language

rafe loves to watch. he’s never been shy about that. he likes the way you move, the way you tease, the way you make other guys think—for just a second—that they have a shot at having you.

it’s cute, really. watching them fall for it. watching you wind them up, giving them just enough rope to hang themselves.

he watches the way you tilt your head when you laugh, when you drag your fingers over their shoulders when you talk; even the way you wrap your plump, glossy lips over the rim of your drink before wrapping around the straw. calculated. fatal.

he leans back against the couch, whiskey swirling in his glass, watching you across the room with some guy who doesn’t know any better. some guy who thinks he’s getting lucky tonight and doesn’t realize he’s just part of the game.

you’re making out against the wall, bodies pressed close, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make the random guy groan into your mouth. rafe watches the way his hands skim your waist, creeping lower, pulling you closer.

he watches the way your chest rises and falls and how your body responds, hooking your leg around the guy’s thigh pulling him closer.

his jaw tightens. his grip on the glass flexes.

he knows this game. he likes this game. he’s the one who told you he liked it. that it got him off. that watching you with someone else—knowing you’d come crawling back to him and fucking him raw and hard—made it all the better.

but something about this feels different. feels off. felt wrong.

because it’s one thing to watch you flirt, to watch you tease, to let you make some guy think he has a fucking chance.

it’s another thing entirely when rafe sees the guy’s hands push higher, fingers skimming up your thighs, gripping the hem of your skirt and starting to lift it. his vision goes razor-sharp, every muscle in his body locking up. his grip on his whiskey tightens, jaw clenching so hard it aches.

he can handle a lot. but watching someone get that close to what’s his?

that’s not part of the fucking game.

he’s up before he even realizes it, moving across the room in a few quick strides. the guy barely has a second to react before rafe is grabbing the back of his shirt, yanking him off you, shoving him back so hard he stumbles.

“party’s over,” rafe says, voice flat, unreadable.

“dude, what the fuck?” the guy spits, regaining his footing, glaring at rafe. “she brought me here.”

“yeah? and now she’s done.” rafe doesn’t even look at you. just keeps his eyes locked on the guy, daring him to argue.

there’s a moment of hesitation. a flicker of something in the guy’s expression, like he’s about to push back. but then he looks at rafe—really looks at him—and decides tonight is not the night to get his face punched in by THE rafe cameron.

he mutters something under his breath, grabs his jacket, and storms out the door.

silence settles between you. thick, weighted, electric.

rafe finally turns to you. your lips are swollen, pupils blown wide, breath coming fast. his jaw clenches as he steps closer, backing you against the wall, the same way that guy had you just moments ago.

“thought you liked watching me rafey,” you murmur, voice just a little breathless, just a little taunting.

rafe exhales sharply, a humorless smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i like watching you mess with them. i don’t like watching someone think they can fucking have you.”

his hand comes up, fingers wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. keeping you in place. his eyes are dark, locked onto yours, unblinking. he can feel your pulse thudding beneath his thumb, fast and erratic, matching his own.

“you were gonna let him fuck you?” his voice is low, dangerous. his thumb brushes against your pulse, feeling how fast it’s racing. “or were you waiting for me to stop it?”

he watches the way you swallow and your lips part slightly.

he already knows the answer.

his grip tightens—just for a second, just enough to make you gasp—before he lets go, stepping back, like he’s giving you a choice. like he’s daring you to make the wrong one.

“go ahead,” he says, voice softer now, but still edged with something sharp. “if you really wanted him, you can still catch him.”

but you don’t move, making rafe smirk.

tags (lmk if you want to be removed): @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

[littlelamy]

this is so cute ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

texts between doll!reader and bf!rafe

doll!reader mlist

cw: slightly suggestive

a/n: my first time doing these text thingys, it was hella fun tho !! lemme know what u think and if i should continue doing these.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @dearapril @rafecami @fawnhart @rafesweetie @girlyrafe @beausling @bambiangels @rafesheaven @rafeysbangs @rafesbowbunny @rafesangelita @chris444evr @drewsephrry @littlelamy @sematarygirls @cherrygirlfriend @anqelrafe @inspiredangel @rafekisser @whinyangel @starzify @kissyrafe @et6rnalsun @cameronsbabydoll @luckycrys @rafessecret

[littlelamy]

rafe cameron p!links

── i’ve never made a post like this before, but i thought it’d be a fun way to celebrate me hitting 2.5k!! so thank you for 2.5k ♡

rafe eating you out

car sex with frat!rafe

sleepy sex with bsf!rafe

size difference with rafe

soaking nerd!rafe’s hand

getting each other off with stepbro!rafe

frat!rafe loves your tits

stepbro!rafe bending you over the counter

[littlelamy]

title: rafe kinks: watching you with someone else

warnings: 18+, slight choking, and language

rafe loves to watch. he’s never been shy about that. he likes the way you move, the way you tease, the way you make other guys think—for just a second—that they have a shot at having you.

it’s cute, really. watching them fall for it. watching you wind them up, giving them just enough rope to hang themselves.

he watches the way you tilt your head when you laugh, when you drag your fingers over their shoulders when you talk; even the way you wrap your plump, glossy lips over the rim of your drink before wrapping around the straw. calculated. fatal.

he leans back against the couch, whiskey swirling in his glass, watching you across the room with some guy who doesn’t know any better. some guy who thinks he’s getting lucky tonight and doesn’t realize he’s just part of the game.

you’re making out against the wall, bodies pressed close, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make the random guy groan into your mouth. rafe watches the way his hands skim your waist, creeping lower, pulling you closer.

he watches the way your chest rises and falls and how your body responds, hooking your leg around the guy’s thigh pulling him closer.

his jaw tightens. his grip on the glass flexes.

he knows this game. he likes this game. he’s the one who told you he liked it. that it got him off. that watching you with someone else—knowing you’d come crawling back to him and fucking him raw and hard—made it all the better.

but something about this feels different. feels off. felt wrong.

because it’s one thing to watch you flirt, to watch you tease, to let you make some guy think he has a fucking chance.

it’s another thing entirely when rafe sees the guy’s hands push higher, fingers skimming up your thighs, gripping the hem of your skirt and starting to lift it. his vision goes razor-sharp, every muscle in his body locking up. his grip on his whiskey tightens, jaw clenching so hard it aches.

he can handle a lot. but watching someone get that close to what’s his?

that’s not part of the fucking game.

he’s up before he even realizes it, moving across the room in a few quick strides. the guy barely has a second to react before rafe is grabbing the back of his shirt, yanking him off you, shoving him back so hard he stumbles.

“party’s over,” rafe says, voice flat, unreadable.

“dude, what the fuck?” the guy spits, regaining his footing, glaring at rafe. “she brought me here.”

“yeah? and now she’s done.” rafe doesn’t even look at you. just keeps his eyes locked on the guy, daring him to argue.

there’s a moment of hesitation. a flicker of something in the guy’s expression, like he’s about to push back. but then he looks at rafe—really looks at him—and decides tonight is not the night to get his face punched in by THE rafe cameron.

he mutters something under his breath, grabs his jacket, and storms out the door.

silence settles between you. thick, weighted, electric.

rafe finally turns to you. your lips are swollen, pupils blown wide, breath coming fast. his jaw clenches as he steps closer, backing you against the wall, the same way that guy had you just moments ago.

“thought you liked watching me rafey,” you murmur, voice just a little breathless, just a little taunting.

rafe exhales sharply, a humorless smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i like watching you mess with them. i don’t like watching someone think they can fucking have you.”

his hand comes up, fingers wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. keeping you in place. his eyes are dark, locked onto yours, unblinking. he can feel your pulse thudding beneath his thumb, fast and erratic, matching his own.

“you were gonna let him fuck you?” his voice is low, dangerous. his thumb brushes against your pulse, feeling how fast it’s racing. “or were you waiting for me to stop it?”

he watches the way you swallow and your lips part slightly.

he already knows the answer.

his grip tightens—just for a second, just enough to make you gasp—before he lets go, stepping back, like he’s giving you a choice. like he’s daring you to make the wrong one.

“go ahead,” he says, voice softer now, but still edged with something sharp. “if you really wanted him, you can still catch him.”

but you don’t move, making rafe smirk.

tags (lmk if you want to be removed): @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

[littlelamy]

innocent stepsis ⭑.ᐟ

“i bet you're not as innocent as you let people think.”

★ rafe’s stepsister since their late teens, when ward married her mother amelia. rafe never liked her or her mother, immediately deeming both of them as gold diggers.

★ he’d known of her even before she became his stepsister, having seen her around the island before, but he didn’t really knew her; all he knew was that she was a bore; never partied, didn’t sleep around, got good grades…

★ but something about his new stepsister just got under his skin; he didn’t know whether it was her goody-two-shoes, innocent, ‘perfect daughter’ act or the way she’d strut around the house in her tiny, skin-tight clothes.

★ but when he found lewd polaroids of her, it was like a gift. proof, that her innocence was just that; an act. and he became adamant on proving to himself just how dirty you were; he wanted to corrupt her.

★ initially she was against it, thought it was disgusting he’d even think something like that would ever happen between them. but when he blackmailed her into letting him do what he wanted… she started to enjoy it. even if she would never admit it aloud.

★ rafe loves taking pictures and videos of her while he fucks her, loves to have proof that she’s not as innocent as she claims to be, to have proof that no one could fuck her like he could. to prove that he corrupted her.

“it won’t be too long before me and you are doing what lovers do; clothes on the floor, we’re exploring our bodies getting you off is my new favorite hobby.”

polaroids

stepbro!rafe blackmails reader into letting him use a vibrator on her.

the cons of long nails

rafe's stepsister has acrylics on and can't touch herself so he helps out.

[littlelamy]

rafe cameron instagram posts

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

rafe cameron x kook!reader - rafe instagram posts

[littlelamy]

i should’ve known - rafe cameron

series masterlist

warnings: suggestive language, talk of drugs and alcohol, pregnancy, fluff

au: i wrote this on a separate post from the request i got but ill put a photo of it😭

word count: 1.01k

The early afternoon sun bore down on the country club, the heat rising off the pavement in lazy waves. It was busy today—too busy. The sounds of clinking glasses, low conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter blended together into a dull hum. Rafe hadn’t even wanted to come.

The whole thing—the social scene, the rich kids wasting their parents’ money on overpriced drinks, the fake smiles—it used to be his playground. Now, it felt suffocating. But he was here because Ward had asked him to be, trying to keep up the image that he was doing better. That he had his life together. That he wasn’t just barely keeping himself from unraveling at the seams.

His fingers itched for something—anything. A smoke, a drink, a line, something to keep him occupied. But he didn’t let himself. Not anymore. Not when he was trying. Not when you were the sole positive aspect of his life. He was halfway through draining a glass of water, mindlessly staring out at the golf course, when something caught his attention.

Your name.

It wasn’t spoken to him, but it was enough to make his ears tune in like a radio locking onto a signal. “I swear, I still have her ultrasound,” a girl’s voice giggled from the next table over. “She showed it to me when she first found out, and I took a picture ‘cause I couldn’t believe it. She’s due in the summer.” Rafe’s body went rigid. He felt his heartbeat pound in his ears, a deep thud echoing through his chest. His grip on the glass tightened. You. Pregnant? It had to be a mistake. There was no way. If you were pregnant, you would have told him. Right? His stomach twisted, the water in his mouth suddenly tasting like acid. He barely registered the rest of the girls’ conversation, his mind racing, running through every possible scenario. There only one.

That night, weeks ago—no, months ago—when neither of you had thought twice about being reckless. When his hands had gripped your hips, when your lips had ghosted over his ear, when he had lost himself in you in a way that made him forget everything else. Neither of you had brought it up after. He shoved his chair back with a screech, standing so abruptly that a few heads turned. He ignored them, ignored everything, as he strode out of the club with only one thought in his mind. He had to find you.

—

The front door of your house nearly came off the hinges when Rafe shoved it open, his heart still hammering against his ribs.

“y/n!”

Silence.

His chest heaved as he scanned the living room, the faint sound of music drifting from down the hall. The bathroom. Rafe moved before he could think, following the sound. The door was cracked open, steam curling from the gap, and inside—You stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in only a towel, your damp skin still dewy from the shower. Your hands were resting on your stomach.

Not flat. Not the way he remembered.

His breath caught in his throat. You saw him in the mirror before you turned. Your eyes widened, your body tensing. “Rafe—” “When were you gonna tell me?” His voice came out rough, uneven. His hands curled into fists at his sides, not out of anger but because he didn’t know what else to do. You swallowed, your throat bobbing. “I—I was going to.”

“When?” Your silence was enough of an answer. Rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as he stepped further into the bathroom. “So it’s true,” he muttered. “You’re—you’re pregnant?” Your arms instinctively wrapped around your stomach, like you were trying to shield yourself from whatever reaction was coming. “Yes.” His pulse roared in his ears. He should’ve sat down. He should’ve done something other than stand there like an idiot, staring at you like he didn’t recognize you. But he did. God, he did. And his baby was carrying his baby.

Rafe swallowed, his voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your lip trembled slightly, but you lifted your chin. “I didn’t know how you’d handle it.” Something in his chest cracked. “You think I wouldn’t handle it?” You looked away, biting your lip. “I thought it would stress you out too much,” you admitted. “I was scared it would make you… relapse.” Rafe flinched. You weren’t wrong. The old him would’ve spiraled. He would’ve drowned himself in whatever Barry could give him—coke, weed, alcohol—until he felt nothing.

But he wasn’t the old him.

At least, he was trying not to be.

A shaky breath left him as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather the storm inside of him. “Do you even want this?” His voice was quiet, his throat tight. Your brows furrowed. “What?” “This.” He gestured toward your stomach. “Do you even want this?” You hesitated. But when you spoke, your voice was firm. “Yes.” Rafe exhaled slowly.

Then, before you could stop him, he was in front of you. His hands were tentative as they settled on your waist, warm and solid, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. His fingers brushed against your stomach, barely touching, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Your breath hitched. “I should’ve been here,” he murmured, voice raw. “I should’ve known.” Tears pricked your eyes. “I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you whispered. “I was just scared.” His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening slightly on your skin. “You don’t have to be.”

You searched his face, and for the first time in weeks—maybe longer—you let yourself believe him. His lips ghosted over your forehead, lingering. Then, without a word, he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands still holding you like you might slip away. And when his lips pressed softly, reverently, against your stomach, you broke. Because for all his flaws, for all the mistakes, you knew one thing for sure.

Rafe Cameron would never let you face this alone.

[littlelamy]

fuck all other anons, gimme a best friend's husband rafe (i don't condone cheating irl but girl, you make the fictional seem so juicy)

hehe, thank you baby!

Bestfriends!Husband!Rafe x Reader

ᡣ𐭩. ݁˖ . navigation. ᡣ𐭩. ݁˖ . masterlist.

warnings: smut. choking. infidelity (not on reader).

a/n: must feed my readers with pure debauchery.

. ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

They know it's wrong.

They know it’s downright deceitful, selfish and atrocious.

But the fire between them is intoxicating. Engulfing them in flames of passion. Burning through them and forever embedded within. An addiction that can't be stopped and will ultimately be their demise.

They don't care to snuff out the uncontrollable flame.

When Rafe first met his wife's best friend he was instantly enamored. Her siren call luring him in like a lonely sailor.

She was so completely enticing. All sweet smiles, sultry gazes, skimpy clothes and a way of being that was entirely addicting. Rafe would be a fool to let someone like her slip through his fingers when she was only but a mere touch away.

So, it doesn't matter that he's pounding her into the bed he shares with his wife. Their sheets ruined with her arousal. The framed photo of him and his wife on their wedding day baring witness to the debauched need that stirred between him and her best friend.

"F-fuck! Rafe!" She cried out. Her legs over his strong shoulders as he bent her into a mean, mating press. Pedicured toes curling and gorgeous body arching into him. His strong hand wrapped tightly around her throat as he stares down at the mess of a girl. All from his own doing.

And he adored every moment of it.

He adored her.

"Yeah? Like that shit, huh?" He groaned from under his breath. His hips pounding against her own as 'shlicks' of their twisted desire filled the bedroom. Their bodies burning with ceaseless want and need for each other.

"Love it so much!" She whined shamelessly, her manicured nails coming to dig into the hand wrapped around her delicate throat. Her gorgeous teary eyes looking at him with immense inclination, an underlying layer of love. Faux lashes clumped, makeup ruined and lip gloss smeared around her mouth from the way he fucked it earlier.

His determination to ruin her.

Rafe's face is flushed red. Lips swollen and pink from their desperate kisses. His cobalt eyes teary from the pleasure, the want — no. The need for her. Encapsulating every fiber of his being. Too overwhelmed from the physical and emotional stimulation she provides him like no else ever has.

Not even his wife.

They should feel guilty. They should be frozen with culpability at the way they let this desire for each other flourish into an undying adoration for one another. They should feel sick to their stomach's and promising to never do it again.

To be loyal to his wife and her best friend.

Yet, the only loyalty they found the need to maintain was the tightly locked one between them. The outside world unimportant every moment they come together.

Maybe it's immoral. Maybe it's depraved and downright sinful.

But for them — it's fate. It's their own twisted version of love.

"I love you! Love you so much." She slurs, drool falling from the corner of her lips, as her eyes roll back into her head. The way his throbbing cocking was punching into her — making her go practically brain dead with the way he claimed her. Motivated to ruin her for anyone and everyone.

Chain her to him by molding the shape of his cock into her.

At her words his hand unwraps from her marked throat. Pushing her legs from his shoulders and falling from his knees right onto her. His strong chest pressing to her plump one. Their skin sticking and dewy from the built-up perspiration. His strong arms cage her in, on both sides of her head. Pressing his forehead into hers and digging his hips harder into her. Her hands coming to grip his strong back as she digs her nails in. Dragging them down and marking her territory.

"You love me?" He groans against her cheek when her head turns to the side. Too overwhelmed and overstimulated by the strong man on top of her. The heat in the room almost unbearable and suffocating.

"Yes! Yes!" She cries once more. Nodding her head dumbly as her eyes flutter continuously from the continuous pounding. "Love you...I love you, Rafe!" She whined, desperate to express what she feels for him.

She doesn't know if it's the way he's making her go dumb on his dick. Or if he's knocked the brain right out of her head. But she needs him to know. Needs him to know how much she really desires him.

"I love you too." He groans against her damp cheek. Smearing messy, opened mouth kisses across it — while his left hand gripped her jaw. Consistent, stringing rambles of ‘loveyou’ dripping from his swollen lips against her wet cheek. Giving into her completely. Throwing himself off a cliff he knows will be the end of him.

All he wants is to be swallowed whole by her waves.

Rafe slides his right hand under her head, gripping her messy hair between his fingers as he tugs her head back and makes her face him. Pressing his forehead to hers once more before capturing her lips in a messy, spit filled kiss. "Don't care about her, right? Only me, right? Tell me, it’s only me.” He whispers against her lips. Desperate for her to confirm it to him.

His chest burns brighter when she nods her head immediately as much as she can under his grip. Her arms wrapping around his back tighter as she tilts her hips to fuck herself back onto him.

"Don't care about her. It's only you. Always you." She whines to him once more. Capturing his lips in another heated kiss as they rock into into each other. Her chest burning with satisfaction when he whispers with conviction against her lips...

"It'll always be you. Just you, baby. M'gonna make sure it stays that way. Gonna do whatever it takes." He growls to her. Tongue slipping into her mouth once again.

With tears of undying passion falling from both their eyes, the headboard thumping against the wall. His wedding photo staring back at him as his wedding band now feels scolding and wrongly emplaced on his finger.

They can only think one thing.

It doesn't matter how much this would blow up. How much heartache and damaging harm will be inflicted upon the one person they both claimed to care for so deeply.

It didn't matter. None of it.

Because the only thing that mattered was the violent endearment between them. The only thing that mattered now was doing what it takes to keep it that way.

And as the photo of Rafe's wife stares at the immoral-love blooming viciously between her husband and best friend. The only thing they can offer is...

She'll be okay.

. ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི