#golf stretches

[pablogerbolesparrilla]

Essential Stretches to Play Your Best Round of Golf

Essential Stretches to Play Your Best Round of Golf

Golf is a sport that requires flexibility, balance, and a full range of motion to perform well. A proper stretching routine before a round of golf not only helps prevent injuries but also improves swing performance, distance, and accuracy. By preparing your body with dynamic and static stretches, you can optimize your swing mechanics and set yourself up for a great game.

Here’s a comprehensive guide to essential stretches that will target key muscles used in golf, increase flexibility, and help you feel limber and ready for your best round.

1. Dynamic Warm-Up Stretches

Dynamic stretches are ideal before a round as they help increase blood flow, warm up the muscles, and improve range of motion without causing muscle fatigue. Incorporating these stretches will improve your balance, coordination, and agility.

A. Arm Circles

Purpose: Loosens the shoulder muscles, which play a crucial role in the golf swing.

How to Perform:

Extend your arms out to the sides at shoulder height.

Start making small circles, gradually increasing the circle size.

Perform for 30 seconds in a clockwise direction, then switch to counterclockwise.

Benefits: Increases shoulder flexibility and prepares them for a full range of motion.

B. Torso Twists

Purpose: Loosens the core and spine, essential for a powerful and fluid swing.

How to Perform:

Stand with feet shoulder-width apart and hold a golf club across your shoulders.

Rotate your torso to the left, then to the right, keeping your lower body stable.

Perform 10-15 twists on each side.

Benefits: Enhances spinal mobility and prepares the core for rotation, a key component of the golf swing.

C. Leg Swings

Purpose: Increases flexibility in the hip flexors, hamstrings, and glutes.

How to Perform:

Stand on one leg while holding onto a stable object for balance.

Swing the opposite leg forward and backward in a controlled motion.

Perform 15-20 swings on each leg, then switch to side-to-side swings.

Benefits: Improves hip mobility and balance, which are vital for a stable stance and follow-through.

D. Walking Lunges with a Twist

Purpose: Warms up the hip flexors, quadriceps, and core muscles.

How to Perform:

Take a step forward into a lunge position.

Rotate your torso towards the front leg, hold for a second, then return to the center and stand up.

Repeat for 10 lunges on each leg.

Benefits: Stretches and activates the lower body and core, improving balance and stability.

E. Wrist and Forearm Stretch

Purpose: Loosens the wrist and forearm muscles used in gripping the club.

How to Perform:

Extend one arm straight in front of you with your palm facing up.

Use your opposite hand to gently pull your fingers back towards you.

Hold for 15 seconds on each hand.

Benefits: Reduces the risk of wrist strain and improves flexibility for a better grip.

2. Static Stretches

After the dynamic warm-up, static stretches can further improve flexibility. Static stretches are most beneficial after the game or during practice sessions to deepen flexibility.

A. Hamstring Stretch

Purpose: Stretches the hamstrings, essential for maintaining a balanced stance and proper posture.

How to Perform:

Stand with one foot in front of the other, and bend forward at the hips, reaching towards your toes.

Hold for 20-30 seconds and repeat on the other leg.

Benefits: Prevents tightness in the hamstrings, which can limit your ability to hinge at the hips and maintain a proper spine angle.

B. Hip Flexor Stretch

Purpose: Loosens the hip flexors, which are engaged during the rotation and weight shift in the swing.

How to Perform:

Kneel on one knee with the other foot planted in front.

Gently push your hips forward, feeling a stretch in the hip flexor of the kneeling leg.

Hold for 20-30 seconds and switch legs.

Benefits: Improves hip mobility, which is essential for a full backswing and follow-through.

C. Glute Stretch

Purpose: Relaxes the glutes, which provide power and stability during the swing.

How to Perform:

Lie on your back and cross one leg over the other in a figure-4 position.

Pull the uncrossed leg towards your chest, feeling a stretch in the glute of the crossed leg.

Hold for 20-30 seconds and switch sides.

Benefits: Increases flexibility and mobility in the hips, contributing to a balanced and powerful swing.

D. Shoulder Stretch

Purpose: Loosens the shoulder muscles to help with rotation and follow-through.

How to Perform:

Cross one arm over your chest and use the opposite arm to gently press it towards your body.

Hold for 20-30 seconds on each side.

Benefits: Reduces tension in the shoulders, allowing for a smooth swing.

E. Quadriceps Stretch

Purpose: Stretches the quadriceps, important for stabilizing the lower body during the swing.

How to Perform:

Stand on one leg and grab the ankle of the opposite leg, pulling it towards your glutes.

Hold for 20-30 seconds, then switch legs.

Benefits: Improves balance and strength in the legs, essential for grounding yourself during the swing.

3. Additional Tips for Golf Flexibility and Performance

Consistency: Make stretching a regular part of your golf routine. The benefits of stretching compound over time, and you’ll notice improved flexibility and range of motion.

Strengthen Core Muscles: The core is vital for balance and rotation. Supplement your stretching routine with exercises like planks, Russian twists, and leg raises to build a strong core.

Hydration: Muscles perform best when well-hydrated, so drink water before and during your game to prevent cramps and fatigue.

Sample Stretching Routine for Golf (15-20 Minutes)

Dynamic Warm-Up (5 minutes)

Arm Circles: 30 seconds each direction

Torso Twists: 10-15 reps each side

Leg Swings: 15-20 each leg (forward/backward and side-to-side)

Walking Lunges with Twist: 10 lunges each leg

Wrist and Forearm Stretch: 15 seconds each hand

Static Stretching (10 minutes)

Hamstring Stretch: 20-30 seconds each leg

Hip Flexor Stretch: 20-30 seconds each leg

Glute Stretch: 20-30 seconds each side

Shoulder Stretch: 20-30 seconds each side

Quadriceps Stretch: 20-30 seconds each leg

Conclusion

Incorporating these stretches into your routine will enhance flexibility, prevent injuries, and improve your swing’s consistency and power. Dynamic stretching before your game prepares your muscles and joints for the movements involved, while static stretching afterward helps with muscle recovery and long-term flexibility. By maintaining a consistent stretching and warm-up routine, you’ll be better equipped to play your best round of golf every time you step on the course.

[ratatatastic]

oh so i was supposed to be normal about my wibe flaunting her gorgjiss knobby moose legs in front of me, no better than a victorian man, that was a thing i qas supposed to be normal about? yeah?

this is a view i have to behave like a respectable citizen about? this?

[snowyfrostshadows]

Another question for the Beast & Beauty AU : Luigi is a Big Monster now. Bowser is a Big Monster too. Do they have Big Monster quirks they share ? (If you say purring I'll die happy)

Absolutely

Purring, growling, wagging tails are the things that immediately spring to mind as being the most probable common quirks between a giant turtle dragon monster and whatever mishmash Luigi is.

Maybe an enjoyment for sunbathing?

Which would confuse the hell out of Luigi. He's covered in fur. Why would some sunlight through a window feel so good? Wouldn't it make him overheated????

As for purring......I think he'd be SUPER embarrassed the first time he did so.

Growling? Okay. Monsters growl.

Tail wagging? He can roll with that. Basically any and every animal with a tail will wag it.

Purring? Oh gooooood that's embarrassing. Especially if the the first time he does it is because Bowser compliments him on successfully scaring a toad. This is so much worse than blushing because he could claim it under literally any other emotion but purring??? Animals only do that when they're happy or with someone they like and oh.

Oh no.

Either scaring the pants off a certain (Very Rude) toad is making him giddy enough to purr or the positive reinforcement from Bowser is and he honestly isn't sure which of the two options is worse.

[dudefromtheooze]

we got a call today from one of the professors at the university (bc my work is technically owned by the university), And the lady goes “so. um there’s a softshell turtle blocking the doors to the college of education building.” and it truly took so much of me to not go “ma’am that’s donatello. he’s just trying to get an education.”

[bossyball]

my interpretation on object shows is that the best characters can be used as stim toys

[junadeo]

YES!!

decriminalize:

sex work

addiction

criminalize: 

golf

[rayanroar]

Buying birthday cards for my parents is such a difficult task not only do card shops reduce their birthday stock to make way for Christmas cards limiting the options, I also have to contend with my dad being an ultra mega nerd bookish history guy and former drama teacher and my mum being a zany weirdo (affectionate) late diagnosed autistic who in another life would have definitely ID'ed as non-binary like...

[golfupnorth]

Essential Stretches for Golf

Golf stretches—who needs ’em, right? I mean, when I watch Guy go through his pre-round routine, it looks like a cross between interpretive dance and a waste of valuable tee time. I’m here to hit balls, not spend ten minutes pretending I’m in a yoga class! 😄

But then I had my annual physical, and the doctor decided to have a chat about my fitness habits. I mentioned my treadmill sessions, occasional rowing, and lifting weights. Naturally, he asked if I stretched before jumping into my morning workouts. I laughed and said, “Who’s got time for that? I barely have time to take practice swings, let alone fuss around on a putting green!”

Of course, that earned me a mini-lecture on the importance of warming up muscles. So, being the curious soul I am, I went home and did what any modern person does—I googled it. Hours later, after tumbling down the usual internet rabbit holes, I compiled some solid stretching routines. I even ran them by my doctor, who made a few tweaks and gave me his professional stamp of approval.

Now, I’d love to say I’ve been religiously following this advice, but let’s be honest—I’m more of a “let’s just get to it” kind of person. Patience has never been my strong suit, and warming up requires exactly that. But hey, for those of you with a bit more discipline, I’m happy to share what I found. According to my doctor, these stretches will set you up for a smoother, more powerful swing and might just take your game up a notch.

🏌️‍♂️ Read more: https://golfupnorth.com/essential-golf-stretches-for-a-smooth-and-powerful-swing/

[abcgolf]

Under Armour Mens UA Elements Rain Pants Waterproof Golf Trousers

The Under Armour Waterproof Golf Trousers are 100% waterproof trousers with fully taped seams. UA Storm technology repels water, protecting you from the elements.

[gutsby]

Stiff

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Or, your old man wants to knock you up. Viagra helps.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (obviously 😵‍💫🤙🏼). Breeding kink. Age gap. Peepaw Joel. Blue Pill Joel. Post-apocalyptic-Viagra-dosage-gone-horribly-wrong-and-now-his-dick-won’t-deflate-for-a-day…but it’s OK!

Note: This is the crackfic counterpart/sequel to ‘Make It Stick’

Word count: 2.9k

Forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until his fate was sealed for the night. His pulse would quicken. His head would start to swim, and any last sliver of rational thought would be lost to the ether or the cold, snowy air around him. Joel Miller had to hurry now, because that bite-sized blue pill he’d just taken was in his belly, and if his dick didn’t find its way in you, he was fucked. Or at least huge and swollen and leaking out beads of hot desire the size of golf balls.

Well, maybe that was just his cock.

Joel looked down, scanning his pants.

Yeah…definitely just cock. He walked faster.

At home, he knew he’d find you curled up on the couch, nose in a book. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, if he had to guess. Then, sure enough, you’d lift your eyes and smile—‘Thank goodness you’re back, daddy’—and lift the hem of your night dress just slightly. Spread your legs and beckon him in. It was a nightly routine by now.

You wanted to be knocked up as fast as possible, after all

At almost sixty years old, Joel couldn’t believe he was actually saying these words aloud. But here he was—crawling overtop you on the couch, situating himself between your legs, and pulling his cock out, mumbling:

“Gonna let me put a baby in you tonight?”

You nodded sweetly—eagerly—every time.

Joel knew he could never resist that look. He was as good as finished the first second you let him sink inside your tight, weeping hole, and when he stretched it, he could already tell this was all he would ever want to do. Make you happy, fill you up, give you lots and lots of him.

It was why he’d stopped by the apothecary tonight. Why he’d hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat and asking for a pill like Viagra—Joel knew that the man behind the counter would flash him a wry, knowing grin.

Trouble keepin’ up with that sweet young thing’a yours?

David was a dick.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Ever since agreeing to start trying for a baby, Joel had become acutely aware of his own physical limitations in that department, and one of them was stamina. He could scarcely fuck twice in the same night without needing a long and rest-intensive breather. You were young and could roll over ready to go in five minutes.

It wasn’t fair to deprive you now on account of his age.

If you wanted his cum, you were getting it, no question.

Not just once, but multiple times. Again and again and—

“Again,�� Joel grunted once he’d shot off his last spurt.

Fifty-eight minutes had passed since he’d taken that pill. It had fully kicked in, and his dick was still hard, even after finishing inside you with a sticky, white-hot flood.

You blinked dreamily up at him.

“You mean it, old man?” you teased him lightly.

I’ll show you what I mean, Joel thought to himself before flipping you over on the sofa. He had your hips tilted up and his cock driving back inside your freshly-fucked cunt in no time at all. He felt his spend coating your walls; it let him glide right in. Joel groaned and jerked himself back out, then fucked back in again and again and again.

“Again?”

Your word was exhaled in a laugh.

You stood in front of the bathroom sink, trying to tidy up the insides of your legs and push some more of Joel’s load back in, when you felt a presence at your back.

Stabbing your ass.

You started to turn then, puzzled.

“Bend over,” Joel commanded before you could.

You did as you were told because, frankly, you loved getting fucked wherever your old man wanted it—even if he had broken the sink one time he’d pounded you here.

But there was palpable confusion, too. How in the hell had Joel Miller, certified silver fox and owner of a dick old enough to remember Woodstock and the moon landing, managed to get his dick hard in the five minutes since he’d had you face-down, ass-up on the couch?

Or had his dick gotten soft at all?

You wanted to question him about it, or else give a long, hard look at his uncharacteristically long, hard friend, when the next moment had you gripping the counter. Stretching between the legs as Joel pushed back in.

“There she is,” he murmured affectionately.

Really, you’d never been wetter. Or warmer. Or filled to the brim with more sticky-white spend than you could ever hope to hold inside, it felt like. You bent at the waist and let him have his fill. You closed your eyes and rested your head on your forearms while Joel’s hot, bulbous tip grazed your cervix with dizzying alacrity. A smile crept in.

Whatever this was, you wanted more of it.

His dick was still hard.

Four mind-numbing fucks and another forty-five minutes later, Joel’s cock hadn’t deflated the tiniest bit.

The thing had hammered you so thoroughly he’d nearly destroyed the sink again. You’d whimpered, and whined, and warned him quietly, ‘We just fixed the porcelain, baby,’ and right before he’d painted your walls with his seed, you’d cum for him practically shrieking. Shaking.

Letting him turn you around for a kiss, only to mumble against his mouth with a sleepy, cockdrunk sort of lilt:

“I think you gave me twins.”

Then he’d fucked you in the shower to make it triplets.

Now you were laying out on the bed, truly spent, eyes following him in the semi-darkness of your bedroom after you’d toweled off and collapsed among the pillows.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Miller?” you breathed.

Joel made it over to the dresser, back turned to you. He rifled through a drawer looking for something extra tight.

“Just missed you is all,” he said, shrugging.

What he needed right now was fabric that was very thick to hide the boner he was sporting. Joel could tell from the way you spoke that you were too tired for round five, and he didn’t want you feeling like you had to go again.

He would be fine.

His dick might not deflate until dawn, but that was okay.

“Wish you missed me like this every day,” you giggled.

When Joel turned around, he was shocked to find you sprawled out on the bed—hands between your legs.

There was a shy smile on your face.

“Baby…” he trailed off, watching your fingers flit through that sticky mess where he’d left it. Where you glistened.

Where you slid your index and middle fingers up and down your slit and drew circles on your clit, eyes shining.

“What? I missed you too,” you said, tone all faux protest.

You had no idea what you did to him when you talked like that. Especially when he was drowning in a state like this.

Hard as a rock.

Throbbing.

Needy.

Scarcely even knowing what he was doing, Joel found himself over by the foot of the bed in a second. Watching your every move with a wild, wipe-open stare he still couldn’t believe you found appealing. He swallowed.

He not only looked perverted, but he felt it, too. It rarely ever left his mind, save for the four or five seconds he spent in ecstasy emptying the contents of his balls inside your cunt, that he was his age, and you were yours. That perhaps the rest of Jackson was right, and he was wrong: he had no business being around a girl like you, much less getting off inside you every night. Was this really what you wanted? A bewildering mixture of guilt, lust, and love all circulated through his skull at that moment, and the longer he spent looking at your fingers, ogling the way you teased them through his cum between your legs, the more he felt certain he was bad.

No one corrupted a thing this sweet and got to call themselves good, anyway, he thought to himself idly.

“I keep gettin’ that…feelin’,” you said under your breath.

Joel’s hand tightened in a fist, and it was then that he realized it was wrapped around his cock. Still watching.

“Yeah, baby? What feelin’?” he returned, almost as quiet.

Still stroking himself up and down, up and down, softly.

You had your legs spread open—knees splayed wider than they’d been before. And your eyes had a tender, placid sheen to them, like they just might cry if they didn’t get release of some kind soon. Then you slowed.

Your touch slipped from your clit to the opaque, sticky globs between your thighs, and that look got even softer.

More desperate.

“Can’t…explain it.” You shook your head, as if pained, and then you sank two fingers inside. Joel could hear the tiny schlick from where he stood, and it almost did him in.

You sucked in a breath and added, “It’s a special feelin’.”

Joel’s fist had already worked its way up to a ridiculous speed. Again, he sensed this might be the worst and most pathetic he’d ever looked, but by the glint in your eyes and the way you kept holding him there, he also knew you weren’t asking him to stop, either. You were needing something else—something he could provide.

Thanks to that one stupid pill.

Joel’s smile was strained as he gripped the edge of the bed, like he was trying to assuage you and him at once.

“Try me, baby. Tell me ‘bout that special feelin’.”

Your middle and ring fingers disappeared inside you.

You whined, “Ain’t fair to say it now. You’re tired, daddy.”

Like hell he was. Joel crawled over the footboard and made his way straight to you, where your body was limp.

His breaths were coming in so fast and his pulse was thrumming so hard that he almost couldn’t hear himself talking. But he ventured to speak as gently as he could.

“I’m wide awake, sweet pea. I’m all ears. Talk to me.”

And if his words didn’t communicate as much, surely the look in his eyes would’ve told you all the rest. Quietly, he slipped his torso between your legs, where you’d inserted a third finger and were moving your hips again. You were fingering yourself, breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s a feelin’ like I wanna be…stuffed…a-and full’a you.”

Joel’s whole body could’ve liquified on the spot. His brain, presently, had all the consistency of a plate of scrambled eggs if he’d had to guess. Feeling his cock swell even bigger and his hips sink lower to yours of their own accord, he had only to grit his teeth and nod his head. He felt the tip of him bump your fingers, and the sensation and the expectation nearly drove him insane.

He mumbled quietly, “Then move your hand.”

You did. You winced again. You looked as though you might be ashamed for wanting him to fill you with his spend, and Joel simply wouldn’t allow that any longer.

Without saying another word, he slid back in.

Your cum and his facilitated the slide, and you opened right up for him. You whimpered, while Joel grunted like an animal. He couldn’t help it; it all felt so fucking primal.

How you could ever feel the need to apologize for wanting more of this was more than he could take.

“Every inch of me,” Joel said, rutting deeper, “is yours.”

He withdrew to the tip, and he could feel strings of arousal linking him to you in a sickeningly sweet way.

You could scarcely even nod, just waiting for him again.

When Joel plunged back in, he heard a feral little cry, and he felt your legs wrap around his waist. He went faster. You fisted the pillow behind your head in one hand, while the other laid flat on his chest, like you were checking for a heartbeat. You could probably hear it thudding a million miles per minute right now. Your hips collided in tandem.

“D��� Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, open up for daddy. Good girl. It’s all yours.”

The sounds his thrusts were making were obscene.

“Every inch?” you breathed, “E-Every drop, too?”

“Every fiber of my fucking being, sweet girl.”

That made you smile, at length. Your hand slid from his chest, down his round belly, straight to a groin that was pounding hard and fast against your own. Joel groaned when he felt your touch sweep inside your legs—right in the space where his cum had come trickling out. You slid your fingers through that mess, then whimpered again.

Then you brought your hand up to your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around your cum-soaked fingers like they were the single sweetest thing, and you sucked.

Joel had no say after seeing that: he had to cum again.

It likely stunned you both—you more than him, by the look that crossed your eyes the second you felt him throb and pulse inside your cunt—but then it kept going.

Rather than stop, or slow down in the slightest, Joel found his hips pistoning faster than they had before. The whole bed frame shook, and your body trembled with every thrust, and the noises between your legs grew even louder; the sound of skin slapping skin was only amplified by the addition of Joel’s hot load in the mix.

The man was operating on impulse. You, through sheer awe and an animalistic need to have every crevice filled. You held him and you grit your teeth, and you let him keep using your body, while you used his. You kissed him.

“Go on, then—make me a daddy. Take my cum, baby,” Joel babbled, brainless, “Make your old man a daddy.”

He couldn’t tell if it were the words or the rhythm or the pleasure that had already been blossoming deep in your gut this whole time, but he felt you fall apart. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist than you had all night, and you screamed his name. Begged for more.

“Cum in me, daddy—pleasepleaseplease just cum, ju—”

And there he went. Again. Flooding your insides with his warmth and letting his cock carve a wild, relentless path through your cunt like it was all the man knew how to do. He filled you up. He felt it leaking down his length with every stab of his hips, and frankly, he didn’t care what he looked like now. You were smiling big, drawing him in for more kisses as he panted and grunted and whimpered like he never had before. He kissed back. Slowed down.

Found himself lost in your mouth as your tongue wove delectably through his own and your hands made their way to his wild, greying hair. You tugged, and he moaned.

He fucked his spend deeper without even meaning to.

All instinct again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, he felt a new, strange urge bubble up.

“I-I-I took a pill tonight,” he blurted out, “Know how badly you want this baby, and I wanna give you one.”

Or two. Or twenty. He was barely capable of speech, let alone rational cognition, so he just spoke whatever came to his mind then, still snug inside your legs and panting.

“A pill?” you whispered back.

Joel’s gaze locked with yours.

He felt stupid for it all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just— I know I’m gettin’ on in years, and I probably can’t fuck the way I used to. And you deserve someone who can…Maybe a guy your age, but that—”

“—is the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you finished for him, eyes narrowing swiftly in a scowl.

When Joel tried talking again, you cut him off.

“I don’t care what any guy my age is doing, or could do. I want babies with you, and that includes every part, OK?”

Your look softened momentarily, seeing his lips twitch down—you could probably see he wasn’t believing you.

Then you cradled his face in your palms. You smiled. You brushed his nose with yours, and you kissed him again, and with what little strength you likely had left in your body, you dug your heels in his ass and pulled him deeper. Both of you let out soft, low grunts at the effort.

“If you fucked like this at twenty-five, my body wouldn’t have survived anyway,” you whispered in reassurance. Biting back a laugh as Joel smiled, too, “I like things just the way they are. Just like how I hope you like me, too.”

“No—I love you.” Joel shook his head, almost plaintive.

And for the first time that night, he felt himself soften.

Whether it was the pill wearing off or that first thread of vulnerability stretching out between your body and his, he didn’t really care. He kissed the tip of your nose and was about to say something more, when you cut back in.

“I love you more. And since we’re being honest tonight,” you started quietly, nipping at your bottom lip a second, “I might…need you back at the apothecary tomorrow.”

Joel’s face fell.

“Wh— is something wrong, baby?” His voice was tight.

He hated seeing David, but, of course, he’d go back there in a heartbeat if it meant getting you the medication you needed. His stomach was starting to churn, when you reached up to hold his face again. You shook your head.

“No, no, Joel, I’m fine. But I may need prenatal vitamins.”

Now his eyes were going wide. His cheeks heated under your palms, and his cock twitched inside you, reflexively.

“You mean…” he murmured, unable to finish. Swallowing.

Beneath him, he saw you smile and nod.

He nearly choked hearing what followed:

“I meant to tell you earlier, but…my period’s a little late.”

[hadersversion]

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

��what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[fear-is-truth]

❥ ˖˚⊹ 𝓙’s note: wrote this bc i hateeee my golf lessons... think i’d enjoy it more if rafe is the one teaching me </3 tags: very suggestive﹒sexual innuendos﹒pogue!reader

your boyfriend has been talking about teaching you golf for weeks, going on about how “every cameron has to know their way around a course.” when you’d pointed out you weren’t a cameron, rafe simply gave you a “not yet,”

and that alone was enough to get you here, on the green, clad in a miniskirt and a cute polo shirt. club in hand, feeling completely out of your element.

“first rule,” rafe begins, stepping up behind you so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest. “you’re way too tense, princess.” his hands find your shoulders, squeezing gently. “loosen up a little for me.” “i am!” you protest, but he just hums, clearly unconvinced. his hands glide down your arms to rest over your wrists, fingers curling around yours. “try again. wrap your fingers around it—no, not like that.” he shifts your hands gently, positioning your grip just right. “gentle, but firm.” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “though i’d say you’re already a natural… from personal experience.”

heat rushes to your cheeks at the implication, and he takes the opportunity to skim his fingers along the sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt. “feet a little further apart,” he instructs, nudging you until your hips are positioned the way he wants. “weight back. like this.” the curve of your ass is nestled snugly against his pelvis, and through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the outline, the heat, of his hardened cock slotted between your asscheeks. “now, keep your spine straight, and relax.” he helps you bring the club up and then down in a smooth arc. “see? easy.”

“it’s… easier than i thought,” though honestly, you’re so focused on him that you barely even realise you’ve swung.“that’s ‘cause you’ve got a good teacher,” rafe gives your butt a playful smack he pulls back just slightly, giving you a bit of space but still staying close. “try it again, on your own this time.” you nod, taking a deep breath, feeling his gaze heavy on you. you set up just like he showed you, but as you swing, the club hits the ground a bit too early.

“not quite, princess,” he chuckles, coming up behind you again. “here, let’s work on that stance a bit more.” his hands return to your waist almost too eagerly. “sturdy but relaxed. you don’t wanna hold yourself too tight… unless you want me to stretch out those muscles for ya later.”

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

MISS YOU — rafe cameron (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; ex-boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader summary: years after your breakup, rafe cameron crawls back into your life when he realises that you might have started moving on. a/n: omg this was so long i think i got carried away warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, unprotected sex.

He does not knock.

Rafe Cameron barges into your dimly lit apartment instead of knocking the door and allowing you to let him in. He walks right past you, ignoring the frown on your face, and collapses down on your couch.

His shoulders are relaxed, arms stretched out along the back of the couch as he settles in and looks around your apartment.

His blue eyes are dart everywhere, but they don’t meet yours. His veiny hands are tapping away on his thighs—the same hands that used to envelope yours perfectly.

His blonde hair is longer than it was when you two were together—they're curling over his forehead. The length is almost too long, it makes him look shaggy, and yet it suits him nevertheless.

Your fists clench. Suddenly, the warmth of your home has vanished because of his presence.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" His voice is raspy and rough, almost as if he had just woken up, but you can tell from his red eyes and the dark circles underneath that he hasn't slept a wink.

"What do you want, Rafe?"

He finally turns his gaze to you, and the sight makes your knees go weak. You want to sit down next to him and bury your head into his chest, but you know that can't happen anymore.

He stands up, making you take a step back. You don't miss the hurt look in his eyes, but he hides it quickly and walks towards you.

The light coming out of the television playing in the background illuminates Rafe's face, his jawline sharp and his lips pulled in a soft frown.

He walks past you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What the hell?" You murmur, following him as he walks towards the kitchen.

He halts to a stop and you stand behind him, feeling like a mouse in his tall presence. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He rolls his eyes and turns around to face you. His eyes stare into yours, resulting in the formation of a lump in your throat as your eyes meet for the first time in years.

“Who is he?” Rafe asks bitterly, his eyes not leaving your face. “The guy you were with yesterday at the Golf Club. Even better, where is he?"

Yesterday, your date made a reservation at the Golf Club for your first date, and the smug part of you had wished the Rafe saw the two of you together—which he apparently did.

You had a good time with the boy. He even dropped you off to your house afterwards. He was sweet, polite and soft-spoken. The complete opposite of your ex-boyfriend.

"Rafe, leave."

He scoffs, running his tongue along his inner-cheek. His eyes still burn into yours.

He brings a cold finger to your face and the metal of his ring faintly touches your cheek. You suck in a deep breath as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You look away from him, unable to stand the intensity of his eyes. You know what he wants, and you won't allow yourself to give in to him.

Almost turning away, you feel him grab your face and force you to look at him. He's staring down at you in a way that makes your heart dip.

You can't believe you used to know this man, can't believe you shared the same bed with him and loved him so unconditionally.

His eyes drop down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. "Kiss me."

It's your turn to scoff. You try to pry his hand off your face, but he doesn't bulge. He simply leans his face closer to yours, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes enveloping your nose.

"Don't tell me that you don't miss it," his thumb moves against your cheek. "I've thought about you every night since the day we broke up. You know, you're the only thing that stays on my mind."

"Rafe—"

"No," his jaw is clenched. "Let me finish, alright? I-I can't eat, I can't sleep. I'm fucking useless without you. I need you."

You push his chest away from you. "And whose fault is that, huh?"

"Please," his voice cracks. "Baby, please."

"Oh my god, just-just stop this, okay? Rafe, you didn't even remember our anniversary! The whole day you were getting high with B-"

"I don't care!" He shouts, interrupting you. "I don't care, okay? I just need you, and you need me too! Tell me you don't miss me and I'll leave."

You sigh, rubbing your face. You want to yell at him, but his presence and words make you weak.

He knows that he has an effect on you. He knows how easily he can manipulate you and bend you to his will.

But you gather yourself. You shake your head and seethe through your teeth, "Go fuck yourself, Rafe. Get out, right now. Or I swear to god, I will call the police."

He chuckles lowly. "And tell them what, baby? That Rafe Cameron came into your house and refused to leave? Please, call the police. It'll just make things easier."

"Get. Out." You point towards the door. "Go back to her, Rafe. The bimbo who's always on your arm."

He groans, his voice low and guttural. "She's not you, okay? She doesn't fucking get me. Only you do."

"You're a piece of shit."

He takes a step closer to you, if that was even possible.

"I'm a piece of shit? Do you hear yourself?" He's towering over you. His hands are gripping your arms.

You push his chest again and step back, only to bump into the wall behind.

He, too, takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. He laughs and looks down at his feet. "Fine. You wanna play this game, huh?"

He starts walking towards you, and suddenly your feet are glued to the floor.

You feel his warmth against your body before his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies are pressed against each other's.

You feel him run a finger down the length of your jaw.

You try to fight back the urge to moan at his touch. You want to push him away, but his touch makes you melt. It's been too long. Too long since he's been this close.

"Fuck you." You say, and your shaky voice doesn't go unnoticed by him. "And let go of me."

He ignores you.

He presses his forehead against yours, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You can't stop thinking about how much you want his lips on yours. How much you want him to not listen to your complaints and just fucking kiss you.

His breath hits your lips as his eyes search your face. "Tell me you don't miss me. Tell me you don't miss this," He whispers, his right-hand snaking up your body until it's resting right below your breast.

"I'll leave right now," he says, "and never come back. We can go our separate ways and live the rest of our lives separately. And then, ten years from now, you'll be at a children’s park and you'll see me and think, 'Wow. Rafe Cameron is hot.'"

"I-"

"Or," he pauses, his hand sliding down to your ass. "You can just stop being in denial and admit that you need me just as much as I need you."

His grip on you is tight, and his blue eyes are boring into yours. His breathing has quickened, and so has yours.

His face is mere centimetres away from yours at this point, and his eyes are digging holes in you. You feel his erection against your thigh, and the knowledge that he's aroused makes your brain go haywire.

"Say you fucking want me. I'm yours, alright? Just fucking say it." He's so close to you that you can taste his breathe.

You're at war with yourself. A part of you is screaming to kick him out, but the other part wants him to stay.

His grip on you tightens.

"I hate you." You murmur.

And then his lips are on yours.

The kiss isn’t soft and loving. It's harsh and needy, but it feels so right.

All protests, all thoughts and all the mixed feelings die down when he shifts his hand to your throat and squeezes it. With his other hand, he pulls up your thigh to his waist.

Your lips move together sloppily, his tongue darting into your mouth.

You feel him lift you up and walk over to your bedroom, his grip on you never loosening.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue moves against yours, and all the feelings make you moan against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and pushes the door open with his foot, the dim light in the room allowing you to see the outline of his face.

He's breathing heavily. His eyes are dark with lust and his pupils are dilated.

You don't know what's gotten into him. Maybe the years apart have driven him crazy. But all that doesn't matter because right now he's kissing you like it's the end of the world, and you're letting him.

Your lips collide together again, and this time, it's different. It's more passionate and slow, and he kisses you in a way no one has ever kissed you before.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on top of you.

You expect him to take control and dominate, but instead, he rests his head against the crook of your neck, his breathing hot on your skin.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispers as he kisses the side of your neck.

You're speechless. Your brain is telling you to shove him off, but your heart and body are telling you something else.

The lump in your throat has returned, and your eyes are starting to burn.

But before you can say anything in response, he rushes back to your lips, and you lose yourself in him.

His lips move hungrily against yours. You can taste the saltiness of his tears, and the thought of Rafe Cameron crying makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His hips are pressed firmly against yours, his erection digging into your inner thigh.

The kiss is passionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in the way he grips the side of your face.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips roughly pushing against the fabric of your shirt making you whimper.

"I missed you so much, baby." He whispers.

Then he's sucking your lips, nibbling, and kissing. He's all over you.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lifts himself off of you, straddling you as he helps you pull his shirt off.

He's still the same; toned, sculpted, and ripped. You can't help but stare.

You run your fingers down his chest, and your eyes shut.

He's beautiful, and you've missed him so much.

He starts trailing kisses down your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks.

You moan breathily when he sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear.

You were supposed to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. You need him the same way you did when he first made love to you.

"Rafe," your voice comes out breathy, "I want you."

His hand is on your stomach, moving upward. He pulls his head back, and you see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck, say it again," he kisses the tip of your nose. "Tell me that you're mine."

"I'm yours." You shakily murmur. "Only yours."

He only groans in response. His lips capture yours again, making a gasp come out of your mouth—which he greedily swallows.

A piteous whimper slips past your lips when you feel your wetness coating your panties and rubbing against Rafe's pants.

But he still doesn't do anything to relieve the ache between your thighs. You buck your hips discreetly to grind against his covered dick, but he simply slaps your thigh, making you yelp.

He positions himself in between your legs, both of your parts still clothed; the fabric against your wet skin making you whimper.

You moan, grasping his bicep when his fingers trace along your underwear teasingly.

"Does he make you this wet?" He asks before pulling your underwear off and running his fingers past your exposed clit.

Your brain is so fucked up that silence is your only answer.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I'll leave you like this,” he says, slapping your thigh and making you gasp.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you reply annoyedly, "Just fucking-"

Suddenly, all heat disappears from above you. Your eyes snap open. The sight of Rafe clenching his jaw and pulling himself away from you makes you hurriedly reach out for him.

You stutter, “Wait-wait, wait, Rafe, baby, please.”

You tug at his arm, pulling him back down on top of you.

"I need you. Please. Please just fuck me."

"You're so pathetic." He chuckles, clicking his tongue before his hands are taking his shirt off, followed by your shirt being thrown somewhere in the room.

He diverts his attention to your tits, trailing wet kisses on each of them. You let out a satisfactory sigh as he continues wrapping and unwrapping his lips around your nipples.

He goes further down and presses kisses along your stomach.

Before you can react, he buries his face between your thighs. Your back arches, a hand on his soft hair as the other grips the pillow next to you, “Oh, fuck."

He practically devours you, looking up every two seconds to meet your blown eyes. He pushes your legs up, making them almost touch your shoulders. You gasp, tightening your grip on his hair as he continues to eat you out.

Your hands are everywhere, trying to hold anything that can make the storm in your stomach calmer.

Rafe slowly releases his tight grip on your legs before sliding his fingers into you. Your eyes squeeze shut.

Your hips slightly buck upwards, but Rafe shoves you down with his free hand.

His fingers are thrusting into you at a brutal pace, his tongue doing wonders right along them.

He detaches his lips off your pussy, but his fingers are still in you.

"Does he-does he touch you as good as I do? Does he make you as wet as I do?" Rafe asks as he leans over you. The hand that had shoved you down is now wrapped around your throat as he presses, making you choke. "No, he fucking doesn't. Only I make you feel this good, yeah?"

He doesn't expect you to say something because he knows that he's saying the truth. He’s the only person who can turn you into a mess.

"Oh my god, Rafe, right there." You moan as he curls his fingers deeper into you.

"Answer me, does he fuck you up as good as I do?"

You roll your eyes at the question he's asking for the nth time now, "Yeah, yeah he does." You reply absent-mindedly.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims, immediately pulling his fingers out of you. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, so deep that it makes you gag.

"You know what, I'll fucking treat you like a whore." He says, his fingers still deep in your mouth. "I thought I'd be nice to you after all these years, but you always have to be a bitch, don't you?"

With one hand, he clumsily pulls off his pants and underwear.

You moan as you feel him drag the tip of his cock over your pussy. He teasingly does so for a few more seconds before meeting your eyes and smirking at you.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." He mumbles. "Show your boyfriend the bruises I give you, alright?"

And when he pushes his dick in, he makes sure to look down at how your walls envelope him perfectly even after all these years.

"Oh, holy fucking shit." You gasp when his hips thrust forward and go deeper into you.

Rafe drops his head on your shoulder as he sets a pace. "I fucking missed this. I missed fucking you- oh shit." He breathes into your shoulder.

Your eyes roll back into your head, your body budding with the pleasure his thrusts give you.

"Right there." You breathe.

"You never learn, do you?" He says. Swiftly, Rafe pulls out of you and flips you over so that you're on your stomach. "You're a whore. But only mine, baby."

Then he harshly thrusts back into you, making a pathetic moan leave your lips. His hands grip your waist as he pounds into you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you flush into his sweaty chest, tipping your head up to pull you into a messy kiss. Your teeth and tongues clash uncomfortably, but neither of you give a fuck.

His lips detach from yours, and he buries his forehead into the back of your neck.

"You're squeezing me the fuck out," He moans out.

The new position makes you moan, your hands shifting from being vacant to grabbing your tits as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into you.

The sight of you touching yourself results in Rafe letting out a loud groan. His hand leaves your hair and slides down the front of your body to rub your clit.

The new fervour makes your legs shudder, "Fuck, I'm close." You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He nods frantically—having waited for this moment for years now.

"Cum for me, yeah. Cum all over me, baby. Need you." Rafe breathes out, thrusting harder into you.

In response, your back arches with a high. A loud moan escaping your lips and white dots blurring your vision as you release all over him.

Rafe fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with wild thrusts. “Oh, fuck, fuck."

You can feel his high approaching as he grips you tighter. He thrusts into you harshly, desperate for his release.

He throws his head back with a loud groan and a long string of curses when his hips falter and he's covering your insides with his cum.

The two of you are a gasping mess when you lay down on the bed.

You both stay there for moment, breathing in each other's scent. He traces your body, as if to memorise every inch.

When Rafe pulls away from you, it's like he's pulling your heart out too.

Because you know that this was just another night for him.

When Rafe cleans you up and covers you up with a blanket, he fails to cover the ache of your heart.

Because you know that the bed he'll be returning to won't be yours; but the other woman's.

[cherryxbooo]

I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

[bananayuyu]

Making a Mess

Pairing: Mingi x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Being on stage makes Mingi really, really horny. Luckily you're backstage to help him out.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, public sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids making a mess on the floor...

A/n: Heard an audio on here today and well... my brain started working overtime. I need him to destroy me. My bestie challenged me to write something short finally 😭 hope you enjoy! <3

I wrote a part 2/expansion of this story called Cleaning Up which you can read here!

<^><^><^><^><^><^>

Being on stage always had an affect on Mingi, one visceral and tangible, obvious even to fans with a keen eye. The lights, the production, the sea of screaming people chanting his name, it all riled him up more than anything. Staring out at the massive arena, the music deafening loud as he rapped through ragged breaths, his nerves were on fire. Exiting the stage he ripped off his jacket, lumbering quickly towards the changing rooms on his way to find you.

You, his companion on tours. His close... friend? Not really. No one asked questions, least of all you two. But you knew why you were here, why he needed you patiently waiting with the rest of the staff, ready to help him at a moment's notice.

"Y/n," Mingi huffs as he busts through the door, his lungs heaving from the heat he's feeling, his makeup making his eyes look dark and demanding. A small smile sneaks onto your lips as you rise, following him out into the hall, a sprinkling of random people wandering past you at varying speeds. You've both been in this arena a few times before, and you know exactly where he's taking you. He's got about seven minutes before he needs to be back onstage again, so it can't be too far. Not that either of you are thinking about that right now. You duck down another small hallway and then his hands are on you, pushing you against the wall by your hips, his open mouth colliding with yours as you both sigh in anticipation, tongues roaming each other's mouths. You can hear a pair of shoes squeaking down the perpendicular hallway, a small golf cart running by somewhere in the distance. You're not really covered here but it doesn't matter. It only adds to everything.

Mingi pulls back with a nip to your lower lip, burying his face in your neck as he snakes his hands underneath your shirt, squeezing over your entire body while biting down, marking you just like he did a few days prior, where a small yellow bruise is still healing. A small yelp escapes your lips at the pain, your entire body buzzing with pleasure as he so aggressively plays with you, making your knees weak. Not wanting you to fall he moves to grab your waist, lifting you up the wall as you wrap your legs around his hips to anchor yourself. At this angle you can feel how hard he is, just like everyone saw moments ago on the big screen.

"Was it a good set?" you ask breathlessly, your faces only inches apart.

"Fuck yeah," he responds before kissing you again, a hand coming to rest behind your head as he pushes into your mouth even further, reveling in the feeling of your warm tongue on his. "Fuck I needed this," he groans, his other hand gripping your hip to help support you, his hips grinding into yours as he tastes your sweet lipgloss, your perfect eyes shut in pleasure as he digs his hand into your soft flesh. Soon he's unbuttoning his pants, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he holds you up with just his hips. He's unzipping hastily, desperately grabbing at his cock to free it, squeezing his shaft as he lines himself up with you. Your exercise shorts are just loose enough, with no underwear underneath of course, for him to push them to the side and reveal your soaking cunt, your body getting worked up long before he came and got you. Shakily he lines himself up with your entrance, his blood pumping through him so fast as he slowly pushes in, the stretch immaculate.

"Fuck, Mingi," you whisper, shocked every time by how big he is, how good it feels. Slowly he starts rocking his hips into yours, your wet pussy making lewd noises echo down the hallway. Moving his hands back to your hips Mingi lifts you just a bit higher, giving him the perfect angle to start fucking you hard, the wet noises replaced by the slapping of skin, over and over and over.

"How are you always so wet?" he groans in your ear, his mouth nipping at your lobe and making you whimper. Pulling back he watches your face from just inches away, loving the way your brows are scrunched up and your mouth hangs open as you try not to moan too loud. Your body bounces with the force of his thrusts, your hands still anchoring on his shoulders as he pounds into you even harder, his grip on your hips so strong it will surely leave bruises. Your pussy clenches down on him as he hits your cervix repeatedly, ripping little orgasms out of you over and over, your legs shaky as you hold onto his hips for dear life.

"God, you drive me fucking- fuck- crazy," he whispers in your ear, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your wet walls squeezing down on him. "You cum so fast on my cock," he groans, his head spinning as his climax quickly approaches. You've already fallen over the edge multiple times, your body shaking hard now as you just try to hang on, unable to respond to him as you keep yourself from screaming into the open hall. He's absolutely ravishing you, his movements sloppy as he chases his pleasure, your wetness dripping down onto his pants, the floor. Suddenly his orgasm washes over him, his hips stuttering before coming flush with yours, as he shoots deep inside you, his cum filling you with warmth. It's a lot, too much for your pussy to contain, and small amounts start dribbling out of you already, even with his cock still buried inside you.

"Fuck, what would I do without you," he sighs into your hair, kissing your forehead before moving to your lips. He moves his hands around your back, pulling you up towards him in an embrace as you breathe hard. Your arms rag doll down to your sides as you sigh, your head resting heavy on Mingi's shoulder, and he chuckles. "You good?" he whispers, and you nod your head in response. You nuzzle your face into his neck more, making him pause for just a moment, letting a bit of time pass with you both still entangled.

And then it's finally time for him to slowly pull you off of him, both of you watching as the rest of his cum drips out, down your legs and onto the floor, leaving a small puddle. There's a smirk on his face but your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment, even if this wasn't the first time that's happened. For a brief moment his chest tightens, knowing that you find it a bit mortifying letting him have you so publicly. It's all so hot and so shameful all at once, making you quiet and shy, and with your eyes on the ground your hand on his arm is the only sign that you're still wanting him next to you.

"Come on," he says, helping you start to move the rest of the way down this small hall that had a bathroom at the end of it. This really was the perfect arena for this, given the out-of-the-way private bathroom. You wish all of the arenas they toured had this set up. Your legs wobble as you make your way down, Mingi's hold the only thing from preventing you from falling. And then you're finally there by the door, about to swing it shut when he gently grabs your shoulder turning you around. His eyes are swimming with satisfaction as your face meets his, and he leans down to pull you into a kiss again, this time sweet and gentle.

"Mingi, get your ass back here!" you hear a voice scream from down the hall, the sound sharp from ricocheting off the brick walls. And just like that he's gone down the hallway, running on somewhat shaky legs of his own. But not before planting one final kiss on your nose, making your stomach light with butterflies, your core clenching from the sweetness.