This Made Me Giggle

❛ THE POGUES INTERRUPTING YOU AND RAFE MID-FUCK ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

The room was a haze of heat and shadows, the air thick with the musky scent of sex and the rhythmic creak of the bedframe. Rafe Cameron’s powerful body hovered over you, his skin slick with sweat, muscles rippling under the dim glow of a flickering bedside lamp.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, claiming, possessive. One hand pinned both of your wrists above your head, his fingers tight enough to bruise, while the other roamed your body, sliding from your throat to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh until you gasped.

His hips slammed into yours with a punishing rhythm, each thrust deep and unrelenting, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made your entire body shudder with pleasure.

Your thighs were splayed wide, trembling as they hooked around his waist, your heels digging into the taut muscles of his lower back, urging him deeper, harder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Rafe growled, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with raw desire. His blue eyes burned into yours, darkened with lust, his pupils blown wide as he watched your face contort with every thrust.

He shifted his angle, his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside you, and you cried out, your back arching off the bed, breasts pressing against his chest. The friction of his skin against your hardened nipples sent sparks shooting through you, and you clenched around him, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his tongue tracing the curve of your jaw before his teeth nipped at your pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark.

Your hands strained against his grip, desperate to touch him, to claw at the corded muscles of his shoulders, but he held you firm, his control absolute. The bed groaned under the force of his movements, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with his hips—thud, thud, thud—a primal beat that echoed the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding.

Your slick arousal coated him, making each thrust smoother, deeper, the slide of his cock inside you almost too much to bear.

Your moans were loud, unrestrained, mingling with his ragged grunts as he fucked you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation, like he was trying to claim every inch of you, to brand you as his.

“Rafe—oh God, please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pleasure built, a tight coil in your core that threatened to snap. Your hips bucked up to meet his, chasing the high, your thighs quivering as his hand slid from your breast to your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision.

The added stimulation made you see stars, your head thrashing against the pillow, hair sticking to your sweat-dampened forehead. “I’m so close,” you gasped, your words barely coherent as he drove into you harder, his cock hitting so deep it felt like he was splitting you open.

He groaned at your words, his pace faltering for a split second before he doubled down, his thrusts growing even more brutal, the slap of skin on skin filling the room.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough, almost feral, as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that pushed you right to the edge.

Your body tensed, every muscle taut as the orgasm ripped through you, a white-hot wave that made you scream his name, your walls clamping down around him so tightly he cursed under his breath.

Your vision blurred, your body shaking uncontrollably as he fucked you through it, his hips never slowing, prolonging the ecstasy until you were a trembling, panting mess beneath him.

He wasn’t done. Rafe released your wrists, and your hands immediately flew to his back, nails raking down his spine, leaving angry red welts that made him growl in approval. He grabbed your hips with both hands, lifting you slightly off the bed to meet his thrusts, the new angle letting him hit even deeper.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to where your bodies joined, watching his cock disappear into your dripping heat with every stroke.

“Taking me so fucking well.” His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you clenched around him again, your body still sensitive from your climax but greedy for more.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in his sweat-soaked hair, pulling his face down to yours. His lips crashed against yours, the kiss messy and hungry, all teeth and tongue, his stubble scraping your chin as he devoured you.

You could taste the salt of his sweat, the faint tang of whiskey on his breath, and it only made you want him more. Your tongue slid against his, matching his intensity, and he moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as he thrust harder, his balls slapping against your ass with every movement.

The world was nothing but Rafe—his weight pressing you into the mattress, his scent filling your lungs, his cock driving into you with a relentless, almost punishing force.

You were so lost in him, in the heat and the pleasure and the way he owned every part of you, that you didn’t hear the footsteps outside the door, didn’t register the voices until it was too late.

The door burst open with a loud crash, the knob hitting the wall, and the Pogues spilled into the room, their laughter and chatter cutting off abruptly as they froze, taking in the scene.

JJ was the first to react, his beer bottle slipping from his hand and hitting the floor with a dull thud. “Holy fuck! Are you kidding me?!” he shouted, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and disgust, though a smirk was already curling his lips.

Rafe stilled instantly, his cock still buried deep inside you, his body tense as he whipped his head toward the intruders.

His hands tightened on your hips, possessive, protective, but he didn’t move to cover you, his glare pure venom as he locked eyes with JJ.

Your heart pounded, mortification flooding you as you scrambled to pull the sheet over yourself, but Rafe’s weight kept it pinned beneath you, leaving you exposed and vulnerable under the Pogues’ stares.

John B stood in the doorway, a joint dangling from his fingers, his jaw slack as he muttered, “Dude, what the hell? Ever heard of a lock?” Sarah, next to him, looked like she was trying not to laugh, but her eyes were wide with surprise, her hand half-raised as if to shield her view.

Kiara’s face was a mask of disgust, her arms crossed tightly as she snapped, “This is why we hate you, Cameron. Fucking gross.”

Pope, as usual, was the quiet one, his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling, his cheeks flushed as he mumbled, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

JJ, never one to let an opportunity slide, leaned against the doorframe, his smirk growing as he took in Rafe’s flushed, sweat-slicked body and your disheveled state.

“Well, shit, Kook king, you’re really givin’ it to her, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you.” His eyes flicked to you, and he winked, his tone dripping with mockery. “You good, princess? Sounds like you’re gettin’ the full Rafe Cameron experience.”

“Get the fuck out, Maybank,” Rafe snarled, his voice low and dangerous, his body still pressed against yours, shielding you as best he could without moving.

His cock twitched inside you, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp, the sensation sending a confusing mix of arousal and embarrassment through you. The tension in the room was electric, the hatred between Rafe and the Pogues crackling like a live wire.

You tried to speak, your voice shaky and breathless. “Guys, just—go. Please.”

Your cheeks burned, your body still humming from the intensity of Rafe’s touch, and the last thing you needed was JJ’s smartass commentary or Kiara’s judgmental glare.

Sarah was the first to move, grabbing JJ’s arm and yanking him back. “Let’s go, idiots,” she said, her voice firm but laced with amusement.

“They’re clearly… busy.” John B snorted, already turning to leave, while Kiara shot one last disgusted look at Rafe before following. Pope practically bolted, muttering something about “needing bleach for his eyes.”

JJ lingered, his grin wicked as he pointed at Rafe. “Don’t let us stop you, Cameron. Keep fuckin’ up her world.” He dodged the shoe Rafe hurled at him, laughing as he finally backed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

The second the door closed, Rafe’s lips were on yours again, his kiss fierce and possessive, like he was trying to erase the Pogues’ intrusion from both your minds.

“Fucking Pogues,” he growled against your mouth, his hips snapping forward, thrusting into you with renewed intensity.

You moaned, the sudden movement catching you off guard, your body arching into his as he picked up where he left off, his cock driving into you with a force that made your breath hitch.

“Let’s make sure they hear you this time,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerous, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked you harder, faster, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body already climbing toward another release as the world outside faded away, leaving only Rafe and the overwhelming pleasure he gave you.

𓂅 taglist ― @littlelamy @dollyfiles @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt @urcoolgf @camercns @pointocean @dsfault

return home ⸝⸝

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ꪆৎ est. 2025

𝜗𝜚 c!w. dirty talk, sexual themes, aftercare, shy!reader, soft!rafe.

heavy pants filled the air of rafe cameron's bedroom. the breaths bounced from wall to wall as he laid his back against the mattress, chest slightly heaving.

his eyes were busy, darting across each of your features and trying to gauge any emotion.

"c'mere, baby." you felt his hand grab at your upper arm, his own large bicep curling around you, holding you close so you could feel the warmth of his body radiate off of your own.

you were trying to regain your breath, softly breathing through parted lips as your head laid against the boy's chest, legs already beginning to dangle between his own.

it was hard to ignore the sudden heat to your face, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

you'd had sex with rafe quite often and you didn't think he was keen on slowing down anytime soon. though neither were you. however, it was only in your shy nature to feel suddenly flushed against him.

he felt you nuzzle against him. it was almost as if you were trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

his words plagued your memory.

"that feel good, sweetheart, huh?" "fuck, baby, your pussy's so fuckin' warm." "there you go, good girl." "love bein' fucked by this dick, i'nt that right, angel?" "like bein' my good girl, huh? all mine, that's it, baby.".

rafe's lips often spilled words that were awfully crude when he fucked you.

"y'okay, sweetheart?" he felt you nod in the crook of his neck. rafe was typically soft after moments like these, especially like tonight, when he knew he pushed you a little further than normal. "you're quiet. not upset, yeah?"

once again, he felt you nod.

he gently moved you, nudging your face with his nose. "gonna answer me, princess?" you sort of blinked at him. "with words."

he felt you squirm against him. "'m okay." you muttered, though your voice was so quiet it hardly reached his ears. while the tips of your own were turning red.

the stare he was using seemed a little dangerous. "yeah?"

a hum was on the tip of your tongue but it was awfully hard to concentrate when he was looking at you like that. his head slightly tilted, eyes piercing into your own, pretty lips bent into a slight smirk. all you could think about were the filthy things he was whispering in your ears not five minutes ago.

shrinking in on yourself, you had to shy away from him.

finally, he got it.

his lips quirked up into a smirk. "getting shy on me now, huh?" rafe liked to tease. "all shy like you weren't jus' gushin' around my dick, baby?"

"rafe!" you shot your hands up to cover your bashful face with a blush spread across it.

"what?" a half laugh fell from his lips, hands pulling your own from your face so he could look at you. "you liked me talking earlier." you uttered something, rafe didn't hear it. "speak up, angel." nudging your face with his nose for the second time. something about the act seemed soft, gentle.

once again, you squirmed. "'said stop bein' mean."

his brows raised. "how am i being mean, sweetheart?" a laugh on the edge of his tongue but he held it back, not wanting to make you feel more embarrassed than you already did.

"'cause." your fingers were absentmindedly trailing up his arm, eyes too focused on trying to escape having to look at his face. god, you couldn't look at his face.

while rafe was merely staring at yours. "you're cute." the grin sitting on his lips and the cocked brow was enough for you to hide your face in his chest. he heard you mumble something about him having to be quiet. "'m serious, baby." he pulled your face up with his fingers hooked around your chin. "my shy girl, 's so cute."

the way he spoke to you had your head feeling sort of blurry, a floaty feeling that you couldn't quite understand.

"head feelin' fuzzy, princess?" you nodded at his words, confused on how he always knew what was going on inside your head. it seemed he knew better than you did sometimes. "'s okay, pretty girl, c'mere."

for the second time that night, he pulled you in closer, this time you were practically on top of him, bodies wrapping together like gloves. as rafe said, you "fit so perfectly, like 't was made for it."

"that's right, princess, 'm gonna take care of you." with a kiss to the crown of your head which he watched you hide instantly. "gonna take care of my shy girl, yeah?"

all that you could muster was a nod.

blurb concept with steve harrington. [ GAZE ] our muses are having sex in missionary and the one on the bottom tells them to slow down so they can just look at them for a few moments.

requested by @stardustmunson ᰔ

steve was in a rhythm, his body perfectly melding with yours with each jut of his hips, filling you right to the brim. there wasn't a beat that he was missing, hitting all the right spots as his tongue rolled across the cherubs of your breasts.

he leans back up, staring down at you now as his hair falls idly around his face. the lights were dim, but the moonlight from outside was dancing across his features.

god, he was beautiful.

you could feel the coil in the pit of your tummy building, wanting to bend and break, but seeing steve like this was something special. you were the only one that got to see him like this. vulnerable, needing, craving the feeling of being inside you.

you didn't want this moment to end.

"steve," you moan his name, but he thinks nothing of it. you always said his name while he was buried deep inside you and he loved it. "steve... slow down, baby."

it was evident by the way his eyes widened that he thought something was wrong and immediately stops thrusting, "i-i'm not hurting you, am i?"

"no, no, no," you brush the chocolate curls out of his face as best you can, letting your hand linger on his cheek, "you're not hurting me. i just - i want to look at you for a bit longer."

the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk, "in that case... is this slow enough?" he pushes himself into you at an almost torturous pace, pulling a moan from deep within you, and chuckles at your reaction.

your camera roll if you were dating simon

simon riley x fem reader

military!rafe on facebook

NOT THE DOG TAG LMFAO 😭 u just know he posts motivational quotes too “are working hard or hardly working?”

So real

inspired by request | rafe unintentionally makes you cry

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

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

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSkf4Yfqm/

I saw this TikTok and it's so cute! Can you write smt like this with military!rafe, I just feel like this would happen with them lol.

(for the sake of this blurb, the twins’ names are callum && emerson)

rafe’s packing his things for deployment, shirts and rations piled onto the living room floor while one of your twin boys sit on the couch watching tv. you’re in the kitchen, brows furrowing before you yell, “cal, come here baby!”

momentarily looking up from his task, he notices the little boy still sitting on the couch, before he says to him, “callum, your momma’s callin’ you, don’t ignore her.”

he doesn’t budge.

rafe doesn’t even notice the other boy beginning to clamber down and make his way over to the kitchen while he discards his bag. “callum?” he asks confused, pointing to emerson who’s still sitting on the couch, tilting his head at his dad before shaking his head.

“no?” rafe repeats, eyes flicking over to the toddler waddling over to the kitchen. moving around the couch, rafe catches up to the little legs, picking him up in his arms before questioning, “are you callum or emerson?”

you lift your eyes from where you’re cooking, shaking your head at the exchange but keeping quiet, letting rafe figure it out on his own.

“i callum,” the toddler babbles, and you’re grateful that they’re too young to have developed the trick of pretending to be the other twin.

“jesus, you’re callum,” he mutters, settling the boy on the kitchen counter for you to talk to him as you first wanted to.

“mixing up our kids rafe?” you chuckle, focusing your attention onto callum who’s trying to grab the potatoes you just cut, prying it gently out of his hands.

“no, dunno where you got that from,” he grumbles, not accepting his mistake in his usual stubborn fashion. walking back to the couch, the look he gives emerson, a slight cock of his head and narrow eyes as if to make sure it’s really him, doesn’t quite go over your head. you’ve seen it too often - rafe always mixes up your kids.

do u tbink reader and bsf!patrick would ever start hooking up but in like a fwb way? bc imagine….and wildly enough it’s HER who’s like ‘cant get attached’ blah blah blah. like it’s her being the one to make it clear that this doesn’t change anything, she’s completely platonic outside of it (well ok not really), she won’t think of them as dating even tho they practically are.

and it’s so obvious she thinks he’s not taking it seriously. assumes he’s going on dates. tries to not think ab it.

n eventually he just like loses it. points out how "it’s not fucking fair. you do all this shit to me, with me, and now you’re acting like i’m the crazy one for thinking we’re more than just fuck buddies? that’s all you wanna be? fuck off" and angry sex…..

NOT SURE JUST SOME THOUGHTS…

yes. youve seen patrick's ex girlfriends, how obsessed they still are with him. there is something so egregiously intoxicating about him--it scares you. truly knocks the wind out of you.

you didn't get it before you became friends with benefits. before you leapt over that line in the sand that had been toed over for year and years.

but that one night in september when patrick had just broken up with a girl, and you were feeling upset after yet another horrible date--you got it.

patrick comforted you that night. it felt selfish; you were upset about a guy you met maybe twice. he had just dumped a girl he thought he truly loved.

you brought up the idea.

"let's just be friends with benefits." you plead. the truth was that you were so curious about him. as he grew more and more and became a man instead of an immature little boy--you wanted to feel him.

"what are you talking about?" he didn't want to ruin your friendship. but thee truth was that he had broken up with his girlfriend because of a petty little disagreement. it was trivial, really. he told himself it was just pure incompatibility. but in reality, he resented her for not being more like you. nobody could be you--except for you.

patrick knew it would be complicated. for some reason, you figured it wouldn't be. patrick was always hooking up with and talking to new girls. it seemed like he had the no strings attached thing down pat.

patrick made love to you that night. that was the only way to describe it. slow, meaningful, deep thrusts, your legs wrapped around his waist. desparate for him to be closer.

his words were filthy. he spread your cunt open and cooed about how pretty it was. how it opened up just for him. how wet he had made you. so pretty. so perfect.

it made you cum. it made your nails dig and dig and dig into his back.

you understood how his exes turned obsessive. maybe not even turned.

so you vowed to never get too attached. to never ruin your friendship.

you never slept over at his place, and you never allowed him to stay the night at yours. no pillow talk or sweet nothings. no dates.

of course, these stipulations had loose definitions. and as best friends, it was inevitable to show appreciation to each other, to go out to an occasional nice dinner or impromptu lunch.

patrick was becoming more and more livid with you. you didn't know what had changed. he was more bossy in bed; he went from slow sessions of eating your pussy to slapping his cock on your tongue and commanding you: fucking suck on it.

of course, you liked it. you loved anything he did to you. but maybe you missed how sweet he used to be. you wouldn't admit to yourself why that was.

valentine's day was soon. and maybe patrick had assumed that you would be his date. he made reservations for you.

"patrick, what are you talking about? no, i'm not gonna be your valentine." you shake your head, taking his tennis rackets from him to shove in the backseat.

"what the fuck do you mean 'what am i talking about?'" patrick lowers his voice. "we've been fucking for like 6 months why are you acting like this?"

"exactly," you say. "we've been fucking. we haven't been dating. i told you this would be purely platonic when we started."

patrick scoffs, slamming the door. he's yelling at you now. "so you're just gonna act like i'm fucking crazy for thinking this is more than platonic when it is definitely more than platonic?" he forces the car into reverse, driving away angrily.

"you're mad because i'm keeping my word--no, our word."

"whatever." patrick spat. "you're full of fucking shit. acting like this hasn't been dating this whole fucking time. making me seem like a fucking idiot for thinking you liked me."

"i do like you-"

patrick seethes; the vein in his neck pulses as he parks the car. he's dropping you off at your apartment.

"get the fuck out. go home. this is over--all of it is."

you gather your things and get out of patrick's car. you have barely shut the door when he skids away. your breath is visible in the cold february air, but your body is hot, and stiff with anger and confusion.

you think he will break and call you first. but one week passes, and then valentine's day. and soon it's march and you haven't so much as seen patrick for almost a month.

it's stupid. you go to patrick's apartment. you look like a lost puppy dog.

he doesn't answer the door. you know he's home. his car is in the driveway, you hear music in his living room. maybe he's with another girl. maybe he really did move on.

you don't leave. it's freezing, and your jacket is light--it's not made for the dry cold that hurts at the end of winter.

patrick opens the door.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

your lip wobbles.

"it's freezing out here what's your problem?"

patrick bullies you. he pulls you inside and wraps you in a blanket but sits on the opposite side of the couch. doesn't say a word.

you speak up; he cuts you off.

"i have nothing to say to you."

now you're begging. you're crying and the tears are stinging and you're on patrick's lap trying to get him to notice you.

"please pat, p-please. i miss you."

patrick grabs your jaw. he's stern. "this isn't how platonic friends act. this isn't how you fucking cry when you're just friends."

he's right.

you pull at his shirt. "please, i need you, i'll do anything. want you to be mine. i was so--stupid."

patrick is hard beneath you. he likes this.

"you're so fucking pathetic." he spits.

you get down on your knees in front of him.

"i'm so stupid."

"show me how much you want me." he pushes his sweatpants off; he's wearing no underwear. and his cock looks bigger. just as angry as he is.

you grab him into your hands and spit on his cock, moaning as you kiss it all over. lick him from his balls to the weeping head of his cock. suckling on him and hallowing your cheeks. saying im sorry im sorry im sorry.

he slaps his cock on your face. tells you you should be.

you feel how he pulses in your mouth; he groans as he pushes your face into his balls. you suck them into your mouth. your eyes water and your pussy drools for him.

patrick pulls you up. puts you on top of him. pushes your cunt onto his throbbing cock until you're gasping. god he's big and he's fucking relentless. you're not even moving and he's fucking up into you so hard you feel like you have whiplash.

but god, it feels so good. patrick pulls your hair, palms your ass, slaps your face. he rubs your clit and laughs at you. laughs at how much you're moaning. how easy you are.

"are you fucking sorry?" he asks. his balls slap against your ass.

you can barely get a word out.

"yes--i'm so sorry."

"tell me you love me." he wipes a tear from your eye. "tell me you fucking love me."

you nod, cumming right then. coating his cock in your slick, milking him.

"i love you patrick. love you so much. i'll never leave you again."

patrick cums too.

x p!link 𐚁 ⊹ . 𖥔 ˚ [ cw: use of “daddy” once in blurb ]

older!bf!beau has warned you before. “sweetheart, you can’t just prance around in your short skirts and tight shirts at my work. you’ll get my guys distracted and they won’t be able to do their jobs. and you know i don’t like them lookin’ at ya either, babydoll. lookin’ at ya like you’re all available.”

but do you listen to him? mmm, no. of course not.

so as you’re thrown over beau’s knee with your skirt pulled up over your bum, you finally realise he wasn’t joking with his warnings.

“you don’t listen. and girls who don’t listen get their discipline smacked into them until they learn. i’m done being nice, little lady, i warned you.”

beau is quick with his practiced spanks. the sharp sting of his hits inflames your delicate flesh, staining it red with growing welts in the shape of his large handprint.

“told you, angel. i gave you plenty of warnings not to drop by my office like that… especially unannounced like today.”

his voice is low and steady, dripping with that southern twang that makes your cunt drool as he keeps abusing your poor reddened globes.

you whimper and whine, your legs thrashing around as you tell him it hurts… and that you didn’t do anything :(

but beau’s over it, and he’s no pushover. he slings his leg over yours, keeping you still in his lap. his hand meets your skin again and again and again, until tears prick at your eyes.

“mmph– please, m’sorry!” you finally break.

beau lands one final smack to your ass before rubbing over the swollen skin with his warm palm, soothing away the sting. “yeah, you sure as hell better be, darlin’. you’re gonna listen to me from now on, aren’t you?”

“yes, daddy,” you mutter pitifully.

“that’s my girl.”

Older men with big noses, beards and wavy hair >>>>