Latest Posts by editfein - Page 2

Rafe with a bigger girl.

She gets insecure really easily so Rafe will fuck the shit out of her.. “fucking those stupid little thoughts out of your head baby” he’d say..

ugh he’s so sexy

rafe wouldn’t waste a second once you two were behind closed doors, easily stripping you out of your clothes so he could knead your flesh with rough hands. he’s praising you and telling you how perfect you are as he leaves kisses across your skin, your previous insecurities melting away into nothing as he touches you like he can’t believe you’re real. “everyone is so fuckin’ jealous of you.. they wish they could be this sexy without trying.” you’re struggling to kiss him while he drills into you, the bruising grip he has on your hips making you whine underneath him. “look at you taking my cock like the perfect slut you are,” your eyes are rolling back when you feel him reach depths like never before, “..fucking those stupid little thoughts out of your head, baby?” rafe doesn’t stop until you’re nodding helplessly, your heart fluttering in your chest as he continues to shower you with compliments.

I love dad bods 🥰

do you see of the Rafe’s in your AU’s having dad bods?

okay okay okay

blue!collar!rafe scc!rafe boxer!rafe

sexist!rafe ex!husband!rafe military!rafe

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.

safe with me | R.G.

feat. Rick Grimes x sunshine!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of traumatic incident with family annihilation & suicide (you are responsible for the content you consume), mentions of child death, hurt/comfort masterlist

“Carol!” Rick called, jogging across the lawn to catch her after the town meeting. The sun blazed down, ruthless and disorienting after hours of being indoors. “How'd it go?” He asked, referring to the run she led this morning.

They both knew he was asking how it went for you specifically.

Rick didn't care about much else besides you and his kids these days. Alexandria ran just fine without him worrying himself sick; you’d shown him that.

Carol grimaced. “She hasn't come to find you?”

Rick's jaw clenched, his heart beating a bit faster. “Would I be askin’ if she did?”

“She, ah—she’s fine,” Carol clarified, sensing his mounting alarm. “But there was a—an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” He growled.

“We were clearing a property, and she went into the house first—”

His anger flared. “Why would you let her—”

“Because everyone matters, Rick,” she snapped. “I can't treat her special because she's yours.”

He grit his teeth. He knew Carol already paid you extra mind, so there was no sense arguing it.

“She volunteered anyhow, so I sent her. There were no Biters, but…” Carol took a shaking breath. “She found the family in the dining room, parents and two little boys. Practically nothin’ left of the bodies, half-eaten dinners in front of ‘em, rotten through. Mom’s brains all over the wall—”

“Alright, alright,” Rick cut her off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fucking brutal. Rick had seen plenty gruesome scenes like it, but you—somehow you'd held onto your heart through the end of the world.

“I don't think she took it well, didn't speak the rest of the run. Passed her ration off to Rosita. Had that stare, y’know?”

Rick nodded. Had that stare himself on countless occasions. “She went home?”

“Far as I know,” Carol affirmed. Rick went to head that way when Carol grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “Don't push her, she'll talk when she's ready.”

“I know, I know," he assuaged. “I’ll go easy.”

Carol nodded and released him, and he started down the road, breaking into a jog when he was sure no one was looking.

When he reached your shared house, sun-bleached siding and half-roasted grass, he slipped through the front door, finding Carl reading by the lone fan in the living room. The house was eerily quiet, save the cordant hum of the whirling blades, it's cedar bones heavy on its foundation.

“Hey,” Rick hissed, getting Carl's attention. “How is she?”

Carl shrugged. “Makin’ lunch. Not singing’ like usual,” was all the boy offered before turning back to his comic.

“Alright, take your sister and go on to Michonne's for a bit,” he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Carl huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, trudging upstairs to fetch Judith while Rick moved towards the kitchen. He waited to hear the scampering of Judith's footsteps and the click of the door shutting behind them before pushing through the small door into the kitchen.

You were staring down at the blue flames of the gas stove, an open can of soup in your hand. Completely frozen, besides your yellow sundress fluttering around your bare legs.

Normally, the sound of Rick's boots up the steps was enough to have you bounding out the front door and throwing yourself into his arms, even if he'd only been to the neighbors and back. And you always sang while you cooked, some scratched-to-shit record backing you up.

His heart cracked.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, careful not to startle you.

You blinked, bleary eyes focusing on the can of soup, then flicking back up to the empty pot. Trying to connect the dots of what you'd been doing. “I'm making lunch,” you said, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

“I see, can I help you?” He asked, moving a little further into the room. Turning down the knob on the stove to reduce the lapis flame.

You shook yourself, straightening with a too-wide smile. “I've got it!” You chirped, pouring the can into the pot. It spat and sputtered, entirely too hot. Rick snatched it off the burner, putting his body between you and the wrathful soup so you didn't get burned. “Shit! Let me get some towels.” You hurried away, frenetic energy wafting from you, spooked like a hare.

He knew that with one wrong move, it could tip into full-blown panic. “Honey, easy,” he soothed, catching you by the arms when your turned back towards him. “No harm, no foul.” He gently took the stack of towels from you, six for a few splatters of broth, and set them in the counter.

“I need to—” Your eyes were glazing again, hazy as the memory creeped back in.

“Don't worry about lunch, darlin’. I sent ‘em off to Michonne's for a little while.” He took your arms again, rubbing up and down your biceps to try and keep you with him.

“Oh,” you mumbled, glassy eyes drifting just past him at the wallpaper. “Why?” Your eyes refocused on him, brow furrowing slightly.

He leaned down to kiss the wrinkle away. “Too nice a’day for kids to stay inside. And thought you and I could spend some time together.”

“Oh,” you repeated. You fell quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to dredge something up you'd forgotten.

He waited patiently, sliding his hands down to hold yours.

“How was the meeting?” You finally asked, though your voice retained that same listless quality.

“Went fine. Same shit, different folks,” he said, shifting both your hands to his right one so he could bring the left up to cradle your face. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” You leaned into his palm, a rough, calloused thing against your supple skin, and your lashes lowered a bit, fluttery like moth wings. Something warm unfurled in his chest.

“C’mon, let me fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said, kissing your forehead again to hide the frown pulling at his mouth. He guided you back over to the stove, patting on the counter beside it. Your favorite spot whenever he got a wild hair to cook.

You hopped up, obedient little thing, and smoothed your skirt, crossing your dangling ankles.

He felt your eyes following him while he put on one of your favorite albums and resumed lunch preparations. He tried to keep his movements slow, fluid, easily trackable in your addled mind. After a few minutes though, you drifted off again, staring at a cracked tile on the floor.

Once the soup was simmering, he stepped towards you, moving to stand between your knees. “Pretty girl,” he hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on?”

You shook your head, tugging your chin from his fingers and turning your head away from him.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips along your hairline, balmy and salt-tinged from the heat. “You know I'll never let anythin’ happen to you,” he murmured. “Nothin’ out there can hurt you, or them, here.” He smoothed his hands over your ribs, the swell of your hips. “Not while I'm around.”

Tears welled in your eyes. That's a start, he thought. Out here, that numbness will eat you alive. Feeling is the only way to keep going.

“I’d rather die than let anything happen to them,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled you in for a proper hug, your face buried into the meat of his shoulder. “You take such good care of us, and I'm so grateful,” he said into your hair, kissing your crown. “You're a dream come true, darlin’.”

You cracked, a whimper eeking through your teeth, then another, until you were sobbing into his chest, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt.

He sighed in relief, petting your hair while you purged the pent up emotions. “That's a good girl, there ya’ go. Let it all go,” he encouraged, your tears seeping through his shirt and cooling his sun-warmed skin. “You're alright now, I've gotcha.”

“She poisoned them,” you sobbed, thumping his chest with your fist. Barely hard enough for him to register. “She must have been so desperate—”

“This world makes people do monstrous things,” he said, flattening your fist out against his chest, willing his heart to beat slow and steady under your palm. “We can't try to understand it.”

“Do you think they knew?” You looked up at him, lashes dark and spiked with tears, eyes almost feverishly bright. Pleading.

He shook his head, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, deeply sorry that he couldn't give you the answers you needed. “We can't know, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

“We should have buried them,” you whispered, looking towards the window. “It wasn't right, leaving them like that.”

Rick never loved you more than he did in that moment, his heart leaping up his throat, choking him with affection. “I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry.” He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your temple, your forehead, your nose, adoring you so much it ached.

“You will?” You turned back to him, fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Daryl and I will go as soon as I know you're alright,” he promised.

“But—”

“No buts.” He placed a thumb over your lips, quieting your protest. Another sign that you were feeling a little more like your usual, stubborn self. “Now, think you can eat a little f’me?”

You eyed the soup warily as he clicked off the eye and fetched a spoon, returning quickly back between your legs.

He dipped the spoon into the broth, lifting a small amount to your lips. “Just a few bites?”

You folded your lips together and shook your head.

“Baby,” he sighed. “You need to eat somethin’. I won't go until you do.”

But instead of indignation flashing in your eyes, he saw a prickle of fear as you stared at the spoon. Guilt curdled in his gut.

“Here.” He put the spoon in his mouth, eating the bite instead, then scooped a second bite, offering it to you again. “We'll eat it together.”

You didn't look convinced, but you parted your lips anyways, and he fed you a small sip.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the rest of the bite himself. “You trust me, don't you? Would I ever give you something that was going to hurt you? Hurt Carl or Judith?”

“No,” you mumbled, accepting a second, larger bite. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll share every bite with you if that's what you need, whatever I gotta do to make you feel safe,” he promised.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. He set the spoon down to hold your waist again, tugging you to the edge of the counter to feel your body press fully against his, his arms braced across you back.

“Promise me that if I ever start to lose it, if I ever pose a danger to those kids—” your voice splintered, brittle with emotion. “That you'll do whatever you need to keep them safe.”

He couldn't even think about it, the fleeting idea enough to make his chest constrict painfully, his stomach roil. “I'll do what I need to do to keep all three of you safe,” he promised instead.

“Deal,” you sighed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

He shifted that final inch forward, catching your lips in a tender, top-lip kiss. You softened, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drew you closer, languishing in the honeyed taste of you. Finally relaxing now that he was sure you'd be alright.

After a moment, you broke the kiss to breathe, your nose congested from crying. He grazed his thumb over your bitten lip, smiling softly at your slightly dazed expression.

“You're safe with me, darlin’,” he assured. “Always.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

Catch me riding his dick like I’m a professional

his little "no no no" I'm gonna be sick this man cannot keep doing this to me 😣 MY BABYYYY

how do you theoretically ride someones dimple? asking for a friend.

standing ovulation or whatever they say

jj refers to his dick w she/her pronouns.

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.”

ooo continuing ur last oral fixation post i think jj would love if reader keeps on biting him … his beefy arm is out n ofc she has to put it in her mouth yup

mhm mhm mhm!! like you’re just sitting with the pogues n you’re laying your head on his shoulder and you just sink your teeth into his beefy arm when he’s wearing one of those tight t-shirts that make him look xtra beefy😋😋 prime time beefy jj was start of season two he was soooo !!

but he’d act like he hates it at first but just gets used to it and just likes feeling needed and having you there right next to him is nice hehe. but when people asks he’s like “she just does that sometimes.” just dismissing it like it’s normal lolll

this made me giggle

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.

𝜗𝜚 c!w. reader has neglectful parents, bad habits, sick!reader, soft!rafe.

growing up, you'd always been weary of confrontation of any kind, whether it was good or bad.

you had your parents to thank for that. once you entered a room, you saw the way they'd look down, sighing heavily or uttering something about being busy. you didn't spend all that much time with them. and when you were around, they ushered words out of you quickly, making as little conversation as possible.

sometimes you wondered how cruel they were to decide to have kids at all.

last summer you'd met a boy named rafe cameron, though you'd always known of him. he was sort of infamous in outerbanks, known vividly all over figure eight.

he could be sort of loud, jumpy and had this angry scowl often etched to his face. and then there was you, shy and quiet, mumbling words that hardly reached his ears because of the short volume you used. but rafe didn't seem to mind, too enamoured by the way your lips moved or the way your cheeks would tinge pink.

it didn't take long for rafe to want you.

and what rafe wanted, rafe got.

you began dating the boy less than a month after knowing him. now, a couple months had passed and every day you were learning more about the boy.

his father, ward, had passed away leaving tannyhill to himself after rose took wheezie and abandoned him, sarah now living on the cut with her fiance, john b.

rafe was also learning more about you.

cracking your shell had been more dificult than he thought. nonetheless, you were slowly but surely opening up to rafe about little things.

on one occasion you'd been seated on the kitchen counter while rafe stirred some sauce in a pot, making dinner for you both. "oh, no i hate hospitals!" you'd uttered. it had something to do with your conversation, you were sure. but now, you couldn't really remember how.

"me too." he'd agreed. he'd moved so that he was stationed between your legs, hands running up and down your thighs in a soft, non-sexual, manner. "with how clumsy you are, 'm surprised you've never broken anything."

"i broke my leg before." you admitted, voice dropping low. you often got quieter when rafe got closer. it was almost as if you were scared raising your volume may annoy him.

his brows shot up to his forehead. "what? how come i never knew this?"

you shrugged your shoulders. "wasn't a big deal. i didn't have to go to the hospital or anything, jus' stayed in bed for a while." you reminisced on the few weeks you'd gotten off of school.

"sweetheart, 'm pretty sure your parents would've sent you to the hospital if you broke your leg."

"I didn't tell them."

and the four words made rafe's heart still. he knew this must have been a long time ago, you hadn't lived with your parents for a while now. but still, his heart ached dully at the thought of you, with a broken leg and nobody to turn to.

and most of all. how did they not notice?

rafe made up his mind about your parents very early on in your relationship.

you were still having a difficult time figuring out how you felt about them.

it was late now, moon looming over tannyhill while rafe scribbled down words onto a piece of paper in what used to be ward's office, which was now his.

rafe realised he hadn't heard anything from his sweet girl in the past while, noticing the eerie silence against the walls. however, as if you'd been listening in on his thoughts, his eyes snapped up to the sound of the floorboards creaking.

there you were, peeking in the doors of the office, biting your lip hesitantly.

almost like you were scared to speak.

"hey, baby." his soft words were enough to have your muscles suddenly loosening. he pushed his chair away from the desk, patting his thigh. "c'mere."

you hadn't seen much of rafe today for he was busy dealing with business. you didn't want to disturb him, in case he was too busy.

but nonetheless, you did as you were told.

you all but scurried across the office, finding every bone in your body go slack as you sat on his lap, where he wanted you. "y'okay?" he brushed a few strands of hair from your face. you looked flushed. you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. "look like you wanna ask me somethin', princess."

"do you, uhm..." your fingers trailed against his shirt, taking in every texture and stitch. you didn't want to bother rafe by making him get up and go looking for things. "do you know where the painkillers are? can't find 'em anywhere."

"painkillers?" his jaw tensed and untensed, eyes softening at you. "for what?"

you felt your cheeks heat up. you hoped he wasn't angry with you for bothering him while he was oh so busy. "headache." is all you uttered, not wanting to 'inconvenience' him with your 'issues'.

"you've a headache?" his palm was suddenly against your forehead, gauging your temperature. low and behold, you were awfully warm. "how long you been feeling icky, huh, baby?"

"a while." you shrugged before swallowing thickly. "'m sorry."

"hey, hey." his thumb pushed your chin up, noticing your sudden shift in moods. "what're you sorry for?"

"you're working." you mumbled. "'n 'm complaining 'cause i feel sick 'n―"

"stop, stop, baby, look at me." his hands were cupping your face oh so gently making your stomach feel kind of funny. it was this unfamiliar feeling of being comforted, cared for. a feeling you'd spent your entire life searching for. "i wanna hear everything you have to say to me, alright? everything, all the time, until my ears fall off. sound good?"

a small giggle escaped your lips. "sounds good."

his fingers moved to your hip bones, gently caressing the skin. "how 'bout we go get some painkillers in you 'n then go watch a movie, hm?"

the idea made your heart flutter, you played with the loose thread of his shirt. "sure you're not too busy?" words so small. you were sure that you would blink and the moment would be over, that you'd be that same young girl, hiding your broken leg from your parents because 'all you ever did was complain'.

"never too busy for m'girl. c'mon." and he stood, with you still in his arms, legs tangling around his hips.

Soft Heart and Sharp Edges

summary: You didn’t have to harden yourself to survive. Not with Rafe around.

characters: rafe cameron. crybaby! reader. mentions of ruthie. topper. kiara.

warnings: dead turtle :(

word count: 1k

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

The sky was slipping into dusk, the colors spilling across the ocean like someone had taken a watercolor brush and dragged it through the clouds - golds, pinks, and bleeding violets. The salt in the air clung to your skin, and the bonfire crackling nearby cast dancing shadows across the sand.

You stayed tucked against Rafe’s side, your fingers threaded tightly with his, feeling the steady pulse in his wrist against your own. His thumb brushed lazy circles along the back of your hand - grounding, possessive, sweet in a way no one else ever saw.

The beach was alive with chaos - Kooks and Pogues mixing in that strange, brittle way that could snap at any moment. Topper’s Jeep revved somewhere near the dunes, Ruthie shrieking with laughter as she gunned the engine too hard across the sand.

You heard it before you saw it - the sickening crunch. Then the tracks in the soft earth, torn straight through a scattering of tiny shapes.

At first, you didn’t understand. Then your stomach twisted. The tracks weren’t just in the sand. They were through a nest. A nest of baby sea turtles.

Kiara was the first to reach it, stumbling forward with a strangled sound. She bent down, her hands shaking as she scooped up a tiny, broken body. The hatchling fit into her palm like a fragile, ruined thing - a cracked shell, little flippers limp.

She whirled toward Ruthie, voice cracking in rage. "LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!" Kiara screamed, her hand trembling as she held up the dead turtle.

The beach seemed to still. Even the music dipped lower, like the ocean itself was holding its breath.

Ruthie only laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It’s a turtle, Kiara. Jesus. Chill out."

You stood frozen for a second, staring, until the devastation hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred instantly, hot tears welling up and slipping down your cheeks without permission.

The tiny creatures - their first instinct to find the sea - crushed before they even had a chance.

You sank down into the sand without thinking, your knees giving out as you scrambled forward to help the few hatchlings still moving. Your fingers, trembling, brushed one onto its feet again, coaxing it toward the surf like it could somehow make it if you just believed hard enough.

The tears came faster, silent but unstoppable, dripping off your chin onto the sand.

"Aw, are you serious?" Ruthie snickered loudly, catching sight of you. She elbowed Topper, gesturing. "Look at her. What a crybaby."

You flinched like she’d slapped you - not because it was mean, but because it was loud and sharp and cut through your soft grief like a knife.

That’s when it happened. You heard the change in Rafe’s breathing before you even looked up.

One second, he was beside you. The next, he was on Ruthie.

He crossed the sand in two strides, grabbed her by the wrist so roughly her laughter cracked into a yelp. Her phone tumbled from her fingers into the sand, screen face down.

"The fuck did you just call her?" Rafe’s voice was low, dangerous - like a lit fuse just waiting for the spark.

Topper lunged forward, trying to break it up, but Rafe shoved him back without even glancing at him. Topper stumbled, nearly falling onto his ass.

Kiara watched with wide eyes, still cradling the baby turtle.

"You crushed a goddamn turtle nest, Ruthie," Rafe growled, his hand tightening enough that Ruthie’s face twisted. "And now you wanna run your mouth about her? You think that’s funny?"

"Rafe-" Ruthie stammered, but Rafe leaned in closer, a razor smile cutting across his mouth.

"Apologize," he said, deadly quiet. "Or I’ll make you wish you had."

The fire snapped and popped behind them, casting Rafe’s face in flickering shadow. His pale blue eyes looked almost silver in the dark, furious and unblinking.

Ruthie went pale, nodding jerkily. She stammered something that vaguely sounded like sorry, and Rafe let her go with a shove that sent her stumbling backward.

But when he turned back to you, it was like a switch flipped. All that violence melted off him like a second skin he could shed just for you.

He crouched down next to you carefully, like approaching something too fragile to touch. His hands, rough and calloused, cupped your tear-streaked cheeks with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

"Hey, hey, baby…" His voice cracked a little - softer than the breeze. "Please don’t cry, alright? Please."

You hiccupped against him, your hands shaking as you tried to wipe at your wet cheeks with your sleeve. "They’re-they’re just little babies, Rafe… they didn’t even get to the water…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." He kissed the damp trail of tears under your eye. "It’s fucking awful. I hate it, too."

You sobbed again, and Rafe tucked you into his chest without hesitation, wrapping both arms around you so tightly it felt like he was trying to hold you together by force.

"You want me to fix it?" he whispered fiercely against your hair. "Tell me what to do, baby. I’ll donate, I’ll fund the whole goddamn coast if you want. Ten grand, twenty - it’s yours. We'll save a thousand turtles. Just say the word."

You buried your face into his white shirt, breathing in the sharp, clean scent of him - cologne, salt, and smoke.

"You don't have to-" you started to whisper, but Rafe cut you off with a soft kiss to your temple.

"I want to," he said. "Because you care. And because no one gets to make you feel bad for having the biggest heart I've ever seen."

The fire crackled behind you. The tide tugged at the beach with a sleepy hush. Somewhere, a few stubborn hatchlings finally found the ocean.

And you stayed there, wrapped in Rafe’s arms, soft and broken - knowing that even if the world was cruel, he would always be crueler to protect you.

You didn’t have to harden yourself to survive. Not with Rafe around. He could be the sharp edges. You were allowed to stay soft.

❛ 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

❛ 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

୨୧ ─ jj finding out you like his dimple . . .

JJ had you folded beneath him, your legs locked around his waist, breathy little uh uh uh's falling from your lips as he rolled his hips deep and slow. His hand was planted around your waist, arching your back so you could feel him all the way in your stomach. His forearm flexing, shark tooth swinging lightly with each movement.

And he was smirking. Of course he was.

You were already fucked-out, fluttering around him with every slow grind, and then, then—he let out a breathy laugh and grinned down at you, that fucking dimple popping on his cheek like it knew you were weak.

Your body reacted before your brain did and JJ felt it instantly.

His hips stuttered. He blinked, then leaned down with that shit-eating look that meant danger.

“…Knew it,” he murmured, eyes dark, voice all low and smug. “Knew you’d get tighter when I smiled.”

You slapped his chest. “JJ!”

“What?” he laughed, not even pretending to be sorry. “That was so fast. You’re a little dimple freak.”

“I hate you—”

“You love me. And my dimple.” He grinned again just to prove a point, dragging his hips slow and deep, and sure enough—he felt you clamp again.

He moaned, all dramatic. “Jesus. That’s crazy. You're literally squeezing my dick over a face crease.”

You buried your face in his neck, humiliated.

“Don't hide now, baby,” he whispered, breath hot at your ear. “We’re gonna talk about this every time I smile.”

And unfortunately for you, JJ Maybank made it his life mission to keep smiling now.

check out my other works ! masterlist

”I never see you in the club” I never see you having violent meltdowns alone in your room and hitting yourself but ok

thinking about…

rafe cameron buying you a fancy diamond necklace with an R emblem dangling from it. you’re so happy as he clasps the chain around your neck. it looks perfect as it balanced right above your breasts.

rafe cameron who also only bought you that expensive jewlery so everyone would know who you belong to. when a guy tried to look at your cleavage in a low top, he would also notice the letter dangling from your neck. now, if someone flirted with you, he had an excuse to beat them shitless. “no. see, i don’t think you didn’t know because you saw the necklace she was wearing.” he tisked and unleashed yet another punch, knocking the pathetic boy out cold.

rafe cameron who gets hard even seeing the gold chain around your neck. he’ll notice it dangling around over your perky tits and will shuffle in his seat, adjusting his pants. he makes you ride him, the chain dangling in his face as you bounce up and down on him. he groans, taking the chain between his teeth before releasing his load up into you.

My sexy man fr😍

🥀🥀

Bro…I’m dead

Sweet Dreams

daryl x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, sleepy/subby reader, thigh riding, overstimulation, crying (from pleasure), soft dom Daryl, lots of praise, aftercare, tenderness, use of pet names (good girl, baby, i think sweet girl i forgot)

⸻

The night was quiet. Crickets chirped low outside, and the wind creaked against the windows. Daryl lay still in bed, one arm slung across your waist, the slow rhythm of your breathing brushing over his bare chest. You were warm, curled up next to him, dead asleep… or so he thought.

Until he felt it.

A tiny shift at first. Then again. The slide of your hips against his thigh.

His eyes shot open.

“…Baby?”

He whispered it low, voice still thick with sleep. He felt your body shudder faintly in his arms—your breathing shaky now, your forehead pressed into his shoulder, your fingers gripping at his side.

He blinked a few times, brain struggling to register what the hell was going on.

And then it hit him.

You were riding his thigh. In your sleep. Little, slow, desperate rolls of your hips, your panties damp against his bare skin. Fuck. His whole body tensed, but not in shock. He had to grit his teeth to keep himself still, watching your face crumple into the softest pout.

You were whimpering. Not sad. Needy.

His poor girl, dreaming about him and chasing it in your sleep.

Daryl’s hand trailed slowly up your back, petting gently, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Sweetheart… that what you need, huh?”

You didn’t wake. Just kept going, a little faster now, your thighs trembling from the effort. He could feel the heat soaking through his thigh and it made his cock twitch in his boxers.

He couldn’t help it, he lifted his leg just a little, angling it right where you needed, guiding your hips with one hand.

“There ya go baby… that better?” he whispered, pressing kisses into your hair. “Get yourself off, darlin’. Use me however you want…”

You whimpered again, one broken little sob of need, and your fingers clawed into his chest.

Then you gasped.

Eyes fluttered open—wide and glossy—and you froze. Cheeks burning. You were mortified.

“D-Daryl—wait, I—I didn’t mean to—” You were panting, dazed and shaky, but too close now to stop. “I—fuck—I was so close—”

Daryl cut you off with a soft hush, cupping your cheek.

“I know, baby. S’okay. You ain’t gotta stop now.” He sat up just enough to hold you better, dragging your hips forward. “Let me help you finish, yeah? You were doin’ so good without me, but I gotcha now…”

You whined at the contact, body jerking forward as his hands gripped your hips and started rocking you against his thigh again, this time rougher—deeper.

“Daryl—please,” you choked, tears welling in your eyes from how fucking close you were again already.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Rub that needy little pussy all over me,” he muttered, nose buried in your neck. “Take what you need. Make a mess on me.”

That was it.

You shattered.

Your whole body locked up, back arching as the orgasm hit, soaking through your panties, your cries muffled into his shoulder while your thighs shook around him.

“There ya go, baby,” he praised, holding you through it. “Such a good girl… makin’ a mess for me, just like that…”

You sobbed softly, overwhelmed, heart racing.

Daryl held you close, gently easing your spent body down into the sheets. He kissed your face, your cheeks, your lips, every tear. His fingers brushed your hair back.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, sniffling. “Mhm… sorry…”

“Nah,” he whispered. “Don’t be. You can use me anytime you want, baby. I’ll always take care’a ya.”

He tucked you into his chest, thigh still slick where you’d ridden it, and hummed against your forehead.

Within seconds, you were already asleep again.

And Daryl just smiled.

“Goodnight,” he muttered, pulling the blanket up around you both.

⸻

a/n i have two more daryl smuts sitting in my drafts should i post them guys erm

blue collar!rafe overhears his sons friends simping over you :0

cw : cussing, lewd language, emmett & his friends are 17/18

they shouldn’t have been talking about you. they really shouldn’t have been talking about you in rafe cameron’s house. but emmett and his buddies? not exactly known for their genius.

“dude, i’d risk it all for your mom,” tyler was saying, legs kicked up on the coffee table. “like, respectfully—”

“respectfully my ass,” marcus cut in, laughing. “ain’t nothin’ respectful about the way you were starin’ at her ass earlier.”

griffin shook his head, grinning. “if i was mr. cameron, i wouldn’t leave the damn house. i’d be hittin’ that shit all day.”

emmett groaned, tossing a throw pillow at marcus. “y’all are sick, that’s my mom, bro.”

“c’mon,” tyler grinned. “she’s milf and you know it.”

“seriously,” marcus added. “you think your dad gets tired of it? or is he just like… constantly—”

“constantly what?”

the voice didn’t belong to any of them. all four heads whipped around, blood draining from their faces in unison. rafe stood in the doorway—boots still dusty from work, forearms filthy, shirt sticking to his chest from the heat. he’d clearly just come in. silently. stealth mode. but from the amused look on his face, he’d been listening for a while. emmett slapped both hands over his face. “oh my God.”

“hi boys,” rafe said with a smile that could kill. no one breathed. he walked further into the room, that confident, slow stride that somehow made him even scarier. “y’all have a good day at school?” not a single one of them answered. rafe nodded thoughtfully, wiping his hand on a rag from his back pocket. “you know, it’s funny,” he said, eyes flicking between the boys. “i leave for ten hours to keep a damn roof over my family’s heads… come home, and the first thing i hear is how three of my son’s friends wanna fuck my wife.”

tyler made a noise like he was choking, marcus paled, and griffin looked one second away from vomiting on the rug. rafe’s smirk grew. “now i get it—teenage boys, hormones, poor impulse control. but lemme clear one thing up real quick,” he leaned forward just slightly, eyes twinkling. “she’s mine.”

he let the words hang in the air before continuing, voice smug as ever. “you wanna know if i get tired of hittin’ that?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “hell no. i thank God every damn morning that i get to come home to that woman.”

“ew, dad—“ emmett groaned, praying that his dad would shut his mouth. the other boys just stared, frozen.

rafe stepped back toward the kitchen, already grabbing a beer from the fridge. but he couldn’t resist the final blow—turning over his shoulder and grinning wide. “sorry to break it to y’boys, but i don’t think y’all really have a chance…‘specially since she’s been moanin’ my name since 2015.”

“oh my g—dad, STOP!” emmett shouted, face in his hands again, mortified.

rafe just laughed, ruffling his son’s hair as he walked by. “lighten up, son. it’s not my fault your mom’s hot.” and with that, he disappeared into the hallway. the silence that followed was painful.

until griffin open his big mouth again, “okay…but, like… your dad’s kinda hot too?”

tyler burst out laughing. marcus started wheezing.

emmett let out a long groan. “okay, can y’all stop simping over both of my parents?!”

"get a load of this guy"

IM TRYING????

Guys, I’m new to this app but I honestly can’t describe with words how much I absolutely, utterly, ADORE it. Like genuinely.

AGAHGDHHSB

Hi girly pop absolute love blue collar!rafe I was wondering if you could write about wren/emmett throwing a tantrum about not having something then saying I hate my mum then rafes reaction

emmett being mean to his mommy & blue collar!rafe shuts that shit down real quick !!

cw: cussing, rafe being stern with emmett

it all happened in a flash. one second, the house was calm—just the quiet hum of the afternoon, dishes clinking softly in the sink, wren babbling from her playmat in the living room. you were wiping the counter down, calling emmett’s name gently from across the room.

“hey, em, pick up your toys, please.” you didn’t expect a tantrum. you didn’t expect the shift in his little body—the frustration that had been bubbling up all day to suddenly spill over.

“no! i hate you, mommy!” the words slammed into the air like a door slamming shut.

CLUNK.

the toy truck in his hands whipped through the air before you could even blink, bouncing hard off the far wall and skidding across the floor. your mouth fell open, your breath caught in your chest. you stood frozen, not from fear—but heartbreak. the sharpness of his words cut deeper than anything, but what stunned you most… was the look in his face. angry. frustrated. lost. like his little chest just couldn’t hold it all anymore.

“emmett—” you barely started. but you didn’t have to finish. because the front door opened with a slow creak, and heavy bootsteps echoed against the wood. rafe had just gotten home.

and he heard everything.

the toy being thrown against the wall.

the yelling.

the silence that followed.

you turned just as he stepped into the room—sunlight casting a halo behind his dirty neon orange work shirt, arms tan and tense from work, his hat pulled low, eyes immediately scanning the scene. he saw the toy across the room. he saw your face—shocked, wide-eyed, hurt. and then he saw emmett.

rafe’s jaw clenched, hard. he turned his gaze back to emmett, his shoulders squared as he stepped in with purpose, calm but with thunder in his veins. he spoke, voice even. “the hell’s goin’ on in here?”

emmett stiffened. his little face was red, blotchy, guilt already blooming in his chest. when he didn’t answer, rafe stepped closer, his voice low. “i asked you a question, son.”

emmett glanced up, then down again, “i was mad,” he mumbled.

rafe crossed the room in three long strides, reached down and lifted emmett gently—but firmly—under the arms, setting him on the couch. not rough, not loud—just serious enough to shake the air. “scoot back,” rafe ordered. emmett scrambled back, breathing hard. his small hands curled into fists against his jeans.

rafe crouched down in front of him, one hand braced on his knee, the other resting on the couch beside emmett’s leg. his eyes were locked on his son’s, blue and blazing. “you wanna be mad?” he said, voice low and controlled. “that’s fine. we all get mad. but you do not talk to your mama like that. not ever.” emmett blinked fast, his lower lip wobbling. “do you understand me?”

he nodded. “i didn’t hear you,” rafe said, sharper now. “do you understand me?”

emmett sniffled. “yes, daddy.”

rafe pointed toward you without turning his head. “that woman over there—have you ever heard me speak to her like that?”

“no, sir.”

“have you seen me throw things at her? raise my voice like that? make her cry?”

emmett’s face crumpled. “no.”

rafe leaned in a little closer, his voice quieter now, but firm as ever. “you know why?” emmett nodded. “tell me.”

“because… she’s your wife.”

“uh huh. she’s my wife,” rafe muttered. “and you know damn well no one talks to my wife like that. not only that, but she’s also your mama. she’s the one who loves you more than anything on this earth. she takes care of you when you’re sick, when you’re scared, when you can’t sleep at night. she makes your breakfast, folds your clothes, kisses you goodnight even when you’ve been awful. and today?” he shook his head. “you looked at her and told her you hated her.”

a tear rolled down emmett’s red cheek. his chest heaved with a shaky breath. “i didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

rafe stood, slow and heavy, like the weight of the whole conversation was on his back. he looked down at his son for a long moment, then nodded toward you.

“then i think you know what you need to do.”

emmett didn’t hesitate. he slid off the couch and ran straight into your arms, his little face already damp with tears. “i”m sorry, mama,” he sobbed, burying himself in your shirt. “i didn’t mean it—i don’t hate you—i love you, i’m so sorry!”

you knelt down, cupping his flushed cheeks, brushing his bangs from his wet forehead. “i know, baby,” you whispered. “i know. i love you too.”

rafe stood back quietly, his hand on his hip, watching the two of you with tight eyes and a chest that rose and fell like he was finally letting go of something heavy. you looked over at him, silently thanking him. he gave a quiet nod. that was all he needed to say. he had your back. always.