Purest Honey

purest honey

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, SOMNOPHILIA!!!, female receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, established relationship, cockwarming <3

“rafe, stop.” you whine out. you should have known better than to get into bed naked, but you were too exhausted to even throw pajamas on.

“come on baby.” rafe coos, pulling at your hip until you're on your back, instead of turned away from him on your side, waiting for him to slot behind you and cuddle to sleep.

“im so sleepy.” you tell rafe, barely able to keep your eyes open after rafe kept you up all last night with his cock lodged deep inside you.

“i just wanna taste you, come on.” rafe groans.

“no, im exhausted.” you argue as rafe separates your thighs, revealing your pussy.

“sleep then.” he grunts, laying between your thighs. he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs that lull you even further towards slumber.

“fine.” you mumble out, stopping all resistance, letting sleep take you while rafes kisses move closer to your center, his tongue darting out to taste the bit of wetness that is permanently between your thighs whenever you are around rafe.

he licks softly, keeping his strokes light and eyes on your face, making sure you don't wake as your chest rises and falls deeply, clearly already completely out.

rafe spreads your pussy with his fingers so he can see your tiny stretched hole, swiping his tongue in circles before pressing inside. you move slightly, hips adjusting from side to side as you feel the intrusion in your sleep, but you settle as rafe begins to move again. in, then out, in, then out again. 

he loves feeling how tight you are around him even in your sleep, moving back up to swirl around your clit. until you’ve thoroughly covered his tongue, only able to taste your slick.

rafe presses a few more kisses to your folds before licking his lips, moving to lay next to you. rafe knows how deep you sleep, so he doesn’t fear waking you as he moves your body around, slinging one of your legs over his hips.

rafe swipes his cock through your folds, rubbing against you, feeling your warmth, before sinking into your pussy with a low groan. your cunt tightens around his cock, your body briefly stiffening up before relaxing again when rafe presses all the way inside, able to fall asleep himself now that your taste is in his mouth and your body is wrapped around him in every way.

--

“fuck.” rafe groans, the morning light shining in from the sunrise. he told himself to wait longer, to let you sleep, but his cock has been soft inside you most of the night, and he’s so painfully hard now that he can’t hold himself back any longer.

rafe thrusts his hips forward, rocking into you, forcing himself deeper as his hands grip your hips. you’re not asleep for long as your eyes squish together before blinking open, sleep still heavy on your body. 

“mmm.” you moan out, realizing you had drooled a little bit in your sleep onto rafes bare chest as you pick your head up, quickly realizing that rafe is picking your hips up and down, his cock pushing inside of you.

“sorry baby, couldn’t wait.” rafe grunts out, eyes glossed over with long sought pleasure. you move so you’re fully straddling rafe instead of just your leg stretched over his body.

you don’t even worry about your weight pressing down on him as you bounce your hips with rafes help, bare tits rubbing against his chest.

“slept all night inside of you.” rafe says, even though you could probably tell already. you smile and press soft kisses to his neck, burrowing further into his warmth since the blanket had long slipped off the bed.

“want your cum inside me too.” you coo out. usually rafe wouldn’t let you sleep until you were stuffed, filled and dripping, but last night was an exception, simply too tired to even allow him that much.

“gonna give it to you baby.” rafe moans as you tighten around him, clenching your muscles, wanting rafe to get there even faster, anything you can do to increase his pleasure.

“fuck!” rafe shouts out, hips pressing up, holding you tight down on his cock as his orgasm rips through his body, cum spurting inside of you, filling you with a familiar warmth.

you giggle as rafe flips you over onto your back, giving a few more thrusts to really push his cum deep before settling down into you.

“your pussy is so perfect.” rafe kisses you, not caring about morning breath. “wanna taste you again.”

rafe slides his cock out, fingers quickly coming to plug your hole and not allow anything to escape as he sinks down the bed until he’s laid between your legs.

“you’ve been needy lately.” you giggle, looking down at rafe, swiping his hair over his forehead as his tongue darts out, rubbing over your clit.

“can’t help you taste so good.” rafe moans into your pussy, the vibrations spreading between your thighs. rafe isn’t sure what he would compare to how you taste on his tongue. it’s better than the purest honey, the freshest vanilla.

“rafey.” you yawn, glancing at the clock. “its so early.” 

“i know, i’ll let you go back to sleep in a minute.” rafe promises. he never says anything about stopping eating you out as he licks and sucks at your clit until it’s puffy and pink.

“cum for me then you can sleep.” rafe commands, fingers starting to pump in and out, the squelching of his cum still inside of you filling the room.

“rafe!” you squeal out as his teeth graze against your clit, feeling your soft flesh as he gently bites down before lathering over your bud with his tongue.

rafe increases the speed of his fingers, moving his mouth faster to meet the rhythm as he sucks your clit into his mouth, not bothering to keep the movement soft as he sucks harshly on your most sensitive part until your orgasm explodes from your body, your hips pressing up into rafes face as you cum hard, having been teased and on edge since last night.

“fuck, so delicious.” rafe buries his entire mouth and chin between your thighs, unashamed in rubbing through your folds, soaking his entire face in your juices before smiling up at you.

“now come back up here and cuddle.” you coo out, hoping rafe will agree and let you fall back asleep as your eyes become droopy again.

“mmm, couple more.” rafe returns to your pussy, despite you hissing out from how overstimulated you are.

rafe wants more than a couple more, eating you out through four more orgasms before you completely lose count, at some point passing out and falling back to sleep as he stays between your thighs.

you wake up for the second time, the sun now high in the sky, again with rafes cock buried inside of you. he smiles when you wake up, ready to fuck more cum into you.

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THAT. ARM.

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

Lost the bet

Pairings: Topper Thornton x reader; Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Rafe and Topper make a bet.

Warnings: 18+ sex scenes are described so MINORS DO NOT interact. Cheating? unlikeable characters?

The summer had cast a relentless warmth upon the coastal town, and as your boyfriend, Topper, draped his arm casually over your shoulders, the heat seemed even more stifling. Across from you sat Rafe, his gaze a simmering mixture of intensity and tension. The trio was gathered around a weathered wooden table on the terrace, but the atmosphere was far from relaxed.

Topper and Rafe were locked in a heated discussion, a bet that revolved around surfing, and your gut instincts urged you to intervene. "Let's make it five hundred," Topper proposed, the words hanging in the humid air. Rafe's eyes remained fixated on you, a glance that stirred both heat and unease within you. You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of embarrassment as his gaze bore into your very core.

Then, without warning, Rafe's voice cut through the thick air. "Sex," he declared, his tone dripping with confidence. "If you win, you get five hundred, but if I win, I want sex." The unexpected proposition hung in the air, casting a palpable tension over the table. Kelce, a friend who had been listening in, couldn't help but burst into laughter. "A threesome, huh?" Topper quipped, a touch of unwillingness in his voice.

You felt compelled to voice your objections, but before you could interject, Topper and Rafe sealed the deal with a firm handshake. Desperation welled up within you. "Top, can I talk to you?" you implored, prompting a reluctant nod from him. The two of you retreated from the terrace, seeking a quieter corner to hash things out.

"What the hell, Topper?" you exclaimed, your frustration evident as you slapped his arm. "I can't believe you agreed to this."

"I'm not going to lose this," he retorted, an air of unwavering confidence in his tone.

"Calm down," he urged, though it was clear you were far from calm yourself. For the next ten minutes, you engaged in a passionate discussion about the value of women and relationships, your words aimed at conveying the sacredness of intimacy. Despite your heated exchange, you couldn't shake the sense of discomfort that had settled within you.

In the following days, you kept your distance from Topper. You refrained from wishing him good luck and gave him the cold shoulder, struggling to determine your course of action. Should you break up with him, unable to get over his lack of protectiveness of your intimacy with him? Or should you stay and to be alright with the result of the bet as the thought of Rafe's hunger-filled gaze haunting your thoughts?

That day, the inevitable call came. "I'm sorry, babe," Topper's voice was laced with worry, as if bracing for another round of your anger. "I tried to get him to accept money," he added, sounding somewhat defeated. "But he insists on the 'prize.'"

You took a deep breath and finally conceded, "Okay, fine." Silence hung on the line. "But it's all about you, babe," Topper assured, trying to alleviate your dread.

When the day arrived, Topper left the room momentarily, claiming he needed condoms from the bathroom. Left alone with Rafe, his darkened gaze and proximity intensified your unease. You had seen that look before, but this time, it held an entirely new meaning. "Are you okay with this?" he asked, leaning in close on the couch.

"Does it matter?" you responded with a shrug, downing your drink in a single gulp. He didn't back down, holding your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. His words hung heavily in the air, causing your heart to race. "So, Y/n, do you want my cock?" he asked, his voice thick with desire. Your breath hitched as his words stirred a hunger deep within you, an unprecedented longing.

"I need words," Rafe demanded, and you could only nod in response. "Yes, Rafe," you whispered, the tension in the room palpable. As his lips met yours, desire ignited, and you found yourself craving his touch more than ever.

You hadn't even noticed that Topper had returned, though you were too consumed by the escalating intimacy. "You guys started without me?" he remarked casually, reclining on the bed beside you. His hands began to explore beneath your shirt, planting kisses on your exposed skin. You felt a pang of guilt for the conflicting desires coursing through your body.

As the duo helped you undress, Topper's urgency was evident. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed wholly captivated by your naked form, and you couldn't help but feel a heady mixture of exposure and exhilaration. "I want a taste," Rafe declared, his desire evident in his gaze, while Topper sat nearby, his arousal evident, awaiting his own pleasure.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of sensations, your lips bitten in a futile attempt to stifle the peak of your pleasure. Rafe's ability to make you feel like you are about to cum so quickly reduced you to whimpers. "Please, Rafe," your voice trembling. But he responds not with words, but with his tongue against you.

"Are you going to cum for Rafe, babe?" Topper asks as he forces your hand which had slowed down as your pleasure increases. "Oh my god, RAFE," you moan as your legs quiver, Rafe persisting in his movements until your release.

Rafe rises from the floor, his imposing presence looming over your exposed form. Your hand instinctively reaches for his belt, a desire to reciprocate the pleasure. Topper's presences fades in your mind as you assist Rafe in removing his clothes. Your gaze fixates on his arousal, your fingers inching towards it with intention to provide satisfaction. However, he stops you. "So eager to please me," he murmurs, glancing towards Topper for the first time that evening. "You see how much she wants my cock, like a whore," he adds, a smile appearing on his face expecting to get his turn soon. Topper stood up from the bed. “So how do you want to do this?” Topper asked. Rafe stopped acknowledging Topper again. Instead he came in for a kiss again, and you felt your own arousal rise up in you again. The thought of him inside you, pleasuring you, fucking hard causing your shut legs to squeeze together. Rafe pushes them open again, allowing him to rub his cock against your wetness sending shivers down your spine as it was still sensitive. "Are you a good girl? Ready for my cock?" he rasps, to which your response is a whimper as he gradually eases into you. Though the initial discomfort sends twinges of pain, the ensuing union soon overtakes you in waves of pleasure.

The symphony of your shared passion inadvertently incites Topper's protest. "Hey man, the deal wasn't for you to have sex with my girlfriend," Topper interjects. Rafe's halt in movement causes a discontented moan from you. "Oh, I didn't realize you were so desperate for me. Would you prefer my dick inside you?" Rafe retorts sharply, the aching need within you causing you to reluctantly concur, "Top, just sit down. You'll get your turn," you sigh. Defeated Topper sat down on the ottoman.

You remain silent towards Rafe after experiencing three climaxes that night, a couple of days ago. It was a contrast from the meager satisfaction Topper typically offers. As you arrive at the country club where Rafe and Topper are enjoying beers on the terrace, you divert from your regular seat beside Topper, opting instead to settle beside Rafe. "Hey, Y/n," Topper greets you, "can you come sit here?" but Rafe's hand claims your thigh, hinting that he wishes you to remain where you are.

As the night progresses and the drinks keep flowing, Rafe's attentiveness towards you becomes increasingly more obvious. He whispers sensually in your ear, provoking Topper's growing discontent.  It was then that Topper couldn’t take it anymore, and asked to speak to you. The two of you retreat to a spot near the exit, reminded of your heated argument about the threesome just a week prior. Though your voices remain hushed, your table's view allows them to witness the exchange.

"You and Rafe look cozy," Topper sneers, to which you merely shrug. Deep down, you've already realized your hesitation to continue with Topper. However, you've postponed a breakup, fearing it may be driven by anger and filled with regret. "I don't get it, Y/n. You were so opposed against the threesome, yet you clearly loved being fucked by Rafe," Topper accuses, his tone filled with frustration. "That's not fair," you protest. "What's not fair is you being fucked by him and not wanting me," he retorts, prompting a scoff from you. "It's not my fault Rafe is some kind of orgasm god, okay?" you argue. His gaze narrows as it shifts between his friend and you. "He couldn't have been that good," he challenges, only to have you look him square in the eyes and declare, "Topper, I think we should break up." The message is clear in your stern gaze. "You're a goddamn whore!" Topper yells, a painful sting accompanying his words, and tears prickling your eyes.

"Do not talk to her like that!" Rafe's unmistakable voice cuts through the tension as he rushes to your defense. Topper warns him to stay out of it, but Rafe, driven by a surge of anger, delivers a punch that sends Topper staggering backward, groaning in pain.

"Jesus, Rafe!" you shrieked, your frustration reaching a boiling point. You couldn't contain your anger any longer, and it was directed at both of them. With a huff of exasperation, you turned your back on the two men and stormed off, your footsteps echoing your fury.

Let me know if anyone wants a part 2 or if it is better just like this.

anyways this is what jealous fratboy! rafe looks like in my head in case anyone was wondering

OMG I NEED TO SEE IT😭🤭

how rafe cameron jerks off ✧.*

warnings: do i even need to put warnings on this??? male masturbation, cum, talk of porn, ??? idk man it’s just him jerking off. 18+ obv

you’d think he does it the way he does everything else in life: carelessly, poorly planned, rough, and just looking to get it over with. that he’d fist his cock until it ached, and he was dripping with sweat, his abdomen clenching with desire. that it was a quick session with a five minute porn video and ended with cleaning up his cum from his stomach with a dirty tshirt.

but no— when rafe cameron pleasures himself, he goes all in. dimming the lights on his ceiling fan and locking his bedroom door. stripping naked and reaching for the oil in his bedside drawer, smoothing out the substance across his chest, down his stomach, and over the very tops of his thighs. smearing whatever was left on his hands over his length, his hips bucking at the touch. but that wasn’t all. for rafe cameron to cum— he needed to be teased. he’d run his hands over his newly slick skin, scraping his nails across his abs, the slight burn making his cock twitch. he’d massage the tops of his thighs and over his hip bones, grasping the skin in his big hands and kneading it between his fingers, getting so close to his pulsing cock but never actually reaching it. beads of precum would leak from the red bulbous tip, creating a shiny film of desire against his stomach. headphones on, taking in the moans of whatever girl was on his screen, never too picky about which video played. he doesn’t watch it anyway, needing the sound over the visual. his cock would twitch and throb, begging for release. his balls would ache, ready to spill his warm seed. once he decided he’d been teased enough, his fist would wrap gently around his length, not too tight but not too soft, stroking upwards and focusing on the tip. he’d squeeze the head of his cock, his thumb running against the slit and gathering all precum spilled. his legs would squirm, forcing them open and closed, his hips bucking in the air, his body continuously trembling in need. short gasps would leave his lips, trying to catch his breath while beads of sweat gathered at his hairline. with a tighter grip, he’d stroke the rest of his shaft, groaning at the feeling of his hand. he’d edge himself over and over until he found the twisted knot in his stomach to be too much. he’d cup his balls with one hand and milk the tip of his cock with the other, the oil squelching under his fingers at the movements. the sound would only drive him closer to release. when he found himself teetering on the edge, he’d squeeze a little harder and massage his balls a little rougher until he felt the knot break in his stomach. a raspy moan would fall from his bitten lips, his seed spilling across the oiled planes of his chest. his grip wouldn’t ease, cum oozing from his throbbing tip long after he’d ridden out his orgasm. he’d lay there panting, trying to secure as much oxygen as he could, even though his brain felt dizzy and he wasn’t even sure he was on the same planet anymore.

if there was one thing rafe cameron could do properly, it was jerk himself off.

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