enemies to lovers with rafe. you go on a road trip with your friends (including topper etc..). one night reader and the rest of the friendgroup gets high and reader and rafe ends up fucking. pretty pretty please
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content warning drug use
You don’t know why Rafe hates you so much. Since you set out on your road trip this morning, he’s been standoffish. But that’s nothing new from him. He’s always had an attitude reserved specifically for you.
You’ve always assumed he didn’t like you butting in on guy time, but Topper and Kelce have been your best friends since you were kids. You’re not going to stop spending time with them just because Rafe doesn’t want you around.
You’re in the backseat with Kelce, windows down as Rafe drives and Topper controls the music. You’ve been on the road for a few hours now, sights set on a beach house you rented to spend the night in.
When you stop at a gas station, Topper and Kelce pile out of the car to load up on snacks. You’re slower than them as you collect your things. You notice Rafe waiting by your open door, stood between the car and the pump.
“Today,” he snaps. You realize he’s trying to get to the gas tank.
“You can go around,” you reply.
“I shouldn’t have to,” he says tensely. “Why are you so fucking slow?”
You slide out of your seat and your feet find the ground, shutting the door and facing Rafe. He towers over you with a clenched jaw, glaring down at you.
“You have your whole life to be an asshole,” you mutter. “Can’t you take a day off? For once?”
He only gives you the same glare you’ve been on the receiving end of for months.
“What’s your problem?” you ask.
“My problem?” he mutters. Instead of your usual sharp retort, Rafe watches your face fall ever so slightly.
“What did I do to you?” you say softly, at a loss for why he’s always so combative towards you.
He scoffs and brushes past you, no regard for personal space as his body presses against yours. You hate that the feeling sends a rush of arousal through you. You despise him, but you can’t deny that he’s attractive.
As Rafe fills up the gas tank, he thinks about how much he hates that you look at him like that. Like you’re revolted by him.
He shakes his head. You’re so goddamned stuck-up. From the moment he met you, he could tell you’d never even glance in his direction. He never stood a chance and you love to make it obvious.
When you arrive at the beach house, you have dinner with your friends, ignoring Rafe like usual. The four of you head down to the beach to get high and watch the sunset.
Rafe trails behind you as you make your way to the shore, watching the way your ass moves with every step, feeling himself getting hard like he always does when he stares at you too long.
After a few puffs of the joint, your head starts swimming with bliss. You sit by the shore together, feet digging into the soft sand, warm wind pressing against your skin, soaking every sensation in.
Rafe watches the way the setting sun hits your features. He knows he’s not sober if he’s admitting to himself that you’re beautiful. He’s supposed to hate you.
The conversation between your friends is silly and hard to follow as it always is when you get high together. You’re not sure how much time passes when the boys call it a night.
You decide to stay sitting on the beach alone, letting the high wash over you as the waves pull up and down the shore, the moonlight glistening on the water.
Rafe’s been thinking about how you looked at him earlier today all night. The way you asked him what you did to him is turning over and over in his mind and he can’t shake it.
He decides to knock on your door after everyone has already gone to bed, but you don’t answer. When he looks out of the glass patio doors and spots your silhouette way out in the distance, he makes his way out into the warm night.
You hear someone say your name. You’re speechless when you turn to see Rafe walking towards you, shirtless, hair wet from the shower, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. You try not to stare.
You can’t think of why the hell he would come here. If you two aren’t arguing, you’re ignoring each other.
“What?” you finally say, scowling. Rafe sits next to you, making your brows furrow in confusion.
You’ve never been plunged into privacy with him like this before.
Rafe doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It must be a twisted mix of the weed and the way you looked at him and how long he’s been grappling with the fact that he wants you.
“You wanna know what you did to me?” he asks. “What you did - what you keep fucking doing is looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you-” He takes a breath, irritation and confusion and vulnerability gripping him. “Like you’re disgusted by me.”
“Rafe,” you scoff. God, even the way you say his name is spiteful. “You’re joking, right? You’ve been mean to me since we met.”
“Because you hate me for no fucking reason.”
“You thought I hated you, so you decided to hate me back?” you snap. “You’re ridiculous. You can…”
You were about to tell him he can leave you alone now, but the depth in his stare and the movement of his rising and falling chest and the sight of his big, bare arms propped up on his knees ignites lust to curl deep in your core.
“I can what?” he says, leaning closer to you. You can smell his sharp body wash, eyes widening when you notice just how nice his lips are.
It’s a look you’ve never given him before. At least, he’s never seen it himself.
“You always such a fucking mouth on you. Now you won’t talk?” he scoffs. “I can what? Do this?”
He leans even closer, eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you, his mouth an inch away from yours. He hovers, so prideful that he’s forcing you to have to make the final move.
“You can do whatever you want,” you mutter, throwing the pressure back onto him.
Rafe can’t control himself anymore. He cups your cheek roughly, crashing his lips onto yours so hard that you jolt backwards. He doesn’t lose contact, shoving you down to the ground, grinding his growing cock against you.
His mouth is hot, his tongue pushing into your mouth with fervor. You can’t believe that someone you thought despised you is touching you like this.
Your hands roughly drag up Rafe’s warm, firm back and he smiles against your lips, revelling in the feeling of you wanting him, too.
He could have been doing this instead of arguing with you? How much time has he wasted?
Eager hands slip under your shirt and when he dips into your bra to palm your breasts, he exhales sharply. He pulls back, his breath on your cheek as he kneads you, thumbs rubbing over your nipples.
“Whatever I want, huh?” he rasps. “What if I want to fuck you?”
“Then do it,” you reply, your own words shocking you.
Your shorts are soon bunched into a pile by your feet between hard kisses. His hand settles between your legs, pushing your panties to the side, his fingers dipping between your folds, spreading you open.
“Damn,” Rafe whispers, running his hand up and down your wet core. You feel so fucking perfect. This is what he’s been missing out on?
The sensation of his smooth, slow strokes gives you goosebumps. It feels amazing all on its own, but combined with the solace of the drugs in your system, it’s otherwordly.
Rafe dips past the waistband of his sweats and pulls his cock out, almost breathless when he lines himself up against your entrance.
You spread your legs wider, needy for him. He looks down at you, the planes of his handsome face shadowed by the night, as he slowly fills you, every inch better than the last.
He loves the way you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp as he bottoms out inside you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth, thrusts quickly getting hard and fast.
Rafe grips your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and tilting your head to look at him. You meet his eyes, your moans louder than the waves crashing behind you.
He finds your clit with ease, rubbing in circles, making you tremble when you reach your peak. His thrusts get sloppy as you cum, following you quickly, mumbling a string of fuck’s with his orgasm.
Rafe collapses on top of you, your breaths fast and shallow.
When he sits up to gaze at you again, he thinks about how this blissful, fucked out look on your face is so much better than the glares you’re always giving him. And he wants to keep earning this specific look from you over and over and over again.
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