h3nt41sarchive

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it starts because you don't know when to stop.

a snide comment during debrief. a sharp suck of your teeth when you're ordered to keep second-to-last watch. enough sass throughout the day that, if you were under anyone else, it would've earned you more than a clipped warning. but you're not, and with Ghost, it's different.

he doesn't snap at you, doesn't bark. he just decides you need to learn.

his lessons are brutal.

the first one almost goes unnoticed until you feel the heavy pressure of his hand on your thigh beneath the conference table. gloves off, calloused fingers sliding higher while Price drones on at the head of the room. you stiffen, a hiss of air caught in your throat, but Ghost doesn't even look at you. he's staring ahead, mask tilted toward the screen like nothing's happening.

his fingers slip past uniform, find the damp heat already gathering where you're softest. it forces you to sit perfectly still while he works you open with slow, merciless strokes, your notebook clutched so tight your knuckles burn, your lip bitten near bloody just to keep silent. (every slide is louder to you than Price's voice.) you squirm in your seat despite yourself, thighs squeezing shut but he hooks a heavy boot around your calf and pulls. you'll be splayed open as long as he damn well pleases.

"you've got a mouth on you," he rumbles later in the corridor, his hand fisting in your collar as he steers you toward his office. "let's see if you can use it to save yourself."

the desk is cold against your hips and the door stays unlocked. his cock splits you open, and every thrust comes with the weight of his threat. make a sound, and anyone walking by will know how he's got you.

that's the real discipline. not his palm narrowing your world down, not his rank. it's the risk. (the hallways are not empty. the walls aren't thick.) it's the way your body betrays you, writhing under the drag of him, desperate for more while your throat aches with swallowed moans.

he doesn't stop until you're ruined; slick, shaking, jaw sore from clamping down on screams, and your pride in pieces.

and when he finally bends close, his breath on your ear, his voice is low, dangerous, and satisfied.

"good girl. see? learned to shut the fuck up all on your own."

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short little something to get back out there. it’s been so long 😩 sugardaddy rafe gives it to his sweet little expensive princess 💖

A smack filled the sound of the boat as Rafe’s large hand came down to spank your sweet little ass as it bounced against his cock. Your pussy squelched against his fat length, your fresh set clawing at his broad chest in a desperate plea. “There you go… daddy’s cock loving little princess slut working for it now.” His voice deep as you rode him like the perfect bunny rabbit.

As much as you loved the allowance you got from him, you loved his dick even more. It was thick, and long, hitting your sweet spot just right everytime. You got dumb off his dick, always turning into a babbling mess while he whispered dirty shit in your ear. “Daddy… g-gonna make a mess.” You mumbled, your thighs beginning to quiver as heat pooled at the pit of your belly.

“Yeah? I know you are slut. That doesn’t mean I said to slow down though. Make a mess on that shit and then keep on riding.” He said, smacking your ass again encouraging you to keep it up.

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my season one bb :’)

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pairing: dealer!rafe x bratty!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ mentions of weed / drugs, fem terms & anatomy used, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise.

NOTES ⭑.ᐟ you’re responsible for the content you consume.

WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ under 1.0k.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, and requests are encouraged and appreciated 🐆

you came over for some weed.

that’s all it was, just a needy little craving for some greens, something that’d take the edge off of your workload— except you didn’t have the money.

you came over, skirt way too short, lips too shiny, and pockets empty. it didn’t take long for rafe to realize this fact, realizing he was either gonna have to cut you off or let you have it for free, no biggie, right?

that’s not what you had in mind, though.

instead, you sunk your knees into the soft carpet beneath you, tugging his leather belt out of the loops in his jeans, kissing your way down his happy trail, pulling his boxers down, then—

“jesus christ.”

his voice was rough, gravelly in that way you loved, his fingers tangled in your hair as your tongue swiped over his slit, licking the precum off of his warm skin. his hands were twisted in your hair, smoothing your hair back from your forehead, watching your cheeks hollow as spit dribbled from your lips.

“that’s it, baby,” he mumbled, easing more of him into your mouth as he breathed, his chest rising and falling. “suck it like that, baby— take it down your throat.”

you moaned around his cock, your nose brushing the trimmed hair at the base of him, your eyes searching his from beneath your lashes, watching the way he breathed heavily through his nose. he held his hand against the back of your head, moving your mouth up and down on him, groaning at the pace he was setting.

“m’gonna cum, baby.” he mumbled, letting out another groan as he held your hair in both hands. “you’ll take it, won’t you? take my cum down that throat like a good girl, yeah?”

you moaned around his cock, nodding your head with glimmering eyes, tears clumping up your lashes as you took him deeper. “mm—“

you sucked at him harder, hollowing your cheeks even more than before, your tongue sliding over the veins on the underside of his cock, until—

“fuckkk.”

he groaned, hot ropes shooting into your mouth and down your throat, humming happily around him as your eyes searched his face. you stayed there for a brief moment, pulling off of him and wiping the spit from your lips, a hum leaving your lips.

“so, can i get the weed?” you hummed, leaning back on your knees as a grin tugged at your lips, watching his chest heave.

he let out another groan, bending his torso over, gripping onto your jaw with a rough hand. “you get all the damn weed in the world.” he mumbled, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, groaning as he tasted himself on your tongue.

© bardotfawn . copying or plagiarizing my work is not permitted.

[h3nt41sarchive]

I enjoyed reading your rafe fics of love island and I was wondering if you could write one where reader and rafe are coupled up but he went to casa amor. Rafe started getting close to another girl and ended up kissing her. The reader saw a video of what happened in casa amor and she’s all sad and heartbroken. When it comes to the re coupling, the reader stays single while rafe brings back the girl to the villa. It’s sad but also a happy ending? I understand if you don’t want to write it!! I’ve been watching season 6 of love island USA and now I want to read sad fics lol

Oscar Winning Tears || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

A/n: sorry bb this isn't a happy ending but I might end up writing a part 2????

Warnings: angst!!!! justice for my girl, it hurt me writing this :(

Word count: 1,905

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

The firepit crackled softly, its warmth doing little to ease the icy weight in your chest. You stood among the other girls, the glow of the villa lights illuminating your tense expression. Casa Amor was over. This was the moment that would decide everything. The whispers around you were nervous, expectant. Some girls were murmuring about their hopes, clutching onto the chance that their boys had stayed loyal.

You barely heard them. Your mind was consumed by a single image: Rafe’s lips on another girl’s. That damn video. It had been quick—a montage of clips sent to the main villa to stir the pot. It worked. You’d seen him laughing with her, their bodies closer than they should’ve been, the playful touches that turned into something more. And then the kiss.

You’d felt your stomach drop as the girls gasped around you, some trying to reassure you while others exchanged worried glances. But you didn’t cry then, and you wouldn’t cry now. You refused to give anyone, especially him, that power. Your stomach churned just thinking about it, but you refused to let anyone see how much it hurt.

Sophie's voice broke through the tense silence. "Ladies, the boys are on their way back. Please stand by the firepit." You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand tall, even as your legs felt like jelly. Your palms were sweaty, and you discreetly wiped them on your dress, hoping to mask the anxiety clawing at your composure.

The first footsteps echoed from the path. A single pair. One of the girls next to you exhaled a shaky sigh of relief as her partner walked in alone, grinning sheepishly. Another boy followed, also alone. The tension was unbearable. Then, you heard it. Two sets of footsteps. Your breath hitched. A bitter chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it, soft but sharp, enough to make the girls around you glance your way.

You didn’t look at them. Your eyes were fixed on the pathway, your heart sinking deeper with each passing second. You’d been prepared for this, or at least you told yourself you were. But nothing could really prepare you for the sight of Rafe walking toward the firepit with another girl on his arm. And then you saw him.

He walked in, his hand lightly resting on the arm of another girl. He didn't meet your eyes. His head was low, his expression unreadable. If you didn’t know him so well, you might have missed the subtle signs of guilt: the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand fidgeted at his side, the occasional glance toward you that he quickly averted.

The murmurs from the other islanders grew louder as they registered the scene. You could feel their eyes darting between you and Rafe, their pity and shock palpable. When he reached his spot across from you, Sophie turned to you with a sympathetic smile. "Y/n," she began gently, her voice laced with concern, "how are you feeling, darling?"

You let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter even to your own ears. "How am I feeling?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. You took a moment to compose yourself, sucking in a deep breath before continuing. "I’m not surprised. I expected it." Everyone at the firepit watched silently.

"I saw the video," you added, your tone flat but sharp, like the edge of a knife. That did it. Rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with shock. Guilt was written all over his face. He opened his mouth, but you weren’t done. "Y/n—" he started, but you raised a hand to cut him off. "Don’t," you interrupt, your voice breaking slightly. You looked up at the sky, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

You refused to cry—not in front of everyone, not in front of him, and certainly not in front of her. The girl at his side, her hand still loosely resting on his arm, spoke up. "It’s Love Island, babe. You gotta do what you gotta do," she shrugs. Her voice was light, almost dismissive, as if her words weren’t twisting the knife already buried in your chest.

Your head snapped toward her, and for the first time that night, anger flared in your eyes. "You’ve literally been here five minutes," you snapped, your voice sharp and cutting. "Don’t tell me what Love Island is about." Her confidence faltered, and she blinked taken aback by your tone, but you didn’t give her the chance to respond. Your attention shifted back to Rafe.

The anger in your chest burned hotter now, but beneath it was a raw, aching hurt that threatened to consume you. You forced a bitter smile onto your face. "I hope you’re happy with your decision, Rafe. I really do. I hope you don’t regret it." The firepit was silent except for the crackling of the flames. The other islanders shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

Some of the girls moved closer to you, murmuring quiet words of comfort that barely registered. Rafe looked like he wanted to say something, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out. He looked down again, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. Straightening your spine, you turned away from him, heading back to your spot with the girls.

Your heart felt like it was shattering, pieces of it breaking off with every step, but you kept your head high. The tears still threatened to fall, but you blinked them back, refusing to give him—or anyone—the satisfaction of seeing you cry. This was Love Island, and you’d play the game. But this time, you’d play it for yourself.

~

The recoupling ceremony ended in a blur. The moment Sophie dismissed everyone, you were the first to stand, your legs moving on autopilot as you stormed off. The heels of your shoes clicked sharply against the wooden planks, the sound punctuating each shaky breath you took. Behind you, the murmurs began—low and uncertain—as the other girls watched you retreat.

It wasn’t long before they followed, one by one, a show of solidarity that left the Casa Amor girls awkwardly planted in their seats. You held your head high as you walked away, desperate to maintain the last shred of composure you had left.

Rafe sat frozen at the firepit, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, the tension radiating like a storm about to break. His jaw clenched as he stared down at the ground, guilt eating away at him like poison. “Mate, what the fuck were you thinking?” one of the boys muttered, breaking the silence.

Another chimed in, leaning forward to fix him with a sharp glare. “She stayed loyal to you. You had the real deal, and you blew it for… what? A bit of fun?” Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t even look up. Beside him, the girl from Casa Amor shifted uncomfortably, her confidence waning as the tension mounted.

“Seriously, Rafe,” one of the others said, his voice lower but no less disappointed. “She deserved better than this. You know that, right?” The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, but he stayed silent, his guilt too overwhelming to let him respond. He risked a glance toward the path you’d disappeared down, but the sight only made his stomach churn.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, unstoppable, hot streams burning down your cheeks. Your chest felt tight, suffocating, as if your heart was collapsing in on itself. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. Sobs wracked your body, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against a railing for support.

Despite your efforts to escape, you were still within view of the firepit. You hated that they could see you like this—breaking apart, vulnerable, destroyed. The girls were by your side in an instant, Sofia’s arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. “It’s okay, we’ve got you. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Away from everyone,” she murmured softly, her voice low and comforting as the others circled around you protectively.

You nodded mutely, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. They guided you to one of the outdoor lounges, the soft cushions offering little comfort as you collapsed onto them. Sofia sat beside you, pulling you into her arms as the others hovered close, their faces etched with concern. You buried your face in Sofia’s shoulder, gripping her tightly as sobs tore through you.

It all spilled out—the heartbreak, the anger, the betrayal. “I can’t do this,” you gasped, the words spilling out between sobs. “I fucking can’t do this.” The raw pain in your words made the girls exchange worried glances, their sympathy etched in their faces. “I stayed loyal to him,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I stayed loyal, and he…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

The memory of him walking in with her was enough to shatter you all over again. “He’s a fucking idiot,” one of the girls said fiercely, her voice cutting through the haze of your pain. “You gave him everything, and he didn’t deserve any of it.” Sofia wiped your tears. "You did everything right. This isn’t on you." Her words only made it worse.

You had stayed loyal. You’d turned away from every temptation in Casa Amor, reminding yourself over and over that Rafe was waiting for you, that he was worth it. You’d trusted him to do the same. But he hadn’t. “But why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why wasn’t I enough?” The question hung in the air, unanswered, as your sobs filled the silence.

Sofia tightened her hold on you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to comfort you. "I gave him everything," you choked out between sobs, your voice breaking. "And he just… he didn’t care. He didn’t even think about me." The girls murmured quiet reassurances, their hands resting on your back, your arms, wherever they could offer comfort.

But nothing they said could touch the aching void inside you, the gaping wound left by his betrayal. Your heart ached, a dull, throbbing pain that radiated through every inch of your body. The memory of Rafe walking in with her—his arm around her, his guilty eyes refusing to meet yours—was seared into your mind. For the first time, you truly doubted if you could keep going.

Back at the firepit, Rafe’s guilt was palpable. He finally glanced up, only to see the other boys still staring at him with varying degrees of disappointment and disbelief. “You fucked up, man,” one of them said bluntly. “Big time.” Rafe didn’t argue. He didn’t try to explain. What could he say? That he’d been tempted, that he’d let his guard down, that he’d convinced himself it was harmless until it wasn’t? None of it mattered now.

The damage was done. His gaze shifted to the path again, and for a fleeting moment, he thought about going after you. But when he saw the other girls walking back toward the villa, their arms around you like a protective wall, he knew he’d lost any right to comfort you. You were gone. And it was entirely his fault.

PART 2 IS HERE

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TWO WRONGS...

pairings: ex!rafe cameron x reader && situationship!art donaldson x reader && pining!jj maybank x reader

summary: after a messy break up with rafe, your only option was to leave the band. east coast had barely managed to continue on without you, thanks to john b stepping up to continue vocals. you joined the other band from outer banks, challengers. both bands now battle for the number one spot, while half of them battle for your attention.

TWO WRONGS — 23. 24. 25.

next chapter

( taglist below ! )

꒰ taglist ꒱ @bbyg4rl @girliism @lvve-talks @pittsick @shahabaqsa0310 @butchernat @khartalks @coolgrl111 @nozhdyved @justiceforfoxface @imperishablereverie @yardofbrunettes @plaidcowboy @hvneybuckin @sleepyjackets @pinkpantheressluver @notgirlsummerr @nymphetartie @vampshxde @dumbbandpoetic @cokewithcameron @delicatepointeofview @honeymarvel @v4mp1rr3 @railingsofsorrow @h3nt41sarchive @yolgart @xoxo-martina @tinas111 @celestial-cestlavie @emmaaas-posts @cherryzweig @kittydiarys @cestdommage @peachyparkerr @folklorelover888 @thecontrash @keviann @hopelesssheaven @sanguinellia @fa-me @blastzachilles @jamespotteraliveversion @gublerstylesobrien1238 @hayleygrrr @blondewhoresworld @pennynicole-dime @kamshotseverywhere @w31rdg1rl @xioheartsthemoon @luver4chris ( to be added )

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oh you know, just randomly thinking about this mirror pic lately 😩

Your cheek was pressed into the mattress, both of you sweating, your breath coming out in short, helpless gasps. He had you pinned just how he liked it—back arched, ass high, and face turned toward the massive mirror across the room. His hand was firm on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as he watched his hips drive in and out of you, getting a glace of his cock, slick with your arousal.

“Eyes open,” he grunted, his voice rough and deep, “I want you to see what I see.”

But your eyes were already pinched shut, your jaw clenching as the pressure built, the sound of hips slapping against your skin. Your flushed face, the way your body jolted forward with every hard thrust, the way his muscled frame looked behind you, sweat slick on his chest, jaw clenched in focus.

“Shit, baby,” he growled, keeping his pace steady and giving your ass a sharp smack. “Look at that… takin’ all of me. So fuckin’ pretty.”

"Can't open your eyes, huh?" He said laughing, taunting you.

"R-ray, you're gonna make me come," You cried out, your voice cracking as your thighs began to feel weak with the pressure building inside of you, feeling unbearable. You tried to pull away, it was too much, too deep, too perfect- and that pissed Rafe off.

"Nah, you trying to run now, pretty girl? I'm tryin' to take care of my girl," he said gripping your waist, pulling you back to keep you right where he wanted you. His hand came down to grip your chin, pulling your body up against his chest and forcing you to look in the mirror.

You tried to brace yourself, a small moan slipping out as you watched him fucking you from behind as his other arm wrapped around your waist. Your legs feeling weaker at the new angle causing you to gasp. His hand refused to leave the spot on your chin, forcing you to watch the filthy scene in the mirror.

"R-rafe.." You mumbled out, feeling the orgasm getting closer, the moans continuing to spill out. You could see it all, the mess he had made of you, the way your body shook with every thrust.

"You're a fucking mess," He said, his lips against your ear, "You see that?" He asked you, the grip on your chin tightening as he felt you flutter against him, "That's me takin' care of you, watch yourself take that dick, baby."

[h3nt41sarchive]

Don't Forget Where You Belong- R.C. SMAU: Part Three

Summary: You and Sarah have been best friends since you were in diapers. In fact, it is hard to remember a single moment in your life that a member of the Cameron family hadn't been involved in. They had been by your side for everything, no matter what. So, when you all got into the college of your dreams and discovered your financial aid wouldn't cover it, there wasn't really a question in Rafe's mind when he suggested you get married after rejecting a personal loan from them. It would just be some quick paperwork, and you would be able to cover your semesters yourself. Did it help that the two of you were already in love with each other? Sure. Lines blur through your sophomore and junior years, but even fairytales don't last in the Cameron family. Rafe disappears for the summer before your senior year, leaving you and your friend group trying to find a new normal in your break-up. Is it really a break-up when you two are still married and Rafe returns still calling you his wife? Even if you won't talk to him, the KU Anon App keeps his attempts anonymous. Well, at least he thinks so...

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Trope: Best Friend's Brother/ Marriage of Convenience

Masterlist

Taglist:

@doeionic @dreamybabbyy @jaydaaasworld @inthelibrarybtw @cycloneperson @mochababydoll @r0binsparkles @onelonelybitch @beyond-the-ashes @kelbrave @husherstan

[h3nt41sarchive]

Messy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: very much inspired by the first episode of Euphoria and the scene between Cassie and Nate!!

Warnings: none rlly

Word count: 1,362

A/n: should I do a part 2?

MASTERLIST

The faint hum of the parking lot lights filled the quiet night, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and sugar. You were perched on the edge of a chipped concrete parking block outside the 7-Eleven, dress riding high on your thighs from the way you sat, legs crossed at the ankle, swinging lazily.

Your fingers were sticky with melted marshmallow from the half-eaten bag in your lap, the world muted except for the sound of your own chewing. The chime of the automatic door cut through your daze. You didn’t look up—until a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, Y/n.” Your head turned, gaze tilting upward. Rafe stood there, framed by the harsh fluorescent glow spilling from the store. He looked unfairly good in the low light—tanned skin, shirt clinging just enough to hint at the shape beneath, and that lazy, cocky stance that always felt half like a challenge, half like an invitation.

“Hi,” you mumbled around the marshmallow in your mouth, the word coming out softer than you intended. His eyes flicked down, trailing along the bare stretch of your thighs where your dress had ridden up, lingering before snapping back to your face.

Without a word, he pulled a cold beer from the plastic ring in his hand and held it out toward you. “Something to wash that down?” Your gaze lingered on the bottle for a beat, then climbed back up to meet his eyes before you reached for it. “Thanks.” You took it, the glass sweating against your palm.

You were still twisting the cap when he popped his own open with his teeth. The metal cap clattered against the asphalt. He drank like he wasn’t in a rush, watching you over the rim. You took a sip—too big—and winced at the bitter fizz, nose wrinkling. His mouth twitched at the corner, but he didn’t comment.

Instead, “What are you doing tonight?” “I was supposed to go to this party with my sister,” you said, crossing one leg over the other, your heel dangling off your toe. “Right.” He tipped the bottle back for another drink, eyes never leaving you. “Then we got into this really big fight.”

You tapped your heeled foot against the asphalt, the sound clicking in the quiet.“You still with Matthew?” he asked suddenly. You gave the smallest shake of your head, a faint smile ghosting over your lips before disappearing. “Mmm. No.”“What happened?” His tone was quick, a little too interested.

“We broke up,” you shrugged. “Why?”“Cause we were in different places.” He nodded slowly, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “Yeah. That’s the same shit with me and Sofia.” Your eyes found his again. “Yeah, I know.” The silence that followed was thick.

His stare was steady, the kind that made you feel seen and pinned down at the same time. “But you’re like… you’re a relationship kind of girl, right?” His voice carried that lazy, testing lilt, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it. You huffed out a soft, humourless laugh. “Trying not to be.”

He studied you, leaning just a fraction closer. You cleared your throat lightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Like what?” You swallowed. “I’m just… trying to focus on myself.” “Why?” It came out quieter this time, and you weren’t sure if he meant it as a question or a challenge. You breathed out slowly, your pulse in your ears.

“Because I keep making mistakes and not learning from them.” He nodded, eyes scanning your face like he was memorising something, then tipped the bottle back again. When he lowered it, his jaw tightened, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn he was about to say something else.

Instead: “Would you like a ride to this party, Y/n?”

You slid into the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, the worn leather cool against the back of your thighs. The faint smell of cologne clung to the cabin, mingled with the sharper tang of beer from the bottles rattling in the cup holders.

He didn’t say much at first��just started the engine, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his profile all sharp lines under the glow from the dash. The ride was quiet in that way where the silence didn’t feel empty—it felt loaded.

You leaned your head back, eyes half-lidded, the low hum of the engine settling into your bones. You weren’t drunk, but there was a warm buzz behind your eyes, the beer hitting just enough to loosen the edges. Halfway down the stretch of dark road, you went to take another sip and misjudged the angle.

The bottle tipped, cold liquid spilling onto your lap in a sudden rush. “Shit,” you hissed, jerking upright, the beer soaking through the thin fabric of your dress. Rafe glanced over, his eyes immediately dropping to the wet patch spreading across your thighs. “Messy,” he muttered, but his voice had gone rougher.

You set the bottle in the cup holder, feigning annoyance as you tugged at the hem of your dress. “Feels gross,” you said, tone light but your gaze deliberately holding his. Then, slowly—carelessly—you hooked your thumbs under the lace at your hips. Rafe’s grip on the wheel tightened, the leather creaking under his palm.

“Y/n…” You slid the fabric down your legs in one unhurried motion, the damp heat of the spill making the act feel more intimate than it should’ve been. You balled the underwear in your hand, tossed it lazily in his backseat, and shifted in your seat so your bare skin brushed the cool leather.

His jaw flexed, eyes flicking between the road and your thighs. The air in the truck felt thicker, warmer, like it was pressing in on both of you. “You always do this?” he asked finally, voice low. “Do what?” You tilted your head, the faintest curve of a smirk on your lips. “Make it impossible to concentrate,” he said, each word deliberate.

~

The bass from the party bled out into the street long before Rafe’s truck even turned onto the block, rattling faintly through the frame. The house glowed in warm yellow light, people spilling out onto the front lawn with drinks in hand, laughter cutting through the thump of music.

Rafe pulled up to the curb, engine idling low. You smoothed your dress over your bare thighs, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips. His eyes lingered a second longer than necessary before he killed the ignition.

When you stepped out, the cool night air hit you instantly, carrying the faint smell of beer, perfume, and cigarette smoke. You adjusted your dress, and Rafe came around the front of the truck, hands in his pockets, walking beside you without saying a word.

You could feel it—that invisible tether between you from the ride here—still taut, still humming. The moment you reached the steps, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Y/n!” You turned just in time to see Sofia weaving her way through the crowd, drink sloshing in her hand.

She was grinning, eyes warm as she reached for you. “You made it!” Her arms looped briefly around your shoulders in a friendly hug, and then she glanced past you—eyes catching on Rafe. “Oh,” she said with a faint laugh. “You guys came together?” Her tone was light, unbothered, almost amused.

You gave a casual shrug, shifting your weight onto one hip. “Yeah,” you said easily, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ran into him at 7-Eleven. Figured I’d hitch a ride instead of Ubering.” Rafe didn’t offer much—just a lazy nod in her direction, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

Sofia smiled, brushing it off without hesitation. “Makes sense. I mean, who doesn’t love a Cameron chauffeur service?” She gave your arm a squeeze before stepping back. “Come find me later, okay?” You nodded, and she melted back into the crowd, her attention already elsewhere.

Rafe’s shoulder brushed yours as you stepped forward toward the door, his voice low enough that only you could hear it. “Guess she’s not the jealous type.”

[h3nt41sarchive]

TWO WRONGS...

meet the two biggest bands in the world right now, topping the charts, snatching awards. challengers & east coast. who would have thought one island could create two of the best bands we've seen in recent history? oh, another thing they have in common— y/n's been apart of both.

two wrongs ( don't make a right )

summary: after a messy break up with rafe, your only option was to leave the band. east coast had barely managed to continue on without you, thanks to john b stepping up to continue vocals. you joined the other band from outer banks, challengers. both bands now battle for the number one spot, while half of them battle for your attention.

pairings: ex!rafe cameron x reader && situationship!art donaldson x reader && pining!jj maybank x reader — fcs: beabadoobee, clairo, pinkpantheress (&&pinterest girlies on occasion)

ᯓ★ PARTS— 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

ᯓ★ EXTRAS— ⊹ ࣪ ˖ profiles ⊹ ࣪ ˖ get to know ⊹ ࣪ ˖ the albums ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[h3nt41sarchive]

TWO WRONGS...

pairings: ex!rafe cameron x reader && situationship!art donaldson x reader && pining!jj maybank x reader

summary: after a messy break up with rafe, your only option was to leave the band. east coast had barely managed to continue on without you, thanks to john b stepping up to continue vocals. you joined the other band from outer banks, challengers. both bands now battle for the number one spot, while half of them battle for your attention.

TWO WRONGS — 16. 17. 18.

next chapter

꒰ taglist ꒱ @bbyg4rl @girliism @lvve-talks @pittsick @shahabaqsa0310 @butchernat @khartalks @coolgrl111 @nozhdyved @justiceforfoxface @imperishablereverie @yardofbrunettes @plaidcowboy @hvneybuckin @sleepyjackets @pinkpantheressluver @notgirlsummerr @nymphetartie @vampshxde @dumbbandpoetic @cokewithcameron @delicatepointeofview @honeymarvel @v4mp1rr3 @railingsofsorrow @h3nt41sarchive @yolgart @xoxo-martina @tinas111 @celestial-cestlavie @emmaaas-posts @cherryzweig @kittydiarys @cestdommage @peachyparkerr @folklorelover888 @thecontrash @keviann @hopelesssheaven @sanguinellia @fa-me @blastzachilles @jamespotteraliveversion @gublerstylesobrien1238 @hayleygrrr @blondewhoresworld @pennynicole-dime @kamshotseverywhere @w31rdg1rl @xioheartsthemoon ( to be added )

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★ bluecollar!rafe

– bluecollar!rafe who… is always up at 4 a.m. sharp, even on weekends. you drag yourself out of bed just to see him off, make sure he has everything he needs. your hair messy and eyes half-shut, and he groans every time. “baby, go back to bed,” he mumbles, pulling a hoodie over his head, “lookin’ too damn pretty to be up this early,” giving you a small kiss on your forehead. 

– blue collar!rafe who… is always using your nail glue to seal up the bad cuts he gets at work. won’t go to urgent care, won’t let it “air out,” just grabs the pink bottle that he keeps in his truck. you surprise him one day—show up with his lunch, catch him mid-squeeze, glue sealing a split across his palm. he barely looks up, flexes his bleeding hand, and says, “ain’t that what it’s for?”

– bluecollar!rafe who… has hands that are always rough, calloused, and covered in fresh cuts—dirt under his nails, knuckles scabbed from who knows what. you wince every time you take them in, but he just shrugs, flexing his fingers like it’s no big deal. “just means i’m gettin’ work done,” he always tells you. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… is quietly saving cash in the safe to buy land and build your dream home. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… constantly brags about his “old lady” even though you are much younger than him and it makes you frown. “don't matter,” he says, mouth full of your homemade dinner. “you keep the house runnin’. I ain't got shit without you.”

– bluecollar!rafe who… never lets you take your car to the shop. check engine light? car making funny noises? he pulls codes with a handheld scanner he swears paid for itself. oil change? brake pads squealing? he’s already outside in the garage, sleeves rolled up, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, “why the hell would you pay some guy when you've got me, huh?” slamming the hood shut like it's personal. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… always leaves nails, screws, folded receipts, and random bills in every pocket. when you fish out a crumpled $50, it goes straight into your pocket. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… keeps a jar in the laundry room labeled “Rafe’s Hardware Fund”. and one day you're just so overstimulated you throw it out. he doesn’t say anything at first, just walks in, opens the empty shelf, and stares at it. “you seen my jar?” you don’t respond. his argument? “those were perfectly good roofing nails in there. You tryna sabotage me, sweetheart?”

– bluecollar!rafe who… doesn't give a damn about OSHA’s safety guidelines. you’ve given up lecturing him about safety gear—he just smirks, “baby, I’ve been doin’ this shit forever. OSHA ain’t gonna tell me how to work.” 

thank you to @cherrywriterrr and @moondustbaby who inspired me to obsess over bluecollar!rafe. and thank you to the blue-collar loser i was engaged to for 2 years for inspiring most of these (i hope you have the day you deserve. which hopefully is terrible!)

tagging my baby girl @rafesbabygirlx

★ more of blue collar!rafe can be found here!

[h3nt41sarchive]

🩵

TWO WRONGS...

pairings: ex!rafe cameron x reader && situationship!art donaldson x reader && pining!jj maybank x reader

summary: after a messy break up with rafe, your only option was to leave the band. east coast had barely managed to continue on without you, thanks to john b stepping up to continue vocals. you joined the other band from outer banks, challengers. both bands now battle for the number one spot, while half of them battle for your attention.

notes: and what we're not gonna do is comment on my fake posters. graphic design is not my passion 😔

TWO WRONGS — 14. 15. 16.

next chapter

꒰ taglist ꒱ @bbyg4rl @girliism @lvve-talks @pittsick @shahabaqsa0310 @butchernat @khartalks @coolgrl111 @nozhdyved @justiceforfoxface @imperishablereverie @yardofbrunettes @plaidcowboy @hvneybuckin @sleepyjackets @pinkpantheressluver @notgirlsummerr @nymphetartie @vampshxde @dumbbandpoetic @cokewithcameron @delicatepointeofview @honeymarvel @v4mp1rr3 @railingsofsorrow @h3nt41sarchive @yolgart @xoxo-martina @tinas111 @celestial-cestlavie @emmaaas-posts @cherryzweig @kittydiarys @cestdommage @peachyparkerr @folklorelover888 @thecontrash @keviann @hopelesssheaven @sanguinellia @fa-me @blastzachilles @jamespotteraliveversion @gublerstylesobrien1238 @hayleygrrr ( to be added )

[h3nt41sarchive]

୨୧ ─ when you and jj break the couch . . .

cw: REQUESTED / jj x reader, SMUT, breaking furniture, cockwarming.

Movie night didn’t last long. It never does with you two. One second you were under the blanket, curled up next to JJ with your legs in his lap, and the next, he was on top of you, pull-out couch mattress creaking beneath your bodies as he fucked you fast and deep, your thighs hooked over his hips.

You’re both half-dressed, clothes shoved out of the way like neither of you could wait long enough to undress properly. His hair is damp with sweat, his chest sticky against yours, and every grind of his hips pulls a breathy whimper from your mouth.

“God, you feel unreal,” he mutters, dragging his cock out to the tip and sliding back in with a groan. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby. Gonna lose my mind if you keep suckin’ me in like that.”

You're about to push yourself up and kiss him when you hear a crack. The middle beam of the pull-out couch snaps. A loud, splintered pop and then a sudden drop, both of your bodies dipping down in the middle like a sinkhole just opened under you. You both freeze. “...Did we just fuckin’ break it?” JJ pants, blinking rapidly like he’s panicking.

You’re wide-eyed, your hands clinging to his arms, nails digging into his skin, breath caught in your throat. JJ huffs a half-laugh, then leans in, nose brushing yours, his voice turning dark. “Guess I just gotta tell John B what happened to his fuckin’ furniture.”

You’re about to talk back but the only noise that leaves you is a whine when he grinds into you again, back arching. It’s even deeper now, the broken dip in the frame forcing his cock to hit new angles that make your vision blur. “Oh fuck—JJ—”

He hums in response, one hand cupping the back of your thigh to keep you steady while the other grips your waist, holding you down to take his perfect, punishing strokes.

“Yeah? You like that?” he pants. “You like letting me fuck you so hard this damn couch couldn't take it? You want me to ruin shit for you, huh?”

You whimper, head spinning, and he just slams in harder, driving the rest of the busted frame down with each thrust. The whole thing rocks beneath you, creaking and whining, until you’re sure it’s going to collapse completely, but JJ doesn’t stop. “Shit’s already broken,” he mutters, panting hard. “Might as well finish the fuckin’ job.”

He hooks your legs tighter around him and starts pounding you into the wrecked mattress, breathing ragged, watching your face twist every time he bottoms out. One hand trails down, pressing the heel of his palm into the mound above your pussy, making you whimper and your thighs quiver around him. “Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “Look at how good you’re taking me.”

You’re shaking now, half-lost to it. You lift your head slightly to look down where your bodies connect, watching his cock disappear between your thighs, crying out when his hand slips lower between your legs and rubs quick, filthy circles over your clit. “JJ—I’m gonna—,” you whimper, eyes locking with his.

“Do it,” he growls. “Mess up this fuckin’ couch. Want your cum on my cock while I ruin what’s left of this thing.”

You clamp down, body shuddering as you cum hard around him, and he grunts, hips stuttering as he follows you with a low, broken moan, spilling deep, cock twitching inside you.

You both collapse in the hollowed-out dent of the destroyed pull-out, breathing hard, the blanket half-slid off onto the floor. JJ chuckles against your neck, pulling you into his lap. “Guess we’re watching the rest of the movie on the floor.”

You nuzzle into his neck while he covers you with the blanket, he’s still inside you, still fucked out in that post orgasmic haze. You can feel his breath hitch everytime your walls flutter. You sit silently on him, arms around his neck, then after a beat, you murmur into his skin, “Are you gonna tell John B?”

“He’ll never know, baby,” he whispers back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

♡ requested by anon for ꒰ �� ๑  𝟗𝟗𝟗 : : RELEASE ꒱

check out my — masterlist / 2k celebration ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

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Wait was that… was that a tear running down my leg? 😅

[h3nt41sarchive]

MDNI (18+) something something john price taking you in a mating press.

while your knees are nearly digging into the dips of your shoulders, his sizable hands squeeze and caress what he could touch while his body plaps into yours repeatedly—filling your shared bedroom with the sound of sex.

something something cupping his face when his hips stutter, running your thumbs through his mutton chops, up to the mustache below his nose, watching the bridge pinch up when he nears his end.

feeling his face contort and twist with bliss when he finally sinks as deep as he could, unloading another generation into your fertile womb—and likely another set of twins—eating up the breathless grunts that huff through his nostrils.

listening to the whispered “ah, fuck��� against your lips, his breath mingling with your own as he catches his breath alongside you. “tha’s it, yeaaah, tha’s it, mhm,” he’d mutter between bared teeth, giving you a handful of needy, shallow thrusts to ensure everything stays plugged inside.

mhm. mhm. yeah.

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SOME OF THE REASONS I THINK RAFE CAMERON HAS BPD — an analysis by someone who’s been diagnosed with bpd for three years and is currently rewatching outer banks.

substance abuse issues - about 78% of adults with bpd develop substance abuse issues in their lives. this is shown with rafe initially with cocaine and in season 4 possibly with alcohol; i can’t remember a moment where he wasn’t drinking.

unstable relationships - i don’t think there’s anyone rafe actually has a stable relationship with. with his father, he craves for his acceptance but he also craves to be above him. with sarah, he sees her as family but at the same time as an enemy. with topper, he sees him as his best friend but also, yet again, another enemy. with sofia, he proposes to her, but the moment she does something wrong, he sees her as the enemy.

going from seeing someone as a closed one to seeing them as an enemy is called splitting, which commonly happens with people with bpd.

fear of abandonment - rafe’s need for ward to pick him over sarah, and once ward fakes his death, he needs sarah to not abandon him, and in season 4, she is his only family and he breaks down when she calls him family.

people with bpd commonly abandon people before they can be abandoned, which happened with rafe and sofia.

distorted self image - rafe doesn’t know who he is, but once ward falls into a coma, he adopts ward’s role as ‘the man of the house’, which could also be considered as rafe mirroring ward. also shows as rafe’s low self esteem; like him calling himself stupid and telling himself that he’s being a baby because he’s crying.

mirroring someone is common with people with bpd, where the person with bpd mirrors another person’s personality in order to fit in because they’re confused about their own identity.

dangerous or impulsive behaviors - shot sherif peterkin, shot his sister, tried to drown his sister… honestly, there are a million different examples of rafe doing things impulsively.

rapid mood changes - he can easily go from happy to mad, to mad to sad… if you’ve seen this show, you know how fast his mood changes.

distrust of others - tried to get his father assassinated, didn’t trust any of his family members, broke up with sofia as soon as he found out she betrayed him even though he’d done worse things.

anger issues - insert the clip of rafe literally punching a wall. or him drowning sarah. or him-

dissociation - sometimes he can recognize that he isn’t okay; but sometimes his reaction to people thinking that he’s not okay is “haha that’s ridiculous.”

rafe’s emotions are always in control of him. i can’t think of a moment in the show where he is in control of his emotions, which is very common with us, because what might feel like an every day feeling to someone without bpd might feel like the end of the world for someone with bpd.