multi-fandom-trash-gal

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

This fic!!! I need more of these!!! So cute!!! 😭❤️❤️

can you write about how Rafe and the reader always call each other pet names (like baby and sweetheart) ans they aren’t dating but they don’t realize they do this until someone like sarah calls them out. thank ya!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!!

Goodnight, Baby

Rafe Cameron x Shy! Reader

Rafe Cameron had a way of saying things that made her heart trip over itself.

Not in the loud, sweeping, rom-com kind of way—though, admittedly, when he leaned in a little too close or let his voice drop into that gravelly rasp, it sometimes felt like the air thinned and the world tipped slightly on its axis. But mostly, it was subtler than that. More internal. The kind of flutter that tugged at her ribs and burned behind her cheeks. The kind that made her fingers nervously twist the hem of her sweater as she avoided his gaze, knowing full well the teasing smirk he’d be wearing.

And he knew. God, he definitely knew what he was doing.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe said, his voice casual, almost careless, as he opened the front door of Tannyhill and stepped aside to let her in.

Her stomach flipped. That word—baby—spilled from his mouth like it belonged to her. Like it wasn’t dangerous at all. Like it wasn’t laced with weight and meaning and a thousand unsaid things. He said it like they weren’t just best friends. Like it wasn’t reckless for her to let her heart leap every time.

She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she slipped past him into the house. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and she swore she felt him lean just slightly into the contact before the door clicked shut behind them.

“Hi,” she said gently, her voice small but sweet, eyes trained on the floor tiles as her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Rafe grinned. One of those lazy, cocky grins that always meant trouble for her composure. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world to stand there and watch her unravel.

He loved this part—the soft blush creeping across her cheeks, the way she got all quiet and bashful when he so much as looked at her too long. She didn’t even realize it, but she was the only person who ever brought out something warm in him. Something patient. Something kind.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he followed her into the hallway, his steps unhurried behind hers.

She nodded quickly, too quickly, still not meeting his gaze. “Mhm. I came a little early, sorry.”

He stepped closer—slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing and how it would make her freeze in place.

“ ‘S okay,” Rafe murmured, voice low and rough. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her first instinct was to look away, hide from his icy blue eyes like she always did when he got too close, too gentle. But he wasn’t having it. He reached out, calloused fingers brushing lightly beneath her chin, coaxing her face back up to his.

His thumb traced the soft line of her jaw. Warm. Careful.

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart.

The second nickname—the one that felt more tender, more dangerous than baby, and that was saying something. That word always hit her like a soft punch to the stomach. She didn’t know which one made her melt more—or ache more.

“Rafe…” she breathed out, a little whine escaping before she could stop it, her eyebrows furrowed teasingly.

He gave her that look—that cocky, slow-burning smile that was all teeth and playful arrogance, but somehow softened at the edges by something warmer. Something real.

“What?” he said, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to her.

“You always say stuff like that…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s true,” he said easily, shrugging like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just turned her insides into syrup.

She didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her brain was too busy trying to reboot.

Eventually, like always, they ended up in his room.

It was their place. The unspoken routine. The space where things slowed down, where it didn’t matter that the rest of the house belonged to the Camerons and the world outside didn’t know what to make of them. Up here, it was quiet. Safe.

She sat on his bed the same way she always did, legs folded underneath her. Rafe collapsed beside her with a sigh, limbs sprawling across the mattress like he owned every inch of the space—which, to be fair, he did.

Sometimes he scrolled through his phone or channel surfed without really watching, while she read or softly told him about her day. They never really planned it, but somehow hours passed like that—comfortable, warm silence that buzzed with something unspoken just under the surface.

Today, she’d brought snacks in a little lunch box she use to use, pretzels and candy she knew he liked. She placed them between them, and when he saw them, his eyes lit up in that quiet, boyish way that made her chest squeeze.

“You know you don’t have to bring stuff,” he murmured, popping a pretzel into his mouth and leaning back against the wall. His voice was soft now—lower, like they were the only two people on Earth.

“I like to,” she said gently, her tone almost bashful.

He turned his head just slightly to look at her, eyes settling on her face like he was memorizing it. “Baby,” he said, almost like a sigh. “You’re too good to me.”

There it was again—baby. And the way he said it, all low and familiar, like it wasn’t driving her absolutely crazy inside. Like it wasn’t unraveling her thread by thread.

It sounded like it belonged coming from him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Every time he said it, her stomach tightened, and that ache behind her ribs grew heavier—like the truth was sitting there, pressing against her chest, reminding her that she wanted something she couldn’t ask for. Because they weren’t dating. He wasn’t hers. He was just her best friend.

Her handsome, infuriating, impossibly charming best friend who treated her like she meant the world, who called her baby like it was second nature.

She didn’t want to risk losing him. Didn’t want to ruin the soft, slow thing they had by wanting too much.

So she smiled, small but genuine, and looked away.

“Thanks,” she said softly, staring down at the snacks like they might give her an answer. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He chuckled, a low hum in his throat, and nudged her foot gently with his. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you.”

But he was still watching her. She could feel it. That stare of his—sharp and quiet and warm all at once. Like he saw everything she didn’t say.

And all she could do was hope he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was thudding—or see the way her fingers were curled into the blanket just to keep them from reaching for him.

They were halfway through some dumb, half-watched movie when the door creaked open.

“Rafe, Rose wants to—” Wheezie’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh.”

Wheezie stood frozen in the doorway, blinking like she’d just walked into the middle of something she wasn’t supposed to see. Her eyes flicked from Rafe to his bestfriend tucked into his side, taking in the soft lighting of the bedroom, the quiet buzz of the TV in the background, the way his arm was lazily draped over her shoulders—fingers drawing slow, absentminded circles on the fabric of her sleeve. Their legs were touching. And how she was leaning into him like she didn’t even realize.

Wheezie tilted her head, curiosity already taking root. “Why do you call her baby?” She asked deciding to get the burning question she’s been dying to know off of her mind.

The question landed like a pin dropped into still water—barely a sound, but it rippled.

She froze, her pulse skipping like her body hadn’t caught up to her mind. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. She could feel Rafe’s fingers still on her arm, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Instead, a small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied smoothly, glancing at his sister like she was the one being weird.

Wheezie squinted at the two of them. “Because you’re not dating… right?”

Her entire face flushed. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, crawling down her neck, making her wish she could shrink into the mattress and disappear. Rafe, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath. That low, familiar sound that meant he was enjoying this far too much.

But then his eyes slid sideways—to her. Not just glanced. Looked. Really looked, like she was the only person in the room that mattered.

He didn’t answer.

“Rafe,” Wheezie pressed, now crossing her arms with all the boldness of a little sister who smelled something suspicious. “That’s not an answer.”

He grinned wider, that easy, arrogant grin that always made her nervous. “Go tell Rose I’ll be down in five.”

“That’s still not an answer!”

“Wheezie,” he warned, the playful edge in his voice soft but final.

She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she turned to leave. “Whatever. You’re so weird,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing and pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence lingered.

She slowly shifted, pulling away just enough to feel the cool air hit the space where his body had been warming hers. She stared at the blanket pooled in her lap, carefully not looking at him to get her cheeks to cool down.

Rafe shifted beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded, but it was too fast. Too practiced. “Yeah.”

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, tilting his head toward her like he already knew the answer.

“Rafe…” she said his name with a quiet warning, already flustered, already spiraling.

He leaned in just a little, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His voice dropped, teasing. “Did that make you nervous?”

The smirk on his face said he knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.

She swallowed. “You didn’t answer her.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “I didn’t.”

Her throat tightened. “Why not?”

There was a pause, stretched thin and quiet.

Then his hand brushed against hers on the bed, fingers grazing hers once—twice—before gently slipping between them, like he’d been waiting for permission that never came but hoped for anyway.

“I like how it sounds,” he said quietly. “Calling you baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened just slightly around his.

“I like the way you look at me when I say it,” he continued, voice hushed, almost hesitant. “Like you’re about to melt, but you’re too sweet to tell me to shut up.”

“I’m not too sweet,” she whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on their intertwined hands.

He turned his head slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before finding her eyes again. “Nah,” he murmured, “you are.”

She exhaled shakily, pulse fluttering. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound like a confession.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Because it makes you feel something?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But the look on her face said everything.

He pulled back just a little, giving her space, but his hand stayed laced with hers, warm and steady.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” he said after a long beat, the teasing gone from his voice. “I just… I don’t know. You’re the only person I feel good around. Like, really good. Like I can breathe.”

She blinked, slowly turning to look at him. His voice had softened in a way she rarely heard, and something in her chest tugged hard.

“And calling you baby?” He gave a faint smile, a small shrug. “It’s not just a nickname. It’s the only way I know how to show it sometimes. That you’re… different.”

The room felt heavy. Charged. Thick with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

She didn’t say anything right away—just let herself lean in again, gently resting her head against his shoulder like it was instinct, like it was home.

“You’re different for me too,” she whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

He stilled, then exhaled slowly. His breath was shaky this time.

Neither of them moved. The movie flickered on the screen, long forgotten. Outside, the house made its usual quiet creaks, but in here, it was just them.

Eventually, Rafe shifted, sliding his arm around her and tugging her closer until she was tucked beneath his chin, legs draped over his lap, her cheek resting against his chest. His fingers started moving again—soft, slow patterns against her back.

“Still blushing?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

He chuckled. “Good.”

She groaned. “Rafe…”

“Hmm?”

She turned her face up just enough to peek at him, eyes narrowed. “You like making me blush.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks burning brighter, but her smile gave her away. “You’re impossible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, unhurried. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Her heart stuttered—once, then again—and this time, she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide it.

She just let it happen. Let him hold her. Let herself fall a little more.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel reckless.

It just felt right.

⸻

Later that night, when the sky had melted into dark navy sprinkled with stars, and the last light of day clung to the tops of the trees, Rafe walked her out to her car. The breeze was warm and slow, carrying the quiet hum of cicadas and the scent of summer grass. The whole world felt still—like it was holding its breath for them.

She glanced sideways at him as they reached her car, keys dangling loosely in her hand, heart fluttering like it always did around him. Rafe moved ahead and opened the car door for her without a word, leaning lazily against it with one arm braced above her, the other casually resting in his pocket. He was close. Always close.

She turned to face him, eyes soft. “Wheezie’s gonna ask again.”

His mouth tugged into a lopsided smirk. “Yeah. Probably tomorrow.”

“What are you gonna say next time?”

Rafe didn’t move for a second. Just looked at her with that unreadable glint in his eye, like he was weighing something. Then, with quiet confidence, he leaned in—crowding her gently between the open car door and the warmth of his body.

“That it’s none of her business,” he said, voice low and teasing.

She giggled, eyes dropping shyly to the space between them before flicking back up to his. Her cheeks were already warm.

Rafe’s hand slid up to her waist, squeezing lightly, grounding her. His other hand reached up, slow and deliberate, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But his fingers didn’t leave right away—they lingered, brushing lightly against her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek like he couldn’t help it.

“Or,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers, “maybe I’ll just tell her the truth.”

Her breath caught. “What’s the truth?”

He looked at her like she was something fragile and brilliant all at once—like she was a secret he’d been dying to say out loud.

“That I’m working up the nerve to ask you to be mine.”

The air stilled. Her chest rose sharply with the breath she forgot to take, her eyes wide, heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Her fingers curled slightly into the hem of her shirt as she stared at him, face tingling with heat.

“Yours?” she asked softly, voice barely there.

Rafe nodded once, gaze never wavering. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

She looked up at him and something in her face softened.

“I like that,” she said quietly, her lips lifting into a bashful smile.

His brow raised slightly. “Yeah?”

She nodded, cheeks glowing, and before she could overthink it, he wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her flush against his chest.

“So you like me, baby?” he teased, his voice low and rough, his breath brushing against her ear.

She let out a nervous laugh, face burning as she buried it against his chest, hiding from the intensity of it all.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “Say it, baby girl.”

She hesitated, her voice muffled against him. “I like you, Rafe.”

He smiled—she felt it more than saw it, the way his body relaxed, the way his arms tightened just a little around her.

“I like you too,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. She stayed tucked into him, neither of them in a rush to pull away.

For a few long moments, everything felt still again. Easy. Like this was always where they were meant to end up.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look down at her, his hand brushing her cheek one last time.

“Goodnight, baby.”

She gave him a look—sweet and shy and impossibly full—and stepped into her car, her fingers trembling slightly on the door handle as she shut it.

As she drove off, windows down and wind in her hair, her heart was floating somewhere above the clouds.

She didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

rafecameronssl4t’s masterlist!

gif by @chenslucy

R.C

Tell ur girl

Misunderstandings pt. 2

Untouchable

My girl, my business

Cart girl

Tennis

Never say never

Jealousy, jealousy

Loyalties

Please, please, please

Territorial bullshit

Real classy

Who invited you?

Wildflower

Bringing another girl home

She want me bad

You, and you only

Jealousy is a disease

Stole my man, not my problem

Thinkin’ bout me

Mind, Body, and Soul

Passenger Princess

Low life

You broke me first

For Me?

How do you plead?

Saving grace

Popular

Fake it 'till you make it

Playing with fire

Canon fics

What’s good, John B?

Midsummers

Officially your bitch

Tracked

Stay off Figure 8

Pretty in pink

Business talk

Bonfire

Me and the devil

All for her

Trapped

Chasing smoke

What is French for priceless?

The swell

What’s ours

Lonely in My Mansion

Drabbles

Yacht day

VIP life

Tennis

Pointe shoes

Whipped

Rafe x ballerina!reader hc

Daddy's girl

Lunch with the family

D.S

Night out

Babysitting

73 Questions with Vogue

Behind The Scenes

What's in My Bag Interview

Actors on Actors

When in Charleston

Out of my league

Baby daddy

In-flight attraction

Other masterlist

nfl!rafe x dcc!reader

dad!rafe x fem!reader

rafe x Thornton!reader

rafe x fem!reader forced marriage au

rafe x fem!reader love island au

frat boy!rafe x fem!reader

F1 driver!rafe x fem!reader

CEO!rafe x fem!reader

Tennis player!rafe x fem!reader

Recent works down below :)

Just like his dad

Business meeting

In-flight attraction

Kisses

Playing with fire

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

the rise of his shirt to show off his slutty waist when he reached for the door was a paid actor

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

obx: summer time and obx 5 is back in production 🤙

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

rafe taking care of maybank reader and no one knows that he has a super soft side for her?? he drops off extra food for her and small gifts (clothes.. new phone... money?) one day she suddenly doesn't text and says pass and he finds out she's sick and no one is home to take care of her? (pls?)

rafe taking care of maybank!reader

it was small. a little curse under your breath. poking of your bottom lip out, when your phone died on you for the third time today. poor battery life on your iphone 7 that you’d had for years now.

it was small, but nothing slipped past rafe.

you knew whenever you walked up to him, and he had that ridiculous grin on his face, even in front of jj, that he was up to something. usually it’d be a kiss, the type that’d make jj want to run off and find a bush to puke in. today? a little pink bag. dangling it by the strings, holding it up for you, making eye contact with jj across the road for the briefest moments before back to you.

the box, an image of a pink iphone, was heavy in your hand, causing your jaw to fall. you blinked at it in shock, like it was a figment of your imagination. bound to disappear. a cruel trick.

“well..open it then,” he nudges your shoulder, though you hand stays firmly wrapped around the box. almost unwilling.

“rafe..” you begin, and he tuts, folding his arms across his chest. you give him your “i’m not taking this” look, and he shoots you with his “you don’t have a choice” look.

“your phone’s crap, i know you must’ve saved hard to get it baby, an’ i’m proud but i wanted to get you a new one!”

you bite your lip, turning the box over in your hands. it feels expensive, a limited edition item you don’t even want to unwrap.

“okay don’t think of it as for you! it’s for me, i want to be able to text my girl without her phone dying before she can respond, or her phone cutting off mid-call,” his finger tilts your chin up so you’re staring at his eyes. creased at the corners, brimming with joy. he loves this. loves taking care of you. loves spending his money on you.

“are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to force this on him. the last thing you want is to become one those spoilt kook brats.

“don’t ever ask me that again.”

a squeal escaping your lips, you throw your arms around his neck, giggling when he lifts you in his arms by the waist. “thank you,” you repeat like a mantra, kissing him between each time you say the phrase. rafe only chuckles, holding you tighter.

from across the road, kiara’s pulling jj away from crossing towards you guys, while he faintly yells, “what did that bastard give you?”

there’s rapping on the door to the chateau, and john b groans, throwing his head back as he yells at whoever it is to “go away!”.

then the returned yell of, “open up!”

jj throws his cap onto the table, dramatically exclaiming, “oh for god’s sake! y/n you keep bringing that rat into out house!”

“jj don’t call him that, he’s come with good intentions!” you scold, getting off the couch to answer the door, rafe’s scowl dissipating at the sight of you.

“hey baby,” he drawls, holding out the large takeaway bag you ordered from him, treating him like some personal uber driver; he was more than happy to abide.

“wrap it up!” jj starts shouting, coming to join you guys in the doorway and pausing when he sees the food. jj’s a known sucker for food.

“he got the burgers you like,” you blink innocently up at your older brother. cautiously, as if rafe’s gonna bite him, jj takes the bag from his hand, peeking through and nodding when he does find the burgers.

“thanks man,” jj nods, about to walk off with the food before you call him back.

“hey!”

“hey?” he pokes his head back around the door. pretending to be oblivious wasn’t fooling anyone, certainly not you.

“rafe got the food..so don’t you think he should get to eat the food he bought..?” you ask, slowly, accentuating the fact that rafe bought the food for all of them, himself included.

fishing through the bag, jj pulls out the meal he assumes is rafe’s, based on everyone else’s preferences. “here ya go cameron,” he holds out rafe’s food to him, to which rafe accepts with one of his classic smiles of amusement. “go eat in your car.”

and the door slams shut.

“jj!” you yell, following your brother into the living room where he’s begun dishing out food. pope and cleo are snickering in the corner, sarah pouting for her older brother and john b and kie laughing at jj’s antics.

“what?”

“give me my food.”

“don’t tell me you’re gonna–“ you snatch your food out of his hand, quickly rushing out the house and up to rafe’s car. knocking on the window, you grab his attention, leading him to beckon you in with two fingers. you’re beaming as you climb into the car, settling your food on your lap. “thought i’d join you.”

“was waiting for you to join me,” he chuckles, sipping on his drink.

“thanks for the milkshake,” you grin, a true teenage girl, infatuated with her boyfriend. rafe murmurs a “your welcome” before leaning over to pinch a fry.

“jj forgot to give me my fries,” he says casually, munching on the crinkle cut he just stole.

shifting your food off your lap, you open the door and hop down, “wait here i’ll get it back!” you tell him, running off back inside the house, ever so eager.

“oh wait wait!”

you pause by the chateau door.

“steal his fries too!”

you burst into giggles, but nod anyways, running out the house a minute later with two loads of fries and an annoyed jj.

yet another casual slip of the tongue. “god i wish jellycats weren’t so expensive,” you muttered, upright in rafe’s bed as he slept, a heavy arm draped over your waist.

you didn’t notice his eye peek open, the subtle glance he took at the giraffe on your screen, labelled ‘back in stock’, priced £45.

he could afford that.

he ordered it the first moment he could. once you had dozed off and he could discreetly turn his phone on. you had rambled to him on more than one occasion on how fast certain things can get sold, so he chose not to risk his luck buying the ‘rolie polie giraffe’ by prolonging it for more than he needed to.

purchased!

another night, the parcel’s been tucked under his bed for a few hours, waiting for the right moment. then he sets it on your lap, drawing your attention from the movie on the tv infront of you to the blue plastic.

you let out a small gasp.

the jellycat logo is written everywhere on the outside. you don’t even care which one it is. you didn’t even think he knew you wanted this stuff. but when you open it? and your dream jellycat is in there? rafe’s attacked with an onslaught of kisses.

“how did you know?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he chuckles through the whole thing.

“saw it on your phone,” he grins, puckering his lips for another kiss you’re more than happy to give.

“i love you,” you smile, elated.

“d’you love the teddy more?” he asks, giving you a pointed look.

“maybe…but i’ll name her after you? so it’s basically loving you more..?” you giggle, rafe rolling his eyes but accepting his fate anyways, pulling you towards him with an “i love you too.”

“oh my god! she’s sick, okay?” jj throws his hands up at rafe, annoyed with the man whose been pestering him at his job for the past half an hour to figure out why you haven’t been texting him back. jj returns to his mowing, while rafe runs back to his car, starting the engine and immediately driving to the chateau.

when he knocks, he’s saddened to see you answer the door, wrapped in blankets, nose red. “hey rafe,” you sniffle, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand. he moves to step over the threshold only for you to try and push the door closed.

“hey baby– what? what are you doing?”

“don’t! you’ll get a cold! get back out!”

“baby–“

“out, rafe!” you shoo, not opening the door again until he stepped back. it was a mistake, however, because the moment you opened the door fully again he darted forwards, past you and kicking the door shut behind him.

“rafe,” you groan, cut short by a sneeze.

“awh baby,” he brushes back your hair, guiding you back into your room. settling you down on the bed, he empties out the contents of his bag. medicine. soup. one of the many jellycats you keep at his place.

“don’t you have work?” you murmur, accepting the medicine he holds out to you.

“wonderful thing about owning a company princess, days off whenever you want,” he sighs, sitting down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“you’re gonna get sick,” you say, cuddling into him.

“well, you’re not doing much to stop that anymore are you?” he chuckles glancing down at your snuggled form against him. you simply shrug, and rafe shakes his head, settling back with you.

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

Can we get dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Max lets it slip to rafe that his buddies ogle and find milf!reader so hot when they saw her pick up Max and Winnie from school a few times? You can choose how it goes afterwards!! I love your writing of their fam saurrrrr much

awe thank you bb 💕 I'm so glad you like it 🤭🤭🤭 sorry this one got a little long—but I hope you enjoy 😋💕 This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au.

+18 -> smut

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: teenage boys being gross, jealous rafe, swearing, ownership kink, possessive rafe, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstim., squirting, fingering, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, dirty talk, spanking, lots of cum, female oral (post-shared climax)

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You lean into the counter, absentmindedly squeezing lemon after lemon into the glass pitcher. Cold juices run down your fingers, sticky as it slips into the creases of your palms and drips to your wrists. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, buttery hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate’s already half gone, devoured by teenage boys lounging in the common space: tall, tan, loud, sprawled across your furniture like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask, gesturing toward Kelce’s son, perched in front of the one cabinet you need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, flashing you a grin as he hops down to grab it.

His hand brushes yours as he passes it off. You smile, polite and sweet as ever, returning to stir the mix.

“Fuck, she wants me,” he mutters to Max—just out of earshot.

Your son groans, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, dragging the sentence out like it’s a double entendre.

“You’re still goin’, huh? Not scared?”

“M’not scared of shit—”

Before Max can answer, the door opens with a thud.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, sandals slapping the marble as she breezes in. Her boyfriend Jackson’s behind her, arms full, carrying the twins, still damp from the sprinkler, dressed like they’re headed out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks. Her tone’s breezy, but she looks sharply toward one of Max’s friends eyeing her up.

That same boy yelps when Max nails him in the arm. “M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, while the kid doubles down, clearly unbothered, shooting his shot at your daughter like it’s all just part of the game.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, crossing the counter for your purse.

“Mrs. Cameron, really—I’ve got it,” Jackson says, voice firm.

“That’s very sweet. But not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands.” You kneel in front of the twins gently brushing back your daughter’s curls; cupping your son’s cheek lovingly. “You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean in to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips, your breasts press softly together, the hem lifts just enough to tease. You linger, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the room goes silent.

One boy swallows hard. Another just stares—slack-jawed—like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Max… Dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Max mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’d move in tomorrow,” Tripp grins. “Be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps, louder this time.

Just then, another boy walks in from the hallway, Trevor. He catches sight of you, still bent low in front of the twins, and freezes. Smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat, he lifts both hands like he’s gripping your hips and starts thrusting the air behind you in slow-motion silence.

The other boys lose it—coughing, choking on laughter, trying and failing to keep it together.

You straighten up, sundress swaying back into place as you smooth it down with both hands, blissfully unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out, waving them toward the door.

You turn back to the pitcher, lift it to the sink, and flip the tap without thinking.

Water churns—lemon juice and sugar swirling, rising to the rim—as your gaze drifts out the kitchen window. And then you see him. Rafe…

His white t-shirt’s soaked through, hose in hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight turns the spray to glitter. Water drips down his arms, soaking the cotton clinging to every curve and cut of his chest and abs.

He turns, flipping his hat backward with one hand, jaw flexing as he wipes his brow.

Your thighs press together. Grip tightening on the pitcher just as the lemonade spills over, cold and sticky down your wrist. You fumble the tap, blinking fast, but your eyes don’t leave him.

His shirt clings to his back, practically painted on, while his blue swim trunks ride low on his hips and high on his thighs.

One hand coils the hose, and the other grabs the wash bucket. His chest flexes with every move, muscles rolling under wet cotton like sin in motion.

“Have fun, boys,” you call out, pouring lemonade into a glass, still watching him.

The front door clicks shut as you step outside barefoot. The grass is crisp beneath your feet; sun shining hot on your shoulders.

Rafe looks up the second he hears you. His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh shit, pretty,” he drawls, eyes dragging down your body. “That for me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, offering him the glass—but he doesn’t take it. He steps closer, warm, wet arm curling around your waist, pulling you flush to him like he can’t help it. His mouth finds yours instantly—hot and slow. Your fingers hook behind his neck, greedy for more.

You giggle into the kiss, breathless. “How much longer?”

Rafe pulls back just enough to smirk, water dripping down his temple “What? You want somethin’, baby?”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ 15 minutes earlier…

The garage is quiet at first—just the clatter of golf clubs and the squeak of a sponge as Rafe scrubs the green off his chipping wedge. The radio hums softly from the corner, low and easy. But that peace doesn’t last.

Beer bottles clink inside the fridge; ice rattles in the machine. And just around the corner from where Rafe sits, the boys start talking their shit like they don’t have a care in the world.

“I’m done,” your son mutters—tone flat and fed up like he’s been saying all day.

“Not my fault your mom’s hot as fuck, Maxi.” One of the boys fires back, voice deep and smug. “M’just waitin’ for the day she gets stuck in the washer. I’ll pound her shit right there—”

“Fuck you,” Max hisses. There’s a sharp thud and a groan; Max hits his friend hard enough to give him a moment's peace from him, but it doesn’t stop the rest of them.

“Did you see her in that swimsuit the other day? Playing with the twins? That bikini? She’s still got an ass on her. Those tits too?” Trevor chimes in, practically drooling. “I wanna play with her twins. Slide my dick right between ‘em—”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Max growls.

“Hey, you fucked my sister, Max. Both of ‘em. Think I get to tug one to your mom… every night—”

“She’s so hot, bro. Like stupid hot,” another pipes up. “Your dad doesn’t deserve that. He can’t keep up. Can’t handle all that. His stamina’s gotta be shot.”

“She made me cookies like it was foreplay,” one of them says, breathy and laughing. “You think she ever looks at us and wonders…”

“She made cookies for my dad,” Max mutters.

“Yeah. That’s what I said—”

And then Rafe clears his throat, loud and measured. The sound slices through the room like a blade. So quiet you could hear the soft clink of a stolen beer cap hitting the concrete.

The boys scatter like mice out the side door and back into the house. Their smug laughter from moments before dies on their lips, replaced by frantic whispers of “do you think he heard” and the squeak of boat shoes skidding across the floor.

“Come here,” Rafe says, low and calm.

Max exhales hard, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. His shoulders drawn up to his ears as he drags himself across the garage floor.

“You wanna explain what that was?” Rafe asks without looking at him, voice steady as he cleans his club.

Max shrugs, sullen. “I mean, you heard it.”

“Yeah… I heard everything—”

“Every fuckin’ day,” Max mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anytime we’re at the house. I try shutting it down—it’s impossible.”

“They were talking about your mother,” Rafe says. “You just gonna let that fly?”

“They’re fuckin’ idiots,” Max scoffs. “Just givin’ me shit. They’re not gonna do anything. And what am I supposed to do, huh? Beat the shit out of every guy who opens his mouth about mom?”

“Nah,” Rafe says, smiling without humor. “They’ll get the hint some way or another.”

“Well that’s not horrifying,” Max mumbles, giving him a side-eye—because he knows damn well Rafe might handle this himself.

“She’s not just your mom, you know. She’s my wife,” Rafe says, nodding toward the garage door. “So yeah. I know exactly how hot she is.”

“Ew.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rafe grins. “I just had to listen to that perverted pissin’ contest over your mother. And Trevor’s sister? Really?”

“…Sisters,” Max murmurs, not meeting Rafe’s eye.

He cringes, face twisting in the exact same way his son’s had moments earlier. “Aren’t you dating Top’s daughter?”

“They’re Trevor’s sisters,” Max repeats. “Doesn’t count.”

Rafe stares at him. “And what’s the math on that? It doesn’t count? You serious?”

Max shrugs, then deflects. “Hey—remember who the enemy is here, alright? He was talkin’ about Mom.”

That earns a dry laugh. Rafe crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, still giving Max a look like this conversation’s not over.

“I like that excuse better,” he breathes. “Y’all headin’ out?”

“Mhmm,” Max hums, already inching toward the door like he’s trying to disappear. “Just gonna grab some snacks.”

“Yacht Club?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, eyes on the exit.

“Be safe,” Rafe says, a little quieter now.

Max mumbles something back as he pushes into the house, and the door shuts behind him with a soft thud.

Rafe doesn’t move. He just stands there for a second, staring at nothing, letting the quiet settle. He knows what he feels. Always has. He just doesn’t always want to name it.

He used to love the attention. The looks. The envy. Part of him still does. When you were younger, his friends couldn’t keep their eyes off you. Couldn’t help the comments, the sideways glances. And he loved it—loved knowing that no matter how many mouths whispered your name, it was his bed you came home to.

You were his. All his. Always. But this? This was different. Hearing that kind of shit from teenagers—his son’s idiot friends, their mouths full of his food, beers stolen from his fridge, spending long, lazy days on his boat—no. It didn’t feel flattering. It felt like a fucking insult.

The way they talked about you was like you were some option. Like if given half a chance, they’d step right into his role. As if they could touch you. As if they could handle a woman like you. His wife. It pissed him off. And he knew it shouldn’t—not like this.

It wasn’t new. It wasn’t shocking. But today? It got under his skin in a different way. Raw and hot and fucking personal.

He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. This is what happens when your wife is you. People want you. They always have.

He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at the absurdity of it all—and reaches for the sponge and bucket again. He wasn’t gonna fight them. He didn’t need to. There were better ways to remind them where they stood.

They wanted to act grown? Act like they could love you, care for you, fuck you like a man? Fine. Let them watch. Let them see what a real man does.

Rafe lets the door swing shut behind him and strolls across the drive, relaxed, deliberate. His gaze lifts straight to the window above the sink—and there you are, stepping into frame like you were waiting for your cue.

Rafe squeezes the hose handle, blasting water against the side of the G-Wagon. He shifts a little closer, just enough to let the spray bounce back misting his skin, ricocheting off the glossy paint.

The sun is hot, but the water is cool against his skin. The soaked fabric clings to the muscles of his chest and abs. He tugs his shorts a little higher on his thighs, watching the droplets slide down his body.

Then he smiles again—cocky and quiet—as he pulls the oldest trick in the book: flipping his cap from front to back like he’s not thinking about it at all.

Next, his shirt. He peels it off slowly and casually and tosses it aside, revealing his tan, chiseled frame. The gold chain with your initial catches the light.

“Five… four… three…” Bang. The door claps shut. He chuckles to himself, smug, reading you like a favorite book. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you. But he does.

Rafe glances over his shoulder as he hears your bare feet brushing through the grass; sundress swaying in the summer breeze. And then he sees you, glass of lemonade in hand, eyes already locked on him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

“Look at you,” he mutters, watching you float closer. You took the bait. You always do. And he lives for it.

He spots movement through the glass, Max’s friends still inside, lingering, pretending not to watch.

Rafe praises you as he always does, a breathy “mhmm” buzzing past your lips is the only thing passing before he’s kissing you deep, hot, and possessive—right there in the driveway, letting them see. Letting them know who you belong to. How good you fit in his arms. How easily he could take you wherever and whenever he wanted.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in; Rafe brushing his lips across yours like he can’t stop touching you. His big hand drifts lower, sliding over the slight curve of your back before grabbing a handful of ass—firm, slow, and so intentional it makes your breath catch.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You laugh quietly, barely holding it in. His shirt’s been tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm and bare against yours, that heavy gold chain glinting faintly against his chest.

The teenage boys barrel out of the house, faster than usual. Lugging the cooler through the grass as they look anywhere but at you.

“Where are you headed?” Rafe calls out, still holding your waist.

“Told you—yacht club,” Max grits, like a chore.

“Yacht club, huh?” Rafe echoes. “Sounds real productive. Why don’t y’all finish cleanin’ the car before you go burnin’ my gas?”

“Dad, seriously?” Max groans, letting the cooler drop to the grass with a thud.

“You’re about to torch another five hundred dollars of fuel,” Rafe says, grinning as he jams the sponge into one of the boys’ chests hard. “Don’t even get me started on yesterday. Three-fifty in food, six bottles of cheap-ass liquor—none of which I’d let past my lips or hers… It’s the least you can do.”

“Pretty sure that was all Winnie—”

“Spare me the bullshit,” Rafe drawls, his Southern accent soaked in judgment, cutting like his smirk.

“Since when are you washin’ cars anyway?” Max mutters, dunking a sponge into the soapy bucket. You try not to giggle but you can’t help it. Rafe’s flair for the dramatics is so visible in Max it’s like looking in a mirror.

Rafe laughs as well, already turning back to you. He reaches up, wiping a drop of water from your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips—gentler this time, like he’s taking back the moment before their arrival.

“Now what did you need, baby?” Rafe murmurs as the boys start scrubbing the truck. You glance up at him, feeling nothing but butterflies. Rafe bites his lip slightly, head tilted slightly, making your brain short-circuit. “Name it, princess,” he mumbles, thumb tracing slow, possessive circles on the small of your back.

“You.”

That one word has him grinning, dark and knowing. “You want me, huh?” He mutters, voice dropping an octave. “Alright. Do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything…”

“Go on back inside. Head to the guest room. Get on the bed, just like this. Don’t take a single thing off,” he adds. “I wanna take it off you. You think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah… yeah, baby,” you murmur, lifting up just enough to press your mouth to his.

He leans in, lips lingering like he’s already counting down the seconds. “Beautiful,” he mutters, voice low, that crooked grin spreading as his hand lands on your ass with a lazy smack. “I’ll be right behind you— ”

“Love you, Max! Have fun, boys. Be safe,” you call out, voice bright and sweet as you disappear toward the house.

The driveway shifts the second the door closes, all the sunshine snuffed out the second you’re gone. The boys go silent, scrubbing like their lives depend on it.

Rafe’s shadow stretches long across the driveway. He folds his arms over his broad chest as he surveys the group, his gaze unreadable—far colder than anger.

“Yacht club, huh?” He says, nodding toward the cooler. “Gonna load up the boat? Burn my gas, drink my liquor, make some memories? I hope y’all have fun,” Rafe adds, and if they didn’t know any better, they might think he means it.

“Thanks, Mr. Camer—”

“Maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Rafe cuts in, clean and easy. “Pick up a few country club girls: pearls, spray tans; the kind who won’t notice your hands shakin’ while you fumble with their bras.”

A nervous chuckle slips out, quickly catching Rafe’s glare, his lips curling into a fake smile.

“You’ve seen my wife, yeah?” He asks casually. “Beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning actually. Prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He looks back at the house giving the boys a moment to breathe before shifting his sights to them again.

“I’ve been working since I was eighteen. Built this house. That boat. Everything you boys use like it’s yours.” He leans in slightly, voice tightening. “And even after all that—I don’t deserve her.”

That hits. You can see it land—all of them blinking like they’ve just been slapped across the face.

“So what makes you think you do?”

“We were just joking, Mr. Cameron. I swear—”

“That’s my wife,” Rafe snaps. The words hit like thunder in their chests. “Mine. Always has been. Always will be. And I don’t give a shit if you go home and jerk off thinkin’ about her—hell, that fantasy’s older than any of you.”

His smile returns, slow and razor-sharp. “But if you say another word—if you breathe another comment about something you’ll never fuckin’ touch…”

He steps forward, and they shrink; stepping toward Max is self-preservation. His eyes zero in on Trevor. The kid nods before Rafe says another word, like he’s praying it’s enough to stay alive. “I’ll make sure the only thing you’re sliding into is a fuckin’ ditch. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Trevor stammers.

Rafe claps a hand on his back hard. The slap echoed through the grounds, making the boy stumble forward with a wheezing gasp.

Then, just like that, Rafe turns and walks away. Calm and steady, like it didn’t happen. He passes Max on the way back to the house, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Love you, kid.”

“L-Love you too,” Max mutters, the lot of them holding their breath until he’s gone for good.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴

You shift on the bed the second he walks in, soft and shy, biting your lip as your eyes meet his. His gaze darkens instantly, heat rolling off him like a wave.

“I know I changed…” You murmur, voice gentle as a pout tugs at your lips.

The robe’s already falling off your shoulders. Just hanging there. Lace underneath—barely visible, but that’s the point. One leg crossed, stockings tight on your thighs, garters showing just enough to make him stop breathing.

Rafe’s tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip as his eyes roam over you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

He’s already hard, straining against the front of his swim trunks, jaw tight as his fists curl at his sides—like it’s taking everything in him not to rip that robe off you.

“Baby… Don’t apologize. Not when you look that fuckin’ good for me.”

Rafe steps closer, making your thighs part without thinking, giving him room, inviting him in. His hands slide up your legs—rough palms dragging higher—his thumbs hooking under the garter straps, snapping them against your skin.

“You bought this for me, didn’t you? Knew I’d lose my mind over this. Fuck, you know me too well…”

Your pussy clenches at the raw need in his tone. You toy with the satin belt at your waist, slowly teasingly letting the knot fall loose. The robe slips open completely as you lean back, arching your back, tits round in the pretty lingerie.

“Fuck... You don’t even realize what you do to me. The way you picked this out thinkin’ of me? Wantin’ me to see you like this?”

He kisses you, soft and slow, then starts to trail lower—his mouth brushing along your jaw, every touch unhurried, deliberate. His hand glides up your thigh and grips tight, spreading you open. His eyes are sharp, blue, and hungry—fixed on yours.

“Rafe…” You whine, already feeling your thoughts blur.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you for them,” he groans, hardly holding himself together. “Make sure they never look at you the same. Make sure they know it’s me in your head when you close your eyes. You know what they’ll never have?” He whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“This. This soft little mouth. These legs wrapped around them. This sweet pussy drippin’ for them.” His voice drops even lower. “All mine.”

You blink up at him, a little crease forming between your brows like you’re trying to figure him out

He lets out this low breath, almost a laugh, but not really. “Fuck, you’re perfect… You don’t even see anyone else, do you?”

“Who, baby?” You whisper.

He scoffs, low and humorless as he tugs down his trunks, tossing them to the floor. “You should’ve heard what they were sayin’ about you.”

“Rafe…” You blink. “Is everything okay?”

Your words tip up into a gasp as he pushes you back suddenly, one knee sinking into the bed, his body climbing over yours. “Those boys,” he mumbles. “They want you.”

“Max’s friends?” You gasp as your face twists in disgust; eyes flicking toward the door.

Rafe grabs your cheeks, forcing your focus back to him. His fingers slip under the lace and he groans—low and guttural—when he feels how wet you are.

“Already soaked,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ve been sittin’ here all sweet and innocent, like nothin’s goin’ on—when your pussy’s this fuckin’ desperate for me. Say you're mine… Who do you belong to?”

You whimper, breath hitching as he slips your panties to the side and drags two fingers through your slick slowly, savoring every second.

“Say it,” he demands, his forehead pressing to yours; hand working you open.

“You,” you whisper. “I belong to you—”

“That’s right… Mine to spoil. Mine to love. Mine to fuck.”

You go to touch him, but he grabs your wrists before you get the chance. Forces them up over your head, holding you there. His body presses into yours and when his hand slides down your thigh, it pulls a shiver straight out of you. “Uh-uh, angel. Not yet.”

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes your hips jolt off the sheets. He keeps it slow, steady—watching your face with quiet adoration. He’s memorized every flutter of your lashes, every soft gasp that slips from your swollen lips. He knows what it takes… what you crave. And he knows you’re close.

“You’re gonna come for me, pretty,” he murmurs. “Just like this—”

You nod rapidly, falling apart not a moment later. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, trembling as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps working you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re gasping into his mouth, thighs twitching, hips jerking away from the overstimulation. You reach for his wrist, gripping tight, trying to slow him down—but he groans against your lips, loving how little it takes for him to unravel you.

He catches the lace of your panties and rips them clean off, the tear sharp and sudden. The sound snaps through the room, and your legs twitch from the jolt.

Rafe pulls you off the bed, guiding you right where he wants you, not wasting a moment. “Hands on the glass,” he says, voice rough as he unhooks your bra with one practiced flick. His other hand clamps around your waist, steadying you.

You press your palms to the glass, cool beneath you. Your reflection stares back: hair a mess, lips wet, chest rising fast—tits bare as you beg for more, fighting to keep your eyes open already as they flutter shut.

“Eyes on me,” Rafe whispers roughly, his chest pressed to your back now; hips flush against your ass.

He pushes into you slowly, giving you every delicious inch, your greedy pussy pulling him in. “Shit, baby… You’re tight.” Rafe grinds in deeper, hand splayed across your stomach as he holds you there, impaled on his thick cock. “This,” he pants, dragging back and slamming in again. “This is my pussy. My house. My fuckin’ wife.”

Rafe sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, lewd and filthy. He spanks your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward into the glass.

“Let ‘em hear it,” he growls. “Let those little bastards outside hear what I do to you.”

Your body trembles with every ruthless thrust; the mirror rattles under your grip, the sharp slaps of skin echoing round the room.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Rafe grits out, voice rough and hoarse.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice breaking as the knot in your belly coils tight, ready to snap.

“Yeah?” He growls, dragging you closer, rough hands holding you right where he wants you. “Then fuckin’ give it to me.”

One arm binds around your waist while the other slips down, fingers working your clit in rough, relentless circles that make your legs shake. “Show me what I do to you.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your body jerks—cunt clamping down around him. You peel your eyes open, desperate to see him. And there he is in the mirror behind you: jaw tight, lip caught between his teeth as his hips slam into you again and again.

“Good girl,” he snarls, not letting up for a second. “You ain’t done yet.”

Rafe yanks you upright, chest to back, one big hand wrapping gently around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw as he fucks you deep and hard—so deep it’s almost too much.

You break with a choked sob, another orgasm tearing through you so hard your vision blurs. You go limp in his arms, legs shaking, body spent. He doesn’t let go. Just grunts out a rough “Fuck, baby,” right against your neck as his hips pump forward. One last thrust and he’s coming, cock throbbing inside you, breath hot on your skin.

You feel every pulse of it, thick and messy, spilling deep as he holds you there, buried and shaking, not ready to move.

Rafe nuzzles into your cheek, soft kisses dusting your jaw as your breath comes out in shattered little gasps. He listens to every sound. “You still with me, baby?” He murmurs, peeking over your shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“Barely,” you whisper, still catching your breath as you slump into his chest.

He lets out a soft laugh, mouth skimming the edge of your lips. “That smile,” he mutters, voice thick. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let your eyes fall shut, head resting against him.

He slips out of you slow, gentle to the last second, then gathers you up without a word. Carries you back to the bed like you weigh nothing, sets you down easy, and smooths your hair from your face with the back of his hand. Just stands there for a beat, staring like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Rafe…” you breathe, voice soft and pathetic, so sweet it nearly breaks him. He smiles, crawling between your thighs. “You gonna tell me you can’t take another?” He whispers, hands sliding under your knees, pushing your thighs open wide. “Yes, you can… You always do.”

Rafe kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, mouth warm against your sex. His stubble drags across your skin, rough enough to make your lip tremble.

Your hands shoot to his hair the second he dives between your thighs. His tongue works you over, lips locking around your clit as he sucks hard. You cry out, fingers gripping his hair, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating so deep it makes your legs shake.

Rafe’s fingers slide inside without warning, drilling his cum back into you until your back bows and your eyes blur with tears.

You sob, thighs quivering as your heels dig into the mattress, your body barely able to take it anymore; your brain not able to think of a single coherent thought.

“Give it to me. Let ‘em know who owns this fuckin’ bed, aight. You and me… You. And. Me.” A scream rips from your throat, so cock-drunk you cum without warning, soaking his hand, his face, the sheets beneath you, everything drenched in the proof of your pleasure.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Rafe sighs in relief, licking and kissing through the mess, savoring every drop. He slaps your pussy once, firm and wet, just to hear the sound of it. “Atta baby. That’s what I fuckin’ needed… So damn good to me.”

He drags his mouth up your body. Every touch lingers, every breath shared. He settles over you, wrapping you up in him.

You reach for his face, thumb stroking along his slick jaw. He leans into your touch, his mouth just a breath from yours.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Rafe’s leans in, resting his forehead against yours. A quiet smile breaks across his face.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he says, low and steady. “Always have. Always will.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ the next morning

“I warned you,” Max mutters.

Tripp doesn’t reply—just stares into the void like something sacred was taken from him last night. Trevor’s slumped next to him, hoodie up, eyes hollow, chewing his thumbnail.

“Warned us?” Tripp breathes, voice shot. “About the wet bed? The screaming? The headboard hitting the wall like a metronome set to ‘destroy pussy’ all night long?”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bauer adds, thumping his fist against the kitchen table. “All damn night.”

Max shrugs, calm as ever. “I told you not to talk about my mom.”

“…She was crying about it,” Bauer mutters. “Crying about dick—”

“Enough,” Max snaps.

Tripp rubs both hands over his face. “I’ve got PTSD. Did you sleep?”

“You think I slept?” Trevor huffs.

“You could’ve knocked,” Max says casually, sipping his orange juice.

All heads turn to him fast. “Knocked?” They spat in unison.

Max shrugs again, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “Could’ve asked to crash in my room. I slept great.”

You walk in like it’s any other morning—light on your feet, humming under your breath, dressed in a tiny pajama set that has no business existing in a house full of teenage boys. Your tank’s stretched snug across your chest, love bites just barely visible where your robe slips open at the collar.

You pull the cinnamon rolls out, set them on the counter, steam rising fast. Without thinking, you grab the icing, swipe some with your finger, and lick it clean. You smile, small and sleepy, still feeling kind of floaty from the night before.

And for the first time in god knows how long they sat there in silence.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Tripp whispers as heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

And then—Rafe.

No shirt, just his signature gold chain catching the light as it rested against his chest. His skin was tanned, muscles cut sharp, and those sweats hung low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed—or hadn’t bothered to pull them up all the way.

“Mornin’, baby,” He murmurs, already reaching for your waist.

“Good morning,” you hum, letting him pull you into him—cinnamon roll tray still in your hands—as he kisses your skin; fingers curling around the handle of the fresh cup of coffee you poured him, steam rolling over the rim of the handmade Daddy mug from a Father’s Day past.

“For me?” He asks softly, like the entire house isn’t holding its breath.

You giggle, warm and syrupy. “Made your favorite.”

“Already had my favorite last night.” It’s a whisper meant just for you, but every boy hears it.

Rafe grabs a roll, swipes his thumb through the icing, and licks it clean like he’s still tasting you. He sips his coffee slowly, his focus unwavering.

“Breakfast on the porch, baby?”

“Yeah,” you smile like he asked you on a date.

Then finally, with one last glance at his house, his wife, and the group of broken boys who will never forget last night, he mumbles, smug as ever…

“Ya’ll have a great day. ”

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚒 🇨🇦 +𝟷𝟾 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚗𝚒

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓫𝓸𝔁: 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 -> 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜

𝓽𝓪𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 | 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 🐑 | 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮

𝚛afesteddy©️

𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛: @𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚖𝚎

anons | 🐑 💍

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

when you just finished one of the most beautiful fics ever written and you see that the author has a masterlist full of other fics

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

❝@ GIGI❞. • ☆ .°:. *₊ ° . ☆

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷•*⁀➷

↻ she/her. libra.

↻ 18+only

↻ rafe cameron masterlist ↻ the empyrean series masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

© 2025 ITNEVERENDSHERE please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

♡ !READERS:

SPOILED!KOOK!READER BABYDOLL!READER BAMBI!READER BUNNY!READER PUPPY!READER CHERRY!PIE!READER

♡ ALTERNATE UNIVERSES:

STEP-BROTHER RAFE CAMERON EX HUSBAND RAFE CAMERON BLUE COLLAR RAFE CAMERON BOXER RAFE CAMERON SEXIST!RAFE CAMERON MILITARY!RAFE CAMERON ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU OUTER BANKS POGUE BOYS X BIMBO!READER JEWISH!RAFE X JEWISH!READER DREW STARKEY X YOUNGER!DIZTY!READER

♡ SERIES:

BEFORE YOU NOTICED SUGAR-COATED CHAINS THE PRINCE’S PRIZE BUFFALO 66 AU SERIES TAINTED TEMPTATIONS

♡ EVENTS:

1K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION: BLUE BANISTERS 4K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION: P!LINKS

♡ MORE:

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST JOHN B. ROUTLEDGE MASTERLIST

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

Okay i have a request so yk the s4 scene where rafe is tied up on the boat.. imagine that but y/n teases the ever loving shit out of him like accidentally brushing against him and feeding him food while touching his face and he breaks and begs for her..

Reading about men begging is my happy place

⋆˚࿔ pogue¡ reader && rafe cameron

CUM IN YOUR PANTS RAFE

The ropes around his wrists creak softly with every twitch. Sunlight paints him in gold, sweat glinting at his temples, neck, and the perfect dip between his collarbones. Rafe’s head is tipped back against the wall, hair messy, lips red and parted. He looks like a threat and a promise—and he’s tied up. For once, he’s not the one in control.

You’re supposed to be watching him. They left you with him because, quote, ❝you’re the only one sweet enough not to kill him.❞ JJ said it with a laugh. You just nodded, sitting cross-legged beside him while Rafe spat blood and glared murder.

But now, the boat is quiet. Everyone else is too worried about what’s going to happen when you get off the boat. It’s just you and him and the sound of water slapping the sides. The afternoon sun makes your skin glow, lashes casting delicate shadows on your cheeks.

And Rafe? Rafe can’t take his eyes off you. You shift a little closer, peeling a mango slice with slow, syrupy fingers. His eyes track every movement. The fruit glistens sticky-sweet in the heat. ❝Hungry?❞ you ask, voice gentle, teasing. He scoffs, but his jaw clenches tight.

You lean in.

You hold the fruit to his lips. His mouth opens. You feed him, watching the way his lips wrap around your fingers, the flick of his tongue catching the juice. It drips down his chin, and you chase it with your thumb—down his jaw, slow and deliberate, tracing his pulse point. You hear the hitch in his breath. Feel the shudder ripple through him.

Your bare knee brushes his thigh as you lean closer. He grits his teeth. His cock is straining in his boxers, thick and leaking. He shifts, subtle at first, trying to grind against nothing. But you see it. You always do. You offer another slice. Softer. Wetter. You push it past his lips with two fingers, and he moans around them. Low. Broken. Filthy.

❝You’re fuckin’ evil.❞ Rafe pants, breathless. His head tips back against the post, eyes blown wide. ❝Fuck—just let me touch you. Please, baby. Let me touch you; let me fucking’ taste you. I’ll do anything. I’ll beg. I’m beggin’.❞ His wrists flex in the ropes. His cock twitches. He looks like he’s about to cry. You hum, lashes fluttering, brushing your lips against his ear.

❝I think I like you better like this.❞ He groans again—louder. His hips jerk up, almost helplessly. You climb into his lap, slow and deliberate. Straddling him gently, your bare thighs press against his hips. You tug your top down, freeing your tits, watching his pupils dilate.

❝Holy fuck,❞ he whispers, and you guide his face to your chest, smirking when he whines. His mouth latches on, sloppy and eager, like he’s starving. His tongue drags over your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin. You gasp when he sucks harder. He’s moaning into your tits like it’s his last meal.

❝That’s it, baby, fuck—❞ you purr, dragging your bare, slick cunt over the thick, clothed bulge of his cock. ❝Feel how soaked I am? That’s for you. All this mess? Yours.❞ Rafe groans, loud and broken, head tipped back against the post. His wrists twist in the ropes like they’re the only thing keeping him from losing his fucking mind. ❝Fuckin’—Jesus—❞ he growls, voice cracking. ❝You’re going to make me fucking cum, you evil little slut—❞ You grind harder, slower. Deliberate.

❝So big for me,❞ you coo, taunting, voice dripping with sugar and sin. ❝God, Rafe. Look at you. So fucking’ hard, twitching in your fucking’ boxers like some pathetic little toy.❞ He bucks up—hips jolting. A choked sound claws its way out of him. ❝You like being used like this?❞ you whisper, leaning down to speak against his parted lips. ❝Me getting off on your cock while you just sit there and beg like a bitch?❞

❝Fuck, fuck—❞ he gasps, the words high-pitched, shaking. ❝I need it—I need you—I’m going to fucking cum—❞ Your hand cups his jaw, holding him still as your pussy grinds down harder, faster, wet and messy against the thick length of him trapped beneath boxers. ❝You don’t get to fuck me,❞ you murmur, teasing his lips with yours. ❝You come just like this. From me riding you through your fuckin’ boxers. So desperate. So soaked.❞

❝Please—please, I can’t—I’m going to—❞

❝Cum in your pants, Rafe,❞ you hiss, mouth brushing his. ❝Cum just like this. Ruin yourself for me. Fucking ruin yourself.❞ And he does. Violent. Loud. A guttural moan tears from his chest, hips jerking wildly beneath you. His cock pulses hard, again and again, soaking through his boxers, staining them sticky and hot. He sobs your name, raw and broken, mouth parted like he’s praying to you.

You don’t stop. You keep grinding, chasing your own high—moaning into his mouth just to drive him insane, your pretty sounds mixing with the lewd squelch of your slick soaking his ruined cock.

❝That’s right,❞ you gasp. ❝That’s right, baby—so fuckin’ messy for me—such a good boy—❞ Rafe’s whole body trembles, flushed and wrecked, his arms trembling from restraint, jaw slack. ❝Look at you,❞ you croon, fingers slipping between your thighs just to tease yourself with the mess he made. ❝All mine. My filthy little toy.❞

You drag your fingers to your mouth and suck them clean, watching him watch you with glassy eyes and a whimper caught in his throat. ❝Told you,❞ you whisper, voice sugary-sweet. ❝I like you better like this.❞ And you grind again—slow and cruel—just to feel his cock twitch. Just to make him sob all over again.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : yum yum and yum . . . thank you so much for the request, angel!! I swear I never write stuff set inside the obx world but something about this setup just sunk its teeth into me and didn’t let go. I had so much fun with it, Rafe literally tied up?? yes please. I feel like the title was maybe a little much but honestly . . . also writing sub!rafe is always so weird for me?? like my brain short-circuits a little. but I agree—men should beg. they should cry and rut and make a mess. anyway. hope it left your brain all melty. love you.

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

People are so entitled!! I work at a phone store, and people get mad because we don't let them charge their phone here. The thing is, when we did let them, people would just come inside the store to sit around for long periods of time and would only come for that, so now we don't do it. It's a business, not a public library or a hangout place.

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

Sundress Season

Blue collar!Rafe x Wife!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

Summary: You surprise your husband Rafe with lunch at his worksite—wearing a sundress that turns a few too many heads. His coworkers are bold, but Rafe’s jealousy is bolder. He handles it the only way he knows how: by making it very clear you’re his.

⸻

You should’ve known better than to wear the sundress.

It’s not like you were trying to be a distraction. You were just hot, the Carolina sun beating down through your windshield, and the soft yellow cotton was the only thing in your closet that didn’t make you want to cry. So you threw your hair up, grabbed the brown paper bag of lunch, and headed to the job site with a smile.

You knew Rafe was working somewhere out off the mainland, some big house renovation, and he’d sounded exhausted on the phone earlier. You figured a surprise lunch would be the least you could do.

What you didn’t count on was the way the crew looked at you when you stepped out of the truck.

A couple of guys near the framing area went silent mid-conversation. One of them let out a low whistle.

“Damn, Cameron’s wife is somethin’ else,” one muttered, not quietly. “No way she came out here lookin’ like that just to see him.”

Your cheeks burned instantly. You weren’t trying to make a scene—you just wanted to feed your husband. But you were very aware of how the dress clung to your waist, how the breeze caught the hem and played it around your thighs.

You smiled politely, tried to focus on the little path leading to the house, pretending not to hear the not-so-subtle commentary.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” another guy offered, jogging up beside you with a grin. “That bag looks heavy. Bet I could carry it better than your man.”

You blinked. “Uh, no thank you. I’ve got it.”

“Sure? Don’t wanna strain those pretty arms—”

“You talkin’ to my wife?”

The voice cut through the air like a blade. Deep, rough, unmistakable.

You didn’t have to turn around. You felt Rafe before you saw him.

He was stomping over from the other side of the site, sawdust in his hair, sweat dripping down his neck, and he looked like he was about to throw someone through a two-by-four.

The guy beside you went stiff. “Was just being polite, man.”

Rafe didn’t blink. “Polite looks different than flirting.”

He took the bag from your hands without saying anything else and slid his arm around your waist, tugging you in close—close enough that you could smell the mix of sawdust and soap on his shirt. Close enough that no one could mistake whose you were.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your hand brushing his chest. “They were just—”

“Did he touch you?” he asked quietly, jaw clenched, ignoring everyone else.

“No. Rafe, really—”

His eyes flicked back to the guy who’d offered to help. “You look at her again like that, you’re off my site. Got it?”

The guy mumbled something and backed off, and Rafe didn’t even wait to see where he went. He was already guiding you inside, big hand firm on the small of your back.

Inside, where it was quieter—unfinished drywall and the faint hum of a portable fan—he finally stopped. His eyes scanned you slowly.

“That dress,” he muttered.

You gave him a look. “What about it?”

He swallowed hard. “You wore that here?”

You crossed your arms. “Why, you don’t like it now?”

Rafe ran a hand down his face, looking borderline feral. “Oh, I like it. Too much. That’s the problem.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “So you’re mad ‘cause I look good?”

“I’m mad ‘cause you look good around other men.” He moved closer, eyes narrowing. “They shouldn’t even know what your legs look like. That’s for me.”

“You think I wore this for them?”

Rafe grunted. “I know you didn’t. Doesn’t matter. You still walked out there lookin’ like a damn dream.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh, resting a hand against his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine,” he said, kissing you hard before you could argue.

He didn’t pull back for a long moment. Just stood there, hands firm on your hips, lips pressed to yours like he was still staking a claim.

“You really came all the way out here just to bring me lunch?” he finally asked.

You nodded. “You sounded tired. Figured you could use a break.”

His gaze softened. “You always know what I need.”

“I also know you’re gonna murder your coworkers if I show up again like this.”

He smirked. “Not if you wear my jacket over it.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

And when you finally sat on the tailgate of his truck to eat—Rafe beside you, protective as ever, practically growling if anyone even looked your way—you couldn’t help but love him a little more for it.

Because sure, he was over-the-top. Maybe even a little unhinged. But you knew underneath all that jealous rage was the same man who always kissed your knuckles, remembered your favorite drinks, and called just to hear your voice.

And the way he looked at you—like you were the sun and the moon and every star in between—made you feel beautiful, wanted, his.

Even in a sundress at a job site.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: i’d like to personally apologize to the guy who tried to offer you help—Rafe will let him live, eventually. maybe. moral of the story: don’t flirt with the boss’ wife especially if she’s in a sundress, unless you’ve got a death wish (or a strong dental plan). shoutout to blue collar Rafe for keeping jobsite HR in business.

♥️ lani

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[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

farmers market ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note hii lovies! hope you are all doing great and had an amazing weekend. this idea came into mind one day and i needed to write it. feedback is always appreciated <3.

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summary attending the local farmers market as a family of four and bumping into family later on.

warning(s) none!

It was a glorious bright day in Kildare, with blue skies and a hint of clouds. Rafe turned the corner towards the parking lot, and the streets of downtown were already bustling with activity. There were white tents lined up in orderly rows, each filled with colorful fruit, homemade crafts, or fresh pastries. The scent of warm bread, freshly made coffee, and luscious peaches filled the air. A local band set up near the gazebo played slowly, while somewhere nearby, bees hummed gently amid flower vendors.

Whenever spring comes around, the local outdoor farmers market opens till the end of summer. Opened every saturday⎯8am to 12:30pm. Everybody attends and leaves with a smile on their face. Rafe and you started going together when you were pregnant with your first born, Hayes, who’s now four years old. 

You get out of the car, the air scented with honeysuckle and sunscreen, and walk around to the passenger side. With a faint creak, the back door opens, revealing your baby girl, five months old and just waking up from a car nap. Her eyes flutter, her cheeks full and rose-colored, and one small fist curls near her mouth. Her pink romper is somewhat bunched, and her soft headband has slid over one ear.

"Hi sweet girl, you look like you had a good nap," you say with a hint of laughter, and Paisley grins, kicking her little legs. 

Rafe and Hayes were unloading a two-seat stroller. Haye knelt down and gently helped Rafe unwind the stroller. "You're doing great, bud," he replies with a smile before high-fiving him. "I'm a big boy, daddy," Hayes smiles.

"All good?" he questioned. 

"Yep," you replied, brushing a crumb off Hayes' shirt. "Coffee first?"

"You know me too well."

First stop being coffee is a must⎯always. This coffee truck that always parked at the far end of the market⎯old but charming, with bright teal paint and string lights curling around the window. You ordered something different this time, a lavender honey cold brew with oat milk.

Your eyes expanded with the first sip, "babe, you need to try this!"

Rafe's brow furrowed with curiosity before leaning in and sipping through the straw, "Oh yeah," he murmured, "that's dangerous." He closed his eyes and pointed to your drink several times. 

You began laughing at his reaction⎯his facial expression showed his eyebrows raised as he looked at you⎯amazed and secretly wishing he got the same order. 

Hayes, now holding your hand, softly tugged. "Mama, can we get the fruit now?"

"You read my mind," you remarked, grasping his small fingers as the four of you moved down the row of produce tents.

Rafe walked beside you, gently pushing the stroller, while Paisley sat with her head slightly angled and a small fan attached to the cover. Her little feet kicked gently, and she looked up at Rafe with the cutest gummy smile.

He grins down at Paisley, kneeling as he walks, "You're already giving me that adorable smile, huh pretty girl," his soft kind tone melting your heart.

Hayes came to a halt in front of the tent that had captured his attention. You never let go of his little grasps as he guided you across the small space. 

Paisley’s cooing in the stroller as you walk. Rafe’s pushing her along the cobblestone path while you hold Hayes’ hand, guiding him through the crowd. Vendors are calling out deals on peaches and homemade jams, a guitarist strums a soft tune near the corner flower stand, and the whole market feels like a movie scene.

Stacked strawberries, blueberries, cherries, peaches, and other fruits. The veggies were on the opposite side: lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots. You wanted all of them to go home. Once Hayes and you had chosen your fruits, you pulled out some cash and presented it to the older gentleman.

You carried the bag over to Rafe and Paisley, kneeling on one knee, putting them at the bottom of the stroller. “Find everything you need?” Rafe softly asks, looking down into your eyes as you stood up, “oh yes we did.”

Paisley started squirming about in the stroller, suggesting that she wanted out. She began to fuss as you crouched down to unbuckle her. Her gestures made it little difficult as she sobbed, "I know princess, mommy is getting you out" you coo, raising her up and caressing her cheek⎯Paisley lets out a sigh of relief once she's in your arms.

You passed by small business tents next, admiring handmade soaps, macramé plant hangers, and soft baby clothes. There was one tent with toys that Rafe felt Hayes would like⎯he got two toy cars⎯and you helped in finding another toy Hayes might like, but once he makes his decision, he won't look back.

"Hayesy, do you like this dinosaur toy?" You asked, kneeling at his eye level. He turns around, exclaiming, placing his palm over his mouth, "it's so cool mommy," taking it in his small ones⎯Rafe and you exchange glances, knowing Hayes is debating whether or not to take it. 

He lets out a quiet sigh and hands you the dinosaur, saying, "It's okay, mommy, I have more at home," before taking a dinosaur position.

After walking around for some more, you bought a small floral bouquet⎯dahlias, sunflowers, and tiny white blossoms—and tucked them into the stroller’s basket. Lately, the house was missing new flowers and since the market has all you could ask for, you bought them. Rafe and Hayes got you your⎯aren’t they so cute.

So far, the morning has gone smoothly. The weather was pleasant, with intermittent chilly breezes. Hayes grew tired of strolling and sat in the front seat of the stroller. Paisley in your arms, safely facing forward⎯seeing what you see. She'd kick her legs out of nowhere and laugh out of nowhere. 

There was an open seating area under a tree. Rafe and you decided to have a quick snack and take a rest break before returning to the car. Hayes sat in the chair next to Rafe, eating his meal. Paisley sat on your lap, babbled, and looked around.

"Today has been good, don't you think?" Rafe asks: peering at Paisley, who is pulling herself toward him, seeking out for him to hold her. "Definitely a good day, and we got out of the house," you smile, kissing Hayes' top of head.

Hayes smiles and leans into you.

"Y/N, Rafe!" You hear your names shouted out by two recognizable voices.

Rafe frowns and turns his entire body around; Sarah and Wheezie walk over, Ward and Rose trailing behind them with smiles on their faces. Hayes looks at both of you, unclear, until he turns around to see his aunts heading your way. 

Hayes quickly puts his sandwich down and runs to the girls.

“Look at you bud” Wheezie chimes, softly nudging him, “getting all big on us.” 

Hayes puts both hands on his hips, “I’m a big boy, Auntie Wheezie!” A look of proudness at his age amazes you and Rafe. For the longest time, he couldn’t wait to be four. 

Ward and Rose walked in your direction⎯you bring Rose in for a warm hug then Ward. Both of you weren’t expecting to see each other here but it’s always good to run into family at the farmers market.

“Paisley, are you so happy to see your grandparents?” You happily ask her as if she can fully understand you but she can only beam with a loud squeal⎯forming her hands into a fist, extending her legs before kicking them with excitement.

Rose chuckled, “take that as a yes.”

You guys catched up for a bit before heading towards the parking lot⎯Hayes was having the time of his life with his aunties and Paisley fell asleep in Ward's arms. It was a perfect day.

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[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

Working customer service is one of the hardest and most mentally draining jobs, but at least it pays decent. I can't complain about the pay, but I wouldn't recommend the job to anybody. Recently, I've just been so mentally checked out because of this job. Dealing with rude and entitled people all the time is just the worst. 😭

[multi-fandom-trash-gal]

━APRIL 2025; susan's recs

MARVEL

━━MATT MURDOCK

love language @mcrdvcks

bloody birds @venusheartsyou2

━━FRANK CASTLE

let the light in @bellsbookshop

i owe you a black eye and two kisses @↑

picking up the pieces @wolvietxt

━━BUCKY BARNES

did i do something wrong? @cece693

pretty please @daxisyzz

change your mind @marvelstoriesepic

wake up; part2; part3 @↑

friday night; the match @ilovolderman

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers @stevebabey

the shape of family; part2; part3 @skeltnwrites

your orbit @c0s-lettuce

CELEBRITIES

━━GEORGE CLARKE

lavender haze; king of my heart; the 1 @tomsparkyr

secrets in doncaster; part2; part3 @the-internets-girlfriend

━━HARRY LEWIS

half-time @tomsparkyr

THE BEAR

━━CARMY BERZATTO

the recipe for remembering (part10); part11; part12 @lalalieb

grilled cheese (part8) @whereubeenloca

god’s plan; two to tango @queers-gambit

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━━JOEL MILLER

crawlin' back to you @bluebeary-jay

blessings @sizzlingcloudmentality

just a shelf @fic-girlie

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erotica; part2 @whoevenisjavier

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━━SPENCER REID

sharing @gf2bellamy

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━━RAFE CAMERON

tipsy reader @fitzells

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━━THEODORE NOTT

the one where you scold theo for dozing off @illbegottenfaith

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finding sunshine @obsessedwithceleste

INVICIBLE

━━MARK GRAYSON

track 10 @sunsburns