#outer banks rafe

[angelluvsrafe]

where did your hair go?

summary: rafe shaves his hair without telling you

an: this has been sat collecting dust in my drafts but idk how i feel about it…

you hadn’t seen rafe in a few days and you were excited to see him. he’d told you that he would be at yours for six o’clock to pick you up, and sure enough at six sharp, you hear his car revving outside.

you roll your eyes and grab your things before heading out of the door, smiling widely as you walk down the steps to his car.

“you still rev this thing like you did when you were 17…” you chuckle as you get into the car, putting your seatbelt on before looking up at him, your face dropping when you see the difference in his appearance.

“what- where is your hair?!” you immediately reach a hand out and brush it over his now extremely short hair. he cracks a small smile and lets you feel it, rolling his eyes a little.

“i got sick of it being in my face so i just got rid of it all…” he tells you softly, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your hands running over his scalp.

“oh…” you bite your bottom lip, you want to say that you miss his longer hair but you’re also not against the buzzcut look.

“you like it…?” he lifts his head up and looks at you, eyes scanning your face for a hint of a reaction. you smile and nod.

“yeah, you look good… i like it.” you giggle and press a kiss to his lips, lifting your hand to run it over his head again. “now i have a bald ass boyfriend…”

~ for more of my work, request a fic or browse my masterlist ~

© ⊱angelluvsrafe

[slvbum]

TAKEOUT ♡ Rafe Cameron!

content WARNING: Slav!Rafe × Doll!Reader.

For Y/N it was always important to celebrate the people she cared about the most. And Sarah was someone who had been at her worst, so on Sarah’s 24th birthday Y/N was at her appartment early in the morning just to make her feel special. The living room smelled of vanilla candles and the faint tang of vodka from a bottle Sarah had opened earlier, though Y/N had politely declined a glass. She couldn’t drink, not when she had to come back home and make sure her younger sisters were okay.

The two sat at the kitchen table with half-empty tea mugs, a dog-eared fashion magazine, and a plate of pelmeni someone had brought over earlier. Y/N was laughing at Sarah’s stories about disastrous modelling experiences. Sarah was mid-sentence, gesturing animatedly about a casting director who’d tried to lowball her for a lingerie campaign.

“I told him, ‘You want me to freeze in lace for that price? In this economy?’” Sarah said, tossing her blonde hair.

Y/N snorted. Wheezie was out with friends, a small victory Sarah had won after convincing Rafe to let her have a night out, so the apartment felt quieter.

She hadn’t seen Rafe he ruined their casting, but the way his blue eyes had locked onto hers had left her unsettled, like he’d seen something in her she didn’t even know was there.

The front door creaked open, and the air shifted, as if the room itself braced for impact. Rafe stepped in. He carried a plastic bag in one hand, the kind you get from a late-night street vendor, and his eyes scanned the room.

Y/N’s breath caught, her laughter dying in her throat.

She sat up straighter, her fingers tightening around her mug.

Rafe’s gaze landed on the table, on Y/N and Sarah, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable, like he’d known they’d be there. He didn’t say a word at first, just walked over and set the bag down with a heavy thud. The smell of greasy shawarma and fried pirozhki wafted out, mingling with the candles.

“Eat,” he said, more command than invitation.

He didn’t look at Y/N, yet, his focus on the bag as he started pulling out foil containers.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at her lips. Looking between Rafe and Y/N as she knew some secret.

“Y/N doesn’t eat greasy food, Rafe,” she said, leaning back with a playful smirk. “She’s got that whole ‘model diet’ thing going on. You know, kale and vibes.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t correct Sarah.

It wasn’t just about the diet—she wasn’t picky, growing up in a village had taught her to eat what was available—but something about Rafe’s presence made her feel exposed, like any word she said would be judged. She stayed silent, her eyes flicking up to meet his as he finally looked at her. Rafe’s gaze was piercing, those blue eyes cutting through her like glass.

For a second, she thought she saw something soften in them, but it was gone as fast as it came.

He scoffed, a sharp sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Fine,” he said, his voice rough, like gravel under boots. “Don’t eat, then.”

He grabbed the bag, the foil containers clattering as he shoved them back inside, and turned toward the kitchen. His movements were sharp, controlled, but Y/N caught the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw ticked like he was biting back something else. As he disappeared into the narrow hallway, Sarah burst into a quiet laugh, leaning across the table toward Y/N. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“He likes you, you know,” she said, her breath warm and smelling faintly of vodka. “Asked me if you were gonna be here before he even walked in. That’s not like him. Rafe doesn’t care about anyone.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered, but she kept her face neutral, years of navigating her stepfather world teaching her to mask surprise.

“You’re imagining things,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her pulse raced. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing toward the hallway where Rafe had vanished. “He barely looked at me.”

Sarah grinned, undeterred, her sparkly top catching the light as she leaned closer. “Oh, please. He’s all ‘eat this, do that,’ but I know him. He’s been weird since that day he kicked you out. Keeps asking about you, all casual, like I’m not gonna notice.” She waggled her eyebrows. “It’s weird. He doesn’t do that. Like, ever.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

Rafe was the kind of man she’d spent her life avoiding...

But there was something about him, something in the way he’d looked at her. She shook the thought away, focusing on the table, the magazine, anything but Sarah’s knowing smirk.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Y/N said, changing the subject. She nudged a small gift bag toward Sarah; a silver bracelet she’d found at a flea market, simple but elegant. “Don’t let your brother ruin your night.”

Sarah laughed, her fingers brushing the bag. “Oh, he won’t. He’s just... Rafe. Come on, let’s get out of here before he comes back and tries to feed us more street food.” She stood, grabbing her jacket, but her eyes flicked toward the hallway. “He means well. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ©slvbun — written with love.

[illumoria]

barry's sister!reader x rafe

nsfw | cw; unprotected p in v, dub-con, manipulation/coercion, degradation, rough sex, breeding/pregnancy kink, power imbalance, non-consensual creampie + other taboo topics | this may be uncomfortable to read for some

wc: 1458

it'd been around 10 minutes since your brother left. maybe 20–and yet Rafe was already on you, his lips moving against yours as if he was starving and you were his first meal of the day. he didn't care and he definitely made it known.

"he's gonna be back..he's gonna see you.." you mumbled against his lips, only for him to push your body down harder into your mattress–the poor bedframe groaning in protest under your shared weight.

"I don't care..let him see. let him know how weak I get his little sister, huh?" he whispered, dragging his mouth down your jaw, puncturing your soft skin with his teeth as he continued his assault down your sensitive neck.

"rafe–"

"shh.." he whispered, pulling away from you, propping himself up so his knees were on either side of your waist.

"I'll be quick, yeah?" and when he didn't get a response, he shoved his pride aside, leaning back down–just close enough so you could feel his breath fan against your cheek.

"please?"

oh come on. that was just unfair.

"fuck, fine." you mumbled, resisting the urge to slap him right then and there as soon as he got back up to start working off his jeans, a stupid smirk on his lips as if he'd won something.

you guess he sort of did.

"if we get caught I swear–"

"could you relax? barry doesn't scare me." he replied, sliding his boxers and pants down in one go, the fabric bunching up just below his knees.

his dick sprang out, sticking flush against his stomach, angry red tip dripping with pearly white pre-cum. the sight was enough to make you whimper–and he made sure to let you know he heard it.

"didn't even touch you yet and you're already making lil' noises?" he laughed, the sound low and teasing.

"you said you were gonna be quick–and this? not quick, rafe."

"you wanted quick, yeah?," he muttered, nodding his head slowly, almost to himself, "you'll get quick."

he slid his hands up your thighs, propping them up before dipping his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and dragging them down your legs–your underwear going down along with them.

the cool air hit your soaking cunt like ice water dumped onto warm skin, fluttering around nothing.

his eyes were practically glued to you–your body–how good you looked just. like. this.

"rafe..?"

he didn't answer. not with words at least, as he dipped one finger between your folds, gathering the slick coating them onto his finger before popping the digit into his mouth.

"mhm?" he hummed, smirking like the devil himself, his lips still around his own fingers, tongue swirling around it and savoring your taste..

"fuck–please?" your voice barely above a whisper as you practically begged now, batting your lashes all pretty as if it would make him give in.

"oh yeah? "please?" what happened to your brother catching us? don't give a fuck now 'cause you know you're gonna get stuffed full. right? that's why?"

"yes–just...just please" you groaned, already slightly breathless, reaching out for him–trying to pull him closer by his shirt–a futile attempt due to his strength. and stubbornness.

"since you asked so nicely." he chuckled, leaning down to press a little kiss to the corner of your lips, soft and gentle before slowly pulling back and lifting your hips up. He lined himself up, sliding his tip through your folds, nudging your clit before easing himself into you with one slow thrust. well..just barely.

you were crying out–gasping before he could even fully bury himself in. and when you did? you swore you heard him laugh.

"you want me to just fuck you like this? half in?" he snorted, the vibration going straight to your core.

"stop laughing.." you whimpered, unable to look him in the eye, simply staring above his head–which didn't last long. not when he was grabbing you by the chin and forcing your eyes on him.

"nope. none of that. wanna see your face when I make it fit."

"what–oh!" you felt it before he said anything else, the burning stretch of your pussy as he bullied himself into your poor weeping hole, his dick's imprint visible through the soft skin of your stomach.

he saw himself in you, hard, but still. not moving. not even when he saw the tears that began to sting the corner of your eyes.

"gonna remember it. yeah...your body's gonna remember me." he chuckled, dark and deep, the sound reverberating off the walls of your room.

"oh-hmyfuckinggod"

"yeah..just like that, don't you dare fuckin' cover your mouth either–none of that shit." he smirked, carefully thrusting in and out of you, your mattress shaking beneath the both of you as he fucked you.

slow. at first. but when you started grabbing onto him? when your nails began to dig into his arms like you physically couldn't get enough? fuck, he was done for. and so were you.

the sound of skin slapping against skin grew louder, faster, as he slammed his cock mercilessly–over and over into your cunt, relishing in the little "uh-uhs" you made like they were music to his ears.

"feels good doesn't it?" he taunted, lowering himself down so close his breath was fanning over your cheek.

"imagine if he was home...poor barry, hearing his little sister getting fucked like this–think you could hook me up with some free coke?"

"f-fuck you.." you moaned, your hips involuntarily jerking up, your body speaking for itself before you could, trying to match his rhythm as if it was a competition.

"kind of already doing that...no?"

you were too completely fucking out of it to produce anything but incoherent babbles, growing closer and closer with each slam of his hips into yours, each plap of his balls against your pussy.

"ra-rafe–"

"I know...just..just take it, yeah? you can do that for me, hm?"

"n-no! oh–shitt!!"

you clenched around his dick so hard it almost made him laugh, how pathetically needy you were when you came. squeezing all that was left of him–and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love every fucking second of it, purposely pressing himself deeper inside of you, twitching in your warmth as he came right after you, painting your insides white.

you didn't process it. not until he pulled out. not until he started stuffing his cum back inside your already overstimulated pussy with his fingers. muttering something about how you were "letting it go to waste."

"rafe–rafe you weren't supposed to–what are you doing?"

"I mean might as well right? already..already got inside you."

"what?" you muttered under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows, staring into his eyes that were dead set between your legs, focused on the way his seed dripped out of you like his favorite damn show.

"you don't wanna have my babies? be a lil' mommy?" he teased, leaning back down on top of you, pressing kisses to your cheek and chin.

"i'm not having this conversation with you right now."

"'s alright..we can talk later..'bout anything you want, yeah?" ignoring your clear annoyance, ignoring what you wanted.

just as he leaned down to place another kiss to your cheek the both of you froze.

"shortstack where ya at?"

fuck, when did barry get home? none of you heard the door open and–

sensing your inner conflict, rafe almost immediately consoled you, shushing you with soft kisses and whispered reassurances.

"he won't come in here.."

"you don't know that!"

"I locked the door baby, trust me. you trust me don't you?"

you didn't respond, you couldn't. how could he act so nonchalant knowing your brother was out there?

you barely noticed he was off of you until he was speaking up again, buttoning the top buttons of his polo.

"don't think we're done. I'll be back."

"where are you going?"

"you want me to stick around so he can beat my ass? cut off my supply?" he laughed, pulling his pants back up and zipping his fly.

"i'll call you." he mumbled, smoothing back his hair before walking back over to your side, kissing your lips so sweetly–as if he didn't completely wreck you.

he smiled against your lips, eyes lingering on your face far longer than needed.

"rafe?" you'll come back, right?"

"yeah..yeah I will."

a beat of silence passed, and he took it as the end, walking over to the window just beside your bed, cracking it open, one foot out before–

"rafe?"

"hm?"

"i love you."

"...i love you too."

and then he was gone. leaving you alone. in silence–

"yo are you in your room? 'fuck are you?"

"i'm coming, barry!!"

───────────────۶ৎ───────────────

🏷️: @missmaybankk @tezzzzzzzz @deanswifeyy @my-diary1 @cokewithcameron @starkeyjoseph @silkylovey @usuiswifelol @loveesiren @lynst91 @chuuchuutrainn @angel06babysworld @rafeysvenicebitch @alize2007 | want to be added? click here!

obx masterlist rafe cameron masterlist

[sexwithrafe]

game over ☆⠀rafe cameron

♡⃣where rafe's yelling at strangers online while playing this pc game with his friends so you help him to de-stress.

pairing ! :⠀fem!reader x slavic!rafe.

warnings ! :⠀smut. swearing. male masturbation. handjob. blowjob. cum in mouth.

rafe has been on his pc for over an hour.

he’s in his room, headset on, hunched over the keyboard, all tensed shoulders and low muttering. the screen’s glowing against his sharp cheekbones, jaw clenched, fingers flying over the keys.

it’s his day off. his mama nadya is out at her cousin’s. he should be relaxing but instead, he’s yelling at strangers on the internet and fully ignoring your existence.

“da bᴌя, eto che za govno?!” (what the fuck is this shit?)

you blink up from your phone, curled up in his bed. you're wearing little cotton shorts, one of his old t-shirts and fuzzy socks.

rafe slams a key.

“net, suka! idi nahui, blyaaad…” (no, bitch! fuck off, fuuuck…)

his accent thickens when he’s pissed. his voice is deeper. raw. pretty hot tbh.

you should be annoyed. instead, you just… watch.

your eyes trail down his neck, the slope of his back under the black hoodie. the veins in his big hands as they grip the mouse. the rise and fall of his broad chest as he swears and grunts and yells like the war he’s fighting is real.

“kak vy vse takie tupye?!” (how are you all so fucking stupid?!)

you giggle a little and slip off the bed, padding over to him quietly.

your hand touches his bicep, a soft reminder that you exist.

he doesn’t pause. but without even looking, one hand leaves his keyboard, and reaches back to grope your ass.

he’s fully focused on his game, jaw tight, barking in russian to his friends while palm-deep in your sleep shorts.

he squeezes.

“shhh,” he mutters into the mic. “ne meshay mne, zayka.” (don’t distract me, bunny.)

you roll your eyes, arms looping gently around his shoulders, hugging his neck from behind.

“you’re yelling,” you murmur near his ear. “too much.”

he grins without looking away from the screen.

“you don’t like how i scream?” he asks low. “'cause i like yours.”

you smack his chest. he chuckles.

“you’re stressed,” you murmur again all fake-innocent, trailing your hand down his chest slowly with a smirk. “you want help?”
he doesn’t notice at first—doesn't answer until you rest your palm right there, pressing his lap through the soft cotton of his sweats. he stiffens. slightly surprised.

he pulls the mic up. turns his head toward you with a lazy, knowing smirk. lips parted, tongue swiping the corner of his mouth.

“help me, yeah.”

he pulls the mic back down, sits deeper into the chair.

you don’t wait. you slide under the desk, careful with your knees, blanket of warmth under your palms as you push between his legs. he spreads them wider.

you tug his sweatpants down just enough. he lifts his hips, letting you.

his cock’s already hard. thick. flushed. leaking at the tip.

you mouth over it once, slow and his leg jumps.

you look up again, biting your lip.

he puts the headset back on.

“pasholtye vse nahui… i'm back.” (fuck all of you…)

his voice goes casual. relaxed. like his cock isn’t halfway down your throat now.

he hisses softly when you take him in—your mouth stretching, tongue circling the head. your hands on his thighs. your head between his legs.

he’s too big to fit easily, but you try.

“net rafe, ya ne slyshal… skazhi snova.” (no rafe, i didn’t hear, say it again.) his friends talk over each other.

you start moving your mouth rhythmically. —sucking, then pulling back, tongue flat against the underside of his cock.

he exhales hard. you feel his hand sneak under the desk. fingers tangle in your hair. guiding. gripping.

he shifts his hips, pushes just a little deeper.

you moan low against his length.

he keeps talking to his friends. but more messier.

“da, da… idi… eto prosto pizdets… suka…” (yeah, yeah… go… this is fucking insane… fuck…)

but you know those words aren’t for them. they’re for you.

your hand slides to his base while you suck deeper, throat tightening, saliva dripping down your chin and slicking his length.

rafe pulses in your mouth, gripping your head tighter while his thighs flex.

“shhhit…”
you hear it slip in english. and that was so hot.

“fuck—idi za menya, i need to—mmf.” (go without me.)

his friend says something. rafe doesn't answer.

he's too focused on your mouth now.

he finally mutes his mic and pushes his chair back an inch to look down at you.

you blink up at him, mouth full, cheeks flushed.

he exhales a laugh.

“you look so pretty like this.” he murmurs, pushing your head down slightly. thrusts once. slow. deep.

“m'gonna– finish in your throat. da?”

you nod, his cum slipping from the corner of your lip.

“good girl... just like that.”

[rafesbabybunny777]

I thought, you thought, we all thought, sorry. 🫢

[rcwhore]

This man is the reason my panties don’t stand a chance. 😮‍💨

[pink-petal-horns]

You Call It Effort, I Call It Growth

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past drug use, emotional trauma, mature language, reference to toxic patterns.

Part 1

It’s been three months and seventeen days since you left Rafe standing in his bedroom, eyes wide and jaw clenched, whispering I’ll be better to a door you didn’t close gently.

Three months and seventeen days since you stopped picking up his messes.

Three months and seventeen days since you finally stopped choosing potential over peace.

And somehow—he stayed.

He didn’t chase you down the driveway. Didn’t blow up your phone for weeks with pathetic apologies and voice notes that started with I swear this time I mean it.

No. Instead—he disappeared.

And you thought that was it. You thought maybe he finally let go.

But then one afternoon, two months later, your best friend shows you his Instagram story.

And there he is.

Rafe Cameron. In a hoodie. Hair longer. Eyes clearer. No beer in hand. Standing beside some landscaping project he’s apparently been doing as “part of the program.”

Your heart stops.

“What program?” you ask, trying not to sound like you care.

Your friend raises a brow. “The one he signed himself up for. Didn’t you know?”

—

You don’t see him until the third time you pass by the docks that week.

He’s wearing gloves, unloading wooden crates with a kind of quiet focus that doesn’t fit him. At least not the him you remember. The Rafe you knew would’ve already been slamming things, cursing the heat, starting fights just for air.

But this Rafe—

He looks up. And freezes.

You don’t smile.

But you don’t walk away either.

He sets the crate down and walks over slowly. Not charging. Not cocky. Just cautious.

Like he knows he’s walking up to something breakable.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey.”

He waits. Doesn’t speak right away. Then—

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You nod. “Didn’t know you’d be here either.”

Silence again.

Then: “You look good.”

You raise a brow. “You look… different.”

He almost smiles. “I’m trying.”

—

Two weeks later.

You meet him at the pier. At his request. No begging. No guilt-tripping. Just a text that said:

If you ever wanna see for yourself. I’ll be here at 4. No pressure.

And for whatever reason—you go.

He brings iced tea instead of beer. Takes off his hat before sitting. Doesn’t touch his phone once.

“So… you’re sober now?”

He lets out a breath. “Not perfect. But yeah. I’m getting there.”

You nod.

“How long?”

“Ten weeks.”

Your brow lifts. “Seriously?”

He smiles—small but real. “Seriously.”

You sip your drink.

“And the program?”

“Twice a week. Mandatory drug testing. Group therapy.”

“Group?” you echo, almost amused.

He nods. “Yeah. I, uh… I talk about shit now. Who knew?”

You snort. “You, in therapy. Talking.”

“I listen, too,” he says quickly. “Like—I don’t try to make it all about me. Or blame people anymore.”

Your face softens, just a little. “That’s new.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s weird. But it’s helping.”

—

Two more weeks pass.

He doesn’t text again. Doesn’t push. Just gives you space.

Until one day, you’re the one who calls.

“Hey,” you say when he picks up.

He sounds surprised. “Hey.”

“I… heard from JJ that you turned down a party last night.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Wasn’t really in the mood for house beer and cocaine anymore.”

“That’s not you now?”

He hesitates. Then: “It was never really me. It just felt easier than dealing with who I actually was.”

You don’t say anything. But your silence is softer than before.

Rafe clears his throat.

“Why’d you really call?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess… I just wanted to hear your voice. And see if it sounded different.”

“And?”

You blink.

“It does.”

—

You see him again.

At The Wreck. It’s not a date, but it’s not not a date.

He waits for you outside. Doesn’t get a table without you. Doesn’t make a show.

When you sit down, he hands you a little folded-up list. His handwriting is a mess, but you can still read it.

“What’s this?”

“My shit list,” he says. “Stuff I used to do. Stuff I don’t do anymore. Stuff I’m still working on.”

You skim it.

- talking over you - blaming everyone else - drinking when I feel anything - punching walls - guilt-tripping - running when it gets hard - acting like a fucking child

You look up. “You wrote this for me?”

“I wrote it for me,” he says. “But you inspired it.”

Your chest tightens.

There’s something almost shy in the way he holds your gaze now. Like he’s still trying to earn the right to look at you this long.

“You gonna keep adding to it?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot more to fix.”

—

One night. Two months after that first dock sighting.

You invite him to your place.

He shows up clean. Clear-eyed. Empty-handed except for a little book of quotes he’s been collecting.

“I write shit down now,” he tells you, grinning sheepishly. “Better than bottling it up and screaming later, right?”

You flip through it. Some are about control. Others about healing. One, you notice, is dated just a few days after your last fight.

It says: You can’t love her like a child screaming for candy. Love her like a man who can hold her in silence.

You stare at it.

He watches you carefully. “Too much?”

“No,” you say quietly. “Not enough, honestly.”

He chuckles. “You’re still mean.”

You smile. “And you still like it.”

—

Later that night.

You’re sitting on the couch.

The lights are low. No music. Just air between you.

He fiddles with his ring. Then speaks.

“I know I was awful to you.”

You don’t interrupt.

“I know I made everything about me. I twisted shit, yelled too much, blamed you for shit that wasn’t even yours to carry.”

You keep your eyes on him.

“I didn’t get it back then. But I do now. You didn’t leave me because you stopped loving me. You left because I wouldn’t let myself grow up.”

Silence. His jaw twitches. He swallows.

“I’ve been working on it. For real. Not because I thought it’d win you back. But because… I hated who I was when I lost you.”

Your throat tightens.

He shifts forward.

“I’m not perfect. I still get angry. I still wanna punch something when I feel cornered. But I don’t. Not anymore. I breathe. I write. I walk away.”

You blink, hard.

He says it low:

“I miss you. But I won’t ask for anything you’re not ready to give.”

You stare at him. “You’re really trying.”

“I am. For you. For me. For whatever version of myself doesn’t destroy everything good.”

You nod slowly.

Then: “I’ve seen the work, Rafe.”

He looks up.

You take a breath.

“I see how far you’ve come. You’ve earned a lot back. Not everything yet. But… enough to try again.”

His eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as hell,” you say. “But let me be clear—if you start slacking, if you go back to that boy I walked away from? I’ll be gone before you can blink.”

He nods instantly. “Fair. So fair. I—yeah. That’s more than fair.”

You soften, just a little.

“I’m giving you a chance. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” he says. “I swear. I’m not that kid anymore.”

You look him over.

“No,” you whisper. “You’re getting there.”

Tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog - Hope you enjoy it!

[rafesonlywhore]

breakfast at rafe’s 🧸🥞

WARNING : fluff, light make out TLDR: pancakes or him? you choose

⸻

The smell hits you before you even open your eyes, a mix of something sweet and vaguely burnt. Your nose wrinkles.

Pancakes?

Fire?

You bolt upright, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you realize: you’re in Rafe Cameron’s house.

Memories of last night rush in, movie marathon, falling asleep on his shoulder, him offering you the guest room, though he never actually left the couch. And now?

You peek into the kitchen and immediately have to bite back a laugh.

Rafe’s standing in front of the stove in nothing but grey sweatpants and a backwards hat, poking at a pan like it personally insulted him. There’s flour on the counter, on his hands… and somehow, even in his hair.

“Um,” you say, stifling a giggle, “Is this a crime scene?”

He turns with a guilty look, spatula in hand. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to wake up yet.”

“I can tell,” you say, stepping into the kitchen, barefoot and still wrapped in one of his hoodies. It hangs off your frame like a blanket.

“I was gonna surprise you with breakfast.” He points to a plate of slightly burnt pancakes. “Surprise.”

You blink. “They’re… definitely pancakes.”

“They’re trying to be pancakes,” he grins, stepping closer. “Pretty sure I added too much milk. Or not enough. Or maybe baking soda? Is that a thing you use?”

You’re trying so hard not to laugh, but he looks so damn proud of his disaster.

“Sit,” he says, gently guiding you to one of the barstools. “You’re still getting breakfast. I promised.”

“I don’t remember you promising, but okay,” you tease, watching him struggle with a new batch of batter. He’s humming under his breath now, like he’s weirdly happy just having you here.

You lean on your elbows, chin in your hand. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “Like what?”

“Domestic. Flustered. Covered in flour.”

He smirks. “You think this is cute? Wait ‘til I break out the apron.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You own an apron?”

“…No. But I would, for the record. For you.”

Your heart stumbles a little in your chest, but before you can respond, he turns off the burner, abandons the sad pancakes completely, and walks over to you slowly, a little more serious now, but still smiling.

“Okay,” he says softly, placing his hands on either side of the stool, leaning in. “So breakfast’s a failure.”

“Debatable.”

“Mm. But you’re here. In my kitchen. In my hoodie. And honestly?” He dips his face closer. “That’s the best part.”

Your breath hitches, eyes flicking to his lips. “Rafe…”

He closes the space between you with a kiss, soft at first, careful. Like he’s making sure you want this too.

You do.

You lean in, one hand curling into his shirt, pulling him closer until he’s between your knees. His mouth deepens the kiss, slow and warm and a little dizzying. You taste cinnamon on his lips or maybe it’s just him.

His hands find your waist, gripping gently as if grounding himself there. Yours travel up his back, tugging him impossibly closer until there’s no space left to close.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs:

“Okay. Maybe this was my actual plan all along.”

You grin, whispering, “Definitely better than pancakes.”

He kisses you again.

And again.

And breakfast?

Totally forgotten.

⸻

comment to be tagged xx

[drewssgirl]

⋆˚࿔ FUCKING AT A PARTY

— pairing: kook!rafe x kook!reader

— warnings: MDNI 18+, sexual innuendoes, explicit language, teasing, dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, sorta public sex?

— word count: 748

— A/N: this one's been in my drafts for A WHILE. its short but i'm working on the fwb series (it'll be out soon!)

the party wasn’t even that good. music was dull, half the people were already too drunk, and you were kinda bored—except not really, because rafe looked so good tonight. backwards cap, white tee clinging to his chest, a gold chain barely peeking out. he was leaning against the counter, red solo cup in one hand, just existing like he didn’t know what he was doing to you.

and okay, maybe the shot you took ten minutes ago was making you bolder, but you couldn’t stop touching him.

your arm around his waist. fingers brushing up under his shirt just a little. nails tracing over the band of his jeans like muscle memory. you were subtle about it—or at least, you thought you were—until he looked down at you, amused, eyes narrowing just a bit.

“you good?” he asked, low, in that voice that already made your stomach flip.

you blinked up at him, wide-eyed and trying to play it off. “mhm.”

he looked right through you.

his hand found your lower back. “don’t mhm me. you’re squirmy.”

you pouted a little, pressing closer. “i’m not squirmy.”

“no?” he muttered, lips brushing your ear. “then what’s with the hand on my belt, baby?”

you immediately pulled back, trying to act innocent, but he was already setting his cup down and grabbing your wrist.

“bathroom. now.”

“rafe—”

he didn’t even answer. just pulled you down the hall, past groups of people too busy talking to notice you slipping away, and shoved open the door to the upstairs bathroom.

he locked it. turned around. looked at you like he was about to ruin you.

“been touching me all night,” he said, backing you against the counter. “knew exactly what you were doing.”

your breath caught. “i wasn’t—”

he kissed you before you could finish, hard and messy and all tongue, hands already sliding under your dress.

“ ‘course you were,” he mumbled against your mouth. “always get like this when we go out. can’t help yourself, huh?”

you whined, trying to kiss him again but he pulled back, just enough to tilt your chin up.

“so needy for me you couldn’t even wait ’til we got home?”

his hand slipped between your thighs and you gasped, hips bucking forward like your body had a mind of its own.

“that’s what i thought.”

he turned you around, bent you over the counter with no warning, yanked your panties to the side. the mirror fogged with your breath as you tried to stay quiet, heart pounding.

“rafe—”

“shh.” he leaned over you, one hand gripping your waist, the other guiding himself in. “gonna be real fast, baby. but i’ll still make you come.”

you choked on a moan as he pushed his cock in, the stretch deep and sudden. he didn’t give you much time to adjust—just started moving, fast and rough, hand slipping under your dress to press against your lower belly.

“look how deep i am. you feel that?”

you nodded, hands braced against the sink, mouth falling open.

he grabbed your hair and pulled your head back so you could see your reflection. “look at you. all flushed and fucked out already.”

you tried to look away. he didn’t let you.

“nah, eyes on the mirror. wanna see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

you clenched around him at his words and he groaned, hips stuttering just once.

“fuck, baby. you get tighter when i talk to you like that?”

he kept going, faster now, and you could feel the heat building, your legs shaking.

“don’t stop,” you whispered.

“not gonna,” he panted. “you gonna come for me?”

“y-yeah—”

his hand slipped between your thighs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing perfect tight circles.

“then do it. right now. make a mess on my cock.”

you came with a cry, muffled into your arm, legs shaking as he fucked you through it. he followed right after, pulling out last second and spilling onto your lower back with a low, drawn-out curse.

you both stayed still for a second, catching your breath.

“holy shit…” you whispered.

he chuckled, grabbing toilet paper to clean you up. you turned around, flushed and dazed, and he kissed you sweetly, like he hadn’t just wrecked you in a stranger’s bathroom.

“next time,” he said, “don’t tease me if you can’t wait.”

you rolled your eyes, stealing one last kiss before fixing your dress.

“next time,” you muttered, “fuck me before the party.”

he smirked. “deal.”

©DREWSSGIRL 𖦹 est. 2025 — please do not copy, translate or repost my work as your own, thank you!

[verityasian]

Legacy Series™️ Masterlist

Once upon a time on the Outer Banks, a group of misfits chased treasure, dodged death, and swore they’d never grow up.

But eventually… they did.

Now, years after Morocco and the wreck of the Royal Merchant, the Pogues are still standing. A little older, a little wiser (arguably), and now raising a new generation who knows the waves just as well as the legends.

══════════════════════════

Introducing:

Jackie Routledge —the sun-kissed daughter of John B and Sarah. She’s part whirlwind, part heart, and exactly what you’d expect from two Pogues who fell in love while running from a death sentence.

Hurley Maybank — Y/N and JJ’s son and the quiet storm. Artistic, observant, and full of soul, he’s the calm to Jackie’s chaos — but he’s got his dad’s wildness buried deep in his bones.

Amari Heyward —daughter of Pope and Cleo, brilliant and bold. The future strategist of the crew.

River and Skye —the adopted twins of Kiara and her girlfriend, two fiercely loved kids raised on revolution and sea turtles.

“Uncle Wafe” —Rafe Cameron, now half-redeemed and fully obsessed with spoiling Jackie, Hurley, and whatever chaos Kiara’s kids get into. His girlfriend Y/N, known affectionately as Auntie Tea-Tea, is the glamorous stirrer of the tea (and the only one who can keep him soft).

══════════════════════════

🍼 UNCLE JJ 🍼

UNCLE JJ X JACKIE HEADCANONS

UNCLE JJ X JACKIE FIRST ERRAND

UNCLE JJ X JACKIE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN

UNCLE JJ X GF! READER LETS START A BABY

UNCLE JJ X JACKIE X UNCLE WAFE

🍼 DAD JJ 🍼

>>> coming soon…

🍼 UNCLE WAFE 🍼

UNCLE WAFE HEADCANONS

UNCLE WAFE X JACKIE WHERE’S YOUR BABY

UNCLE WAFE X JACKIE X UNCLE JJ

UNCLE WAFE TRYING FOR BABIES

🍼 JOHN B 🍼

JOHN B X JACKIE IMAGINARY FRIEND

🍼 SARAH 🍼

>>> coming soon…

I’ll add some more when I post my drafts!

Send me some requests if you guys want to see more!

>>> request box

[angelluvsrafe]

hi luv i loveee ur writings ❤️ can you do a fluff abt sub!rafe getting the silet treatment from reader ty ily 4Ever

i love that yall love sub rafe too omgg

silent treatment

you’re scrolling on your phone aimlessly as you try to ignore rafe’s fingers pulling at your hands. he’s pawing at you like a needy dog and it’s getting annoying.

you decided to ignore him because he’d been cocky all morning, acting like he wore the pants in the relationship, acting like he was in charge.

he deserved to be ignored after the way he’d slapped your ass in front of his friends. he loves to show off and act like someone he’s not when he’s with them and you’re not letting him get away with it this time.

“sweetheart…” he whines, wrapping his large hand around your wrist and tugging on it, “please just look at me… even for a moment…” he urges, his head dipping down in hopes to catch contact with your eyes.

turning your head away and pulling your arm free from his grip, you stand up and walk away from the sofa, leaving rafe pouty and slumped over against the plush cushions.

you find a new spot on the bed, you curl up against the fluffy pillows and slip your feet under the sheets. perfect, comfy and no rafe to bother you.

that’s until you hear his footsteps shuffling down the hallway to your room, stopping for a moment before he peers around the door, his face red and tear stained.

you glance up at him before letting your gaze fall back down to the screen in your hand.

rafe trudges over to the bed, crawling over to you and ducking his head under your arm, resting it on your stomach. he lets out a small sigh and nuzzles his face against your bent leg.

“rafe…” you sigh and run your hand through his hand, his body racks with a sniffle and he grips onto your leg harder.

“i’m sorry… i didn’t mean to upset you…” he murmurs against your skin, “please don’t ignore me, i can’t stand not talking to you… i need to touch you…” his thumb caresses your thigh as he rambles to you, his voice trembling as he presses his forehead against you.

you run a hand down his back as he tries to collect himself, continuing to press his wet face against your leg.

“you’re so sensitive, huh…?” you sigh and gently rub circles into his back. he nods, a hiccup causing his shaky body to jolt a little.

“i’m sorry about this morning… i’ll never do it again…” he sniffles, trying his best to regulate his feelings.

he’ll always be a sensitive baby, no matter how cocky he gets.

© ⊱angelluvsrafe

[slvbum]

06 — SHOW ME HOW ♡ Rafe Cameron!

content WARNING: Policeman!Rafe × SingleMom!Reader, crying, mentions of DV.

The days following the custody hearing were a grief, each one carving a deeper wound into her soul. She dragged herself through her routine at church, scrubbing pews until her knuckles ached, kneading dough for the parish bread until her arms trembled, the repetitive motions a frail tether to sanity. But in the quiet moments, Anya’s cries from the courtroom echoed in her mind. The image of Jake’s smug grin as he tore her daughter away burned behind her eyes. Y/N felt hollow, her hands quivering as she polished the altar’s brass candlesticks, her prayers growing desperate. Rafe’s promise to help was her only anchor, but even that felt like a thread stretched to breaking.

But after the hearing, Rafe had started his plan.

The morning he’d called Lena, a lawyer whose ferocity in domestic violence cases was legendary. Lena had a reputation for dismantling flimsy cases like Jake’s with surgical precision. Rafe had seen her in action at the precinct. Over burnt coffee at a greasy diner, he laid out Y/N’s story, his voice tight, fingers drumming on the chipped table.

“She’s got nothing, Lena,” he said. “No family, no money, and Jake’s a manipulative bastard—abusive, playing the system.”

Lena nodded, her pen already scratching notes.

“No documented abuse is a hurdle, but not a wall,” she said, her tone steady. “We’ll dig into his past, find witnesses, anything to prove he’s unfit. Her job, her stability at the church—that’s a start. I’ll do it pro bono if she’s ready to fight.”

That afternoon, Rafe brought Lena to the church, where Y/N was sweeping the vestibule. When Rafe introduced Lena, Y/N froze, her broom stilled, wary hope flickering in her gaze. Lena’s presence was a quiet command, her handshake firm as she guided Y/N to the church’s office. She outlined the plan: appeal the custody ruling, file for a restraining order, gather evidence of Jake’s abuse.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Lena said, her voice cutting through Y/N’s haze. “We’ll show the court who Jake really is. But you need to trust me. Can you do that?”

Y/N’s throat tightened, tears brimming but held back.

“I want Anya back,” she whispered, her accent thicker. “She’s… everything.”

Lena’s eyes softened. “Then we fight. You’re a good mother. We’ll make them see.”

For the first time, Y/N felt a faint spark of possibility, bolstered by Lena’s confidence and Rafe’s presence in the doorway.

The court had allowed Y/N supervised video calls with Anya, but they were a cruel mockery of connection. Each evening, after scrubbing floors and baking bread, Y/N collapsed onto the sagging bed in her hotel room, her body heavy with exhaustion, her eyes gritty from sleepless nights. She’d clutch her phone, hands trembling from fatigue, and dial Jake’s mother, Dolores, for the call. The screen would flicker, revealing Dolores’s sour face, her voice slurred from cheap wine.

“She’s sleeping,” Dolores would snap, barely glancing at Y/N’s desperate expression before hanging up.

Night after night, the same excuse, the same abrupt disconnection, left Y/N staring at a blank screen. She’d whisper Anya’s name, her fingers tracing the outline of her daughter’s rattle, abandoned in the car seat, as tears carved silent paths down her cheeks.

The weekend visits couldn’t come soon enough.

When Saturday arrived, Y/N was a knot of nerves and bone-deep weariness, her stomach churning as she drove to Dolores’s sagging duplex on the edge of town. The air reeked of cigarette smoke and damp grass, the porch littered with crushed beer cans and cigarette butts.

Y/N knocked, her heart hammering.

Dolores opened the door, her eyes bloodshot.

“She’s sleeping,” Dolores said, blocking the doorway, her tone dismissive, as if Y/N were an inconvenience.

Y/N frowned, confusion piercing her fatigue. “Sleeping? It’s… ten in morning.”

Anya’s naps were later, always had been, a rhythm Y/N knew like her own heartbeat. Her mother’s instinct surged, cutting through the haze.

“I see her,” she said, pushing past Dolores, ignoring the woman’s indignant huff.

Inside, the house was dim, with cigarette smoke and the stench of unwashed dishes. Anya lay in a crib in the cluttered living room, her tiny form curled under a threadbare blanket. Y/N’s breath caught as she leaned over, her lips brushing Anya’s forehead in a trembling kiss. Her daughter’s skin was scorching, her cheeks flushed an unnatural red.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

She lifted Anya gently, cradling her against her chest, and noticed a small scratch on her daughter’s cheek—red, fresh, like a claw mark. Rage and fear roared through her, making her hands shake as she held Anya tighter.

“She’s burning,” Y/N said, turning to Dolores, who was lighting a cigarette on the sagging couch. “She has fever. Why you not tell me?”

Dolores shrugged, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Just a flu. Kids get sick. Ain’t no big deal.”

Y/N’s vision blurred with tears, her arms tightening around Anya, who stirred weakly, her usual bright babble replaced by a faint whimper. The scratch wasn’t deep, but it was wrong, a mark that didn’t belong on her daughter’s face. She wanted to scream, to tear Anya away from this neglect, from Jake, from Dolores’s indifference. But the court’s ruling chained her, and running now would destroy her case.

Instead, Y/N straightened, her voice trembling but resolute. “I take her to hospital. Now.”

Dolores waved a hand, already turning back to her cigarette. “Whatever. Just bring her back.”

Y/N carried Anya to her car without thinking twice, her heart pounding as she buckled her into the car seat, whispering, “It’s okay, baby, Mama’s here.”

The twenty-minute drive to the hospital was a blur, Y/N’s hands shaking on the wheel, her eyes darting to Anya’s flushed face in the rearview mirror. At the emergency room, the doctors moved with calm efficiency, diagnosing a high fever from a viral infection. They administered medication, and within an hour, Anya’s temperature dropped, her breathing easing, her small body relaxing in Y/N’s arms.

But seeing her daughter like that was a wound that cut deeper than anything.

In the hospital’s sterile waiting room, Anya dozing against her chest, Y/N called Rafe. Her voice broke as she spoke, tears streaming down her face, her accent thick with panic.

“Rafe, she’s not okay with them,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Fever, so high, and there is this… this scratch on her face. They’re hurting my baby.” Her fingers trembling, her chest heaving as she fought to keep her voice steady. “I can’t let her go back. She’s my heart, Rafe.”

Rafe arrived in minutes. He strode in, his leather jacket damp from the drizzle, his blue eyes dark with worry. When he saw Y/N, her face tear-streaked, Anya cradled against her, his jaw clenched. He knelt beside her, his hand hovering over Anya’s cheek, close enough to see the scratch without touching.

“Jesus,” he muttered, anger simmering in his low voice. “They let this happen?”

Y/N nodded, sobbing quietly, her arms tightening around Anya. “I can’t lose her,” she whispered. “They’ll hurt her.”

Rafe’s hand clenched into a fist, his mind racing. He took a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice, though his eyes betrayed him.

“Hey, listen to me,” he said, his tone steady but gentle. “You did the right thing getting her here. She’s safe now, because of you. We’ll document everything—the fever, the scratch. Lena will use it to build the case. It’s evidence, strong evidence.” He paused, his jaw tightening, knowing he had to be honest. “But taking her from Jake’s house, even to the hospital… the judge might not see it kindly. It could look like you broke the custody order. We need to be careful, explain it was an emergency. Lena will know how to handle it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “But she was sick, Rafe. I had to—” Her voice cracked, her body shaking as she clutched Anya closer.

Rafe reached out, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, grounding her.

“I know,” he said softly, his blue eyes locked on hers. “You’re her mother. You protected her. We’ll make the court see that. I promise, we’re not letting Jake win again.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ©slvbun — written with love.

♡ taglist ; @lolabunnyworldss @love-4-rafey-lando @fairyjinn @yohathatsmyname @nutmeqsy @chelzaa @lanaslushworld @haechanmybaechan

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[personapeters]

𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝

— a rafe cameron one shot

✰ when y/n gets her boyfriend to partake in a viral tiktok trend.

rating: sfw — cw: none

anyone who had a phone and internet access knew of the viral couple’s trend, and y/n was no exception. endless sickeningly sweet videos flooded her feed of men effortlessly lifting their girlfriends onto their shoulders, some ending with them toppling over into a heap of laughter; it left a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach and she, too, wanted the first hand experience.

she knew rafe better than anyone; being recorded doing some silly trend for the world to see simply wasn’t something he’d be willing to do. despite that fact, she knew it wouldn’t hurt too terribly to propose the idea. so, with little hesitation, she made her request known.

“rafe?” she quipped from her place on the couch, her legs draped lazily over her boyfriends lap. “hm?” he hummed, his attention momentarily glued to the phone in his hand as he finished a text. “can we, maybe, try something?” she asked, watching as he completed his typing before tossing the device onto the coffee table with a clank.

“what’s that?” he mumbled, running a hand up her bare leg and resting it on her thigh, lightly squeezing as he gazed at her. “before you say no, just hear me out, okay?” she asked, his face quirking at the request. he nodded his head in a way that prompted her to continue, so she did.

“i wanna see if you can lift me,” she informed simply, to which rafe’s brows rose in question. “if i can lift you?” he clarified with a mild confusion, “y’know i can — do it all the time.”

“no, i mean, like—,” she fumbled with her phone for a moment, tapping at the screen before turning it to face him, “it’s for a video thing… like this.” he watched intently as a couple performed the ‘lift’ in reference and his face contorted to one of scrutiny.

“why?” he questioned, genuinely not understanding the appeal. “i don’t know, looks fun — it’s cute,” y/n mumbled with a shrug, gradually becoming less enthused. “looks kinda dumb,” he muttered honestly, completely disconnected from the internet and it’s need for spontaneous niches. “oh,” y/n spoke quietly as she stared down at the device — maybe he was right.

rafe noticed the shift in her demeanor instantly, his heart squeezing as she slouched against the armrest of the couch, a small pout pulling at her lips that she tried to fight against. he felt a pang of guilt in his chest, hating how filter-less his mouth could be. he didn’t mean come off as cold and dismissive, but he knew that he did, and often does; he also knew that he needed to fix it.

“okay, come on,” he sighed, patting her thigh before sliding her legs off his. “what?” she asked in surprise, her eyes following him as he stood. “let’s do it,” he shrugged, holding out a hand for her to take. immediately, a bright smile flooded her face as she wrapped her digits around his larger palm. “really?” she beamed as he pulled her to her feet. “yeah, i just— is that it?” he motioned to the phone in her grasp, “i just pick you up?”

“yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically with a grin, her eyes glistening as she did so and rafe couldn’t help but let his lips mimic her own. “alright, go set it up,” he instructed as he peered down at her, softly patting her hip in encouragement. she obliged quickly, propping her phone up on the coffee table and setting a timer to count them down from thirty, hoping that would allot them enough time to prepare.

“please don’t drop me,” she laughed as rafe situated his large hands around her waist, his long fingers nearly touching each other at the center of her stomach. “i’d never,” he scoffed with a soft smile, “just tell me when.”

“almost,” she muttered as she watched the numbers descend on the screen, “okay-okay, three, two, one.” instantly, she felt the hold on her body tighten as rafe effortlessly lifted her through the air; she didn’t need to jump in assistance, nor did he grunt or struggle in the slightest, carrying her gracefully as though she was a feather. she instinctively gripped his wrists as a squeal left her mouth, a melodic stream of laughter following as he propped her onto his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly on the broad surface.

the recording ended and the song looped softly in the background as rafe carefully slid her down his body, his hands resting underneath her arms as he lowered her to the ground. as soon as her feet hit the floor, she padded over to watch the perfectly imperfect recording — the framing was off, seeing as rafe was too tall to fit, and she didn’t lip-sync to the lyrics as most others had, but none of that mattered in the slightest.

“look,” she grinned, holding the phone out for rafe to see. he smiled fondly down at her, his eyes flickering between her face as she watched the clip and the clip itself. admittedly, he enjoyed participating, enjoying even more how giddy she was about it. “i see,” he assured with a small smile, his focus primarily on his happy girl as he rested a hand on her hip, rubbing small circles on the bone.

“i love it,” she gushed, ecstatic to have something so sweet and silly of herself and her boyfriend that she just knew she would watch over and over and over again. “good,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the moment being interrupted when his phone rang out — a call he was expecting.

“i’ve gotta take this,” he informed, running his fingers under the hem of her shirt and softly grazing the skin before breaking the contact. he grabbed the cell from it’s place on the table, answering it with a hushed greeting before exiting the room, leaving y/n to rewatch their video again with a cheek-aching grin; her man was in-fact very jacked and oh-so kind (but only ever for her).

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[edwardslvrr]

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