#outer talks

[soangelbaby]

just thinking about newlywed!rafe on ur honeymoon 😣

telling you how much he’s dreamed of making you a mommy—how much he’s imagined you carrying his child. his child. his hand pressed against your belly—skin warm underneath his fingertips as if it’s already there, already real in his head. “you don’t get it,” he grumbles, voice low and rough, almost pleading but there’s also something dangerous underneath. his free hand slides down your side, mapping it out, as if he can already see you full with his baby. “this is supposed to happen—” his lips press against your lips one last time before pulling away to stare into your eyes, looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “we’re gonna have a family—you’re my wife now, that means you can’t ever leave me, you know that?”

and if you try to laugh it off? rafe’s grip on you just tightens, jaw clenching, pupils dilating, “nah baby, don’t do that.” his hands are everywhere—possessive and desperate, almost frantic, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. “you think i’m just talking? fuck no—i mean it, baby.” his lips attack your neck again, trailing soft kisses along your skin, igniting every nerve—imprinting himself onto you. “you’d be so perfect pregnant, we’d have the most beautiful kid ever, i can see it now,” he’d mutter against your skin, pulling you in so close because he can’t stand the slightest amount of distance.

now, he has you pressed into the mattress—face down, ass up, pounding into you from behind, in the back of honeymoon suite. his large hand covering the side of your face, thumb hooked into the side of your mouth, and his own band shining in the dim light of the room. “that’s it, baby—take it like my fucking wife,” rafe grits, hips snapping faster, bed creaking beneath you both. your brain’s gone static, all you can do is feel. the pleasure, the pain, the stretch. it’s too overwhelming, all consuming, but that doesn’t stop him. “you married me, baby—you fucking asked for this.” he spits out, panting as he you over, not even bothering to pull out. one hand now tightly gripping your throat, and his other snatching your left wrist before shoving it down between your legs.

“touch yourself with my ring on—show me how i own you,” rafe groans, pulling back just slightly, gripping the base of his dick as he watches you rub lazy circles over your clit. “shit, you look so fuckin’ pretty like this” he kisses you hard, rocking back into you and grabbing your wrist not daring to let you stop. “my girl, my ring, my pussy.” moaning into your mouth, body pressing heavy on top of you, not giving you a second to breathe or think about anything but him. this is different than before, he’s not just fucking you—he’s claiming you, marking you. every inch, every crevice, every crack, every thought, all his—and he loves it. he loves watching you fall apart for him, loves seeing you so dazed out you couldn’t even tell him your name, but he makes sure you know his. the only word on your tongue, along with messy whimpers, babbles, and moans. little chants of ‘raferaferafe’ ever so often escaped your lips. and he watches it like ritual. every expression, every breath, every tremble—he can’t get enough. he makes sure you know this is permanent now—ring or not, this is forever. you are his forever.

[lostsyren]

Rafe Cameron’s mannerisms

[sematarygirls]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

I guess there's no more delaying the inevitable, huh? Third part of the collaboration with @tippertot <3 She made the cabin metaphor up on the spot and I knew I had to do something with it- it's just too good. -> Prev | Next ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[outerfeathers-creates]

in terms of "friends" uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh something happened /neg

Can we give your opposite Bob a gentle hug? (I really don't want to scare him off, he's a cutie patootie and I want him to be okay)

//Or would you mind if I drew a similar picture myself someday?-//

Opposite Bob isn't my AU, he belongs to my friend zleepysnails!

In addition, I'm sure she doesn't mind! :D

Just know that his hugs would probably crush all of your bones </3

[urcoolgf]

saw this tiktok of a girl basically complaining that writers will give rafe a ‘girl bsf’ or have him use ‘princess’ because it’s ‘not canon’ && ‘rafe would never act like that/have a girl bsf’. . . i fear that is the whole point!

i just love when it’s called fanFICTION && therefore doesn’t have to ‘follow the rules’ :) it’s also about a FICTIONAL character, so does it really matter? also, there’s plenty of works where rafe is very canon && they are free to read!

i just thought that was so funny because she was saying how writers ‘clearly don’t know rafe’ && they ‘need to rewatch obx if they think he would act like that’. . . if you want him written a certain way—write. it. yourself.

k bye this rant was so unnecessary, but i had to share because it made me laugh—it’s never that serious!!!

xoxo lanie

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edit: the post, for reference. . . i went back && there’s more people accentuating that it is in fact FICTION, but this still just made me giggle—no hate to the girl i just thought this was a very-close minded take && kind of disrespectful towards writers who do this FOR FUN && should have the creative freedom to write characters however they want!

[zyafics]

https://www.tumblr.com/zyafics/764547208124170240/shes-probably-calling-him-hella-pissed-that THIS PROMPT can you PLEASE WRITE IT

hahaha DEFINITELY!! this is for all my maybank!reader lovers <3 bc of this picture right here !!

you and rafe are together and have a baby daughter. one day, rafe decides to take her out on a ride. it's nothing serious, just a cruise down kildare, passing the docks, the mangroves, and the marsh. she's giggling on his lap, excited by the wind whipping against her cheeks, the speed that races adrenaline through her young veins, and the time she gets to spend with dad.

that's when you notice your daughter missing. from her crib, just before naptime. you search your entire house—thinking she learned how to magically escape her crib—before dialling rafe in panic.

"relax," rafe says, having pulled over to a stop on the side of the road. he's coaxing his daughter, running his thumb across her cheeks, as she's giggling, her small grabby hands reaching for rafe's helmet. "she's fine. she's with me."

"with you?" you repeat, brows furrowed. "where did you go?"

"just took a drive down the road."

"on your bike?" you punctuate your sentence with that harsh bite, the one that signals rafe there's going to be hell if things don't turn out your way. "rafe. if you don't get back here in ten minutes, i'm going to kill you."

"relax," he repeats, but twists his throttle, readying for deployment. "it's just a ride. she's safe."

"nine minutes and forty-seven seconds," you warn, before ending the call. rafe groans. pocketing his phone, he straps his daughter securely on his chest, twists his wheels, and returns to the road.

eight minutes and twenty-three seconds later, rafe enters the house where you came rushing down the hallway to grab your daughter from rafe's arms. she's been a little fussy because of the speed rafe was riding—what? he wanted to make it back on time—and her cheeks are flush with the north carolinan winds, while her little fingers reach out to you, babbling mama.

"aw, does my baby miss me?" you take your daughter from rafe, cooing her in your arms as you pinch her cheeks and she giggles from the gesture. all previous attitudes abandoned. "did daddy take you without mommy's permission?"

rafe sighs, rolling his eyes as he sets his helmet down. "she's my daughter too."

"bite me," you throw over your shoulders, eyes narrowed in rafe's direction, before returning your focus back to your daughter. your eyes soften, filled with warmth and love.

"always so aggressive," rafe teases, unloading from his shoes at the foot of the foyer before closing the distance and stepping behind you. his hand glides over the slope of your shoulders, observing the interaction between you and your daughter.

"you're the one that married me," you retort under your breath, not letting your daughter hear her parents arguing—well, more so, bickering, as you usually do.

"and i question it everyday."

that comment earns him a slap on the chest, and your daughter catches the act. but instead of finding worry for her dad, she bursts into a fit of giggles, finding entertainment from the interaction.

"look what you're teaching her," rafe points out, pretending to rub the spot you hit.

"she's enjoying it," you say, bouncing her on your hips. "she knows mommy's always right, and daddy has to pay the consequences. don't you, baby?" you direct the last question to your daughter, dropping your tone into a playful voice and tickling her stomach. she beams, squarming in your grip, and her eyes crinkle with joy and laughter that reminds rafe so much of you.

when she starts to subside, her lashes fluttering close as her naptime nears, you rock your daughter steadily as you move to her room, settling her down on her crib, before exiting.

turning to rafe, you declare. "tell me next time before you kidnap her."

always so dramatic, rafe rolls his eyes again. "you can't kidnap your own kid."

"she's my baby."

"she's ours,"

"no."

rafe laughs at how insistent you are with this notion. but he decides to let it go. let you win. it's better than fighting an uphill battle, and plus, isn't that what marriage is all about?

"alright." he steps closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. "she's yours."

your heart awes. all defense falling from the tender gesture. tipping your chin skyward, meeting rafe's stare, you whisper, "ours."

and rafe laughs again, throwing his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. "can't fucking win any arguments with you, can i?"

ur right, i lowkey like this format too @my-fabulousness-has-arrived

[soangelbaby]

tw noncon

i feel like incel rafe would grind up against you while you're just trying to pass by a door/desk/narrow space ALL THE TIME

and whenever you argue with him (bc he's a misogynistic piece of shit) he would get in your personal space, stand to his full height and roll his shoulders back to try to physically intimidate you

um fucking yes ?????? u get it u get u get ittt !!! his pervert ass full on gripping your hips or waist as he squeezes past you just to feel your ass brush against him, mind you there’s a full walkway in front of you… at first you push him off, swatting his chest, and he just laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defense, “can you blame me? wearing those shorts, it’s like you’re begging for it” he’d snort, then scoffing under his breath and shaking his head like you offended him, especially if it’s publicly, and his friends around?? he’s calling you a whore — a desperate one, a stupid one, saying this is why ‘no one respects women like you’, or ‘you can dish it but can’t take it’ but he’s secretly plotting how to break you down more, how to shape you, how to make you conform.

and if you argue back with him, he just doubles down, defenses weak, hypocrisy high as he pushes up on you attempting to intimidate you with his large frame — and it works. when he starts rolling his shoulders , tilting his head, eyes narrowing like he’s looking through your soul, “you think you have control? you think you could do anything unless we allow you?” laughing sharply, he’d reach up, slender fingers tapping hard on your forehead or your temple, “this pretty brain? wasted. no man’s ever made you think right,” he’d tilt his head again, tongue poking into his cheek, and he knows he’s getting to you. “you’ll learn eventually, they always do,” he knows your silence isn’t surrender — it’s the slow buildup of something between fear and rage and shame and humiliation. and that’s what he wants.

[rafesplaymate]

This is literally Rafe x Glamourmodel!Reader when one of her Playboy spreads’ launches

❀⋆.ೃ࿔ navigation. ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ masterlist.

He gets so lit, cocky and coked out … going to expand on this

[idle-compy]

i love when the guys all interact we need more of it

[rafeysangelbaby]

y'all remember when we used to have the headcannon that rafe would call his girl kid when he was pissed of or fucking her because it's demeaning and put him in a place where he could manipulate easier cause he made her feel like he was older and therefore knew better + it was his go to pet name because it made her feel small/beneath him

wtf happened cause now we got rafe x puppy rafe x bambi step bro!rafe dad!rafe brother!rafe stepdad!rafe AND NOT ONE OF THEM DOES HE CALL HER KID!!! I SAW DEBATES ABT THIS ON TIKTOK IN ITS PRIME WTFFFF

we used to be a proper society

[pintrestgrl]

BARRYS SISTER!READER WITH RAFE CAMERON

warnings — drug mentions , brothers bsf topic idk if thats taboo, lowk rafe manipulates her? provocative statements? girl idk but they dont fuck or do anything

based on this ask

CAN WE ALL APPLAUD ME FOR WRITING PLEASE AND THANK YOU ITS BEEN YEARS

it had became an understanding that you were to stay quiet when barry was dealing in the house. preferably in your room, but if you were around it, you weren’t allowed to say a word.

this rule had been instilled in you since you were in middle school. it was annoying, to say the least. you’d always wanted to help, at least a bit. you had basically learned the way the whole interaction was supposed to go, just from watching your brother.

the customer would get to the house, usually at night, come inside, pay, get their drugs, then leave quietly. it had become an art form to barry— and a source of entertainment to you.

however, tonight there was a customer staying in the house for a lot longer then usual. you knew he wasn’t a pogue, he didnt look nor act like one. he must be a kook. you could tell he was a bit coked out too. you became really good at figuring that stuff out after a while.

you didn’t talk to him, simply sat on the opposite end of the couch while him and barry conversed. you stayed with your knees tucked to your chest, observing. barry had a few customers come in and out, before getting a call.

you couldn’t quite hear what your brother was saying exactly, but you made out enough to know that his supplier was gonna be coming. you sighed to yourself, another thing barry wouldn’t let you participate in.

the supplier showed up after a near 20 minute wait, barry heading for the door. you expected the kook boy to follow him, but he stayed still in his place on the couch. barry seemed too focused to tell him to come with, too.

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence after that. that was, until the boy got up from his seat, moving across the couch to sit directly next to you. all while staying silent. you tensed a bit, confused and nervous. before he spoke, “what’s your name?” you looked at him unsure, “why?”

“just wanna know.” you rolled your eyes, facing away forward again. away from his gaze. “what’s yours?” he laughed, at your reverse psychology attempt. “rafe. cameron.” you knew that last name. sarah cameron. the girl from school. must be his sister, you thought to yourself.

“okay.” you spoke, simply. he looked at you, you felt his stare. “so, barry doesn’t let you help him deal at all?” you shook your head, humming out a no. “shame. he let you do anything? doesnt really seem like it.” you smiled a bit at his observation, speaking. “no, not really.” he nodded, analyzing your words.

“he ever let you go to a party before?” you furrowed your brows. how did he knew that you had been begging your brother to let you go to a party for years? “no. he hasn’t.” he laughed, amused at the answers you gave him.

“so, guessing you never been with a boy before either, huh?” you creased your brows yet again, confused on what he meant by his statement. “in what way?” rafe smiled, before speaking bluntly again. “you ever been fucked before?” you flinched at his harsh choice of words, before quickly shaking your head.

“what? no. why are you asking that?” you spoke, now looking at him as if he was fucking crazy. but he was just glad you were looking at him. he wanted to see your face. the face you kept so well hidden from the world. “relax, ‘m just curious.”

you looked annoyed, tense. but he didn’t mind. he was happy to get a couple words conversation out of you. “you shouldn’t even be talking to me, let alone asking that. barry would fucking kill you.” you told him. he laughed, yet again. “barrys like a brother to me. you can talk to one guy. what he doesnt know wont hurt him.”

you bit your cheek, before speaking. “and what if i did tell him?” he stayed silent for a moment, pondering the question. “then he would have to get over it.” you laughed, subtly. you didnt wanna boost the kook boys ego too much.

it fell silent again, but more comfortable this time. not fully, but almost there. the boy stood up again, speaking. “i’m heading out.” you nodded, looking up at him. he headed towards the door, before stopping and turning around.!

he gave you, and your body a once over before speaking again. “your tits look good in that.” your eyes quickly widened, narrowing in on him. “you’re a fucking weirdo.” you spoke. he laughed, turning back around and heading out the door.

you were still fucking astonished that he said that to you. that was the first time you ever even heard a boy think of you like that. but a strange part of you didn’t hate it.

you should’ve told barry, you really should have. but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. not with the risk that came with it, you not being able to see that blonde kook boy again.

tags — (dm if u wanna b added , or taken off)

@lacehartz @battybaby111 @maybanksangel @kittyreposts @littlelamy @theeternaloptimistt @sugaraanddiesel @enchantedstarfish @iwishiknew-69 @heavenlyangelbaby @rafesdoe @whinyangel

[doodles-bi-tea]

claim your “I was a Lewis Pullman fan before Thunderbolts*” ticket here! (in case he blows up in popularity any more than he might have after things like TGM and Lessons in Chemistry…)

update: Thunderbolts* is out now — you can still claim your general “I am a Lewis Pullman fan” ticket, though! /lh

[asteryllic]

you know a game is good when it fundamentally changes your perspective on life and death and the universe

[2isted-chocol8-art]

You will get to it, eventually. But there's no rush.

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[rafeysbby]

thinking abt rafe making you watch his hands work in front of the mirror...

“Watch. Face the goddamn mirror and watch.”. Rafe demands, staring at you half naked form through the mirror in front of you, his large, rough fingers buried deep in your cunt, swirling as they press against the squishy flesh of your soaked walls. 

“Rafe- Rafe!”. You continue to moan and cry out his name as a bead of sweat falls down your forehead. Rafe presses hot, open-mouthed kisses up the side of your neck, his digits still working their magic inside of you. 

You could feel Rafe’s hard-on pressed against your back, he was enjoying making you watch yourself as he finger-fucks you, that was for sure. And you had a gut feeling that this wasn't gonna be the last time…

dividers from @rafecameroninterlude