#rafe cameron x y/n

[rafecameroninterlude]

[🍩] soft!dom!rafe x breeding kink x corruption kink😜😜 with hella dirty talk😫

warnings: bambi!reader, innocent!reader, established relationship, making out, heavy petting, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), rafe is messyyyyy lol, unprotected sex, rough sex, crying, blood (very little, it’s from a bite lol), breeding, multiple orgasms, rafe slaps you just once, corruption kink, lots of dirty talk, first time, loss of virginity, fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, slapping, soft aftercare, brief mentions of having kids

a/n: i think i got really carried away with this but breeding kink with bambi was something i wanted to write but was unsure of how to start it lol so thank you so much for this request 🤍

rafe was in heaven right now and he wasn’t even inside of you yet. he kissed you gently, the feeling of your fingers stroking his face while he caged you between his arms was everything he didn’t know he needed. “you show up in this pretty little dress of yours, did you have this planned?” you gasped when you felt his hand snake under the soft material of your dress, his touch skimming over the waistband of your underwear. “no. ‘just wanted to look pretty for you..” you whispered, those doe eyes of yours beaming up at the man on top of you. “you do. you look perfect.” rafe sighed.

slipping his tongue in your mouth, your eyebrows drew together as you couldn’t help but move your hips against the thigh he had between your legs. rafe looked down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you rut against him. “does that feel good?” he hiked your dress up, wanting a better view of your clothed cunt. you hummed, your skin flushing as rafe concentrated on the way you moved underneath him. hands roaming your body, there wasn’t an inch of you that went untouched. slipping your dress off, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest.

despite you two being together for a while, the furthest you two had ever gotten was making out and a little groping here and there, but that was it. rafe had no problem waiting until you were ready to go there. you shivered, the chilly air of rafe’s room making your nipples harden right before his eyes. “fuck, bambi..” he cupped one of your tits, a whimper leaving your lips when he leaned down and took the other in his mouth. “are you okay if i do this?” you glanced down at his hand moving your underwear to the side. meeting his eyes, you nodded. “please.”

rafe watched your face morph into one of full blown pleasure when he gathered the wetness at your entrance and glided the tips of his fingers to your clit. “you’re soaked.” he laughed, making you turn your head away from him out of shyness. grabbing your chin, rafe squeezed your cheeks together and forced you to look at him as his fingers started working your sensitive bundle of nerves. you were instantly trying to draw away from his digits, the motions being far too much for you at once. “shhh, don’t run from it,” he licked a stripe up the column of your throat, “let me watch you.” he smiled teasingly.

you smiled back, only for it to be wiped from your face when he slapped your folds, the sensation making you jolt. despite it stinging for a quick second, you started chasing his hand for more. “you want another one?” he slapped you again, this time making your thighs shake, “my little whore likes that, huh?” you were surprised at the name calling, but even more suprised when you found out you liked it. “talk to me, baby. tell me what you want..” his lips ghosted over yours. rafe had gotten you so wet, you could hear your slick with each stroke of his fingers. “wanna go all the way with you, ray..”

rafe swore he could hear the angels singing. he’s been waiting, anticipating for this day to come. “yeah?” he kissed you, slotting himself between your thighs before pulling away from your cunt. “yes. ‘want you so bad!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. you watched him pop his fingers in his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his digits. oh, god. pulling him close, you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. taking your underwears off in one swift movement, you palmed rafe in his shorts, your eyes widening when you felt how large he was in your hand.

“you’ll be fine, baby. i’m gonna take such good care of you..” in rafe’s mind, you had already did this before, but the look on your face was starting to make him think otherwise. his suspicions were confirmed when you looked up at him with watery eyes. “is it going to hurt?” you whimpered, his erection resting heavily on your tummy. rafe studied you for a moment. “you’ve never had sex before?” you shook your head, biting your lip nervously. rafe felt so wrong for being so turned on at the revelation. “have you ever touched yourself?” rafe was on the brink of losing his mind. “no..”

that was it. this man was going to ruin you. “i’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.” you pouted, looking away from him. embarrassing? rafe felt like he could cum right then and there. “that’s not embarrassing at all, baby.” he reassured you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. “you know what that means? that means i get to turn you into my own personal little slut.” his words made butterflies flutter in your stomach. rafe unbuckled his belt, his shorts and boxers now long forgotten. despite being horny out of his mind, rafe still checked to make sure you were okay.

“are you sure about this, bambi?” you watched as he snaked down your body, hooking your thighs to his shoulders. a shaky breath left your lips, your hands intertwining with his as he pressed kisses to your flesh. “yes, i want you-” you were cut off by rafe’s tongue delving into your sweetness. your back arched off of his mattress, your thighs threatening to snap around his head. the only word you could use to describe the noises in rafe’s room was lewd. the slurping, grunting, moaning, it was all hitting you at once that this was actually happening.

rafe was so hard already, his own fist wrapped around his cock as he sloppily lapped at your soaked pussy. he couldn’t get enough. instinctively, you couldn’t help your hips from grinding against his face, your boyfriend doing everything to make you tremble and shake in pure bliss. you freed one of your hands from his grip and trailed it up your chest, squeezing your tit while rafe groaned at the sight. “i haven’t even put any fingers in you, baby, you’re going to be a mess by the time i actually fuck you.” you cried out when he sucked your clit, his middle finger prodding at your entrance.

gasping at the intrusion, rafe shushed you as you whimpered at the unfamiliar stretch. “how are we doing, sweetheart?” he looked up at you, cursing under his breath. you were so fucking tight, he could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. “..hurts a little.” you took a breath, moaning when he curled his digit. “it’ll feel good soon, i promise baby. ‘gonna make you cum so fucking much.” he continued working on your clit, the added stimulation making your eyes screw shut. rafe waited until you were gasping his name before entering a second finger.

you practically screamed, your hands shooting down to dig your nails into his skin. “rafe, i think i’m!-” you froze, your eyes rolling back as you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. suddenly you couldn’t breathe, your mouth falling open in a silent moan before your legs started to shake. rafe knew you were cumming and it only made him go rougher on you, wanting your first orgasm to be unforgettable. inserting a third finger, your eyes shot open as you thrashed against his sheets, your body trying to retract from him.

“r-rafe, s’too much! i can’t!” your words came out choppy with each breath you tried to take, your boyfriend eventually bringing you down from your high. you had tears rolling down your cheeks, your entire body feeling like jelly as rafe came up from between your thighs. the lower half of his face, and even the tip of his nose, was glistening with your slick. rafe had given you a taste of something you soon felt like you couldn’t get enough of. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look down where he lined his cock up with your entrance.

you met each other’s eyes, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, before he slammed into you, both of you having two different reactions. while rafe doubled over, absolutely enthralled by how tight you were, you were crying, your nails leaving crescents in rafe’s side. you were only able to take half of his length, but rafe was determined to give you the whole thing by the time he was done. while the feeling wasn’t exactly painful, you just felt so full. rafe took your lips in a searing kiss, pulling out before thrusting into you again. “you feel so fucking good, you know that?” he praised you.

rafe started thrusting into you until any sense of discomfort melted away. “oh my god, look at you taking me so fucking well..” rafe whispered against your skin, littering your neck and chest with kisses. wrapping your arms around his neck, you didn’t hold back from moaning underneath him. “rafe go faster, please!” your boyfriend smiled, pulling away momentarily to see that dark look in your eyes. “whatever you want, baby.” you cried out when his hips slammed into your own, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “oh, rafe..” you shuddered, now that you were filled to the brim.

“you’re so perfect, you want this dick everyday?” you nodded frantically, not seeing how you could go without it now. “yeah? i bet you do..” he laughed, “‘been wanting to corrupt you since i got you, baby. your sweet little innocent eyes looking up at me when i would rub you through your panties, you have no idea how bad i wanted to get you naked and fuck you until you were crying for me to stop.” he slapped your cheek, a gasp leaving your lips at the action. “look at you now, you’re gonna be begging for this all the time.. ‘might just fuck a baby into you, huh?” you whimpered at his words.

“i want that.” you panted, his pubic bone slamming down on your clit with each thrust. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? get you all pretty and pregnant?” god, what was happening to you? “yes, ray! i want it so bad, ‘want your babies!” now it was rafe’s turn to get hysterical, the idea of you growing round with his seed turned him on beyond belief. “fuck!” he grunted, “oh, i wanna see that so bad, ‘want you walking around tanneyhill with your tummy full. everyone will know what we did.. what you let me do to you.” rafe didn’t care if it was the heat of the moment making you two talk like this, he just knew that you were it for him.

“how about i breed you right now, bambi? you want that?” he hoped you’d say yes, considering he wasn’t going to last very long. when he felt you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in, he nearly lost it by how turned on he was that you wanted the same thing. “please give it to me!” you cried, your boyfriend pulling you into his chest where he embraced you, making you unable to move away from him. you buried your face in his neck, biting down on his flesh as his hips stuttered, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside of you. you relished in the feeling, your walls milking him for all that he had.

“son of a- fuck! you’re squeezing me so fucking hard.” he shivered, the feeling of you gripping him from the base was undeniably the best thing he’s ever felt. reaching down, rafe rubbed hard circles on your clit until you came around him, only making you spasm even more. after you had raked your nails down his torso, and drew blood from biting him so hard, rafe had pulled out of you with a hiss, not a single drop of cum dribbling out. you had taken it all. “holy shit, are you okay, babe?” you looked spent. droopy eyes, swollen lips, tear stained cheeks, rafe thought you couldn’t get any more prettier than this.

you spotted the bite mark on his neck. “ray, you’re bleeding..” you attempted to sit up but failed pathetically when your arms gave out from under you. “s’okay.. stay right here, i’ll be right back.” you were dazed, your vision hazy as rafe went to grab a cold towel. when he came back, the blood from the curve of his neck was gone and he wrapped you in his sheets. dabbing the towel on your forhead, you suppressed a giggle at his ministrations. “i’m okay, rafe.” you pecked his cheek, grabbing his arm so he could spoon you. pressing a kiss to your temple, he massaged soothing circles into your side.

“you were so good for me, baby..” he whispered, his words making your heart flutter in your chest. “you promise i wasn’t some amateur?” rafe shushed you, a laugh tumbling from his mouth. “no way, you were great. i don’t know how we’re gonna get through a day without ravaging each other.” you hummed, already daydreaming about the next time. “did you mean what you said earlier? about wanting a baby?” rafe turned you around so you were face to face. you trailed a finger down his jaw. “well, i’ve always wanted kids..” you smiled. “with me though?” rafe’s eyes softened when you nodded.

“with only you..”

[itneverendshere]

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[rafecameronssl4t]

Frat president || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Unlike Rafe, you managed to balance your responsibilities as Sorority President with your personal life and relationships, something he just couldn’t seem to get right.

Warnings: angst!!!

Word count: 1,973

A/n: first time writing frat boy!rafe lmk if you wanna see more

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the bed. You and Rafe lay tangled together under the sheets, the air thick with the heat of the moment. His hand slid across your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever he touched. His lips found yours again, hungry and urgent, as though he had been waiting for this all day—between the calls, the meetings, the endless chaos that came with being the frat president.

"Missed you," he muttered against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy, his body pressing into yours. You smiled into the kiss, knowing he meant it. Rafe was always busy, always handling something, but when he was with you, it was like the world faded away. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

You arched your body against his, feeling that familiar warmth between you, the kind of intimacy that only you two shared. But just as things were getting more intense, the worst sound shattered the mood—the loud buzzing of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. Rafe paused, pulling away just enough to glance at the screen. His eyes flickered with annoyance but also duty, and you knew what was coming.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice soft but pleading, fingers on his jaw to keep him focused on you. "Just a second," Rafe muttered, "it’s the guys." You groaned and sat up, wrapping the sheet around your body. "Of course it is." Rafe pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring your frustration as he answered, his tone switching from soft and intimate to authoritative. "Yeah, what's up?" His voice was commanding, the kind of tone that always came out when he dealt with frat business.

You leaned back against the pillows, pulling the sheets over your chest, watching as he got up from the bed, pacing the room like he was in some kind of frat office rather than your bedroom. You watched Rafe’s broad back as he paced across the floor, the low murmur of his voice carrying on a conversation that had nothing to do with you. Every word, every command he gave over the phone to one of his frat brothers only added to the frustration bubbling inside you.

His hand ran through his messy hair as he listened to whoever was on the other end, barking orders and sounding like a leader—like the Rafe everyone else knew. But that wasn’t the Rafe you wanted right now. "Seriously?" Rafe’s voice cut through the air, frustration dripping from his words as he dealt with yet another frat-related crisis. "No, tell him if he doesn't fix it, I'm pulling him from the party this weekend."

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tugged the blanket tighter around you. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. You knew he had responsibilities, but this was supposed to be your time. His phone calls could’ve waited, just this once. But no, everything else always seemed to come first—the frat boys, the parties, the constant drama. It was like you were sharing him with the entire fraternity.

"I said, handle it. No—no, Jacob. I was clear about what you needed to do. Get it fixed, or both of you are looking at probation." Rafe’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade. He paused for a second, then scoffed bitterly. "I don’t care if he was drunk. I don’t give a damn about excuses—just get it done." Rafe snapped into the phone, his voice hard and distant, like he wasn’t the same guy who had just whispered how much he missed you.

You had felt so close to him just minutes ago, tangled in the sheets, his hands on your skin, making you forget everything. You thought tonight would be different, that for once, you could have him all to yourself. The warmth of his touch and the closeness you’d shared felt like a cruel joke now, as you sat alone on the bed, waiting while he dealt with something that wasn’t you.

You stated at the ceiling as his voice grated on your nerves. The anger was bubbling up faster now, impossible to ignore. The thought of being second to his frat boys made your heart ache, but it was more than that. It was the growing realisation that maybe, you’d always be second. Always waiting for him to put you first.

After a few more minutes of listening to Rafe handle the situation, you had enough. "Rafe," you said, your voice sharp as you interrupted him mid-sentence. He glanced over at you, his expression apologetic but still distracted. "Hang on, babe." That set you off. "No, you hang on. You’ve been on that phone for ten minutes. This was supposed to be our time. Remember?" Rafe sighed, covering the phone's speaker with his hand as he turned toward you. "I know, I’m sorry. This is important."

"And I’m not?" you shot back, feeling the sting of his divided attention. Rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. "That’s not what I’m saying." "Sure feels like it," you muttered, turning away from him as you pulled the blanket over your shoulders. You felt the weight of your words settle between you both, a heavy tension replacing the heat from earlier.

Rafe exhaled loudly, covering the phone with his hand. "Babe, I’m handling it. Just give me a second." "That’s the problem, Rafe," you snapped, the anger flaring as you sat up, the blanket falling away from you. "It’s always 'just a second' with you. Always something more important than me. I thought this time would be different."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. "It’s not like I want to deal with this shit right now, alright? But I’m the president. If I don’t fix these fucking problems, who will?" You shook your head, hurt and anger swirling in your chest. “I get it, Rafe. I know how much responsibility comes with being a president. Believe me, I have my own duties as sorority president. But I’ve learned to separate those responsibilities from my personal life, from us. Something you clearly can’t seem to get a grip on.”

Rafe’s face flushed with frustration. “You think I don’t care about us? You think I’m choosing the frat over you?” Rafe turned fully toward you now, his phone still in his hand but on mute, his voice was a strained mix of anger and desperation. "Of course I care about you. But this is my responsibility. You knew what you were getting into when we got together." "Did I?" you shot back, your voice shaking. "Because I don’t remember signing up to be treated like an afterthought every time someone screws up at a party!"

He rolled his eyes, frustration mounting. "Okay, now you're just overreacting." "Overreacting?" you repeated, the word hanging between you like an accusation. "No, Rafe. I’m tired. Tired of always competing with your frat, tired of feeling like I’m just here when it’s convenient for you. What kind of shitty relationship is this?" He looked at you, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt, maybe.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with the same stone-cold exterior he always put up when things got too real. "What the fuck do you want me to do then?" he asked, his voice strained. "I can’t just drop everything for you every time you feel insecure about this." His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt the sting behind your eyes, but you refused to let him see you cry.

"Insecure?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what you think this is? That I’m just… insecure?" "That’s not what I meant," Rafe said quickly, but the damage was done. You stared at him, your heart aching in a way that felt all too familiar now. It was always the same with him. Every time you tried to open up, to let him know how much this was hurting you, he brushed it off, made it seem like you were the problem.

You stood from the bed, grabbing your clothes from the floor and quickly pulling them on. Rafe’s eyes widened in confusion as you started dressing. "What are you doing?" he asked, stepping closer. "I’m leaving," you replied coldly, buttoning up your shirt. "I'm not doing this tonight." Rafe stood by the bed, his expression torn between irritation and confusion as he watched you. “Are you seriously leaving because of one phone call?” he asked, his voice low and almost pleading.

“Of course not, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling with everything you’d held back for so long. “I’m leaving because I can’t keep feeling like I don’t matter to you. Not anymore.” Rafe's jaw tightened as he crossed the room, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You know how this is, you’re a sorority president. You of all people should know how much responsibility comes with it. You can’t just walk away every time something comes up."

You paused at the door, turning to face him, anger flashing in your eyes. “Yeah, I do know. I know exactly what it’s like to balance responsibilities, Rafe. But I also know how to separate my personal life from it, something you can't ever seem to learn." Rafe stared at you, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to find the right words. “That’s not fair,” he muttered. “You’re acting like I’m choosing this over you.”

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice cold. “Every time we’re together, it’s like you’re half here, half thinking about what the guys are doing, what crisis you have to fix next. I get it, you have responsibilities, but that shouldn’t mean I have to come second all the time." His mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. He looked at you, the guilt flickering in his eyes, but still, no words that would make a difference.

The air between you both felt thick, heavy with all the things left unsaid for far too long. "Do you even realise how many times I’ve put everything on hold for you?" Your voice cracked, the hurt finally breaking through. “How many times I’ve chosen us over my responsibilities, over everything else? I’ve never made you feel like you were second, Rafe. Not once.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was pleading with you to understand. “You know I am.” “Trying isn’t enough anymore.” Your heart ached as you said it, but you knew it was true. “I shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to feel like I matter to you.” Rafe’s face hardened, the guilt shifting into frustration. “So what, you just give up? Because I can’t drop everything for you in a second?”

Your laugh was bitter as you shook your head. “No, Rafe. I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to care enough to make me feel like I’m part of your life, not just something you fit in when it’s convenient. But I guess that’s too much for you.” You turned toward the door again, your hand on the knob. This was it—the breaking point.

The moment where everything you’d been holding onto finally slipped through your fingers. “Wait.” His voice was softer now, almost desperate. You paused, just for a moment, waiting to see if he’d finally say what you needed to hear. But all you heard was the faint buzz of his phone vibrating again on in his hand. And just like that, the hope faded. Without another word, you walked out the door, not looking back.

[moremaybank]

quickies with rafe or jj where they have to bite down on the hems of their shirts to keep it out of the way >>> and they’re just grunting at how tight and wet you are but it’s coming out muffled through the fabric and and and

[rafedarling]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: drew tries to play a playful prank by taking off his wedding ring, but his smart and sweet 2-year-old son, rustyn, immediately notices and innocently points out that it might make mommy sad. what starts as a simple joke turns into a heartwarming reminder of the love and connection between you, drew, and your son, and the importance of the little things that symbolize that love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. pure fluff, heartwarming family moments, playful teasing, and deep emotional connections.

au’s: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday

The afternoon sun streamed lazily through the living room windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the space. The warmth of the sunlight and the gentle sound of waves from outside made everything feel peaceful and calm—your perfect little haven. You were curled up on the couch with your son, Rustyn, nestled comfortably in your lap, his small head resting against your chest. He was two, but sometimes you marveled at how much older he seemed, with his sharp curiosity and his endless questions.

Rustyn’s favorite book was in your hands as you read to him, your voice soft and soothing as you flipped through the colorful pages. Every few moments, Rustyn would point to a picture and ask you about it. His little hands would grab at the air in excitement as he processed each new detail.

“Mommy, why is that bunny wearing a hat?” Rustyn asked, his bright blue eyes full of curiosity.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his soft curls. “Maybe he’s going on an adventure, sweetie. What do you think?”

Rustyn considered this seriously, his face scrunching up in concentration. “Yeah, maybe. I like adventures.”

“I know you do,” you said with a smile, kissing the top of his head. “You’ll have lots of them when you get bigger.”

Rustyn nodded, clearly satisfied with your answer, and snuggled closer to you. He let out a small sigh, content in the warmth of your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling with love as you continued to read. These were the moments you cherished—the quiet, everyday moments that made your little family feel complete.

As you were nearing the end of the story, you noticed Drew standing in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter. He was watching the two of you with that familiar look of affection in his eyes, the one that always made you feel so loved. But today, there was something else—a mischievous twinkle that you hadn’t quite noticed before.

Drew took a sip of water, then set the glass down with a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was up to. He didn’t say anything, just casually strolled into the living room and leaned down to scoop Rustyn up from your lap.

“Come here, little man,” Drew said, his voice warm as he lifted Rustyn into his arms.

Rustyn squealed in delight, wrapping his tiny arms around Drew’s neck and giggling as Drew spun him around in a playful circle. “Dada!” Rustyn cried out, his laughter echoing through the room.

“Having fun with Mommy?” Drew asked, settling Rustyn on his hip, still grinning as he glanced at you.

“Yeah! Mommy was reading to me,” Rustyn said proudly, his voice full of excitement.

But as Rustyn snuggled against Drew, his sharp little eyes caught something unusual. He tilted his head, his gaze narrowing in confusion as he stared at Drew’s left hand. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now, following Rustyn’s gaze, you realized that Drew’s wedding ring was missing.

Rustyn furrowed his tiny brow, clearly puzzled. His voice, though small and innocent, was filled with a sense of concern. “Dada...where’s your ring?”

You blinked, surprised by how quickly Rustyn had noticed. You hadn’t even realized it yourself, but there it was—Drew’s left hand, conspicuously bare. You glanced at Drew, raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to respond.

Drew, ever the playful one, kept his cool. He smiled down at Rustyn, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, that? Dada just didn’t feel like wearing it today, buddy.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly as you watched Drew, a mixture of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. What was he up to? He knew how much that ring meant to both of you, and though it wasn’t a serious situation, you couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to play out.

Rustyn, however, wasn’t so easily fooled. His little face scrunched up again, and he looked from Drew’s hand to your face, his innocent expression filled with concern. He tugged lightly on Drew’s shirt, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Dada,” Rustyn said in his most serious tone, his voice soft but full of wisdom beyond his years, “you know you gonna make Mommy sad.”

The room fell into silence, the weight of Rustyn’s innocent words settling between the three of you. You felt your heart swell as you looked at your son, his little face so earnest and full of love for both of you. His concern for your feelings, even at such a young age, was enough to make your heart melt.

Drew’s grin faltered slightly as he looked at Rustyn, clearly taken aback by his son’s sharp observation. The teasing light in his eyes softened, and he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh really?” he asked, his voice filled with affection as he looked back down at Rustyn. “You think Mommy will be sad if I don’t wear my ring?”

Rustyn nodded, his tiny hand reaching out to touch Drew’s bare finger. “Yeah, ‘cause it means you love her.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at Rustyn’s sweet words, and you had to blink back the sudden tears that pricked at your eyes. How did this little boy know so much? How could someone so young be so in tune with your feelings? It was moments like these that reminded you just how special Rustyn was.

Drew’s eyes softened even further as he looked at you, and the playful smirk faded into something much more tender. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wedding ring with a slow, deliberate motion. He slid it back onto his finger, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Well, we can’t have Mommy being sad, can we, buddy?” Drew said softly, his voice warm as he turned his attention back to Rustyn. “Is that better?”

Rustyn’s face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. “Yeah, Dada! Now you make Mommy happy again!”

Drew chuckled, glancing at you with a loving smile. “What do you think? Is our little man right? Does the ring make you happy?”

You smiled back at him, your heart full as you nodded. “He’s always right,” you said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze Drew’s hand. “You know how much that ring means to me.”

Drew leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand still entwined with yours. “I know, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of affection.

Rustyn, clearly pleased with the resolution of the situation, snuggled into Drew’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around his dad’s neck. “Dada loves Mommy,” he said with absolute certainty, as if there had never been any doubt.

Drew smiled, looking down at Rustyn with nothing but love in his eyes. “You’re right, Rusty. I love Mommy very much.”

Rustyn nodded solemnly, as if he had solved a great mystery. “I knew it,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart swelling with love for both Drew and Rustyn. You reached out, wrapping your arms around both of them, pulling them into a warm hug. “I love you both so much,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Rustyn’s cheek before turning to Drew and kissing him softly on the lips.

Drew smiled against your lips, his hand resting on the small of your back as he held you close. “We love you too,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth and tenderness.

As the three of you sat there, wrapped up in each other’s love, the world outside seemed to fade away. It was just the three of you—your perfect little family, full of love, laughter, and moments like these that made everything else seem small in comparison.

Rustyn, ever the observant toddler, let out a small yawn, his little body relaxing as the excitement of the day began to catch up with him. He nestled deeper into Drew’s arms, his eyes fluttering closed as he snuggled into the warmth of his dad’s chest.

As you watched Drew tuck your son into bed, your heart swelled with love once more. It was moments like these—simple, sweet moments—that made you realize just how lucky you were to have this little family.

As Drew gently closed Rustyn’s bedroom door, he turned to you with a soft smile, his hand reaching for yours. “You know I was just teasing with the ring, right?” he asked quietly, pulling you into his arms as he led you back toward the living room. His voice was low and full of sincerity now, the earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a quiet tenderness.

You smiled up at him, resting your hand against his chest as you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm. “I know,” you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. “But Rustyn was right. It does mean a lot to me, even if it’s just a ring.”

Drew’s expression softened even further, and he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I know, baby. I’ll never take it off again, I promise,” he said, his tone serious but still filled with that warmth you loved so much. “At least not without a really good reason.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “You better not,” you teased, your voice playful but laced with affection.

Drew smiled down at you, his forehead resting against yours as he held you in the quiet comfort of the moment. “I know I joke around sometimes,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. This ring—it’s a promise, not just for show.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, your hand still resting against his chest as you leaned into him. “I never doubt it,” you whispered back. “Not for a second.”

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The house was quiet now, save for the soft sound of Rustyn’s rhythmic breathing coming from his bedroom, and the golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow through the windows, making everything feel peaceful and serene.

Drew’s arms tightened around you slightly, and he let out a contented sigh, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you. “Rustyn’s growing up so fast,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and awe. “I still can’t believe how smart he is—how much he picks up on.”

You smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I know,” you agreed, your voice filled with love for your little boy. “He’s always surprising me with how much he understands. I wasn’t expecting him to notice your ring like that.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Neither was I. I thought I’d get away with the prank at least until bedtime.” His smile softened, and he glanced down at his hand, where the ring now sat securely. “But you know what? I’m glad he noticed.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Why’s that?”

Drew’s eyes met yours again, his gaze full of love and affection. “Because it reminded me how much this little ring means. Not just to you, but to him too. He understands that it’s important—he gets that it’s a symbol of how much we love each other. And that… well, that makes me even prouder to wear it.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing along his jawline. “You’re a good man, Drew Starkey,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Drew smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “And you’re the love of my life,” he replied, his voice just as tender.

He leaned down then, capturing your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. His hands rested gently on your waist as he pulled you even closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours, a perfect rhythm that matched the quiet contentment of the moment.

When you finally pulled away, Drew rested his forehead against yours once more, his breath warm against your skin. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers gently threading through his hair.

“For this. For our life. For Rustyn. For everything.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. “I wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything.”

You smiled, feeling the same rush of love and gratitude that you felt every time you looked at him. “Neither would I,” you whispered back.

The two of you stood there everything felt perfect—your little family, your life together, the quiet joy that filled your days. It wasn’t always grand gestures or big moments that made life special. Sometimes, it was the small, simple things—like the way Drew looked at you when he wore his ring, or the way Rustyn’s innocent questions could change the course of a day—that reminded you just how lucky you were.

[gemviews]

[   RAFE CAMERON  ]         ―         OH , LITTLE MISS KOOK PRINCESS !   ━━━ PART ONE !

pairing: kook princess!black fem!reader x postseason3!rafe cameron.

summary: another party at the country club—one of your favorite spots to frequent. rafe, as usual, is there too, but this time, he’s fed up. your attitude, the one you always throw his way whenever you cross paths, has finally worn thin. but something’s different tonight. the usual playful banter between you two stops abruptly, and it pisses you off more than you care to admit. little by little, you start realizing it’s not just silence—it’s a game, and without even knowing it, you’re slowly playing right into rafe’s hands.

warnings: just pure sexual tension from rafe, craved attention from the reader. bratty x ignoring asshole.

"he’s with his coke whores again," y/n muttered, grimacing as she swirled the crystal tumbler filled with tequila and a hint of orange juice.

her two-toned, glossed lips parted slightly as she brought the thin black straw to her mouth. rafe hadn't even glanced her way after stepping into the island club, his focus elsewhere as he strode past her at the bar without so much as a nod. she had glared at him, and he had seen it—but chose to ignore her.

he did it on purpose.

now, rafe was lounging in the open seating area, his laughter echoing across the room as the usual crowd of kooks girls fawned over him, each one desperate for his attention.

they gathered around him, preening and giggling, all except y/n—the one girl who hadn’t fallen at his feet the moment she arrived in the outer banks.

that defiance had earned her the nickname "kook princess," a title once reserved for his sister, sarah cameron, before her relationship with john b. routledge became public knowledge in figure eight.

y/n, however, never seemed to care about the label, though she certainly lived up to it. her grace, her effortless elegance, and most of all, her humility—it was almost as if she hadn’t come from money at all.

and that’s exactly what infuriated rafe. how could the so-called "princess" be so kind to everyone else, yet reserve all her icy indifference for him? he wasn’t used to women turning away when he spoke to them, let alone ignoring him entirely. it gnawed at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

rafe could feel the icy glare from y/n long before he turned his head in her direction. when he finally looked at her across the room, her bare back was to him, her posture tense, almost defiant.

what began as a passing glance quickly turned into a locked stare.

after downing her tequila sunrise, y/n moved away from the bar and drifted toward the catering area. she picked up a small slice of tiramisu, her fingers delicately wielding a plastic fork as she cut into the cake and brought a bite to her lips. she slid the fork into her mouth slowly, savoring the taste.

in rafe’s eyes, everything unfolded in slow motion. his gaze followed the curve of her toned brown legs, up to where her skinny heels wrapped around her ankles. the light pink dress she wore flared just above her thighs, its puffy hem contrasting with the way the fabric hugged her slim waist. the dress dipped low in the back, held up by thin straps—straps rafe wanted to slip off her shoulders so badly.

as y/n licked the frosting from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, rafe’s breath hitched. every bratty remark that left her mouth only made him angrier, but god, how he wanted that mouth on him.

“rafe?” one of the girls’ voices broke through the haze, snapping him out of his daze. she held up a small ziplock bag filled with a white, powdery substance, grinning. “wanna turn this club up?” she asked, her smirk full of suggestion.

surprisingly, rafe had been sober for two weeks. he sucked his teeth, battling the familiar itch crawling up his spine before waving off the offer. “not tonight,” he muttered, excusing himself from the group with a forced smile.

meanwhile, y/n, having noticed him staring earlier, mentally rolled her eyes. with unnecessary force, she stabbed her fork into the middle of the tiramisu, leaving the plate behind on the catering table before spinning around with attitude, as if anticipating rafe’s approach. she knew he was creeping closer, just like always.

there he was. rafe wore that same cocky smirk she’d always wanted to slap off his face. “nice dress,” he teased, letting his fingers graze the puffy hem of her dress. “didn’t know you were attending an elementary school graduation.”

before he could pull away, y/n swatted his hand, her glare sharp enough to cut. “oh, mr. cameron,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “shouldn’t you be on your third line of coke by now? or are we saving the overdose for later?”

rafe’s jaw clenched at her words, his jawline sharpening as he swallowed down the sting of her remark. she always knew exactly where to hit, and he hated how much it got to him. “okay, princess,” he bit out, the usual arrogance in his tone replaced with something heavier, something resigned.

y/n’s perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion. usually, rafe would fire back with something about her mother marrying into money or call her a skank in front of everyone. but this? this felt different. and for a moment, it threw her off her game.

her eyes darted around him, tracking his every movement as the tall frame of his body loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to shrink the space between them.

without breaking eye contact, rafe reached behind y/n, effortlessly grabbing the tiramisu she had abandoned on the table. the subtle scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne filled the air as he leaned in closer, brushing the edge of her personal space.

despite the intimidating stance he held, y/n refused to back down. “okay, princess?” she repeated, her voice laced with a dry laugh.

“don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already,” she teased, her eyes glinting with challenge.

rafe responded with a low, sarcastic laugh, running a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. before y/n could brace herself, he did something unexpected—he picked up the tiramisu she had been eating, calmly cutting off another piece with the fork and taking a bite from the very same utensil she had used. his eyes never left hers as he chewed, the audacity of it all catching her completely off guard.

she couldn’t believe it. rafe was deliberately toying with her. he had gone from ignoring her to refusing to engage in their usual back-and-forth, and now this? he was pushing her buttons, and it was clear what he wanted.

he wasn’t just teasing her—he wanted her to crave the attention he was withholding. he was determined to make her fall at his feet, and he wasn’t going to stop until she did.

“tired of the kook princess? hm, never.” rafe smirked as he set down the plate after indulging in her tiramisu. “that’s good tiramisu. you should finish it.”

he turned as if to leave, but stopped just beside her, his presence lingering like a shadow. her tightly curled bundles cascaded down her back, and without hesitation, rafe reached out to push a strand away, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

“this little thing? it’s done. so watch your mouth from now on,” he whispered, his voice low and edged with warning, before casually strolling away, hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored slacks.

y/n stood frozen, the warmth of his body still lingering in the space he left behind. her gaze flickered from the half-eaten tiramisu to rafe’s retreating figure, watching as he effortlessly melted into the crowd of the country club.

she scoffed under her breath, momentarily dumbfounded. had that been a genuine threat? she couldn’t be sure, but something about his tone lingered in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn’t ignore.

one thing was clear—y/n didn’t know what game rafe was playing, but if he thought he could intimidate her, he was wrong. whatever this was, she was determined to come out on top.

y/n felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, even though only a few familiar eyes were watching. she needed to escape, to find a moment alone to process what had just happened. her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor of the country club as she made her way back toward the entrance.

motioning to one of the staff, she requested her coat. the luxurious white mink slipped over her shoulders effortlessly, providing a brief shield against the chilly evening air that greeted her as she stepped outside.

her reliable mercedes benz was in the shop yet again, leaving her with no choice but to summon ubers one after another. not exactly fitting for the kook princess, was it?

standing on the concrete sidewalk, she forced polite smiles at the members passing by, whether they were arriving or departing. “where the hell is this ride?” y/n muttered to herself, tapping her phone screen impatiently as she checked the app for updates.

as the minutes dragged on, the unmistakable roar of a high-powered motorcycle engine filled the air. without even looking, she knew who it was.

there he was—the same buzz-cut brown atop a sleek black motorcycle, his arms flexing beneath the fitted v-neck polo he wore. a small gold chain glinted against his exposed collarbone.

he pulled off his tinted helmet, revealing the all-too-familiar smirk. what other kook would ride dangerously on a motorcycle if not rafe freaking cameron?

“c’mon,” rafe said, his tone short and demanding.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the parking lot, hoping her uber would appear at that very moment. the last thing she wanted was to be roped into another one of his games.

“i wasn’t asking. get on.” rafe’s blue eyes bore into y/n, an unwavering intensity that made her heart race. still feeling bratty, she tossed her clutch at him, expecting him to catch it. slipping her phone into the pocket of her mink coat, she grabbed the helmet, fitting it onto her head with a huff.

with a cautious movement, y/n swung her leg over the seat behind rafe, settling down but keeping her hands stubbornly behind her. she refused to wrap them around him, even as the tension hung in the air.

rafe noticed her defiance, shaking his head with a low chuckle. he tossed the clutch aside, watching it sail into the parking lot, where it probably hit a nearby car. y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “you asshole! what the hell is your problem?”

she contemplated jumping off the bike, but before she could voice her anger, rafe revved the engine. he gripped the handlebars firmly, pulling back on the throttle as the motorcycle roared to life. y/n let out a startled yelp as they shot forward, the rush of speed immediately silencing her.

as they sped out of the country club parking lot, her arms instinctively wrapped around him, clinging tightly. rafe couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly she capitulated.

“you have plenty at home. now be quiet, princess,” he teased, the thrill of the ride clearly delighting him.

“you’re a fucking psychopath! i want to get off!” y/n shouted over the roar of the engine as rafe swerved recklessly around cars, earning angry honks from irritated drivers. he ignored her, as usual, pushing her closer to the edge of her patience—and sanity.

y/n whimpered, her plump lips trembling as her arms tightened around him out of sheer fear. she hated motorcycles, and the way rafe was handling his made the experience unbearable.

rafe noticed the shift. her sharp remarks had faded into silence, replaced by the desperate grip around his torso. he felt the weight of the helmet pressing against his back, a clear sign that she had softened—fear had taken over. surprisingly, he didn’t want her like that, so he eased off, slowing down to drive more like a regular civilian under the night sky.

the rest of the ride around figure eight, leading to the y/l/n estate, was quiet. no more banter, no biting remarks from y/n. for once, the tension between them was replaced with an uneasy calm.

but deep down, he knew better. y/n wasn’t scared enough to lose her fire. the craving for attention still lingered beneath the surface—he could feel it. she just needed a moment to catch her breath.

rafe steered through the iron gates as y/n punched in the code, guiding the motorcycle up the long, empty driveway. her parents weren’t home—when were they ever? y/n exhaled in relief, grateful to have survived the wild ride back.

“ugh,” she muttered under her breath in mock disgust, realizing her head was still resting against rafe’s back as the bike came to a full stop right at the granite doorstep.

with a soft sigh, she straightened herself, pulling off the helmet and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her bundles to smooth out any potential frizz. “thanks,” she said, her voice quiet, almost as if the word was dragged out of her unwillingly.

rafe glanced over his shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the gold rings that adorned his slender hands. his eyes followed her carefully as she swung her leg over the motorcycle to stand, nearly catching a glimpse of the delicate white lace panties peeking beneath her dress. he quickly turned his head away, pretending not to notice the fabric, but a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you like white, rafe?" y/n teased, catching his gaze the second he turned away, having been caught in the act of sneaking a glance.

the sly smile faded from his lips, replaced by a casual shrug. "depends on who's wearing it," he retorted smoothly.

y/n smirked, shoving the helmet into his arms as she stepped closer. "so, me," she answered for him, her confidence palpable.

this time, it was rafe who had to look up. y/n leaned against the bike's handle, the scent of her signature ysl perfume swirling around him, intoxicating. his eyes trailed down to her chest, noticing how her breasts were perfectly pushed up beneath the fabric of her dress. finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers-soft, inviting, and utterly captivating.

for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind-he could take her right there, out in the open, letting the entire gated community witness that rafe cameron had finally tasted the kook princess. while others begged for her, here she was, close enough for him to claim.

pushing aside his exotic thoughts, rafe smirked. “in your dreams, princess,” he shot back, effortlessly dismissing the confidence y/n was radiating. her lips twisted into a soft pout.

that face—that fucking pouty look—it was driving rafe into a mental spiral. the image of her beneath him with that exact expression was quickly taking over his mind, clouding his resolve.

y/n began to think that maybe he was serious about withholding his attention, but she had no idea—this was exactly what rafe wanted. he wanted her to crave it, to realize that he wouldn’t make it easy for her. she’d have to earn it, and he was going to make sure she knew just how hard that would be.

y/n refused to let her ego show any cracks. turning on her heel, her heels echoed loudly against the grand staircase leading up to the entrance.

“you owe me a new clutch, cameron!” she called out over her shoulder, before swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind her. in a final act of defiance, she flicked off the exterior lights, leaving rafe standing in the darkness of the driveway.

rafe ran a hand down his face, stifling a groan as he glanced down, noticing his helmet conveniently hiding the growing bulge in his slacks.

he needed to hurry—taking down little miss kook princess was becoming more urgent than ever.

part two coming soon — comment to be in included in the taglist!

[totalswag]

baby girls first birthday — RAFE CAMERON

authors note since my last dad!rafe fic did so well i thought why not make another one. you can find it fourth of july

join my taglist if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary celebrating layla's first birthday surrounded with friends and family.

warning(s) none just a whole lotta cuteness.

Today, one year ago, you brought your first daughter Layla into the world. Amazing how quickly a year can pass. It seems like you just gave birth and cradling her in your arms.

Can't count on your fingers how many times you cried the past two days over Layla turning one. No one can blame you for feeling these emotions. She's your first born.

“Can you believe she’s one?” Rafe says while setting up the last string of balloons over the arch wall that leads into the kitchen.

You shake your head, “no I don’t” feeling your words crack with emotion as you prepare breakfast— this was gonna be a special morning breakfast.

As the scent of freshly cooked pancakes permeated the air, you gently plated them, adding a sprinkle of syrup and a small dollop of whipped cream—just enough to taste. You cut the pancakes into tiny, baby-sized pieces, just right for Layla's delicate hands. A few blueberries on the side rounded out the meal, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy as you placed the plate in her high chair.

Rafe and you walked upstairs together to see if Layla was up. The sounds of her little gibberish could be heard down the hall. Layla was looking around her room sitting up— insane smile forms on her when she sees you two get closer. She lifts her arms up to get out.

"Happy first birthday, baby girl," you both exclaim.

She giggles with glee as Rafe scoops her up and places her on his hip before giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She stares at him in complete aww for a moment.

Layla turns to face you, her smile widening, her body slanting in your direction as if she wanted you to give her a quick hug. "My precious girl is one?" You hold her close to you for a couple seconds.

When you walk at the end of the stairs, Layla's eyes gleam with curiosity seeing the lavender colors. She saw the decorations of butterflies hanging from the ceiling, all different colors. She squealed with excitement and opened her eyes wide, grabbing for the closest one.

Rafe set her in her highchair while you went around the kitchen counter with your phone for pictures. Layla exclaimed when she saw her breakfast waiting to be devoured. You snap a few photos while she eats breakfast, then Rafe and you get your plates.

The house is ready for friends and family to arrive. The party doesn't start until twelve thirty, giving everyone plenty of time to prepare.

In case guests wanted to take pictures, there was a picture curtain with the words "Happy Birthday Layla" above.

Friends and family began to arrive, each one bringing gifts for Layla. You greeted them at the door, hugging each person as they stepped inside. Their faces lighting up seeing Layla in her birthday outfit.

"Oh Layla you look so cute in your dress!" Your mom gasped in excitement seeing Layla in Rafe's arms waving at those who came in.

"Can you say thank you grandma?' You grin up at Layla who babbles.

Layla responds by babbling and hiding her face in Rafe's chest.

Layla wore a soft lavender tulle skirt with a bodice decorated with tiny pink butterflies. Her golden curls were gathered into two small pigtails, secured with matching butterfly clips. She looked like the cutest princess.

Half an hour into the party, pictures were taken, conversations, kids running around, etc. The Cameron household was busy to say the least.

You showed everyone where the food and beverages would be once they were ready to eat— fruits, desserts, sandwiches, barbecue, cupcakes, drinks, and more. 

Sarah was leaning against the counter with a plate in her hand, nodding her head to the song playing from the tv. You grab a cupcake before joining her.

"This party is so cute, it screams Layla" Sarah states, regarding the decorations in the house. "The flowers are my favorite,"

"Aw, thank you, Sarah, and initially, when I was looking for decorations and saw the flowers, I knew I needed to get them!"

"On a real note and I'm sure you'll agree but Layla already being one is insane because it feels like she was just born" Sarah frowns, facial expression showing she's feeling a lot of emotions.

"I couldn't agree more— I cried last night before bed, and Rafe comforted me the whole night," you respond quietly.

It was time to start singing happy birthday as time went on. You sat Layla down in front of everyone in her high chair. She looked around waving with both hands with a smile. Rafe came around the corner with a small cake in his hand— Layla's eyes went wide.

"On three, we sing Miss Layla, happy birthday," you say enthusiastically, raising your right palm in the air.

As you both bent in to help Layla in blowing out the flame, Rafe stood next to you, his arm around your waist. Layla clapped her hands with joy as friends and family erupted in cheers and her face broke into the largest smile you've ever seen.

Opening presents was last to go. Layla's tiny hands grasp on each gift she received— curious whatever was in the bag or wrapped in paper. She got toys, clothes, and a few small things.

As the day drew to a close, friends and family began to leave with their children. Layla fell asleep in Rafe's arms in the backyard, sitting around the bonfire with your father, Ward, and friends.

Your mom, Rose, and you were sitting on the front porch swing having a simple conversation about motherhood. They each told you what motherhood taught them and the emotions you feel when it's your first borns birthday.

The smell of the fresh planted flowers, summer breeze hitting your skin, and the sun getting ready to set beautifully.

"I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a mother," you admitted after a time, your voice subdued. "There is so much joy, but also an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I just want to do the right thing for her, you know?

"You're doing an amazing job," Rose encouraged you, placing her hand lightly on your arm. "Motherhood has many obstacles, yet it is apparent how much you adore her. That's what counts the most."

Your mom nodded in agreement. "There isn't a perfect way to accomplish it, no manual or roadmap. You just have to believe in yourself and know that you are enough. "Layla is fortunate to have you."

You felt tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. This conversation, on this particular day, exceeded your expectations. As you sat there, surrounded by women who had helped you through life and into motherhood, you felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

"Thank you for those kind words. I definitely needed to hear that, literally. Time just went by so fast in a blink of an eye" you sniffle while your mom and Rose rub your back.

It was officially the end of the night. The three of you were in your pajamas, ready for bed. The house had decorations up that will be up for another day or two. You held Layla in your arms—her head on your shoulder falling asleep.

You brought Layla upstairs, placing her in her crib and bringing the cover up to her chin. For a time, you simply stood there, watching her sleep, overcome with love for this tiny human who had altered your life in the most beautiful way.

Rafe threw his arm around you as you both stood there, and you knew that no matter how quickly time passed or how many birthdays came and went, the love you felt tonight would see you through it all. And when you turned off the light and closed the door, you couldn't help but grin, knowing that this was only the start of many more wonderful memories.

"Happy birthday, Layla."

my taglist!

@drewstarkeys-world @chenslucy @rosezza @rafeyslamb @starkeyvhs @diqldrunks @runningfrom2am

[tanjamikaelson]

UNEXPECTED HEAT | Rafe Cameron x fem!reader |

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you returned to the Outer Banks early, only to find Rafe—an old crush—unexpectedly staying in your home. Seeking solace and a distraction from your heartbreak, you boldly ask Rafe to help you forget your ex.

Warnings: unprotected sex, cheating.

When you decided to leave Sun Valley early and return to the Outer Banks, you were seeking comfort and familiarity. The vacation, meant to be a time to relax with your family and boyfriend, had turned sour after you caught him cheating. It had been a brutal end to what was supposed to be a refreshing escape, and all you could think of was getting back to your friends and the peace of your own space.

The moment you stepped into your house, something felt wrong. The living room wasn’t as you left it—clothes were scattered on the floor, and cushions were tossed haphazardly across the sofa. Your brow furrowed as you scanned the mess. You distinctly remembered tidying everything before you left for the summer, so why did it now look like someone had been living here? Your pulse quickened as your eyes swept over the disarray, unease building in your chest.

You shook off the strange feeling, telling yourself you were being paranoid. Maybe your brother had come home early without telling you. That had to be it, right? Taking a deep breath, you moved through the house towards your bedroom. The familiar creak of the floorboards beneath your feet should have been comforting, but instead, it sent a chill down your spine. When you passed by the guest room, you paused, hearing the unmistakable sound of water running from the shower. Anxiety pricked at your skin.

“Y/BROTHERS/N?” called out hesitantly, moving closer to the bathroom door. The water abruptly shut off, and for a second, your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Maybe he really had come back and just forgot to mention it.

You rapped on the bathroom door, trying to keep the nerves from creeping into your voice. "Who's in there?" you demanded, already scanning the room for anything you could use to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on a golf club leaning against the wall, and you quickly grabbed it, holding it up as a makeshift weapon.

There was a long pause, and the door creaked open. You braced yourself, muscles tensing for whatever—or whoever—was behind it.

But it wasn’t an intruder or some stranger.

It was Rafe.

"Rafe?!" You exclaimed, the golf club immediately dropping to your side in shock. The boy you’d had a crush on for years stood in the doorway, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening from the shower. His chest, all muscle and tan skin, was on full display, and for a moment, your thoughts scrambled. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting down to his abs, the sight sending an involuntary jolt through you. Your breath caught, and you quickly licked your lips, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You managed to ask, though your voice came out a little shakier than you'd like.

Rafe looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. He nervously ran a hand through his wet hair, his eyes flicking around the room as if searching for an answer. "I—I thought your family was at Sun Valley," he finally stammered, clearly not expecting you to walk through the door.

Your brows furrowed as the confusion deepened. "So you thought to move into our house?" you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes, demanding some kind of explanation.

Rafe’s eyes darted everywhere except towards you, his usual confidence replaced by awkwardness. "Yeah… I didn’t have anywhere else to go."

"What do you mean by that?" Your confusion was palpable now, the pieces of the puzzle not fitting together.

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his jaw clenching as if he didn’t want to admit whatever it was he was about to say. "My dad—he kicked me out of the house. So I’ve been staying here. I didn’t think your family would come back so soon."

Your heart softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone. You had heard stories about Rafe’s complicated relationship with his father, but seeing him like this—uncertain, exposed—it tugged at something deeper within you.

You let out a slow breath, your arms uncrossing as your body relaxed a little. "Well, actually, I came alone."

Rafe shifted on his feet, looking like he was ready to bolt at any moment. "I will leave—" he began, moving towards a duffle bag by the bed, clearly ready to pack up and disappear.

But before he could continue, the words were already spilling out of your mouth. "You don’t have to—"

The sentence hung in the air for a moment, Rafe freezing in place. His head turned towards you, confusion and something else flickering in his eyes.

"I don’t?" He asked, his voice tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying.

"Um, no," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you felt, "Actually, I would like you to stay." A strange surge of confidence swelled within you, and the shift in power was tangible. You smiled lightly, your mind racing with a plan that you hadn’t even realized you were forming until the words left your mouth, a seductive edge creeping into your voice as you locked eyes with him. “But… in return I need you to do something for me.” 

Rafe’s eyes brightened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. He gave you a cautious smile, clearly unsure of where this was heading. "What do you need?" he asked, his tone more confident now as he took a step closer to you. His body language had shifted, too—he was more comfortable, leaning into whatever dynamic was evolving between you two.

You stepped closer to him, heart racing, your mind swimming with thoughts of your ex, your disappointment, and the undeniable attraction that had always been there with Rafe. Your voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper. "I need you…" You took another step closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "I need you to fuck me so I can forget about my ex."

The shock was immediate. Rafe’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly as he struggled to find words. "You… You really want that?" His voice was hoarse, unsure if he’d heard you correctly.

You nodded, your lips curling into a smirk as your hand reached out, gripping the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, Rafe. I want it. Badly."

Before he could react, you tugged the towel free, letting it drop to the floor. Your eyes took in his full length, and your hand wrapped around his thick cock, beginning to pump him slowly, relishing the way his body responded to your touch. You had imagined this moment more times than you could count, and seeing him like this, feeling him like this was even better than you had fantasized.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours as your hand moved up and down his length. His cock twitched and hardened further in your grip, and you couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that bloomed inside you. He was reacting exactly how you wanted him to.

"Faster," Rafe murmured, his voice laced with desire, his gaze never leaving your fingers as they worked him.

You smirked up at him, not needing any further encouragement. A few moments later, you sank to your knees, the anticipation building inside you like a fire. You needed to taste him. You stroked his cock a few more times before leaning in, your tongue flicking out to taste the tip before pulling him into your mouth.

The moment your lips wrapped around him, Rafe groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he gripped your hair, guiding your movements. His body was tense, and you could feel how much he needed this—how much you both did.

"God…" Rafe breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure. "I guess it’s my lucky day."

You smiled around his cock, loving the way he was unraveling beneath your touch. His breathing grew ragged as you took him deeper, and his grip tightened when you swallowed around him, choking slightly but loving every second of his reaction. You could feel him hardening even more inside your mouth, and it sent a thrill through your body.

"Open wider, baby," Rafe whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you further onto his cock. You did as he asked, taking him deeper, letting your throat relax as you swallowed around him.

As his climax neared, you pulled away abruptly, leaving him on edge. The need between your legs was now unbearable. He gently tapped his cock against your cheek as you gasped for air, your eyes meeting his, filled with lust and a newfound power over him.

"Stressful day, huh?" You asked breathlessly, smirking up at him as you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Rafe replied, his voice still heavy with lust as he gazed down at you, catching his breath. There was something darker in his eyes now, a need that went beyond simple release. He needed more of you, and you could feel that raw energy radiating off of him.

“How close are you?” You asked, your voice filled with both curiosity and anticipation as you looked up at him.

“Close,” Rafe answered instantly, his eyes narrowing as they focused intently on your face. He looked like he was holding onto control by a thread, his breathing ragged, his muscles tensing and relaxing in time as you ran your tongue along his length. But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him fully, entirely. You needed more than just him in your mouth.

Without breaking eye contact, you stopped, watching as the realization crossed his face. His brow furrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, you stood up, your confidence in the situation palpable as you began stripping off your clothes. Each layer hit the floor, revealing more of your skin, and Rafe’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched you.

Once you were completely naked, Rafe didn’t waste any time. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you roughly against him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. It was hungry, desperate, filled with the kind of urgency you both felt. His hands roamed your body, squeezing and exploring, while his lips devoured yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

Without warning, Rafe spun you around, pressing your front into the bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands grabbed your hips, pulling your ass up into the air. The cool air hit your exposed skin, heightening every sensation, every touch.

Rafe wasted no time. His fingers slipped between your legs, and the second he felt how wet you were, he let out a low groan. “Shit… You got this wet by sucking me off?” he growled, his voice a rough whisper as his fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow, teasing circles.

A loud moan escaped your lips, your body already aching for him. "Yes, Rafe. Fuck me… Please," you whimpered, pushing your hips back into his hand, craving more of his touch, more of him.

That was all the encouragement Rafe needed.

With one swift motion, he thrust into you from behind, and you cried out at the sudden fullness. His cock filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your whole body tremble with pleasure. Rafe let out a deep groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he set a punishing rhythm, thrusting into you hard and fast.

"Oh my—fuck!" You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as Rafe’s thrusts became more powerful, each one hitting deeper than the last.

Rafe’s hands roamed up your body, his palm gliding across your spine, pausing to squeeze your ass before moving up to cup your breasts. He shifted your hair out of the way so he could lean over you, his mouth brushing against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere his lips could reach. His breath was hot against your skin, uneven and ragged as his hips continued to pound into you.

You could feel your insides clenching around him, the pleasure building higher and higher, but you were holding back, trying to prolong the feeling as long as possible.

"Don’t hold back, baby," Rafe whispered into your ear, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down, his hand slipping to your clit once more, giving it another few delicious rubs.

That was all it took. The orgasm hit you hard and fast, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. You buried your face into the bed, muffling your cries of ecstasy as your body trembled beneath him.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his own breathing ragged as he continued to move inside you, his thrusts growing more uneven as he neared his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

With one final thrust, Rafe let out a deep groan, his body shuddering as he came, filling you completely. He leaned over you, his sweaty forehead resting against the back of your neck as his chest heaved with each breath. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, bodies entwined, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

As you both came down from the high, you panted heavily into the bed, your limbs trembling from the intensity of it all. Slowly, Rafe pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of him. You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath, and Rafe collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to steady himself.

"Thank you for that," You whispered, your voice soft as you turned to look at him.

"I'm not done with you," Rafe vowed, his eyes darkening as he raised an eyebrow at you. "I could feel how neglected that pussy's been." He tsked dramatically, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I do believe I can make up for that, Y/N."

"God, I hope so," You sighed, grinning when he nodded in agreement.

Rafe knelt between your legs, his hands tracing your inner thighs slowly, savoring the sight of you laid out before him. His gaze lingered on your flushed face, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. “You're gorgeous, Y/N," he repeated softly, his voice carrying a reverence that sent warmth through your chest.

His fingers brushed over your sensitive clit, causing you to shudder under his touch. He spread the wetness around, teasing you, drawing out soft gasps as he watched your body respond to him. Every small touch sent shockwaves through you, building the anticipation that pulsed between your legs.

Rafe braced himself with one hand next to your head, his other hand guiding himself to your entrance. He moved slowly, pushing into you with deliberate care. A groan escaped his lips as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming for both of you. His breath was ragged, and you could see the strain on his face as he fought to keep himself in control.

You gasped softly, your hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your touch was gentle, urging him to move without pushing, letting him take his time. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut as he held still, savoring the feeling of being inside you, the way your body gripped him so perfectly.

When he finally opened his eyes, the intensity in his gaze nearly took your breath away. The need, the desire, the unspoken connection—it was all there, written across his face as he looked down at you.

Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck in an open-mouthed kiss that made you arch beneath him. Then he started to move, slow at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax with each movement, and your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His lips found yours, and the kiss was soft, almost tender as if something unspoken was being exchanged between you.

"Faster," You finally whispered against his lips, the need inside you growing unbearable.

Rafe obliged, his pace quickening, each thrust now hitting a spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss intensifying the connection between you.

"I’m so close," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the tension built in your core.

"Me too," Rafe groaned, his voice strained as he fought to hold on just a little longer. His thrusts became more urgent, and you could feel the heat coiling in your belly, ready to snap.

When the climax hit, it was overwhelming. Your back arched off the bed, your body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure. Rafe’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless moan, and as you tightened around him, he followed right behind you, his body shuddering with release.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the two of you, your bodies still tangled together, hearts racing in sync. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it began to slow.

The reality of what just happened started to sink in, but there was no regret, only a warm, satisfying calm. You felt safe here, in his arms, and maybe that was what you needed most. Not just the distraction from the heartbreak, but the feeling of being wanted, of being cared for.

Rafe turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly, a question on his lips. "So… you broke up with your boyfriend?" he asked quietly, his voice soft and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up now.

You turned to look at him, nodding as the weight of your break-up settled back into your chest. “Yeah. He cheated on me.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening slightly as he processed what you’d said. "Seriously?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. He blinked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite understand. To him, the idea of anyone cheating on you was unfathomable. You were perfect to him—strong, beautiful, everything he could want.

"Yeah," You said, your voice heavy with sadness as you recalled the memory. "I caught him… and then he confessed it wasn’t the first time."

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with anger at the thought of someone treating you that way. "What a fucking idiot," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. His fingers gently brushed over your arm, comforting and grounding. "He didn’t deserve you."

You smiled, appreciating his words more than you could express. "I thought things would change when we went on vacation together," you explained, your voice tinged with sadness. "But nothing was different. He was still distant."

Rafe shook his head, his anger giving way to something softer, more protective. "Well, his loss," he said, his tone firm, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah," you murmured, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you said it out loud.

The comfortable silence stretched between you for a moment before you glanced at Rafe, a playful glint in your eye. "You know… I actually liked you way before I ended up in a relationship with him."

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "You did?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah. You were always hot… especially now." You reached out, your hand brushing over his toned abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingers.

Rafe smiled a genuine, warm smile that made you feel like maybe everything was going to be okay. "You know, if I’d known you felt this way…" he trailed off, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. "I’ve always thought you were… well, you’re amazing. More than amazing."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Really?" you asked, your voice small.

"Really." His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper as his hand moved to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "I’ve wanted you for a long time."

The confession hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could see the truth in his eyes, and it made something inside you shift, your feelings deepening in ways you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t just about forgetting your ex anymore. It was about something new, something real.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Maybe we can make up for lost time."

Rafe smiled into the kiss, his arms pulling you closer to him as he whispered back, "I’d like that."

The air between you shifted again, the playfulness giving way to something more intimate, more real. This time kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate like before—this kiss was filled with something deeper, and in that moment, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, with a future that suddenly felt a little less uncertain.

[pankowblues]

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: rafe suspiring you with tickets to germany but you're not sure if you can accept it but he reassures you

warning: nothing I think

word count: —

a/n: 2nd story about germany also sorry for not being so active my life is kinda in a really bad stage

You wake up with the same gnawing feeling that's been your unwelcome companion for months now. The room is dim, the shadows playing hide and seek with the early morning light that filters through the dusty blinds. Your alarm clock blinks the time - 6:30 AM - and you groan, rolling out of bed. You, a young woman with dreams as vast as the oceans but a wallet as thin as a single sheet of paper.

"Another day," you murmur to yourself, trying to shake off the heaviness. Your thoughts drift to Germany, a place you've always longed to visit. The vibrant culture, the rich history, the mouthwatering food - a world away from the dull routine of your small town. You've talked to Rafe Cameron about it often, your eyes lighting up with every detail you share. He's a good listener, always nodding along, his eyes reflecting the same enthusiasm you feel. But it's just talk, right? A poor girl like you going to Germany is as likely as winning the lottery.

You drag yourself to the kitchen, the scent of yesterday's dinner lingering in the air. As you boil water for instant coffee, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness. Rafe's life is so different from yours. His pockets are lined with opportunities and wealth, while you're scraping by, working two jobs just to make ends meet. You sigh, pouring the hot water into a mug. "It's not fair," you murmur to the empty room. But life rarely is.

The doorbell rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. You wipe your hands on a dishtowel and head to the door. Standing there, with the sun casting a halo around his head, is Rafe. He holds out a small envelope with your name scribbled on it. "What's this?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed. He smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "Open it," he says, stepping inside.

You do, and your heart skips a beat. Two airline tickets to Berlin stare back at you. "Rafe," you protest, "I can't let you do this." But he cuts you off, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You've talked about this for so long. It's time for you to stop dreaming and start living." His voice is firm, but the concern etched on his face tells you he knows your fears. You look at the tickets again, feeling the weight of his gesture. It's tempting to give in, to let him make your dreams come true.

But you don't want to be that girl. The one who needs a knight in shining armor to pay her way. You've worked hard for every penny you have, and you've always prided yourself on your independence. You hand the envelope back to him. "I appreciate it, really. But I can't." His smile fades, and you see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "You don't get it," you continue, "I need to do this on my own."

Rafe sighs, taking the envelope back. He sits down at your small kitchen table, gesturing for you to join him. "Look," he says, his tone softer now, "I know you're independent, and that's one of the things I admire most about you. But let's be real, if you keep working two jobs, saving every penny, you might not get there for another five years. I'm not trying to be your savior. I just want to give you a hand."

You nod, his words resonating deep within you. The allure of Germany is too strong, the promise of adventure too tantalizing. But the practicalities of your life are screaming at you. "What about my job?" you ask, worry creasing your brow. "I can't just leave. I need the money."

Rafe's expression turns understanding. He knew this would be your next concern. "Don't worry about that," he says, his voice a gentle assurance. "I've got it covered. You can take the time off without stressing." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a second envelope, placing it on the table between you. "This should cover your expenses while you're gone. I don't want you to miss out because of a job."

You stare at the envelopes, feeling torn. The thought of being in Rafe's debt is uncomfortable, like a pair of shoes that are just a size too small. You've always been the one to stand on your own two feet, and the idea of someone else carrying the financial burden of your dreams is foreign. "But how can I pay you back?" you ask, your voice small.

Rafe leans back in the chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You don't have to pay me back," he says, his voice firm but kind. "Consider it an early birthday gift, or an investment in our relationship. Whatever makes you feel better."

You chew on your bottom lip, weighing his words. An investment in your relationship? That's a new angle. You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is earnestness. He really does want you to go. The idea of letting someone else take care of you, especially someone like Rafe, is both terrifying and exhilarating. You've always been so used to being the one in control, the one who makes things happen.

He must see the indecision on your face because he reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I know it's hard to accept help," he says, his thumb tracing circles on your knuckles. "But sometimes, you just have to let people in. Let them be there for you." His grip tightens slightly, as if willing you to understand.

You sit in silence for a moment, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound in the room. The envelopes seem to pulse with the rhythm of your racing heart, the promise of escape and adventure just within your grasp. Finally, you take a deep breath. "Okay," you murmur, feeling a knot in your stomach loosen slightly. "I'll go."

Rafe's smile is immediate and genuine, lighting up his whole face. "That's the spirit," he says, standing up and pulling you into a warm embrace. You can feel his excitement, his enthusiasm for you, for this trip, for what it could mean for the two of you. And for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can do this.

taglist: @rafecameroncoke, @0xstarzx0 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @v4mqvs , @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.2

Pairing: Rafe x Reader (strangers/enemies to lovers)

Warnings: language

-❂❂❂-

It was the next day, Rafe wore a white polo with navy slacks. His usual yet more ‘fancier’ outfit. He wanted to look good. Not that he needed to, but he did anyway.

You wore a light grey tank top, with blue baggy jean shorts and your adidas campuses. Topping the outfit off with a small silver chain, your rings and a pair of 2000s sunglasses.

The weather was nice, the suns shinned down on the high school.

You pulled up to school, rock punk music blaring. Your windows down, you pulled into your usual parking spot. Stepping out of your car your friends approached you. Starting up conversations, you leaned on the hood of your car.

Rafe sat in a small wall with his friends. He watched as you lean down to look in your wing mirror, to see if your hair was slicked back. He liked your style, never thought he’d be into a girl who wore baggy clothes. He was used to the tight fitted cali girls.

-❂❂❂-

You sat in one of the vacant music rooms, an empty room besides to small desks that are pressed to the wall. Some broken chairs. And obviously cased instruments.

You had your headphones on, only one side covering your ear. You had your borrowed fender (from your friend, cause she plays drums and had the guitar from her dad). The electric guitar sat on your lap, holding the neck of the fender in your left hand. You strummed the electric guitar to the beat of the song ‘Just A Girl’ by No Doubt.

Rage heard the guitar, he walked towards the music. Peaking into the classroom, to see you.

You sang quietly, not planning on anyone hearing in. “Take this pink ribbon off my eye…”

‘Oh my god, she sounds amazing’ he thought.

“I’m exposed and it’s no big surprise… don’t you think I know exactly where I stand??”

Your head bops as you play, Rafe watched in awe.

“Cause I’m just a girl in the world, a little ol’ me, well don’t let me out of your sight… oh I’m just a girl in the world, all pretty and petit, so don’t let me have any rights, ohhh I’ve had it up to here…”

Rafe muttered “oh fuck…” he watched as you play the guitar. In a world of your own. He watched you to know that he thought it was cool. But didn’t wanna scare you by you knowing he was watching. Not yet anyways…

“Oh I’m just a girl, take a good look at me, just your typical prototype, ohhh I’ve had it up to, here..”

You bop your head, feeling the music, your escape.

“Ohhh am I making myself clear??, I’m just a girl… I’m just a girl in the world, that’s all that you’ll ever let me be…”

Soon after, your strumming dragged, you subtly faded the song out. You turn some of the nobs on the fender.

Rafe thought this was the time to announce his presence. He quietly opened the door and leaned against the doorway. He crossed his arms, “nice play… wish I was that talented…”

You flinched slightly, you looked over your shoulder. “Rafe? What’re you doing here??” He chuckled softly, walking further into the room. “Head the great guitar, so I followed the music, and… it took me right here…”

He sat in the empty desk opposite where you sat. He asked “so? How long have you played?” You looked down to the guitar, you answered “about six years??” He let out a low whistle “damn, sweetheart, you got skills…” you chuckled “thanks…”

He asked “this yours? If so you got good taste…” He gestured to the white and pearl fender. You shook your head “nah, this is my friends, she’s letting me borrow it till I save my cash to get my own…” he took note of that. He nodded “right, you like your music then I take it?” You nodded. He didn’t bother asking what you liked. He knew. Topper and him had a little ‘get together’ so he could learn about you. He knows the majority about you now… or as much as Topper’s sister and Topper knew anyways…

-❂❂❂-

You walked down the hallway, scoffing when Brooks checked you out. You kept walking, heading to science.

Rafe saw the way Brooks checked you out. Rafe didn’t know your past. But the look Brooks gave you said something. He didn’t know what, but it was something. He also didn’t know Brooks had the hots for your sister. Rather than you.

-❂❂❂-

In science, you sat at the middle-left desk. With two of your friends and a random girl that never talked with you. You all had to dissect a frog. In your eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. Come on, it was a part of the educational system. Also, it’s basic nature, you never understood why everyone was grossed out by it. You roll your eyes when you hear the ‘popular’ girls over react to get the jocks’ attention.

Rafe was never grossed out by this stuff. Why should you? It’s already dead, it’s not gonna jump on you. Besides, you had gloves, just had to be careful for any juices that may fly on you. He was known for a slightly ‘bad’ or ‘scary’ reputation. Having thrown wild and obnoxious parties in California. Or the wild stories he’s had. Somehow coming over to Outer Banks. He never knew how half the stories got here, but… they flew over along with him.

He chuckled with the guys when they all saw the way you and your friends acted with the frogs compared to the rest of the girls in class.

He had to hold his laughter back when you flicked some random liquid at the popular girls. Them being over dramatic, when all you actually did was tip water on your hands under the desk and flicked water on them.

You were a trouble maker, a shit stirrer, a good laugh. He liked that. A lot.

-❂❂❂-

At lunch, Rafe had a chat with Jake. Jake mentioned to him about making a deal. One that got him money, not that he needed it. But he liked how it involved getting closer to you, the money was just a bonus. He may even had a plan on how to use that spare cash…

Rage was in. The deal, getting close to you, allowing Gabs to go on dates and go to parties with Brooks. Whatever you did with Rafe, Gabs could do with Brooks. Rafe got spare cash, Gabs got to live the ‘teenage dream’ she wanted to have. Even if the movies hyped it up to much.

This was the perfect time, the school formal was just around the corner. Also a party at the ‘golfer guys’ place.

Well just have to see if you go through with it all…

-❂❂❂-

[rafecameroninterlude]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ moodboard of the week: pogue!sweetheart!reader

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[rafecameronssl4t]

I bet on losing dogs || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: The complications of reader's first pregnancy

Warnings: this fic deals with a miscarriage please read at your own risk, mention of blood, angst

Word count: 1,55

A/n: This is what readers mother was referring to in foreign feelings if you are confused with the timeline of anything, feel free to ask but this occurs after first pregnancy and before reader finds out she is pregnant again with Leo (a fic I haven't written yet)

divider by @h-aewo

You hear Rafe let out a loud sigh as he settles under the covers, his usual tension evident even as he prepares for bed. You glance over at him, noting the way he turns his back to you. With a soft exhale, you make your way to the bathroom, the familiar fluorescent lights flickering on as you begin your nightly skincare routine.

It’s a soothing ritual, one of the few moments you feel entirely in control, a brief escape from the complexities of your life with him. You open the drawer, carefully pulling out your favourite cleanser, the cool feel of it against your skin offering comfort as you massage it in slow, circular motions. Through the mirror, your eyes flicker back to Rafe’s figure, now still under the blankets.

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the soft rise of his breath somehow grounding yet distant. You wonder, for a brief moment, what’s on his mind, but you shake the thought away, knowing that such questions are often met with cold indifference or irritation. As you close the lid of your moisturiser, you pause, your hand freezing mid-motion as a sharp pain suddenly radiates through your stomach.

A wince escapes your lips, the pain so sudden and intense it takes your breath away. You grip the counter, steadying yourself, eyes squeezed shut as you try to will it away. The silence of the room feels heavier now, and you glance again at Rafe, who remains motionless. Despite the growing ache in your body, you resist the urge to wake him, knowing that any sign of weakness would only widen the rift between you two.

Forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, you push past it, trying to maintain your calm. But the sensation of liquid rolling down your thigh causes a wave of panic to seize your chest. Slowly, with trembling hands, you reach beneath your nightgown. Your breath hitches in terror as your fingertips come away slick with blood. “Rafe…” your voice is barely above a whisper, fragile and trembling as your eyes lock onto the crimson stain spreading across your once pristine white nightgown.

“Oh my god…” you choke out, your heart racing as the blood pools beneath your feet, a deep, horrifying red against the cold bathroom tiles. "Rafe!" Your voice cracks, louder this time, filled with raw panic as the sobs come uncontrollably. Rafe jolts awake, startled by the sound of his name. Groggy and confused, he turns toward the bathroom, squinting against the light as he tries to focus.

The sight of you, slumped and trembling, blood staining your gown, pulls him from the haze of sleep in an instant. “Rafe, the baby. Is the baby okay? Why’s there so much blood!” Your words come out in a terrified rush, your sobs making it difficult to breathe as you clutch your stomach. Rafe’s eyes widen in horror, his expression rapidly shifting from confusion to alarm.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice tense, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. He stumbles out of the bed, rushing toward you, but before he can reach you, you collapse to your knees, cradling yourself, the blood continuing to seep into the floor beneath you. Rafe stands by the door, eyes wide. “Fuck… Anita!” Rafe yells, his voice desperate as he runs toward the door, his panic bubbling over.

He shouts for Anita again, his voice echoing through the house, but the seconds stretch on, feeling like an eternity as you sit there, your body trembling violently with sobs. You hold yourself tighter, rocking slightly as the tears fall, the world around you closing in. Rafe comes rushing back in, his face pale and frantic as he stares at you, at the blood. He stumbles, clearly unsure of what to do as panic claws at him too.

For once, the cold mask he usually wears in moments of crisis has shattered. He kneels beside you, reaching out but hesitating, his hands shaking as he hovers over you. “I—shit, we need to get you to a hospital.” His voice wavers, no longer the confident Rafe you’re used to seeing. “No-no. My parents will hear about it, I haven’t told them yet remember?” you murmur through shaky breaths, your voice fragile and barely audible.

Rafe stares at you, his usual coldness softened as he gently brushes the stray strands of hair from your tear-streaked face. “Okay, okay—uh—I’ll call James,” he replies, swallowing hard as if to steady himself. You give a weak nod, trying to focus on your breathing, though every second feels like agony. He stands up, glancing at you one last time before quickly leaving the room. Within minutes, another sharp pain grips your abdomen.

A choked sob escapes your lips, and you bite down on the back of your hand, tears spilling freely as the pain intensifies. "Hey, hey. Let's get you in the bathtub," Rafe’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle, reaches you through the haze of your suffering. He kneels beside you, carefully helping you to your feet. The warmth of his touch feels distant, like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grasp.

Rafe moves quickly, turning on the water before easing you into the tub. You draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as the sobs wrack your body. The sound of the water fills the room, mingling with the raw, broken cries you try to muffle. Rafe watches you from the side, his heart constricting at the sight of you so vulnerable, so broken. His mind flashes back to when you first told him about the pregnancy, the disbelief and apprehension that had shadowed his reaction.

Now, all of it feels so distant, as if the fragile hope of that moment has been ripped away. “Good lord,” Anita’s voice breaks through the quiet tension, her shock evident as she takes in the blood-stained floor, her steps faltering at the doorway. James follows closely behind her, his face grim, prepared for the worst. Anita rushes to your side, and Rafe stands, backing away to give her space as she kneels by the tub.

Anita wraps you in her arms, her presence grounding you in a way that only she could. Her hand strokes your back in soothing circles, her words soft and gentle. “It’s okay, shh, just let it out. I’m here, my love.” “T-There was so much blood, Anita. So much,” you gasp between sobs, your voice trembling with terror. “I know, I know, just try and calm down,” Anita murmurs, her voice unwavering, though her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Meanwhile, James exchanges a somber look with Rafe before stepping forward. “You’ll still bleed for a little while, Y/n. I’ll give you something to calm down, but right now, your body needs to process what’s happening.” His voice is calm, measured, though the sorrow in his eyes is unmistakable. “I am so terribly sorry for your loss.”

You lift your gaze, and through tear-blurred vision, you see Rafe standing by the bathroom counter, his hands tangled in his hair, his expression dark and haunted. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the weight of everything presses down on you. The grief, the guilt—it’s suffocating. Rafe’s head snaps up, and the room falls silent as everyone’s attention shifts to you. “For what?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet, and he pushes himself off the counter, stepping toward you.

“For losing the baby—” you begin, your voice small and broken, but Rafe interrupts, his tone sharp, almost impatient. “Don’t be sorry. You’ll have plenty more chances of being pregnant again,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration, as if your sorrow is misplaced. It’s the coldness in his tone that stings the most, as though the loss is nothing more than a setback, something that can be fixed or replaced.

You fall silent, staring down at your feet, the water lapping softly against the tub. The ache in your chest deepens, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional distance between you and Rafe. You feel the weight of his indifference like a stone pressing down on your already fragile heart. “But what if I’m not meant to carry a child?” The words spill out before you can stop them, the doubt and fear you’ve been holding inside for so long finally breaking free.

“Don’t say such a thing,” Anita’s voice is firm, her hand tightening on your shoulder. “You’re a perfectly healthy woman who was unfortunate to have a miscarriage. This isn’t your fault.” Her voice is soothing, but you can’t help the gnawing sense of inadequacy that grips you. Rafe stands quietly, his gaze hardening, as if he can’t quite understand your grief—or perhaps, refuses to.

He’s always been practical, focused on the future, but in this moment, all you want is for him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of what you’ve lost. Instead, you’re left feeling more alone than ever, despite the people surrounding you.

[charliesangel67]

Against all odds

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Word count- 1567

Warnings: Smutttt, a little bit of fluff, acedemic rivals (kind of, idk how to write it)

Authors note: I'm actually so sorry this took so long, idek why but it was a bit hard to write. Anyway, it's here and I hope you enjoy.

This was based of off @weirdowithnobeardo 's idea which is the first comment on this post

“Ok, can somebody tell me the answer to question b?” Quickly, hands flew up in the air. “Mr Cameron, what is the answer?” “4x+7n=33y” Rafe said confidently. “”That’s wrong.” I announced. “Go on, what’s your theory Miss y/n?” My teacher said, “It’s 4x+7n=36y because x is equal to 2.” I stated. “That is correct y/n, well done.” My teacher smiled at me. I smiled in Rafe’s direction but he just glared at me. Next period science, we got our tests back, “So Cameron, what did you get?” I asked Rafe curiously. “94%, you?” “99%” I replied with a smile. Again, he seemed so angry at me for getting a higher score. This went on for the next couple of weeks, He acted like we were academic rivals.

3 weeks later

There it was, the test sitting on my desk, a bright red ‘A+’ written in the top right corner. I was proud of myself for scoring so high on such a hard test. It was 40% of my final GPA result so I had to score high. I turned around to see Rafe staring daggers at me. “Bad result Cameron?” I asked him teasingly. “Shut up y/l/n” He growled as he clenched his jaw. I giggled to myself and turned my attention back to the teacher. 

The bell rang for the end of the day and I hurriedly grabbed my backpack and ran to my locker. My friend Maddy always meets me at my locker because we’re in different year levels, Maddy’s in 10th and I’m in 11th grade. “So, how was your day Mads?” I asked unlocking my locker. “Shit. So fucking shit you have no idea.” “I’m sure it couldn't have been that bad.” I laughed. “No, y/n it was bad. So bad in fact that I got broken up with by Jason the son of a bitch in front of half the cafeteria.” She announced. “Oh shit, sorry babe, he was no good for you anyway.” I said walking away with her. 

As we were walking to my car, Maddy realised she had forgotten something in her locker so she ran back towards the buildings. Suddenly, I felt a rough hand grab hold of my upper arm and pin me against a wall. A hand covered my mouth to stop me from screaming. “Oh you son of a bitch. You’re so fucking done little girl.” I knew the voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite figure out who it was. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light and situation, I realised it was Jason and his group of friends. 

“So, did you and Maddy talk shit about me to the school after what I did to her?” He asked again, still keeping me against the wall. “What the fuck. No we didn’t, why would you think that?” I was astonished at the accusation. “Because, now the whole school thinks that I have an STD and all the girls I’ve slept with have smashed my locker and put slime in the gas tank of my car.” He complained. “Wow, creative girls for real.” I said with a little laugh. “Ok, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” 

“It was me, you son of a bitch!” Yelled Rafe, walking towards us. “Why?! Why the fuck would you do that?” Jason asked, close to tears. Rafe pulls a phone out of his pocket and starts reading some texts - 

“‘C’mon Maddy, It won’t be that bad. Why don’t you wanna sleep with me?”

“Because I’m not ready for that Jason, I’ve told you a million times. We have only been together a month and I’m not ready to have sex yet. Just stop asking me already.”

“Fine. Go fuck some other dude, you fucking slut. You’ll regret not being with me.” “What do you mean Jason? Are you breaking up with me??”” 

“Hey! Where did you get my phone from you bitch?!” Jason asked launching himself at Rafe, who dodged the blow perfectly. “You left her on delivered for 9 hours just so you could slut shame her and break up with her in the cafeteria in front of everyone, all because she didn’t want to sleep with you?!  Not to mention you cheated on her the entire relationship. You’re a real ass man.” Rafe said. “I suggest you leave Maddy, Y/n and all the other girls you’ve messed with, alone and get on with your life.” Rafe yelled as Jason and his friends ran away.

They knew how powerful Rafe could be and they didn’t want to get on his bad side. “Thanks Rafe. Why did you do that anyway?” I asked, “Don’t think I did it for you, I hate Jason.” “Oh, okay.” I replied sheepishly before walking away, back to my car and to meet with Maddy. The drive home was silent after I told Maddy all about what happened. Her being in disbelief about what Rafe had done to Jason. 

A couple weeks later, it was Midsummers, I had bought a nice dress and had a plan laid out on how we were going to spend the evening with Maddy and her sister, Kiara. Kiara picked us up and we drove to the Cameron’s mansion as that was where the party was. Kiara was friends with Sarah, Rafes younger sister.

A couple hours into the party,  Rafe approached me, taking my hand and dragging me upstairs. “Rafe, what are you doing?” I whispered, “Taking you to my room.” “Why?” I asked, a little scared. “Because you look way too beautiful in that dress and I noticed JJ basically eye fucking you.” He turned to face me, looking very sexy in his button down shirt and his hair falling into his eyes. Without thinking I put my hand out to brush his hair away from his face, he grabbed my neck and leaned down to kiss me. 

“No, Rafe, we can’t do this.” I said as I pulled away. “Why not y/n?” “Because, I’m a pogue, you're a kook and you should hate me. In fact, you did act like you hated me after you stood up for me in front of Jason, and now suddenly you’re acting all jealous when JJ looks at me?” I asked in a confronting manner. “Look, y/n, I like you.” “No, we can’t Rafe. Your dad is gonna kill you and my parents are gonna fucking disown me or something if they found out I was dating a kook, especially Mr Rafe Cameron with his bad reputation.” 

Rafe didn’t say another word, he just leaned down again to kiss me, This time it was more passionate. At that moment, I didn’t even care that we shouldn’t be doing this, I just kissed him back. Rafe picked me up and carried me to his room. He threw me on the bed and locked the door. He crawled on top of me and placed feather light kisses along my neck to my cleavage. “Can I?” he asked as his fingers were tangled in the strap off my dress. “Mmmh,” I responded softly as he carefully took off my dress. 

I tugged at his belt, hinting for him to take off his pants as I unbuttoned his shirt. Within minutes, we were both butt naked, he took my boobs in his hands, massaging them and kissing along them. I moaned at the pleasure. I palmed his cock through his boxers and I felt him getting hard underneath my hand. Quickly, Rafe ripped off his boxers and rubbed his cock against my entrance. Already slick and wet, he pushed inside. I moaned as he did so, Rafe thrusted slowly and sensually.

“Mmh, You like that baby?” He asked, staring into my eyes. “So much Rafe.” I replied. Rolling my eyes back as Rafe thrusted harder into my soaking cunt and he kissed along my breasts. Soon, I was nearing my release, my cunt tightening around him. And a couple thrusts later I had come undone onto his thick cock. “Fuck baby, I'm gonna come.” “Come in me Rafe.” I begged him and seconds later he squirted his hot cum into my pussy. Out of breath and panting, I crawled on top of him, lying on his chest, my hands tangled in his hair as he kissed my neck. “Promise we can keep this a secret for a little while longer until I tell my parents?” I asked him. Rafe nodded and uttered a soft ‘yes’. I kissed him one more time before getting up and getting dressed. 

“I’m gonna head back down stairs okay? The girls are gonna be worried about where I was.” I told him, opening the door. “One more kiss babe.” Rafe said and when I turned around, seeing his abs again stirred something deep within me. Want. I wanted this man. His hair, his face, his body, his personality towards me. I wanted everything about him. I didn’t think, I just jumped back onto the bed into his arms. Rafe kissed me hard and passionate and I melted into his touch. Soon we were back at it again, he was thrusting slowly and sensually into my soaked cunt as I buried my face in his shoulder quieting my moans.

That night was the best sex I ever had. 

I also got a super protective boyfriend.

I hope you guys liked this 😁

[nottsangel]

obx porn links vol. 2 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

warning: 18+ only. these are twitter links that contain porn videos. these are not fics.

nav. // main m.list // blurbs m.list // vol. 1 + vol. 3

— JJ MAYBANK

reverse cowgirl with jj outside

jj sucking and admiring your tits

dom!jj spanking you

giving boyfriend!jj a blowjob

doggystyle with best friend!jj

jj showing you how strong he is

riding roommate!jj in your room

jj fucking you while you’re wearing his shirt

helping jj relax after a long day

enemy!jj fucking you at a party

jj fucking you hard from behind

— RAFE CAMERON

missionary with boyfriend!rafe

ghostface!rafe sneaking into your room and fucking you

dom!rafe punishing you

rafe eating you out after a stressful day

morning sex with rafe

enemy!rafe fingering and choking you

shower sex with rafe

rafe fucking you on his yacht

study sessions with best friend!rafe

rafe admiring your body

riding rafe in his truck

neighbour!rafe fucking you in his bed

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𖥔

⊹ being absolutely cock hungry and finally getting filled up

⊹ boyfriend!rafe spoiling you in every way

⊹ breaking in your new apartment with boyfriend!rafe

⊹ dom!rafe masturbating for you

⊹ fwb!rafe using you however way he wants

⊹ he loves to appreciate your tits

⊹ he texts you for a late night fuck

⊹ letting him fuck your mouth after a stressful day

⊹ mean!rafe ignores you all day so you make him apologise

⊹ knowing he has to ease you into it because he so big

⊹ rafe eating you out

⊹ rafe fucking you after you were being a brat

⊹ rafe teasing you until you're a whimpering mess

⊹ rafe using your pretty little holes however he wants

⊹ sending a ‘thank you’ vid with the present he got you while away

⊹ thanking rafe mid-sex because he feels too good

⊹ trying to be quiet as rafe fucks you early in the morning

⊹ when he needs you so bad he has to pull the car over