instantcoughy - Tumblr blog

[instantcoughy]

everybody loves my baby

an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶

tw: v!olence, sex

✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.

✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.

"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."

he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.

"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"

the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.

"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."

he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.

"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.

✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.

''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.

✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.

✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.

you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.

''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.

✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .

''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.

✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...

✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!

✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header

@sinisternymphette 2024

[instantcoughy]

Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. To him, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always try to torment you. Other than that, most of time would be spent clinging to Sarah for protection.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave you be.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous.  

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now that his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a park of determination in the young Cameron man, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward picks up his phone and dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

[instantcoughy]

reader giving rafe the silent treatment after he hit her so to “apologize” rafe roughly fingers her

this was soo long for no reason, like 1.3k words long 🫠 (tw mentions of domestic violence, dubcon, fingering, choking, praise kink)

your eyelids hung low as you glared up at your boyfriend from the floor. you’d only ended up at rafe’s feet, staring up at him as he towered over you after he slapped you so hard, that maintaining your balance just wasn’t an option.

“don’t look at me like that,” rafe tilted his head to the side, bottom lip jutting out in a faux pout as he let out a long sigh. your boyfriend seemed to drink in the tearful, terrified state you seemed to be in, almost like he was feeding off of it, letting it fuel his next words, “c’mere.”

a chill ran down your spine as he motioned for you as he stepped over towards the bed behind you, and you sniffled, pushing yourself up onto your knees first.

as much as rafe would’ve loved to keep you at that level, he motioned for you to come closer. you stood to your feet, hesitantly clearing the space between the two of you. when you got close enough, rafe reached out and took you by your shoulders, turning your body before giving you a slight push, urging you down onto the bed. his touch wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t a harsh one either. rafe seemed empathetic as he ran his large hands over your arms in a soothing manner. when he lifted a hand up in front of you, you couldn’t help but flinch. rafe only carressed your cheek though, the same side of your face that he’d just struck moments before.

he let out a long sigh, breath fanning in your face and blowing some of your hair out of the way. you let out a shaky breath, nervous at the way rafe was now crowding your space after striking you so violently.

“baby…” his voice was calm, gentle as he addressed you with the name of endearment. “you know i didn’t mean to do that. right…?” rafe gave his usual backwards apology. blue eyes raked over your face, gaging your reaction to his words as he held your face in his hands. “i just…i get so-so worked up sometimes, and you’re the only one around…but i…i shouldn’t do that. i shouldn’t take my anger out on you like that. i-i know that, okay? i don’t…i don’t need you to make me feel bad, givin’ me those sorry eyes…”

you sat completely still, tearful eyes locked on rafe’s face. you hadn’t dared to breathe a word to him, yet he spoke as if you’d tried to correct him. you knew to stay silent, not wanting to give rafe an opportunity to twist any of your words around. “you believe me,” his words were spoken more as a statement than a question, yet he still followed up with a quick, “right?”

slowly, you willed your head to move, nodding in agreement.

it wasn’t good enough. “tell me you understand what i’m saying to you.”

“i…i understand, rafe.”

seemingly satisfied with your answer, rafe nodded his own head before his hands slipped down from your face, coming to rest on your sides as he praised, “good girl.”

his hand brushed against the skin of your stomach that peeked out beneath your silk pajama top. the feel sent shivers down your spine, and your lips parted as rafe watched the skin ripple under his touch.

“gonna let me make it up to you baby?” his hand slipped even lower, hooking under the waistband of your shorts and tugging lightly. “want me to make you feel good?”

you shifted nervously on the bed, unsure of how to respond. as much as you wanted to keep this nice streak going for your boyfriend, you truly didn’t have the mental capacity to feed into his sexual desires. you didn’t feel the same arousal that rafe did. it was hard to feign attraction, even to the most attractive man on the island, when all he ever did was put you down and make you feel less than.

…still, you found yourself parting your legs for him when his hand began toying with the lace of your thong, silently asking for entrance. better yet, demanding entrance. rafe was simply being courteous enough to warn you of his pending plan. he let out a low groan when you spread your legs, making it easier for him to push your shorts and panties to the side. he placed a warm hand over the top of your head, pushing back and effectively lying you down on the bed. the mattress dipped in further around you as rafe positioned himself inbetween your legs, eyes hungrily raking over your cunt on display for him.

“my sweet girl,” he muttered, hand now brushing against your bare sex. rafe offered no warning before he slid one thick finger past your folds, jaw falling slack when he felt you instantly clench around him. “pussy’s always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

you let out an unrecognizable sound as rafe dipped his finger in and out of you, back involuntarily arching up off the bed.

“relax baby,” rafe breathed, splaying a large hand over your stomach to keep you anchored in place as he added another finger to the mix. you stretched around him so well, the feeling was euphoric for rafe. on the other hand, you were experiencing a great level of discomfort as he quickened the pace of his fingers. the pained sounds you let slip past your lips only spelled arousal to your boyfriend, who drank in the noises hungrily.

he could feel your muscles straining when a third finger joined in, blue eyes still glued to where his hand was brutalizing your core. “don’t tense up on me,” he ordered, pressing harder on your stomach as his fingers continued their assault. you knew better. “m’just tryna make you feel good baby, just relax.”

…much easier said, than done. you didn’t enjoy the way your boyfriend so ruthlessly stretched you out with his fingers, but the alternative was trying to refuse him, disappointing him, and in turn earning yourself a repeat of what landed you in this compromising position in the first place. the former seemed like the smarter choice, the one that would save you the most pain.

even though you were in a great deal of pain still currently, the lines between discomfort and pleasure blurred more with rafe’s hand buried between your legs, compared to anywhere near your face. the feeling of pleasure crescendoed, until you couldn’t ignore the coiling you felt in your stomach.

“r-rafe…” he was quick to verbally shush you, moving his hand from your stomach to your mouth, muffling your whimpers as you felt your release coming closer and closer.

“gonna make a mess on my fingers baby?” he rasped out, hand moving quicker now, drilling in and out of your weeping hole. your back arched up again, and rafe brought his free hand down with his other, circling over your sensitive clit and pulling another string of moans and mewls from your lips.

“c’mon baby, let it out. come on my fingers,” his lewd words, the raspiness of his voice all added to your overstimulation, quickly sending you toppling over the edge. you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, rafe’s fingers never relenting until you finally let out a deep breath, body falling limp against the mattress. when his fingers retreated from your sex, they were visibly coated in your arousal. rafe’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he brought his fingers to his mouth, swiping them clean between his lips. a low groan escaped him as rafe savored the taste of your juices on his tongue, eyes falling shut as he revelled in the moment.

“did so good f’me sweetheart,”

you were still catching your breath when a large hand came to rest on your clammy forehead, rafe using his palm to push your hair back out of your face, stroking over your hair soothingly as you chest heaved beneath him. “…gonna have to start making up for my…behavior, more often.”

[instantcoughy]

✨Masterlist ✨

"Supernatural”

Dean Winchester

Hot water bottle

The Talk

Broken

Beyond saving 18+ only! (dark Fic)

Beyond saving Pt. 2 (dark Fic)

Beyond saving Pt. 3 18+ only! (dark Fic)

Beyond saving Pt. 4 (dark Fic)

Beyond saving Pt. 5 18+ only! (dark Fic)

"The Boys”

Soldier Boy

It´s official (Part 1)

I`m yours (Part 2) 18+ only!

Exhausted (Part 3) 18+ only!

Nothing he couldn’t handle

Nothing he couldn´t handle Pt. 2

Nothing he couldn´t handle Pt. 3

Stupid Movie Night 18+ only!

His only exception

His only exception Pt. 2 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 3

His only exception Pt. 4

His only exception Pt. 5

His only exception Pt. 6

His only exception Pt. 7 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 8 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 9

His only exeption Pt. 10 18+ only!

His only exeption Pt. 11 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 12 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 13

His only exception Pt. 14 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 15

His only exception Pt. 16

His only exception Pt. 17 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 18 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 19

His only exception Pt. 20

His only exception Pt. 21

His only exception Pt. 22 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 23 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 24 18+ only!

His only exception Pt. 25

His only exception Pt. 26

His only exception Pt. 27 18+ only!

"Real Person”

Jensen Ackles

Needy 18+ only!

Needy - Pt. 2

FaceTime 18+ only!

Youth 18+ only!

[instantcoughy]

The Nanny Diaries (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dark Cillian has an innocence kink...Smut...Infidelity...Dub Con

It had been three months since you started working for Cillian and Lorna Murphy, looking after their two young children Sienna and Mitch.

You had recently turned eighteen and left your small town in America, eager to see the world beyond your front door so, moving to Dublin, was the perfect opportunity for you.

Through a family friend, who was an actor as well, you were given the chance to work as an Au Pair for the famous Irish actor who, with his wife and children, lived in a beautiful country estate just outside Dublin city, surrounded by vast gardens filled with flowers and trees.

Their home was like a sanctuary where nature merged seamlessly into luxury - wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with original works of art and large bay windows which looked out onto acres of greenery.

Their children were absolutely adorable.

Little Sienna was full of energy, running all over the place, whilst little Mitch would be curled up watching cartoons quietly. At first, it seemed strange, but gradually you found yourself enjoying every moment spent playing games, reading bedtime stories and preparing meals for them.

The only person whose company made you feel slightly nervous, however, was Cillian himself. You felt a strange and somewhat forbidden attraction towards this 45 year old man, something no one could quite understand considering how close he was to your father’s age.

However, being strictly catholic and engaged to young man back home, you brushed this off as simply being star struck and though Cillian wasn't exactly flirtatious, there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Cillian soon noticed the way you looked at him, the subtle flush of excitement that crossed your face when he walked into the room, and despite his own marriage status, he began making excuses to get closer to you. His constant praise made you blush, while the lingering glances gave you butterflies in your stomach.

One evening after Lorna had gone to bed, Cillian invited you to listen to some music with him in the dimly lit living room.

There was a comforting familiarity in the scent of leather, polished wood and roaring embers in the fireplace as you sat down beside him on the plump sofa. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat as you sank deeper into the soft upholstery and Cillian silently handed you a glass of wine and smiled.  

"You did well today. Thanks for looking after them so diligently," Cillian acknowledged just as you traced the contours of his strong jaw line with your eyes.

"They are good kids. Despite, looking after them, is my job," you stammered in response. You couldn't help feeling nervous around this man, even more now since it was just the two of you.

"Still, it's nice not having to worry. So, thank you," Cillian said while leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over another. "It can be quite draining sometimes looking after them."

"It can be," you smiled while your cheeks reddened as you tried not to stare at him openly. For a moment silence enveloped the space before you continued speaking softly, barely audible enough for him to hear properly.

"So you like Portishead, huh?" you asked, changing the topic to music as their album "Glorybox" was playing in the background. His face shifted to curiosity briefly, then turned serious again as he reached out slowly to brush his hand over your knee. 

"I do. How about you? he asked, turning his head towards you.  "Do you like their music?" he then asked and you felt a mix of fear and excitement surging through your body upon the sudden contact - your heart raced faster, and a warmth seemed to rise up inside you as his fingers caressed gently along your thigh. Trying hard to maintain composure, you responded casually yet uneasily.

"I do," you managed to utter softly as his fingers traced higher along your inner thigh. As his hand lingered there uninvited, your breath quickened involuntarily – a mixture of panic and arousal coursing through your veins. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but still, deep within you, a primal urge took hold.

"How is your boyfriend? Are things good between you?" Cillian prodded, leaning closer as he spoke. You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he whispered these words, sending chills down your spine despite yourself. Your hands trembled lightly, unsure whether to push him away or surrender to his advances, caught somewhere between terror and thrilling anticipation.

"He...uhm...yes... he is good," you stammered as his fingers dipped deeper beneath your skirt, brushing against your underwear teasingly, causing a wave of heat to ripple throughout your core.

Aware of the danger you were in, a part of you wanted to resist, while another desperately desired to succumb to his touch, craving the sensuality he offered with such intensity. 

"Do you miss him?" Cillian asked quietly, almost tenderly while his fingers ran circles over your moistening panties.

Unable to think clearly due to the intensity of his advances, you struggled to find your voice. Involuntarily, your mouth hung open, dazed by the sensations that flowed through your body.

"I do miss him, yes," you finally murmured, unable to meet his eyes, as you fought to quell the desire rising up inside you. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but why did it feel so right?

"Do you miss him touching you like this?" Cillian asked huskily as, finally, he pushed aside the wet fabric of your knickers, allowing his finger to slide tantalisingly over your wet slit.

"He never..." you mumbled hesitantly, trying to regain control of both your mind and body, struggling to ignore the growing sense of guilt mixed with exhilaration that consumed you. 

"He never what?" Cillian challenged, his tone darkening as his finger continued to explore the sensitive folds between your legs. One of his fingers began to push its way inside you, penetrating your tight entrance gently yet firmly, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you as pleasure ricocheted through your body. 

"He never touched me down there before," you admitted reluctantly, knowing it wouldn't matter anyway because you knew deep down that this went far beyond mere physical exploration.

"Really?" Cillian queried with disbelief, pulling his fingers free from your quivering passage before pushing it in again, harder this time, his thumb pressing rhythmically against your clitoris. You let out a strangled cry, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your entire body writhed in pleasure.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Cillian questioned deeply, his tone laced with raw passion, drawing a sharp intake of air from you. You didn't answer immediately, too absorbed in the exquisite sensations consuming your body. But eventually, the truth emerged haltingly from your lips.

"No. It's not allowed," you confessed seeing that you were strictly catholic, ashamed of admitting the fact aloud, wishing to sink into the floor beneath you.

"Do you want me to stop?" Cillian asked softly, lifting his hand away from your drenched crotch to rest it once more on the armrest of the couch. Your mind reeled as the erotic spell broke, leaving you feeling bewildered and confused.

Despite the intensity of the encounter, you shook your head defiantly, determined not to allow yourself to be further enticed.

"Alright. Can you take off your panties for me then?" Cillian commanded authoritatively, breaking the momentary awkwardness. His eyes bore into yours, demanding obedience. Reluctantly, you nodded, sliding your skirt lower until your knickers slipped off easily, exposing your naked thighs and pussy. The bold act sent shockwaves through your system, filling you with a potent cocktail of shame and arousal. Cillian observed you hungrily, appreciating the sight of your supple curves and smooth skin.

With determination in his eyes, he reached for your exposed thighs, rubbing his palms alluringly up and down them until his fingers found your wet labia. Gently cupping your sex, he teased you playfully, watching closely as your breath caught in your throat and your pupils widened with desire. 

His erection strained against his jeans, making your nipples perk up in response.

He then inserted not one but two of his thick digits into your dripping core gently, feeling the resistance of your virginity as he thrust them in and out as small streak of blood trickled onto his fingers.

There was some discomfort in your expression, partly due to the pain caused by your first sexual experience but also fueled by anxiety and confusion regarding the situation.

Inside you, your mind wavered between feelings of remorse and yearning satisfaction as his powerful hands controlled your movements, taking command of your pleasure.

As he moved inside you, his touch became firmer, his pace picking up speed, creating a sensation unlike anything you had ever known before. Your whole body ached, your muscles twitching with the force of the waves crashing through you.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian remarked approvingly, withdrawing his fingers momentarily only to plunge them back in again with greater fervor. His rough hands expertly navigated your insides, working you mercilessly, ignoring the protest of your uninitiated flesh. Each penetration drove a fresh wave of pleasure through your body, your nerves firing rapidly, setting every inch of your skin ablaze until, suddenly, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you eventually came undone and Cillian covered your mouth with the palm of his free hand as your body  began convulsing violently in orgasm.

"Sssh, we don't want to wake up Lorna," he chuckled quietly as your vision swam as your world turned upside down, your entire focus narrowed down to the sensations washing over you. Aftershocks radiated through your limbs, causing tiny tremors to run up and down your body as if electric currents surged through your very soul.

Breathless and flushed, you collapsed back into the embrace of the couch, exhausted and invigorated simultaneously as Cillian carefully withdrew his fingers from inside your body. 

Wetness and a tiny amount of blood tickled down onto the leather fabric on which you were sitting as your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

Cillian smiled devilishly at you, amused by how quickly he had brought you to climax, and you felt both grateful and somewhat shocked.

Your stomach squirmed with a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, humiliation, and embarrassment battled furiously amongst themselves. Your cheeks reddened with a combination of both physical stimulation and shame.

"I shouldn't have done that," you muttered, attempting to make sense of your own behaviour. You had committed a sin against God and your morals, and now, here you were - wanting more of it.

The thought scared you, but something stirred deep within you, telling you it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. There was a power to this darkness that held an addictive quality, like the forbidden fruit you had just sampled.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it though," Cillian smirked. His statement carried undertones that left no doubt as to what he meant just as you both were startled by Lorna who came walking down the stairs to fetch herself a drink from the fridge.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt to cover your slightly bruised and still wet entrance before hastily grabbing your discarded knickers. Cillian, without missing a beat, made himself appear nonchalant, leaning casually against the armrest beside you.

Lorna looked curiously at the both of you, remarking "It seems quite late. You should come to bed Cillian", unaware of the recent events transpiring.

"I will be up in just a minute love". Cillian lied, hoping to prolong the interaction with you for just a little bit longer but, unfortunately for him, you decided to head to your room instead, claiming tiredness.

After you closed the door behind you, the tension dissolved slightly and Cillian sighed audibly, running his hand through his messy locks, visibly conflicted, pondering on about what happened. 

Even as he prepared for sleep later that evening, right next to his wife, he couldn't help but dwell upon the enchanting image of you submitting to his touch, succumbing under his influence. Something about your innocence intrigued him even more than other women had. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented—the thrill of dominance over someone who belonged to another man.

Or maybe it was the sweet, lingering aftertaste of guilt you left on his tongue whenever he took liberties with your pure body. Whatever the reason, he simply could not resist pursuing you further despite the danger it posed to his marriage.

Meanwhile, you too, were laying in bed, thinking about what had transpired. 

Your mind raced through memories of your earlier interactions with Cillian – his confidence, his touch, his mannerisms. There was that secret part of you that craved more contact, regardless of where it might lead. This newfound curiosity frightened you almost as much as it excited you. 

You wondered what it would be like to touch him the way he had touched you, whether his experienced body would respond to you as you did to him. For so long, the idea of intimacy had been taboo for you, yet somehow, those strict boundaries seemed to shift when it came to Cillian. 

Your core ached from the intrusion, and your cheeks burned with indignation, but there was a spark of excitement that lit up deep within you as well. 

You wanted him to do this again and you knew that this was wrong and so did he. 

[instantcoughy]

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[instantcoughy]

Masterlist:

*this is an alternate masterlist, in which i will be linking all my works by post date (starting with the most recent)

*for the multichapter fics i will only be linking the most recent updates, erasing previous updates from the list so that it doesn't get too crowded

*everything else can be read as standalone, including excerpts or requests that are part of multichapter fic verses

*all of my works contain 18+ content; minors please DNI

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

last updated: May 2nd 2024

-don't worry darling- part one ( miniseries, jack chambers, dwd )

-piccolo amore (extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry )

-loved, heard, seen - part three ( miniseries, swingrry! )

-put a price on emotion- chapter 1 ( multichapter, vampire!harry, judge!harry )

-pretty like yours ( one-shot, subrry, lhh )

-neighborly welcome ( blurb, elevatorry, lhh )

-lupus noctis- chapter 11 (multichapter, wolffry, werewolf!harry, lhh)

-harry never left holmes chapel (blurb, reallife!harry)

-greedy bunny (one-shot/ mini-series, penpal!harry, photographer!harry, lhh)

-daddy issues- chapter 25 ( multichapter, daddy!harry, dilf!harry )

-facial (extra, blurb, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-maybe (extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-no kink shaming in this house (extra, blurb, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-harry is only wearing a towel turban and wants you to wear your glasses in bed for him (blurb, lhh)

-spanking for good measure ( extra, blurb, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-it's us (extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-intimate (extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-hard candy- part 3 (multichapter, candyman!harry, dark!harry)

-ready to go home? (blurb, husband!harry)

-nighttime routine (blurb, reallife!harry)

-never resist an impulse, sabrina- excerpt (one-shot, reallife!harry)

-a moment of silence ( extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-sneaky link harry (blurb)

-primal tendencies (one-shot/ mini-series, recordstore!harry, lhh)

-valentine's day special ( extra, one-shot, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

-through the viewfinder (one-shot/ mini-series, penpal!harry, photographer!harry, lhh)

- property of harry edward styles (one-shot/ mini-series, recordstore!harry, lhh)

- insufferable (one-shot/ mini-series, recordstore!harry, lhh)

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- cockwarming harry ( extra, blurb, daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

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- harry cheated (blurb, reallife!harry)

- clear my schedule (one-shot, CEO!harry, meanDom!harry, lhh)

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- watermelon sugar candy (blurb, candyman!harry)

- only good girls get hard candy (blurb, candyman!harry)

- oral fixation (blurb, candyman!harry)

- a wish come true (one-shot/ mini-series, penpal!harry, photographer!harry, lhh)

- record store romance (one-shot/ mini-series, recordstore!harry, lhh)

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- quarantining with a view (one-shot, quarantine!harry, lhh)

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goes without saying, but please do not repost (translate, etc). not to be mistaken with reblogging which i of course encourage! also goes without saying, but obviously i am only using Harry (and any other public figure mentioned) as a character in my stories and everything written here is entirely fictional!

always remember that feedback and reblogs are the equivalent to milk and cookies for Santa 💕 *insert further cheesy analogies*

[instantcoughy]

One of my favorite Rafe stories 💗

》 CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — rafe cameron x reader

{ main masterlist }

word count — 3.4k

warnings — MDNI; dark!rafe, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP/DOMESTIC VIOLENCE + mentions of, manipulation, humiliation, degradation, gaslighting, swearing, rafe is just a violent asshole lbr but what’s new lol

summary — It’s the most wonderful time of the year…unless you’re in a relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n — U GUYS ASKED FOR IT 😖 AND AGAIN HERE!! if you’ve seen the show 911 this is 100% based off of maddie and doug btw 😭 this isn’t what i had in mind for this ask (i wanna go dark asf ofc) but its getting there. i promise i wanna go wayyyy darker so u guys lmk if this is too much or not enough or what u wanna see. also shoutout @oceandriveab & @sugarcoatedstarkey for beta reading for me 🫶🏽

ALSO if u enjoy my work and are feeling generous, tips are on and your girl is struggling mad hardddd irl rn so any love would be soo appreciated. ily guys! as always, enjoy <3

Holiday music carried to both sets of ears in the house, as did the smell of the cookies you had baking in the oven.

Utensils clattered as Rafe rummaged through different drawers in the kitchen.

“Hey babe, where’s the…the thing at?”

“What thing?”

“That fancy opener that I took out a loan for,” His soft chuckle grew louder the closer you got to the kitchen, having just come from tinkering with the stereo system upstairs.

“Ah, found it.” Large hands fumbled with the wine opener as he turned around.

“I made a set of some of your favorites,” you paused, letting him hear the music clearly for a moment, “Marvin Gaye tops the list of course.”

“Nice,” he wore a warm smile as the electric opener drove itself down into the cork, “some of the greatest love songs ever written. And all of them,” A pause, and the wooden seal was removed with a pop, “remind me of you.”

The smile he wore when his eyes met yours was warm, and you matched it. 

If Rafe smiled, you smiled even wider. If he laughed, you laughed louder and twice as long. You’d learned to milk the good moments for all they had, because they didn’t come around often.

Your boyfriend actually seemed to be in a decent mood today, something harder for him to manage during the holidays anymore. Thankfully, the promotion he’d just gotten at work served to alleviate the resentment he felt at this time of year.

“You’re sweet,” you stepped around Rafe to fetch two long stemmed glasses from the cabinet, “sweet, and the newest COO of Kildare Development.”

The glasses clinked when you set them down on the island, “I’m so proud of you.”

Words that Rafe didn’t hear often, if at all. He couldn’t remember a time anyone besides you had spoken the phrase to him.

He hadn’t yet turned to face you. “Just one step below the CEO. Or if you ask my dad, ‘close, but not quite’.”

Your smile faltered slightly. You didn’t know how to respond when Rafe brought up his dad.

Any mention of the Cameron patriarch always made your skin heat up, your palms clammy, your knees buckle just a little bit. Because just even the mere mention of the man almost always lit a fire of rage within your boyfriend.

You waited for him to continue.

“But screw him, right?” His smile looked forced when he finally turned towards you, “we’re celebrating anyway.”

Your muscles visibly relaxed, thankful Rafe chose to detour, avoiding going any further down that dark road.

Nodding, you offered another weak smile. You hoped it distracted Rafe from the way your feet shuffled below you, a sure sign of your nervousness at the topic.

“And hey,” Rafe blurted out, “put those cheap glasses back. This…”

You watched in anticipation as Rafe reached into the cabinet behind him. What he fished out had your breath hitching in your throat.

“…is a special occasion.”

You cleared your throat, willing away the painful lump threatening to form.

“W-wow,” you tried your best to mask your uncomfortableness at the sight of the familiar glassware, “we haven’t used those glasses in years…”

Rafe nodded, eyes still glued to the glasses.

“Mhmm, one of the last things I have left of my mother…” his blue gaze trailed up to you, “toast softer this time, yeah?”

“…Y-yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You froze at the mention of the incident that still haunted you years after the fact.

Rafe kept your little accident fresh in his mind as the years passed, while you worked hard to forget the night Rafe quite literally beat you within an inch of your life after the toast you’d shared left a chip on the glass you held.

You’d been tipsy. Nowhere near drunk, but inebriated enough to not realize the strength you exuded when you clinked the glasses together.

The chip wasn’t huge, nothing to write home about. But the blemish on the cup had turned your boyfriend into someone you could no longer recognize, flipped the switch you were constantly working to keep off.

Rafe must have sensed your discomfort. Your boyfriend smiled, and you flinched slightly when his hand moved to the back of your head to pull you in for a quick kiss on top of your hair.

“C’mon,” he motioned for you to follow him, “let’s head out back, yeah?”

The short walk from the kitchen to the patio seemed more like a mile, and it felt like a year was knocked off of your life expectancy with each calculated step you took. You cradled the wine glasses to your chest, eyes glued to the floor in search of anything that might hinder your step, and jeprodize the precious cargo.

Relief washed over you when you made it safely, and Rafe was able to pour each of you a glass of whatever expensive wine such a celebration called for.

The backyard of Tannyhill was picture perfect, and the holiday music only added to its serenity. The mansion was the only thing Ward had left Rafe, shunning him from the family business, which is how he ended up at the rival, Kildare Development.

You didn’t know much about Rafe’s mom, but you did know of the fancy glasses she’d passed down to her only son.

You’d learned just how far Rafe would go to defend the gift a couple of years ago.

The man he’d been that night was a stark contrast to the one standing before you now. Rafe’s smile looked genuine, not like the fake one he used when the two of you were out in public.

You were surprised when your boyfriend pulled you into him, hands finding one of yours and your lower back. His fingers filled the gaps between yours as he began waltzing around the patio, in time with the music.

You wished you had a camera, a way to document the sweet moment with your boyfriend. Because moments like these were rare, yet they served to remind you who you actually fell in love with.

Your stared up at Rafe, enamored by his deep blue eyes, the way his hand laced perfectly with yours, the way your bodies meshed together so seamlessly.

He was so nice when he wanted to be. He was a good guy, when he wanted to be.

When he lifted your hand with his own, it was clear he wanted to give you a little twirl.

Rafe reached for your glass, and you allowed possession of the relic to be transferred over.

Your guard was down as Rafe sat the glass on the outdoor coffee table…a little too close to the edge…

Your laughter battled the sound of the music as Rafe spun you around, once away from the table, and then another time back towards him.

And the second spin is what did it.

You gasped when the sound of the glass crashing to the ground filled your ears. You knew what had happened, but a huge part of you was in denial. You refused to accept the sight of the shattered glass on the ground in front of you as reality, but it was now all that was left of his mother’s gift to him.

Immediately, your eyes shot up to Rafe.

Your body felt so hot, so shaky, you were sure you were about to collapse right then and there.

…And one glimpse up at Rafe told you all the same was true for him, too.

In a flash, the music was lost. The only thing you could hear above a ringing in your ears was your own heartbeat.

Lips parted, you blinked rapidly up at the man before you. You swore he was instantly taller, broader, more muscular and intimidating when you did something to piss him off. He looked so much bigger right now, seemingly towering above you all of a sudden. Wide eyes brimmed with tears as they studied your boyfriend, searching for even an ounce of empathy in his reaction.

When he brought a hand up in front of him, you flinched.

“It’s alright,” his voice was…calm. Calmer than you’d ever expected, given the circumstances.

“That…it’s okay,” Rafe nodded his head slowly, sympathetically even, “accidents happen.”

Unsure if this was some sort of mind game or not, you didn’t respond right away.

Seconds passed before you finally deemed it safe to let out the breath you’d been holding, though you still felt tense.

“My mother used to say that an accident, was just another opportunity to learn.” His tone was even, almost more understanding than threatening.

You nodded, eyes finally breaking away for a second before snapping back to the sound of his voice.

“The problem,” he spat out your name, lip twitching slightly, “is that you never do.”

The slap was brutal, knocking you right off of your feet as you cried out. Rafe had tricked you, mimicked empathy to get you to drop your guard, so you were unsuspecting of the assault.

The glass on the ground pricked at the skin of your leg as you cowered down at Rafe’s feet. Your first instinct was to curl in on yourself, working to protect the parts of your body you now knew were in danger.

“Get up,” Rafe carelessly kicked at you, pointed dress shoe all but impaling your ribs and back, “get your ass up.”

When you didn’t listen, Rafe grabbed you by your hair and dragged you closer to him.

He dropped to your eye level, and you cried out when your wrist was caught in a brusing grip. Rafe yanked on your arm and forced your dominant hand down onto the shattered glass.

“Ow! Ahh, Rafe-please-!” Shards of all sizes tore through your skin, knicking and scaping and drawing blood in multiple places.

“I thought I told you to be careful,” he gritted out, fingers curling tighter around your wrist.

“I’m-ah-I’m s-sorry!” You begged, and the weak hand you attempted to press to his shoulder was quickly slapped away.

“You’re sorry?” Rafe sounded as if his bullshit meter was ticking far in the red. Icy blue eyes darted wildly across your face, drinking in the sorrowful sight he had in his hands.

You were a shaking, sniffling, tearful mess as he shook you in his grip.

“Are you-do you do this shit on purpose?” His face was twisted into a vile looking sneer.

He didn’t wait for you to reply. “Huh?! You tryna destroy all my mom’s shit or something? So-so I have nothing left of her at all? Cause that’s what it fuckin’ seems like!”

Another slap. This one served to blur your vision, and left your head spinning. You clutched your cheek with a shaky hand, blurry vision trained on your knees that were folded beneath you.

When he finally rose to his full height again, Rafe delivered one more swift kick to your ribs.

You hoped it’d be the last blow you’d receive for the accident.

“Clean this shit up.” He spat, glaring down his nose at you.

It took you awhile, but you finally forced yourself back onto your knees, though you remained hunched over still, hands wrapped cautiously around your torso. Each movement you made was painful. Breathing was a challenge now, each inhale feeling more and more like another kick to your ribs. You couldn’t decide which was stronger, the burning sensation you felt all over, or the stinging one.

You warily raised your gaze, back of your hand pressed to your forehead as tearful, puffy eyes found the outdoor broom propped up by the door.

Rafe followed your gaze, quick to debunk your plan.

“Nah,” A rough hand on your shoulder kept you mounted to the ground, knees forced to dig further into the wooden deck, “use your hands.”

Taking your bottom lip inbetween your teeth, your eyes fell shut as more tears slipped. “R-Rafe, please, it was an accident.”

“Accidents happen once. Twice is no damn accident.”

You shook your head.

“Obviously, I went too easy on you the last time.”

The battered and bruised state in reference was a result of him… going easy on you? It was terrifying to think of there being a harsher option.

“I…I’m gonna get cut-,” you could hardly choke out the words through your cries.

“You think I give a fuck? You wanna do things like last time instead?” His muscles flexed as he moved to roll his sleeves up his forearms, and you drew in a sharp breath, ready to protest.

“Didn’t think so. Hands, now. Clean that shit up.”

Your crying only served to further irritate your boyfriend.

“And stop all that fuckin’ crying. Or I can give you something to really cry about.”

Seeing no other option, you reluctantly picked at the pile of glass around you, carefully trying to lift shards of all shapes and sizes without harming yourself.

“Nuh uh,” In one swift motion, Rafe dipped down again and snatched your wrists.

You lost your balance, almost falling forward right into the hazard when Rafe yanked your arms towards him, “you better move faster.”

His tone left no room for questions. “You’ve got about two seconds to make this shit look spotless before I do somethin’ I really don’t wanna do.” The way his hands balled into fists at his sides told you he meant the opposite of what he said.

He did want to put his hands on you again. It was taking everything in him not to lay into you like the last time.

With no other choice, your hands worked faster, suffering from cut after cut as you picked up the mess at a quicker pace now.

You tried to mask your distress, but your cries couldn’t be supressed. You were alternating between gulping hard and gasping for breath as you frantically picked at the ground beneath you. If you got too loud, Rafe would tug at your hair or shove at you, taunting you to ‘stop crying like a damn child’ and ‘just clean up your fuckin’ mess’.

Ironic, when that’s exactly what he treated you like…a child.

By the time you’d finished, all of the glass was discarded in a small waste bin, and your hands were shaky, and weak. You could hardly straighten out your fingertips, which were almost swollen, littered with cuts and scrapes, some pertruding further down into the skin than others.

The sight had your lips trembling. You feared you wouldn’t be able to do anything with your hands for days. Weeks, even, with the way the stinging kept growing progressively worse.

When you finally tried to push yourself to your feet, Rafe was there to halt the attempt.

“Stay down.” He ordered, before dropping down to your height. You winced at the close proximity, and Rafe must have picked up on it.

Tauntingly, he pretended to lunge at you all of a sudden, and you flinched violently, cowering further down beside him.

His bitter laugh had your eyes reopening, shoulders deflating as a wave of humiliation ran through you.

“Fuckin’ pitiful.” He shook his head in disaproval before his eyes scanned over the patio floor, looking for any spare pieces of glass.

“Oh-,” Rafe grabbed your hand and brought it down to the floor, purposely pricking it with a piece of glass that you’d overlooked. “Missed one.”

The hiss you let out was pained, and your ribs continued to pay the price with each breath you drew in or pushed out.

Rafe rose to his feet again, leaving you in a crumpled up, dishevelled mess on the patio as he made his way back into the house.

You were finally in the clear, and knew it was safe to let the tears and cries flow freely now.

Your entire body ached as you tried to resituate yourself, and you were sure if you dared to peek under your shirt, you’d find your stomach littered with bruises already.

Sometime later, you were finally able to drag yourself back inside, into the kitchen. A burning smell filled your nose instantly, and you hurried as fast as your battered body would carry you to the oven.

When you used your elbow to slowly pull back the heavy door, you weren’t surprised to find all of your cookies now burnt to a crisp. The flattened rounds of dough looked so sad, so defeated, void of any holiday joy they once held.

…Much like how you felt.

You weren’t sure how, but somehow you managed to slip an oven mitt carefully over your less punctured hand to retrieve the cookies from the oven.

The smacking of teeth behind you had you jolting slightly, almost dropping the hot tray. It was pitiful to think your boyfriend probably would’ve liked to see the scaulding hot tray fall to your feet, searing your skin on its descent.

He could be heard shifting in the doorway behind you, though you wouldn’t dare turn around to face him again.

Like a wild animal, Rafe almost always viewed eye contact as a challenge when he was in this kind of mood.

With your back to him, you were spared the taunting way Rafe shook his head, and the disappointment that was written all over his face.

“…You just can’t do anything right, can you?”

Your face fell impossibly further, shoulders slouching as your boyfriend literally added insult to injury.

Heavy footsteps retreated towards the front of the house, and you quietly let the tray rest on the stovetop.

Ditching the mitt and bracing both hands on the counter, you leaned over the marble and broke down, chest heaving as you tried to muffle the sobs that racked through your body.

“I’m sorry,” The sound of Rafe’s condescending voice grew closer again as he circled back through the hall.

You were instantly struggling to straighten yourself out.

“I know I don’t hear you crying in here?”

You couldn’t shake your head fast enough, holding your breath to ensure the aforementioned cries didn’t break through while Rafe lingered in the doorway.

It felt like ages passed as you stood with your back to your boyfriend, just silently hoping he didn’t try to get you to face him. You’d surely lose it, then and there.

There was a harsh finality in his tone when he spoke again. “That’s what I thought.”

You jumped at the close proximity of Rafe’s voice to your ear. You hadn’t even heard him take a step, yet somehow he had now crossed the room to stand at your back.

His harsh words bled into your ear, breath fanning the hair that fell down over it, “Crying over something you did to yourself…that’d just be plain stupid.”

Sniffling, you couldn’t help the slight whimper that managed to slip past your lips. It was an unintentional challenge, in Rafe’s eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow down at you, a subtle sign of his amusement. “Huh?”

You remained silent, lips pressed together tightly.

“What was that? You got somethin’ to say?” His head prodded around your shoulder, following your face as you tried to avoid eye contact, cowering away from him.

When he got fed up with your evasion, he took your jaw in his strong grip and yanked your face his direction, forcing you to rip your hands from the counter.

“You answer me when I’m talkin’ to you!”

“O-okay! I’m sorry! I-,” You’d raised your voice more than you’d meant to, and Rafe retaliated quickly.

“Oh, you talkin’ back now? Wanna get smart with me?”

It was hard to shake your head in Rafe’s hold. You were unsure of what to say or do, because there was no right answer when it came to Rafe.

“I’m sorry! I’m not t-trying to, I swear-!”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears. Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head as he scoffed, finally releasing you just to shove you away from him dramatically.

“Toss that shit out, and light a candle for that God awful smell.”

It was sad to say, embarassing to admit, but even as you slumped over the counter, hardly able to support your own weight on wobbly legs, you weren’t thinking about leaving Rafe.

You didn’t want to.

In fact, the only thought you could get your mind to focus on, ‘what could you do to right the wrong you’d committed?’

You couldn’t tape the glass back together. Couldn’t get his mom to buy him a new one.

You’d have to wait for the incident to blow over naturally, and just pray that Rafe would drink enough or take enough lines to forget what you’d done for the night.

Left with just yourself now, the music became clearer again.

It was the soundtrack for your sulking as you ridded the kitchen of the remnants of your failed baking attempt.

Afterwards, carrying yourself up the stairs to bandage your fingers proved to be a struggle. Tears casdcaded down, falling profusely while you tended to the wounds your boyfriend had inflicted on you.

…All while Rafe sat downstairs, no mind paid to his girlfriend or the sniffles and whimpers that could be heard faintly from up the stairs.

tagging some moots <3 (lmk if u wanna be tagged!!): @jjmaybankisbae @drewstarkeyslut @rafesthroatbaby @thorsslxve @rafescokenostril @rafeology @blisslove @buffypov @sociorafe

[instantcoughy]

Dark Topper is SO underrated we rly need more of him!!!

》 BURN — topper thornton x reader

word count — 2.8k

warnings — MDNI; dark!topper, kook!reader, mentions of violence/fighting, abusive behavior from topper to reader, rafe’s mentioned so that’s a warning in itself lmao, degradation kinda, swearing, lmk if i’m missing something bc i can’t think!

summary — topper scares you after almost drowning john b. at the beach. you ignore him after that night, until rafe convinces him to pay you a visit. and this time, topper’s ready to prove he’s not just some pushover…

a/n — THIS IS BAD OK LIKE I HATE IT BUT I HAD TO PUT IT OUT THERE. keep in mind i’ve never written for topper or anyone besides rafe soo pls lmk what u think/if u wanna see more 😭 thanks to whoever requested this tho <3 hopefully i didn’t butcher the idea too badly aldufjeodidndn also ignore the pics and the title ok i didn’t know what to do THX

Days had passed since your last interaction with your boyfriend.

Topper was always known to be the level-headed, well-mannered one compared to his Kook counterparts. He feigned a moral compass, unlike Rafe and Kelce.

So his actions at the bonfire last week…scared you, to say the least.

Until you saw your boyfriend holding John B’s head under the water, teeth clenched, veins protruding from his arms and forehead, you couldn’t recall a time you’d actually been scared of your boyfriend.

The same hands that would gently caress your face, same arms that wrapped around you at night, had tried to drown someone.

The same person who’d always made you feel so secure, so safe…suddenly turned into something he would want to protect you from, right in front of your eyes.

“Topper!” Your use of his full name should’ve been enough to pull your boyfriend from the heinous act he was committing. And normally, it would’ve been. But Rafe had gotten in his ear, convinced him that the pogue boy was a problem, and that Rafe’s life wouldn’t be the only one made easier by the absence of John B.

“Topper, stop it!” Your voice cracked as you kept a reasonable distance from the brawl, watching as the two boys took turns driving their fists into each other relentlessly.

“John B.!” Sarah’s voice rang out through the chaos, too. Both of you crying for your boyfriends, knowing there was nothing either of you could do to safely interfere.

The other boys could though, they just chose not to. JJ was too busy egging on his friend, punching the air and jumping around as he encouraged John B. to, “Get his ass! Fuckin’ stomp his kook head in, John B.!”

You’d never seen your boyfriend so violent. Never seen his eyes so dark, void of almost any hue at all as he glared down at the boy who’s neck he was wringing.

It was like a switch had flipped, one you’d only ever known Rafe Cameron to have.

Which, he and Kelce were no better. The kook pair stood by idly, Rafe sporting a look that non-verbally told just how badly he wanted to jump in and help his friend finish the job. “Don’t be a fucking pussy, Top! Man up!” The Cameron boy never offered good advice.

The scene was a mess. A variety of cries and screams fought against the roar of the ocean waves.

Topper eventually stole the upper hand.

When your boyfriend flipped over, claiming a spot on top of John B., you truly thought his next move would be to hoist himself to his feet and leave it at that. He’d already won, if you could even crown a winner in a losing situation like this one. The amount of blood coating John B.’s face and hair made his defeat obvious.

But the crimson liquid was washed away when Topper suddenly fisted a handful of the blonde’s waves and shoved his face under the surface.

You didn’t miss the way the blue water turned a light pink.

And neither did anyone else. Once the collective realization that John B. was no longer fighting back took over, respective friends rushed to the boys’ aid.

You’d stayed at the scene until you could confirm the pogue boy’s safety. Once you saw Kelce claimed Topper and JJ and Pope claimed their friend, you fled from the beach. You stormed right past Topper’s Jeep, returning to your home at Figure 8 on foot.

Topper drove circles around the island, face bloodied from what few hits his opponent did manage, cursing the air at every empty corner.

He’d hoped he’d find you somewhere along the way to your house.

And you did see his familiar olive green Jeep at one point on your journey. Topper just didn’t round the corner fast enough to catch you fling yourself backwards, darting further back from the road.

You were glad he flew past the tree you flung yourself behind. You would’ve done just about anything to avoid him at that moment.

After all, how were you supposed to know what was waiting for you? Who was waiting for you? Clearly, you didn’t even know who you’d been dating for the past few months.

It was one thing to throw a punch or two. The paths of kooks and pogues were bound to cross, and fights were virtually inevitable.

A bruised lip or broken jaw would send someone to the hospital, at best.

But water infiltrating all airways and, filling both lungs… would kill someone.

How could Topper do that? How could your boyfriend do that?

Then your mind jumped to a more morbid thought… what would happen if you made him that mad, too?

You thought about every time you’d so much as struck a nerve of his before.

What if next time, Topper decided not to let the situation simmer?

What if he reacted violently towards you, too?

You didn’t want to find out.

Thinking of being alone with your boyfriend usually made you happy, excited. You looked forward to time together, away from friends and family, just the two of you basking in each other’s company.

But the thought only brought you dread now. You couldn’t face him, not tonight. Not tomorrow.

In fact, when you finally made it home, just you and your thoughts confinded to your bedroom, you weren’t sure when you’d will yourself to see him again.

You could only be sure that it was in your best interest to ignore the calls and texts, pleads from Topper to meet him somewhere, to hear him out.

You’d soon come to regret that decision.

Everything came to a head one particular night. You’d retired to your bedroom, just a small bedside lamp left on to illuminate the pages of the latest book you were enjoying. The stopping point you’d marked was only a page away when a sudden rustling redirected your attention, and your eyes to the window.

You rolled over in your bed and sat up, discarding the novel on the table and facing the window. The sounds grew louder as you rose to your feet.

Slowly, you crept closer. A shaky hand reached out to draw back the curtain…

You gasped when your eyes fell upon the one person you’d been avoiding.

Topper looked stiff, eyes wide as he quickly backed away from the window he was clearly trying to open.

“Top? What are you doing here?”

Topper had never just shown up at your house unannounced before. Let alone in the middle of the night, hanging outside of your bedroom window. Then again, he’d never gone more than an hour without talking to you, more than a day without seeing you before.

“I-I wanted to see you. I needed to talk to you.” He clarified.

“Why are you…at my window?”

His mouth was open, but nothing came out.

Truthfully, Topper was sure some other guy was keeping you company, and he’d planned on sneaking in your room to catch you in the act. “Didn’t wanna wake your parents.” He lied.

There was a moment of silence, eyes meeting and locking until he broke it off, shifting his weight between his feet. Why did he seem nervous?

“I…” You mouth felt dry. You felt uneasy, memories from the past week flooding back. “I don’t think I want you here right now, Topper.” Why did you feel nervous?

He didn’t like your use of his full name. There was a new look on his face now, something you could only equate to…hurt. Hurt, mixed with a growing anger at his girlfriend’s voiced desire to be rid of him.

“You… don’t want me here?” He repeated. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Oh,” His eyes peered past you, scanning over what he could make out of your dimly lit room. “You got somebody in there?”

You knew the house was empty, yet you still found yourself following Topper’s gaze. “No, Topper. I just…” What could you say? “I just wanna be alone right now.” He tilted his head quizzically, pausing to think for a moment.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” He held his phone up, referencing the countless calls and texts he’d been sending. “So, are you fucking somebody else, or what’s going on?” Something about this new tone told you he wouldn’t be leaving so easily. He looked like he wanted to jump through your window already.

“Topper, I just-“

“No, why don’t you wanna see me? Why? Because I stood up for you? Because I didn’t let that piece of shit pogue make a move on you?” His chest puffed out now, the kook naturally trying to take up more space, hoping to come off as intimidating without even really realizing what he was doing.

Rafe’s voice ran rampant in the boy’s mind. ‘You go there, you show up and you give her a reason to get over this little bitch fit she’s been throwing.’ He’d suggested, tired of his friend’s constant complaining and sulking at the absence of his girlfriend.

“No,” Topper decided. He wasn’t going to be a pushover anymore. “No. No, we need to talk right now.” You didn’t like his tone, but the way his voice was raising had your concern shifting to your parents being alerted instead of what might happen if you gave into his request.

You sighed in defeat as you held up a finger, nonverbally asking him to give you a second.

Topper worried you weren’t coming back, almost deciding to try your window again until he heard the sound of your front door opening.

He was already rounding the porch, clearing the distance between the two of you when you poked your head out.

The first thing he did when he made it up the steps was try to embrace you, but you were quick to step back, just out of reach.

The action had Topper’s face falling. He tried again, and you retreated more.

“What?” A look of confusion crossed his features. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

You nervously cleared your throat. “Topper, I… I need you to know that you…” You swallowed hard. “You scared me, the last time I saw you…“

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You took it as a prompt to further explain, to clear up the confusion he felt.

“I don’t wanna feel that way around you.”

“I scared you?” He asked, as if it was the most outlandish thing in the world.

You didn’t miss the way his muscles flexed as he balled his hands into fists. The Thorton boy dug his nails into his palms, working on an outlet for the anger that was now brewing. You ignored him for a week, just to tell him you were scared of him?

“Y/N/N, come on. You know I didn’t-“ He extended an arm towards you again, almost grabbing your wrist, but you backed away again.

“I’m serious, Topper. I don’t ever want you to do something like that again.”

“I was sticking up for you!”

“I was yelling at you to stop! You tried to drown him, Top-“

“And I’d do it again!” Topper couldn’t help but cut you off, jumping from speaking, to yelling.

“I’d do it again to protect you,” He repeated, calmer this time. It took you a few moments to start shaking your head.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, a deep set frown on your face as you stared in disbelief.

Throughout the entirety of your 6 months together, Topper had never even raised his voice at you, unless it was during a round of golf that he took a little too seriously.

Topper didn’t miss the way the distance between you and the door slowly lessened.

“Don’t-“ His expression was unreadable. He looked like he wanted to reach for you again. “Do not go back in that house, Y/N.” Your hand was already gripping the door frame.

“Top… you’re scaring me again. I…” You straightened your posture. “I want you to leave. Please,”

Topper did the opposite. Without warning, his chest was suddenly pressed to yours, hands gripping your upper arms gently as he stepped over the threshold, backing you into the house.

“Topper! What are you-“

“Shh, shh,” Your boyfriend shushed you as he made it in the living room. “Just listen to me.” This assertiveness was a new trait for him, and it made you feel uneasy.

“You’re my girlfriend, okay? If I feel like someone is a threat to you, of course I’m gonna step in and-“

“He wasn’t a threat, Topper! He didn’t even do anything to me!”

“See!” Topper relased his hold on you to slam his palm down on a nearby table. “That’s it! Right there! That’s the shit Rafe was talking about,”

“Rafe?” You asked, unsure if your ears were failing you or not. “What does Rafe have to do with this?”

Topper knew he’d said too much, so he ignored you. “You’re my girlfriend. You shouldn’t be sticking up for those…those fucking filthy pogues!”

You shook your head at him. “You’re being crazy right now, Top…” You hoped maybe the nickname would bring his temper back down.

All he did was laugh, a sarcastic chuckle as he dropped his gaze to his feet, shaking his head now, too. “I’m crazy…” he repeated.

“I’m crazy?” His gaze shot back to you now. “You wanna be a fucking pogue lover, but I’m the crazy one?!”

“Top, you need to leave, now.” You tried again. You didn’t like the way your boyfriend’s features were morphing into ones similar to what you’d seen that night at the bonfire.

Topper didn’t know what came over him. All of the animosity he felt towards you at the radio silence you gave him for weeks had boiled to the top. Any normal girl would’ve been thankful to have a boyfriend who was willing to jump into any situation to defend her honor. You acting like you were scared of him for sticking up for you? Calling him crazy for something he and his friends saw with their own eyes? That’s was it for him.

The kook reared back, palm angled in towards his face before the back of his hand drove forward and struck you across yours.

You didn’t know what happened at first. All you knew was your ears were suddenly ringing, head pounding, hair in disarray across your face.

Your head was whipped to the side, and it wasn’t until you raised a hand to cup your cheek that all of the blood rushed to it, leaving you with a painful sensation that you weren’t sure burned or stung more.

You couldn’t tell how much time passed as you stood frozen. Eventually, you found the courage to turn back to Topper, who looked just as shocked as you were.

His jaw hung open, brows drew up in concern as he weighed what to do next.

“Y/N, come here-“ He was afraid to try to comfort you. And rightfully so, as you wasted no time frantically swatting at his hand. “Get away from me!” You screamed, scrambling away from him and further into the house.

“I-I didn’t mean to do that, Y/N/N. I-you know I would never hurt you,”

You didn’t know that, clearly. The hand that wasn’t consoling your cheek referenced the front door. “Go, Topper!” Your voice cracked, tears beginning to flow as the realization of what just happened started to sink in.

Your boyfriend tried to drown someone. He tried to kill them. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with or see him, too sure that you would be met with that version of Topper, the one you didn’t even know existed.

You told him he scared you, asked him to leave after he tried to sneak in your window, and he…he slapped you. He dismissed your fears, and back-handed you across your face.

You wanted to sob. You wanted to scream, run away and collapse to the floor, all at once. But you to will your scrambled brain to focus on getting him out of the house first.

“Why are you still standing there, Topper?! Get out!” This time, you gritted your teeth and used both hands to push him back.

He stumbled over his feet, just short of tumbling backwards over the threshold if it wasn’t for his quick grip on the frame.

You didn’t give him a chance to redeem himself before you slammed the door in his face, barely missing his fingers before he yanked them back.

Only seconds later, you turned and leaned against the door, sliding slowly to the floor as the sobs you’d been witholding, finally surfaced.

And Topper could hear. He stood, slumped against the door with his forehead leaning against the wood. Your cried and sniffles filled his ears, and the realization of what he’d done filled his mind.

Neither of you could will yourself to move, back to the safety of your room or his car. The two of you simply sunk to the floor, and eventually, the tears started to fall for Topper too.

[instantcoughy]

Reposting @rvfecamerons fics every day (or so) until she comes back bcs her writing is top tier and i'm literally starving for the dark!Rafecameron fics 😝

this might be weird🧍🏾‍♀️can i request a rafe x kook reader! so reader and rafe are like at a party or anywhere u prefer, and both are drunk n rafe wants to get freaky and deaky, so like in the middle of them frickin rafe like is recordin but the reader dosent know until she turns around or opens her eyes, and shes like iffy about it at first but rafe manipulates her into jus going with it, and then like the next he posts it, or shows to all his friends, and reader is jus like so embarrassed and tries to break up with him, BUT HE DOSWNT LET IT HAPPEN, IM SORRY IF THIS IS WEIRD I JUST FEEL LIKE THE REASON RAFE CAMERON WOULD DO THAT

word count — 2.9k

warnings — MDNI; dark!rafe, dom!rafe, recording without consent, voyeurism, manipulation/coercion (could maybe be considered dubcon? idk), praise kink, swearing, degradation, lmk if i’m missing anything pls

a/n — sorry for the delay but tysm for the request bby <3 u guys never need to apologize for requesting something and ur not weird omg we loveee dark rafe over this way LMAO

Most weekends, Rafe could make it at least an hour at a party before he’s pulling you to go fuck in whatever unoccupied space he can find.

Tonight though, he set a new record. Your boyfriend was drunkenly dragging you upstairs not even 20 minutes into the function, even abandoning a winning streak in beer pong to do so.

He tried to hold off, but the way your shorts hugged your hips just right, the way your bikini top perfectly excinuated your tits, got the best of him early on. Honestly, it was a wonder you even made it out of the house without a quick session before.

The two of you were a tangled mess, hands hungrily raking over every inch of each other’s sweaty bodies while tongues and teeth clashed in the midst of the sloppy makeout session you were displaying as you tripped your way up the staircase.

It wasn’t long at all before Rafe had you bent over a random bed, legs spread, giving him a perfect display of your dripping cunt.

He was so tall, your boyfriend didn’t even need to get on his knees behind you on the mattress to fuck. He could just stand in front of the platform bed with you positioned ass up on the edge of the mattress, and still fuck himself into you without any issue.

One hand kept the side of your face pressed firmly down into the mattress while his cock eagerly dragged in and out of your tight folds.

Rafe was huge. Even after months of being together, you could never quite adjust to his size. He had to stretch you out, warm you up to him each time.

The feeling of his cock grazing your walls, stroking your g-spot, the way a set of nails dug into the flesh of your ass as Rafe thrusted into you mercilessly was so encapsulating, you hadn’t noticed the fact that only one hand seemed to have a grip on you for quite some time now. You thought it odd once you picked up on it, since Rafe was very hands on in the bedroom. Both hands generally always had to have a hold on you in some capacity.

When you finally dared to strain your neck for a look back behind you, you were left momentarily blinded.

The bright light confused you, and you were quick to squeeze your eyes shut, taking a second to reset before prying the heavy lids open again.

This time, you fully focused in on the light, which you eventually realized was emitting from Rafe’s phone.

Your boyfriend was recording you.

Without asking. You didn’t even remember him pulling his phone out, it was just there.

Suddenly, you felt exposed. You felt violated, yet the feeling was hard to hone in on when you considered the fact that it was your boyfriend who was holding the camera.

You tried to push yourself up from the mattress at the realization.

“What? What are you-?” Rafe cut you off almost immediately, grabbing a hold of your hair and forcing your head back down.

“Shh, shh, just trust me,” he scolded. He could feel you tensing up underneath him.

“Relax, baby,” His hips temporarily slowed in their movements as he coaxed you softly, and trailing from the back of your head down your spine. He pushed down on your lower back, encouraging you to arch more for him.

You couldn’t miss the glare of the flash now, Rafe making no moves to turn it off even after being caught red-handed.

How could you relax when your boyfriend was recording himself fucking you?

How long did he have his phone out?

“R-Rafe,” You tried, but couldn’t string a reprimand together. It was hard to speak when your breath was being ripped from your lungs with each aggresive thrust of Rafe’s hips.

“Quiet baby, just go with it,” his voice was so low, so sultry and raspy, it made you want to go with absolutely anything he said.

Still, you couldn’t shake the uncomfortableness that came with being recorded in such a vulnerable state, especially without your knowledge.

You mind started to wander off to past nights with Rafe. 

Had he recorded you like this before?

Were there other videos you didn’t know about?

You wondered, but it was hard to spend more than a moment thinking about anything other than the merciless backshots Rafe was currently subjecting you to.

And it was hard to focus on being mad at your boyfriend when he was making you feel so damn good.

The sounds of Rafe’s cock plunging into your wet cunt filled the room, your arousal trickling down your leg and undoubtedly coating the sheets beneath you.

“Such a good little fuckin’ slut for me, takin’ me so deep baby girl,” He was right, you were positive you could feel his pink tip scraping against your cervix every other thrust.

Rafe landed a harsh slap to your ass that was quickly soothed over by his large palm.

You mewled out as the flesh of your ass rippled under his touch, and Rafe couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, amused at your whimpering.

The harsh hold he gained on your face had you inhaling sharply. Rough fingers curled around the bottom of your jaw, tilting your head back, offering you an upside down view of Rafe’s face as he loomed over you.

His jaw hung open, drool practically threatening to fall and eyes all but rolling back in his head as he rutted into you. You tried to ignore the flash in the corner of your eye. You were having a good night with Rafe, he was making you feel amazing; you didn’t want to do or say anything to jeopardize it.

After all, he was just going to keep it to himself, right?

Rafe was too possessive to ever let someone else see you the way only he could, you were sure of it.

Only Rafe could see his girl naked, bent over a stranger’s bed, face looking totally fucked out and hair in disarray as you struggled to take him in his entirety…

Right?

Maybe you should be flattered instead. Appreciate the fact that he wanted to record you, wanted to look at you later when he was alone instead of some random porn site or magazine.

“You like bein’ recorded?”

No, you thought. You knew better than to admit that, though. Rafe clearly didn’t care for your reservations.

You let out another moan, hoping it might satisfy him enough to not press the question any further.

A harsh tug at your hair proved otherwise, though.

He pulled you up, your back meeting his hard chest in the middle before you felt his wet lips brush against your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His voice was stern, and you knew the answer he was looking for, whether it was true or not.

You swallowed hard, somehow managing to get out an unconfident, “y-yes…” before Rafe released you, allowing you to collaspe back down onto the bed.

“You were made for the camera baby, such a pretty girl,” He smoothed over your hair now from behind, and a low moan pulled from the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl, lettin’ me record you so I can look at this wet pussy later… like a good little slut.”

His degrading words mixed with the physical pleasure he was bringing you, was what finally sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Rafe, I-God Rafe, gonna cum…”

“Yeah?” He taunted, free hand snaking underneath you to swirl circles over your clit as he continued pounding into you from behind.

“Gonna make a mess on my cock for the camera, pretty girl?” His words were slurred as they left his lips.

“Mmm, Rafe!” You cried out his name as stars overtook your vision and a high-pitched ringing infiltrated your ears. Rafe continued fucking you through your release, hips never faltering even as your walls pulsated around him, squeezing his dick and prompting his own release.

“Fuck baby,” he drawled out as his hips pistoned into you, shooting multiple loads up your tight pussy. You milked him dry, crying out as he continued fucking you after your orgasm had passed, satiating his own needs now.

The flash finally cut off when Rafe unsheathed himself from your cunt, a mix of both of your juices coating his length. He shivered as the cool air of the room hit his dick, turning to fetch a towel from the bathroom.

Your senses came flooding back to you as you lay catching your breath, and you thought about the reality of what had just happened.

You were propped up on your elbows when Rafe returned from the ensuite, towel in hand as he wiped down his cock, which still appeared to be pretty erect even after such a grand finale.

He flipped the towel over when he reached the bed, one hand moving to spread your thighs while the other swiped the cloth up your folds, ridding you of most of the mess left behind.

“Did so good baby,” Rafe praised as he patted your outer thigh, signaling he was finished.

He chucked the towel behind him before a chaste kiss was placed on your forehead. It was obvious Rafe was trying to avoid talking about what he’d been caught doing.

“You’re not gonna…” you almost cut yourself off there, but you pushed yourself to keep going, “you won’t…show anybody that, will you?” Your voice was quiet and wavering as you spoke.

Rafe’s face twisted into one of confusion, like he couldn’t believe you’d even ask him such a thing.

“Why would I do that?” He simply asked, shrugging, as if it was an obvious answer.

Your eyes jumped to his hand that now trailed up your inner thigh, following it on its descent up your leg. “You think I would let anybody see my girl like that?” His other hand moved to cup the side of your face, which you tilted in to the touch. “This is all for me, baby.”

Even though you still felt unsure, you nodded your head, and Rafe rewarded your compliance with a sloppy, passionate kiss to your lips. One that stole all of your breath and left your lips swollen and red when he finally pulled away.

Your boyfriend knew how to work you. He made it hard to stay mad at him for anything. Rafe kept the cups coming the rest of the night, eager to drown out the incident with more alcohol. You’d all but forgotten the camera by the time you even left the party that night.

—

Rafe decided to hit the course with Topper and Kelce the next morning, giving you a chance to get some things done around the house before you went to meet them for lunch at the club.

You were running a bit late, and knew the boys would already be waiting for you when you got there.

Rounding the entrance of the restaurant, your eyes quickly located the three familiar faces at Rafe’s usual private table in the back corner. You made your way over, noticing first how close they sat to each other.

You had to get a little closer before you saw the phone rotated to the side in front of them, whatever Rafe was showing them captured their attention fully. Three sets of eyes were locked to the screen. Rafe wore a smug look while his friends appeared to be awe struck, just staring at the screen with expressions that were hard to read, but almost looked…lustful. You could’ve sworn you’d seen Topper feverishly tugging at his pant legs at one point, too.

Rafe happened to look up right before you reached the table, and your boyfriend was quick to clear his throat and turn his phone upright again.

The other two boys almost gasped, sitting up straight and clearing their throats as well.

It was obvious you’d just walked in on something, but you tried to feign normalcy as you greeted the trio.

“Hey guys,” you started, offering a small smile and wave before pulling the chair out in front of you.

“H-hey baby,” You couldn’t miss the nervousness in Rafe’s tone, the way his voice cracked right off the bat.

“Whatcha watchin’?” You asked, genuinely curious. You peeked over the table at his phone as you sat down, but the screen was black now.

 His friends shared a look, but no one bothered to speak up.

Your nervous laugh tore through the awkward silence. “You put the phone away pretty quick, babe. What, were you guys looking at a girl or something?” Your tone was playful as you tried to joke with them, but Topper and Kelce still remained silent. They looked…uncomfortable. Like you’d felt last night.

“I, we were uh, just-,” Rafe must have just locked his phone instead of clicking off of the video. Because when he started fiddling with the device out of nervousness, he unlocked it, and the sounds that played aloud had your face turning hot.

The room felt a hundred degrees warmer when your own moans and mewls hit your ears, and the ears of the boys around you. 

Everyone’s eyes went wide, all for different reasons.

Rafe cleared this throat again, coughing a couple of times in an attempt to mask the sound of the video until he could finally click off of it.

But it was too late.

You heard it, and you knew what that meant.

The kook counterparts knew it too, and they were quick to disappate, leaving you with your boyfriend at the private table. Your eyes never left Rafe the entire time they made their exit.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Are you kidding me?!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice now as you confronted the boy in front of you.

“You showed them that?” You tried to hide the wavering in your voice, tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Rafe started glancing around the venue, searching to see if you’d garnered any unwanted attention with your outburst.

“Baby, it’s not that big of a deal-,”

“Not that big of a deal?” You rose to your feet at that, shoving your chair back as you did so. The rumbling of of the dinnerware on the table drew more eyes your way.

“Rafe, how could you do that? That’s, that’s-!” You couldn’t even put a label on the action, because how could you pick just one? Digusting? Intrusive? Disrespectful?

“You’re horrible.” Was what you settled on, gaze narrowed at him as he frowned up at you.

Nothing the oldest Cameron hadn’t heard before.

“You’re sick!” His frown deepened as you hurled another insult at him.

“Look, baby,” Again, Rafe’s eyes scanned the club, even as his head hung low, “could you please not do this here-?”

“We don’t have to do this anywhere,” you corrected, slinging your purse over your shoulder and stepping back from the table.

You shook your head down at Rafe, tears brimming underneath your lashes.

“I’m done.”

That got the boy on his feet.

“Done?” Was all he said, voice much calmer than yours was.

He knew how to make you feel crazy, how to make you look crazy to others when you got into an argument.

Keeping his voice down after he pushed you to raise yours, was one of his tried and true tactics.

“You don’t mean that,” he laughed at the idea of you thinking you could wash your hands of him so easily.

The taller man rounded the table, matching the cautious steps you took backwards with one long step towards you. He cleared the gap you tried to create with ease.

“I do mean that!” You tried to stand your ground, slapping away his large hands when they reached out for you.

He took the opportunity to flip one of his hands around fast, grabbing hold of one of your wrists and yanking you into him. Thankfully, the table was tall and the table cloth concealed the grip he gained on you from the other club members.

You gasped as your bodies collided, eyes falling to Rafe’s hand on your wrist, then shooting back up to his blue eyes which were piercing down into you.

“No,” he corrected, “you don’t.” You winced as he tightened his hold, twisting your skin around your bone painfully to the side.

“Right?” He tried again, voice softer even as his hold was relentless.

“Ahh, ahh, o-okay-!” You half whispered, half yelled when the pain became too much to bare. You would’ve said anything to get him to relinquish his hold in that moment.

“Good,” he gave your wrist one last squeeze before shoving your arm back towards you, “good girl.”

Rafe straightened his shirt back out as he released you, adjusting the collar on his polo. The boy stood up straighter now, chest puffed out, all while you stood frozen in front of him, hand trembling from the stinging grip he’d had on it.

Your boyfriend had responded to your challenge by showing you who truly held the cards. He’s bigger, stronger, more intimidating.

He felt like you belonged to him. He felt a sense of ownership over you.

If Rafe wanted to record his girlfriend during sex, he would. If he wanted to brag to his friends, show off your submissiveness and up his rank with them, he would. And he wouldn’t let his girlfriend make crazy threats about leaving him for it, either.

Again, he checked for any nosey club members looking your way, happy to find most of them had returned back to their own business again.

Rafe lowered himself back down onto the chair, jutting his hips up and manspreading as he settled into the seat.

“I don’t wanna hear you say some stupid shit like that again.” His tone left no room for protests.

“Now sit down so we can order. I’m fucking starved.”

[instantcoughy]

LOOK AFTER YOU

Prompt: An unwell Harry comes home early from the studio early, and you're there to take care of his needy self (requested by this anon submission. Thank you for the suggestion - I hope you enjoy it!)

Sexual Content: dirty talk & handjob

Word Count: 3.3k

“Baby?”

The sound of your husband’s voice carrying from the front door to where you are in the kitchen makes you stop typing on your laptop, a confused frown on your face as you look at the clock in the right-hand corner for the time. Harry wasn’t due home from the studio for another couple of hours, yet here he is. 

You close the lid and rise to stand from the dining table, walking from it to the open doorway. You poke your head around the frame, finding Harry in the hallway toeing off his trainers with a tissue clutched in hand as he tosses his keys into the console table bowl. 

A smile cracks onto your face at the sight of him, a small laugh following, “Well hello, slacker.”

His head turns and he gives you a smile back, but yours drops, because Harry looks pale and clammy when he left the house this morning tanned and healthy. He’s arrived back sick.

“Oh, my poor lamb.” You coo, feet taking you to where he stands by the front door with a pout, “What happened? You were fine only hours ago?”

A heavy shrug and a heavier sigh as he holds your hips once you’re stopped by his feet, “Dunno. I felt fine then, but now I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My head’s splitting, my nose is stuffy as hell ‘n I’m absolutely freezing. I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” You chuckle, forever amused by and ready to diffuse Harry’s dramatic ways whenever he becomes a little bit unwell. Typical man.

Nudging back the peak of his cap, you touch his sweaty forehead with the back of your fingers, finding his temperature a little warmer than it should be. You assess his face, the colour still ghostly and his skin still sheening, while feeling Harry’s eyes do the same all over yours.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

Another laugh from you at his congested-sounding question, your gaze as teasing as your grin to lighten the mood and make him feel better, “Man flu.”

“Bugger off.” He tuts, frowning cutely at you as he pulls you forward to wrap his arms around the small of your back, “Look after me, please?”

“Was already planning on it.” You hum, reaching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek right over the spot where his sweet dimple is deeply etched before pulling back, “In sickness and in health, remember?”

Linking your fingers with his, you lead Harry from the hallway to the living room. He makes a comment about how, actually, you shouldn't be looking after him as he doesn't want you to get sick, too, but you shut him up with a tut, and that's that. You like to look after him when he's poorly, and you know he loves to be looked after. You potentially becoming unwell too doesn't concern you one bit.

Letting go of one another's hands, Harry sits down on the sofa, his backside meeting the corner of the black leather sectional. He huffs and puffs as he goes, which makes you grin as you pick up his sock-covered feet and lift them onto the couch; the cream cable knit blanket thrown over the back of it something you drape over his lap.

“Did you get much done at the studio today?” You ask as you tuck him in, getting the thick material tight around his legs and torso.

“Mhm. Finished up the edit of Satellite, ‘n managed to lay down vocals for another song before my voice gave out.”

“That’s amazing, honey. Very proud of you.” You coo, taking off his cap to tousle his locks and give his scalp a wee scratch; a happy hum from him following the feeling, “Have you managed to come up with a name for that Jezebel track yet?”

With Harry’s eyes pulled closed from the magic your fingers work in his hair, he shakes his head, “Nope. Any suggestions?”

This isn't the first song of his that he’s asked for your help on. With your relationship beginning not long after his debut album came out, Fine Line has your influence all over it whether it be track titles, or some experiences that you've both been through together.

You're his muse, as he's so sweetly put it many times, and you were credited as such. Being married to him is better than any royalties, though; even if you do financially reap the rewards of his extreme success, too.

“It starts off with Little Freak, you Jezebel, right?” You ask, a nod from him as an answer, “Well, how about Little Freak, then? Either that, or Delicate Point of View. I love that line.”

He opens his eyes, a sparkle still held within his stare even when sick, and gives you a bright smile, “Both good options. I like Little Freak a lot. ‘M gonna call it that.”

His response is quickly followed by a coughing episode into the tissue, his face contorting in pain making you pout. You pull the blankets up higher to warm him up some more.

“Alright, that’s enough work talk for now. I’m gonna go get you some water, painkillers for your headache and heat up some soup if you’re feeling up to eating?”

“Yes, please.” Harry nods, wheezing a little after his spluttering episode, “We got any of that baguette left over?”

“Mhm. I’ll bring you a few slices.” “You’re the best, thank you.” He hums, nestling into the couch cushions a little more.

Ducking down, you press a kiss to the top of his head that makes him dreamily sigh, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You promptly return carrying all of the things you stipulated you’d bring. The sight of you makes Harry sit up a little straighter and smile, the love he has for you seen so clearly in his stare. It's like you're the only person in the world for him, which he's told you on countless occasions is the case.

“Missed you. Don’t leave me again.”

His nasally, needy words make you laugh as you set onto his lap the plate holding the buttered baguette slices and bowl of tomato soup that billows steam. You take a seat on the wooden coffee table in front of him, setting the glass of water and pill packet down next to you.

“I was gone for five minutes max.”

“Don’t care.” He shrugs with a smirk, picking up a piece of baguette and giving his focus to the soup, “Fuck, this looks so good. I just know it smells it, too, but my nose is so blocked.”

You prop your chin on the heel of your hand, your elbow on your knee, and tenderly smile as you watch him dip, “How about once that’s finished, you take a nice, hot bath? That might help your sinuses and sore head.”

“Okay, but you’re joining me.” 

His demanding tone pulls another laugh from you as you nod, “Alright, Clingy. I’ll join you. Do I have your permission to leave and run the bath?”

“I suppose, but be quick about it.” Harry teases before taking a bite, a mumbled moan following the mouthful. 

You giggle as he chews, his eyes closed and expression one of appreciation for the food, “Taste good?”

“Tastes amazing.” He corrects, giving you his gaze once more as he swallows, “I fucking love soup. I fucking love you.”

“And I love you, too. Eat first. Tablets after.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You leave Harry to enjoy his food and get to work on drawing up the bath in your bedroom’s en-suite. All of your best products are put into it, along with a few extras that are meant to help when you feel under the weather. You even light a few candles that are dotted around the room and the corner ledge of the tub, just to add a little extra comfort to the atmosphere.

You head back into the living room once the bubble bath is made up to find Harry tipping the rest of the soup into his mouth straight from the bowl. He pulls it away, eyes meeting yours and a smile stretching his face as he swallows. You smile back, happy to see that the food and blanket have brought a little colour back to his cheeks. 

“Ready?”

Harry wipes a corner of his mouth with his thumb, cleaning the liquid off the pad with his puckered lips before giving you a cheeky look up and down along with a smirk, “Are you still joining me for it?” “Of course.” “Then yes I am.”

You laugh at that, Harry standing tall from the sofa. He throws the blanket back over the sofa, and sets the empty dishes down onto the table. You’ll clean those later, after an argument ensues between you both over who’s doing the washing up, of course. That’s always the case.

He pops a painkiller, taking it with the glass of water that he necks, and then the pair of you saunter into the bathroom hand-in-hand; your free one closing the door behind once you’re in. The only source of light comes from the flickering candles, the blinds drawn blocking out the afternoon sun, with heat coming from those as well as the hot bath. It’s cosy – just how you wanted it to be.

Letting go of Harry’s hand, you face him with a smile and nudge your chin his way, “Alright. Let’s get you undressed, yeah?”

You know that he’s fully capable of taking his own clothes off, but you want to do it. You like coddling him when he’s unwell as much as he likes to be coddled. Harry is always a little needier than normal whenever he’s sick, shown already through his words just before. You know he’s more than happy to be babied a bit.

He smiles and nods, and you get to work. His graphic t-shirt is taken off and thrown to the side before you pull down his striped shorts and briefs together in one go. Harry kicks them away once they’re at his ankles, bending down to remove his socks himself that he tosses to join the rest of his clothes until they’re all piled up in the corner of the room, and he’s left as naked as he was the day he was born.

The sight of goosebumps over his skin and his body tightening and trembling makes you frown, your right hand taking a gentle hold of his, “C’mon. Into the bath you go.”

You help him in, your gaze skimming over his bare back and butt as he goes. You can’t help it. The juxtaposition of muscles and squish are too tempting to not.

Harry sinks into the bubbly water and sighs, the sound harmonising with the sloshing as he brings himself into the middle of the large tub. Usually when you bathe together, he lies against the back of the porcelain and has you between his legs, but where he’s sat himself tells you he wants it the other way around today.

You make quick work of stripping as well, an audience of one as you do. Harry might be poorly, but that won’t stop him from ogling your bare body when given the chance.

Your clothes join his, a wolf-whistle heard from him that makes you flip him off while grinning and blushing. Harry chuckles at that as you throw your hair up into a bun while walking to the bath, his sleepy disposition rejuvenating with every look back and forth between your breasts and core.

Stepping into the hot water with the help of his hand, you’re settling in behind him moments later; your legs either side of his hips and back against the tub as his meets your front. His head rests on your shoulder, your cheek lying on top of his hair, and you smile at the set-up; feeling relaxed already.

Harry takes your palms and lays them flat on his stomach, the contours of his abs both solid and soft, as he runs his up and down your arms. You sigh at the feeling provided, so happy to have your love pressed against you. You know Harry feels the same way, because he’s completely melted in your hold. 

Your index finger mindlessly draws circles against his lower abdomen, your eyes feathered shut. It’s quiet between you both with the exception of Harry’s slightly congested breaths and the water lightly lapping due to you both soothing the other with tender touches. 

But upon a soft whimper from Harry, your eyes shoot open. You feel that his torso has stiffened slightly, but from the sound he just made, you just know that it’s not the only thing that has. It seems your touch was a little too tender, and it's turned him on.

A light laugh slips through your lips that now press into his rogue curls as you pause your fingers’ movements, “Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to rile you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry murmurs, head tilting back until he’s staring up at you with hazy eyes and a lazy smile, “Don’t stop, either.”

You giggle again, giving him a teasing glance, “I thought you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m not, but you have the power to make me feel better. Only if you want to, of course.” He counters cheekily, grinning a mile wide.

“Resorting to emotional manipulation…” You tut, shaking your head next, “That’s terrible of you, Mr Styles.”

“Whatever it takes to get my beautiful wife’s hand wrapped around me.”

Your smile grows as you slowly slide your right palm down his happy trail that leads to a very happy place, “Is that what you want, hm?”

“Please.” He hums, tone no longer cocky and instead more desperate-sounding than ever as he nods and wets his bottom lip, “Need it. Need you.”

A gentle gasp from Harry follows and fans across your skin upon you taking a hold of his fully hard cock by its base, his hands leaving your arms to grip the edge of the tub. You give him a soft squeeze, watching as he already starts to fall apart. His brows lift, eyes wire shut and jaw slackens, and you can’t help but grin harder at the gorgeous sight.

“Eyes on me, H.” You murmur quietly, but the cadence in which you speak is commanding enough that he gives you what you asked for.

Harry has let them flutter open, and you’re shown blown-out pupils that beg for more. More that you very much intend on giving him.

“Keep ‘em open, honey. Want you to see just how much I love to look after you.”

Another small moan slips out from his parted lips, your words something he clearly found pleasure in. You catch on to him gulping hard, his gaze darting between yours in anticipation of what’s to come.

You don’t hesitate to start pleasing him, your hand around his length slowly moving up. You lightly squeeze the tip when you reach it, wrist twisting before gliding back down; Harry’s breath stuck in his throat as he watches you intently. 

But upon slipping your other hand from his stomach to his toned thighs that you pry open a little so you can reach his balls, that breath comes out as a guttural groan. You smirk at the reaction as you palm him in two places, his body back to melting against you having once more become putty to your touch.

“Feeling better yet?” You ask, your tone as teasing as your expression.

Harry collects himself and gives you the same look back, “Getting there.”

You continue to squeeze and stroke him, picking up the pace of the latter a tad. The water splashing around with the heightened speed of your hand harmonises with the pants and whimpers that pour from him so unabashedly and sexily.

You're as turned on by what you hear and see as Harry is with what he feels. Those sweet whines. Curls a little damp from the humidity strewn across his forehead. Cheeks rosy. Irises black. Candy floss-coloured lips glossy and parted. Expression euphoric. Hands white-knuckling the tub, the silver wedding band on his left one that’s a perfect partner to your own glinting under the candle light. Your husband is a dream always, but especially when you’re making his come true.

“How about now?” You question, a challenging bite to your tone.

He tries to speak, but no words come out. You’ve got Harry tongue-tied, your hands on his cock and balls so good that he’s been rendered speechless. All that leaves his mouth are rugged moans, and the sound of them, as well as the sight of him coming undone, sends even more tingles straight to your cunt.

As much as you’d love to be touched there right now, this isn’t about you. You get pleasure giving it to your husband anyway, so you’re more than happy to physically forgo it for his sake. You know he’ll repay the favour anyway. Harry isn’t selfish when it comes to sexual acts, even when he’s sick. 

You can tell that he’s nearing his end from the way his body wriggles ever so slightly, along with how he’s trying to fight his heavying lids. All that does is spur you on, too excited to see what will be a gorgeous reaction when he climaxes. It always is.

“Got my hand fucking your cock so good you can’t even speak.” You murmur, fully aware that a little bit of dirty talk goes a long way with Harry, especially when it’s a little demeaning, “You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

Harry nods fast, swallowing so hard you know it has to be painful. More groans follow that action, his face flushed and fucked-out.

Upon his thighs now tensing and feet struggling to maintain their footing, you lightly squeeze both his tip and balls in unison; his high hitting him hard. Harry shakes in your hold as he releases, the water you both bathe in graced by his load. You don't care, though, and you know he won't either. Not when almost every part of you has been covered in his come at some point in your relationship, and you can both easily shower together once you’re out of the tub.

A moaned mixture of your name and praise leaves him, the inability to talk no match for how badly Harry had to thank you. His words spoken are as stunning as the vision that you knew he would be, his eyes locked on yours and pure bliss etched onto every beautiful feature he possesses as much as it drips from his grateful tongue.

You slow your strokes to an eventual stop, Harry left mewling for more despite being spent. You slip your hands out from under the water to glide them up and down his jittering stomach, smiling at that and the way he looks so wiped out.

"Feeling healed?"

He croakily chuckles and nods, "Feeling heavenly, actually. Just what the doctor ordered."

"More like the needy patient." You tease, pressing a kiss to his slightly sweaty temple.

"Gimme five minutes for my soul to return to my body 'n you'll regret calling me needy, baby."

You pull back with raised brows and a smirk, finding Harry grinning at you, "Is that so?"

"Mhm. 'M gonna-"

With his face contorting fast and head turning away from you even faster, a loud sneeze cuts off his sexy little threat. You can't help but laugh loudly, earning his frowning attention that's fighting a battle with the smile he so desperately wants to give you.

You let the sound fade out a little, but your amusement doesn't lessen an ounce, "Think we oughta put a pin in those plans of yours, honey. Don't you?"

"I think you're right." Harry huffs, now back to giving you a pout and puppy dog eyes, "'M definitely dying. Hold me close. Never let go. Say something nice at my funeral, please."

You giggle at his dramatics, more than happy to feed into the theatrics a tad, "Anything else?"

Harry puckers his lips now, "Kissy?"

"Kissy." You nod, bringing your grin to meet the one worn by the very clingy, but cute, love of your life.

[instantcoughy]

It's a lifestyle 😌

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[instantcoughy]

Thinking about dark overprotective Rafe Cameron with pregnant clumsy reader 🥹💕

Love Plus One

A/N: i hope this lives up to your fantasies 😉

Warnings: noncon/forced sex, coercion, smut, forced pregnancy (but reader doesn’t know), pregnant sex, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, choking, slut shaming, slapping, controlling behavior, threats of violence, reader has some negative thoughts about her pregnant body

After the first time that you slipped in the shower without Rafe there to catch you, despite that fact that you had easily caught yourself before falling, Rafe had made you promise to not take any more showers without him. “If I had been there, you probably wouldn’t have slipped in the first place,” he grumbled.

Rafe suddenly became very involved in prepping and cooking meals for you. He gave you plenty of options, planning weekly menus for you and shopping accordingly, all to make sure that both you, and his baby, were getting all of the nutrients you needed. Rafe always did love your cooking, but now he chose to cook for you practically every night. “You shouldn’t have to be running around the kitchen when you’re pregnant, baby.”

You noticed one day that there was a location tracking app on your phone that you hadn’t downloaded, when you angrily asked Rafe about it, the look of worry on his face almost made you want to cry, “I just get anxious when you’re out sweetheart. The world is full of men that would love nothing more than to hurt you, and I did that to make sure you were staying safe, Y/N.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and your growing belly, which was now beginning to show much more. After that you apologized to him for getting mad about it, giving him a big hug.

Rafe would want to spend all of his time with you, which you found cute at first, but after a while, you started to feel a bit suffocated by him. Your boyfriend was so concerned about “keeping you safe” that he would barely allow you to leave your shared house.

Even walking around the neighborhood or, god forbid, running, was completely off limits.

You knew that it was because you were clumsy, he was right. You always had been, but now was not the time for being accident prone. Not when you had Rafe Cameron’s child growing inside of you.

However, you did feel like at times he could be overprotective of you. Even demeaning occasionally. Like he didn’t trust you to make your own decisions.

When you drove to the store at just 4 months pregnant, Rafe called you 5 times before you finally picked up. You had just wanted to get out of the house for a bit and enjoy the spring air while getting some chores done, but when you returned home one would have thought that you had been skiing on Mount Everest, given Rafe’s reaction. “Why would you leave without telling me? I would have gone to the store for you, Y/N! You shouldn’t have even been carrying those bags by yourself!” Pointing out how little you had actually ended up purchasing, just two plastic bags worth of things, was pointless. “You could have fallen or-or some guy could have kidnapped you!” He huffed, and you could feel the list of locations you could go alone, or even with Rafe, dwindling down to only one place, your apartment.

Rafe had always been incredibly touchy with you, one of the reasons you had gotten pregnant with his baby in the first place. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, you had just always imagined that it would have been different, you would be older and married, and living in a 2 story house with your husband of several years.

Instead, here you were, still in your early 20s, pregnant with your boyfriend of 3 years’ child. You loved Rafe and could see yourself marrying him one day, but you were both still so young! Getting pregnant this early had never been in the plans.

Despite using birth control and condoms, you had somehow gotten pregnant, a fact that took you a while to accept, and after Rafe urged you to not get an abortion, you begrudgingly accepted that you were going to be a mother a couple years sooner than expected.

Of course, you had no idea that this was no accident at all. Rafe had been swapping out your birth control pills for placebos and poking holes in every condom he put on. Of course one of his favorite things about you being pregnant was that he could finally fuck you raw now.

Pregnancy hormones had definitely upped your libido at the beginning of your pregnancy, a fact that thrilled Rafe. He had never felt so desired by you, and he was more than happy to oblige with all of your requests.

Anytime you were feeling under the weather or upset about something, Rafe would coax you into bed and eat you out for what felt like hours. He loved your changing body so much, always kissing and sucking on your full, sensitive breasts and rubbing your growing tummy. The blond would slowly delve between your plush thighs, gingerly kissing and nipping at your soft skin before turning his attention to your already slick pussy, eagerly lapping up your juices and teasing your clit.

Rafe loved to satisfy you, but he also loved to draw it out as long as possible, keeping you on the brink of coming for ten minutes before finally giving in to your begging whimpers. He loved the feeling of you coming on his tongue, the way you tasted and how you squirmed in his grasp, tears forming in your eyes when you whined that it was too much for you.

You would come again just from him teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your messy slit and tapping it against your already tender clit.

When he pushed all of himself inside of you, you hissed in a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

Rafe loved watching your face as he fucked you, the way your eyes would unfocus as you looked up at him, your plump lips separating and the beautiful sound of your moans and whimpers was almost enough to make him bury his load in you immediately, but feeling your tight cunt squeezing his cock was a feeling he didn’t want to give up just yet.

He plunged himself into your dripping pussy over and over again, filling you up in a way that made your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling as you clung to him.

After you came a third time, tensing around him and crying as you mindlessly babbled through whimpers, Rafe’s large hand covered your mouth, and the doe eyes you gave him as he frantically rutted into you made him spill all of his warm cum into your soaked cunt.

Every time he pulled out of you, he would reach for your sensitive pussy, spreading your lips and watching his cum begin to drip out of you before pushing it deeper inside your pussy with two fingers. God he wished he could get you pregnant again while you were already pregnant. Just one kid wasn’t enough for Rafe Cameron, and unbeknownst to you, he had plans for the two of you to have a large family.

Gradually, as your body changed, so did your sex drive. Rafe showered you with compliments as always, reminding you constantly how much he loved your body and the way it looked now, which made you a bit torn. Personally, you felt you were now less desirable, and it made you much more reluctant to give in to his high demands.

Rafe respected your boundaries at first, although he never failed to complain about his needs not being met, and even though you were sure of your decisions, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you couldn’t satisfy him sexually every night.

After a full week of you denying him, Rafe was fed up with your ‘no’s’

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sex tonight Rafe,” you nervously stammered. “I’m just not feeling the best about my body right now.”

“So let me make you feel good baby,” Rafe purred in your ear, sensually rubbing your thighs, which you were squeezing together.

You still didn’t feel up to having sex tonight, and you told your boyfriend as much, but it was like he wasn’t listening to you.

His fingers creeped down your thighs, his strong arms slowly pried your legs apart and you flinched when he began rubbing you over the fabric of your shorts.

“Rafe, please.” You begged with him, anxiety building in your chest when he still didn’t stop.

“Please what?” He mocked you, slipping his fingers past your panties and teasing your clit. You squirmed in his grasp, a sick feeling settling in your gut when you realized Rafe was determined to get what he wanted.

When you tried to push his hand away, the other flew out, slapping you across the face, hard enough to shock you without leaving a mark.

“Stop fucking moving!” He shouted at you and you could feel tears welling behind your eyes. “You’re gonna hurt our baby.”

You tried to tell him that you didn’t want to have to fight off your boyfriend of 3 years, that you were only resisting in the first place because he hadn’t respected your ‘no,’ but when Rafe pushed all of himself inside of you with one thrust, your mind went blank and you froze beneath him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, arms shaking slightly as he basked in the feeling of your unprepared cunt squeezing his cock. “I swear to god, you’ve only gotten tighter, baby. Y’feel so good.”

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, from both physical discomfort and distress at what your boyfriend was doing to you, the way he was violating you.

Every stroke of his cock was agonizing, and even after your body had adjusted and it began to feel good, the fact that you hadn’t wanted this at all tainted the entire experience. You felt ashamed by the delicious way his cock stretched you out and how your body reacted to his touch.

You had given up fighting back altogether, Rafe’s thinly veiled threat echoing in your ears every time you wanted to push him off of you, although his hands had yours gripped so tight, there was no chance you could have gotten away.

You were scared because Rafe was hurting you, but you were even more terrified at the thought of him hurting your baby.

When your release hit you unexpectedly, you felt utterly betrayed by your body. Your tear choked whimpers filled the room as you came around him, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Rafe plunging his cock into you repeatedly.

Rafe sneered down at you as he snapped his hips against yours, “I thought you didn’t want this, hm? So reluctant until I stuff my cock in you and then you can’t get enough.”

His words made your face burn with shame, and your stomach flipped in disgust at both him and yourself.

When his free hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes widened and you jerked against his touch, but his hold on you was unwavering and unforgiving.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all over me just because you’re pregnant.” Rafe seethed, his pace picking up as he chased his release. “You’ve got my kid growing inside you. Just means you belong to me now even more than you did before.”

His fingers tightened around your throat as he came, choking you so hard your vision started to grow fuzzy and black around the edges. The feeling of his sticky cum coating your walls made you want to throw up.

Rafe pulled out and you realized was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything he said, you just nodded numbly, trying to come back to reality as your ears rang and his muffled voice filled the tense air that was permeating the room.

“-maybe now you’ll actually fucking listen to me,” he rambled on, and as you nervously laid in bed beside him, trying to doze off and forget everything that he had just done to you, you realized you were utterly terrified of your boyfriend.

[instantcoughy]

》 TOXIC pt. I -- rafe cameron x reader

{ series masterlist }

word count: 3.2k+

warnings — MDNI; toxic!babydaddy!rafe, mean!rafe, dom!rafe, domestic violence, noncon/dubcon (forced bj), degradation, humiliation, manipulation, jealousy, choking, cussing, reader's daughter sees/hears them arguing for 2 seconds, kinda more ooc rafe but still toxic af, lmk if i’m missing anything else??

summary — rafe is your high school boyfriend turned toxic baby daddy. when you ask him to watch your 4 year-old daughter an extra night, he's not hapy to learn it's so you could go out on a date. he reminds you who you belong to, and that you'll never truly be free of him.

a/n — WOW almost 600 notes on my first fic ever, thank you all SM for the love!! thanks to everyone who voted in the poll!! toxic!babydaddy!rafe won so here ya go :) BEGGING FOR FEEDBACK PLSS ty to the lovelies who left comments or reblogs with comments! and shoutout to my new followers too!!

The sound of the doorbell rang through your house, followed by the excited chanting of your daughter, signaling the arrival of the bane of your existance.

You slide the last earring through your ear, eyes darting from the mirror you’re perched in front of, to the alarm clock on your night stand.

6:33pm.

Over an hour past the time you’d been nailing into his head for a week straight. This was nothing new for your toxic ex. God, you were disgusted with the word.

The two of you started dating your sophomore year of high school. He was a senior, tall, handsome, rich, one of the most popular guys in school with a reputation that preceeded him. You’d heard the rumors, but God, that face… that charm, he knew exactly what to say to reel you in. He was your first for everything. You were young and naive, longing for the typical high school sweetheart scenario to play out for you.

…But nothing was sweet about your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Your crush turned out to be controlling, demeaning, rude, posessive, abusive, in many instances.

Three months into the relationship, on your 16th birthday, Rafe bought you a brand new phone. That same night, his posessive behavior made its first obvious appearance.

Specifically, the beginning of what would become an obsession with tracking your location, knowing your every move.

The night you turned 18, he rented a building and threw you the party of your dreams, complete with all of your loved ones and more gifts than you could count.

…Your 18th birthday was also the very first night Rafe ever hit you. The first time he’d called you a whore, in the dress he bought for you.

Once you were convinced it was your fault he’d resorted to hitting you, Rafe knew he’d soldified a way of getting you to do what he asked. What he demanded. If you let it slide once, clearly you were okay with it, right?

When you started college, the oppressive behavior intensified. He’d convinced you to stay in town for school, talked you out of your dream of living on campus. College parties were also definitely out of the question with Rafe in the picture.

Your friends finally talked you into leasing an off-campus house with them the summer before your sophomore year, and Rafe was furious.

Why would you choose them over him?

Why did you have to live on campus to go to class?

He knew why.

There was obviously someone there you wanted to get fucked by.

Like a true fucking whore.

Like any other girl he’d ever spared more than a night to.

Your location was under constant surveillance, unbeknownst to you. You were persistently subjected to berating texts and phone calls, sometimes even from random numbers, Rafe convinced he would catch you in a lie at some point.

Safe to say, you came to your senses very shortly after moving on campus, with the motivation and encouragement of your friends.

You finally mustered the courage to leave the relationship, though the task was easier said than done.

Your wishes to be rid of the kook didn’t stop him from showing up on your doorstep while your friends were out one night, his demeanor unreadable.

The two empty bottles of wine by your trash bin had long sent any clear judgement you wouldn’t have had out the window. It also kept the fact that you’d never even given Rafe your new address, from coming to mind.

You didn’t plan on moving any further than the living room. But your plans were always negated by Rafe’s. He knew what to say to make you literally bend to his will.

Fucking Rafe one last time was a decision made for your own benefit, reassuring yourself you were doing this to satisfy your needs, not his.

And that was supposed to be that. You couldn’t explain the power you felt as he’d walked out of the door without having to be pushed for once. You shut it quickly out of habit, watching from the window as the most chaotic, exhausting chapter of your life casually strolled away, stealing one last glance at his truck before it disappeared around the corner. You remember being shocked at how easy he seemed to be taking everything, especially considering his past behavior.

…So imagine your surprise when you’re springing out of the comforts of your bed a month and a half later, hunching over the toilet as the contents of your stomach spill out, the sun ascending for the day in the window behind you.

You knew this couldn't be good…

…Just as sure as Rafe knew he had to do something to yield himself another chance, and he knew showing up angry wasn’t going to work.

So, he took a different approach. The man was actually nice for once. Apologetic, understanding even, of this newfound space you were craving.

Getting you to stop talking and spread your legs for him, to beg him to touch you, was easy. He never had to do much to warrant that in the first place.

Trying to keep his dick hard, acting like he didn’t just finish inside of you shortly after? Significantly harder.

He could hardly conceal the smirk he wore on his way out, overwhelmed by the satisfaction he felt as the wheels of his plan began to turn.

You spent your pregnancy suffocated by Rafe’s constant presence. You told him you wouldn’t be getting back with him just for the baby, but that didn’t matter much when he’d established a permanent 18-year link to you already.

He rented out a condo for you and the baby, offering to let you be 'by yourself' as long as he had access to your place. To make sure you were safe, obviously. That was definitely the only reason why.

He did his best to keep his temper down while you were carrying his baby, but you both knew he was bound to slip back through the cracks at some point. Which of course, he did.

The whole town knew you were having Rafe’s baby. That gossip burned brighter than the news that you’d dropped out of college, not even three semesters under your belt.

Rafe’s possessiveness only grew the more your stomach did. He hardly let you leave the house, or even have friends over. He couldn’t risk you confiding in anyone about his… slip ups, especially while you were expecting.

With the two of you technically split, a nasty custody battle ensued when she was born. Rafe agreed to give you main guardianship of your daughter.

He never really cared to have full custody in the first place, he simply just enjoyed dragging you through hell. You were sure of it. Still, you’d generously, privately offered him the opportunity to see her anytime he wanted, despite the court agreement. Rafe only ever made the minimal effort though, mainly just showing up on the weekends he was legally allotted.

But never on fucking time.

As years passed, you often pondered how big of a ‘coincidence’ the timing of your pregnancy was, in relation to your breakup.

Those thoughts, and the fact that you literally grew and birthed an entire human helped form the backbone you needed to start standing up to Rafe and his antics over the years.

Normally, you’d just cuss him out for being late to pick up your 4 year old. It wasn’t anything you both weren’t used to already.

Tonight, though, was the very first time you were going out on an actual date, since your split from Rafe.

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Rafe’s advances, even after your breakup if you could call it that. After all, he was your first love, first kiss, first time. The only person you’d ever been with. He knew you’d be reluctant to move on.

…Until tonight. So his tardiness was a big deal.

And leave it to Rafe to ruin any chance you might have had, before it even began.

The tall blonde’s eyes meet your daughter’s first when you pull the front door towards you, her back hitting your shins as she quickly jumped out of the way, even though there was no chance you’d let the door hit her in the first place.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” Like any kid, she loved repeating things.

“Hey! There’s my little princess,” You watch as Rafe scoops her up in his arms, laughing and smothering her with kisses as she giggles and pretends to wipe them away.

You almost crack a smile at the sight… until you remember the asshole her affection was directed at.

Rafe was late.

Again.

You could count on one hand how many times he’d actually managed to show up on time for his visits or weekends.

Which was ironic, considering how hard he’d made you fight for main custody of your little girl. Then again, he’d always promised he’d sooner ‘ruin your fucking life’ before he’d let you take his daughter away from him.

Rafe finishes greeting your daughter before lowering her down gently, her tiny feet planting on the hardwood. She instantly took off towards her playroom, her excitement rejuvenated by the arrival of her daddy.

The blonde’s eyes finally meet your own, but it’s over in a a second, and he’s scanning your figure from top to bottom.

His eyes first fell to the tight black dress you were sporting, hugging the curves that were a result of your daughter. Your tits practically threatening to spill out of the sweetheart neckline.

You also wore black heels, open-toed to show off your french tips, with straps wrapped around your ankles and tied at the top.

Your lips were painted a soft red, and you pursed them out as you glared up at him.

“And where do you think you’re-“ you cut him off once you’re sure your daughter is out of ear-shot.

“You know, she’s not a fucking baby, Rafe. She knows when her daddy is bullshitting her,” you start, eyes narrowed as you shove your daughter’s overnight bag into his chest, “And so do I.”

He takes it, eyes still glued to yours.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He offers another glance at your chest, before his eyes join yours again.

“Out.” A single word is all you offer before turning on your heels, off to retrieve your purse and keys.

As you spin around, the sound of your phone falling to the floor follows your words.

Rafe wasted no time retrieving it before you even had time to turn back around.

You could see the screen light up, reflecting off of his blue orbs.

Trevor: Just let me know when ur ready, I’ll be there :)

Trevor? Who the fuck was Trevor?

His hands are instantly shaking, and subsequently, so was the phone. It was almost like he could feel the anger seeping in through the hand that held the device, pulsing through his entire being within seconds.

You’re quick to snatch it from him, but Rafe is quicker. He yanks his arm back, holding it out of your reach. He throws his other arm out, blocking you from getting close enough to try to grab it again.

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” He demanded, and you frustratingly rolled your eyes.

“Give me my phone, Rafe! That’s none of your business-“

“Bullshit!” He’s raising his voice now. A sarcastic laugh escapes his lips as he shakes his head.

“You’re gonna bring this fucking loser around my fucking daughter?” He’s stepping closer now, motioning towards the play room with the hand gripping your phone.

You should've known. You felt stupid for even trying to put yourself out there again, given the baggage you clearly couldn’t seem to shake on this island.

A loud scoff pulls you from your thoughts, followed by a, “fucking unbelievable.”

Rafe has a hand on his hip and one aggressively swiping over his face as he turns away from you slowly. You think he might be retreating, until he immediately spins back around, lifting an accusing finger in your direction.

“I’m picking up extra fucking nights so you can go be a whore?” You didn’t realize seeing his own daughter was such a daunting task.

“What kind of fucked up mother are you?”

Suddenly, you were hit with a deep pang of insecurity. You’d spent weeks, months even, contemplating if welcoming a new man into your life, taking time away from your daughter to go on dates and get to know someone, would land you in the ‘bad mom’ category.

“Y-you were supposed to be gone already, I-“

In an instant, Rafe had tossed your phone, taking just two long strides to get to you. His hand grips your jaw tight, thumbs curling into the ridge between your neck and your jawline.

He uses his grip on your column to guide you backwards towards a wall, which he immediately forced your back against.

You’re cut off by your own gasp as his other hand grips your upper arm.

“I would probably just shut the fuck up if I were you right now,”

You wrapped your hands around his wrists, nails carving into his skin as he shook you harshly.

“R-Rafe! Stop,” you struggle against the strong figure before you, pushing and scratching at him, “Stop it! Our daughter is in there-“

“Then maybe my daughter’s whore of a mother better shut her fucking mouth, shouldn’t she?” He brought his fingers to your cheeks, squeezing hard and forcing your lips apart.

He takes the opportunity to force his thumb into your mouth, pressing flat on your tongue.

You instinctively wrap your lips around the digit, almost swirling your tongue before you caught yourself.

The action has Rafe delivering a swift slap to your cheek, mumbling under his breath, labeling you a, “Fucking slut…”

You hear your daughter laughing at her favorite show down the hall, silently praying that she doesn’t come out of her room.

“Did you think you were gonna fuck him,” he seethes, “in the house that I pay for? Nah, you'd have to be a dumb bitch,” he laughs again, and this time you gather all of the strength you have to shove him away from you. He stumbles back, but his hands never leave you.

You couldn’t even think about being sexual with someone else yet. Just going on a date was a high enough limb to climb out on for you.

But of course, that’s not the way Rafe saw things.

“Rafe, stop!” You try again, failure confirmed as Rafe moved his hand from your arm to your hair, nails scratching at your scalp as he yanks your head to the side, craning your neck up in an angle so unnatural, you can’t help but to cry out.

It doesn’t take more than 10 seconds to hear the sound of your daughter’s footsteps.

“Mommy?” You peer past Rafe, eyes falling on your daughter as she appeared in the foyer. She looked so unsure as she stood yards away, taking in the scene before her. “Mommy are you okay?”

“Mommy’s fine baby. Y/D/N, go upstairs okay? Mommy will come get you in just a sec-“ you wince as Rafe tightens his grip on your hair, “a second,”

“Daddy?” Tears were starting to fall. Just 4 years old, but even she could see the situation wasn’t right. Why couldn’t Rafe, a grown man?

“Mommy and daddy are just talking,” Rafe informs his daughter, calmer than he’d just addressed you and without breaking eye contact, “head upstairs, princess.”

You could tell she was more than reluctant, but your daughter’s feet eventually carry her up the staircase, presumably to her bedroom.

Which left you completely alone with Rafe. Not that a 4 year old was any deterrant, but it gave you peace of mind to think that his temper might not be as explosive with his daughter around.

Rafe’s hand in your hair shifts to the top of your head, and he’s suddenly pushing your head down.

“Knees.”

You blink away tears as you shake your head slowly, “Rafe, please,”

“You wanna cause a scene? You want her to come back down here? Hmm?”

The thought worried you more than anything.

He responds to your silence by once again shoving your head down.

This time, you do collapse to your knees, wiping away a few tears as he starts fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Now you’re gonna be a good girl and suck daddy off,” he slides his pants down, boxers following suit to reveal his hard erection, slapping up against his stomach, “and maybe I might forget about this fucking little stunt you tried to pull, hmm?”

He released your hair, only to use both hands to pull your locks into a makeshift ponytail.

“Open that fucking mouth, don’t make me tell you again.”

He pumps his dick a few times before bringing the tip towards you, tapping it on your lips.

You're denied time to prepare before he’s shoving himself into your mouth, the warm, wet hole fully enveloping every inch of him.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, hips snapping against your face at a steady pace.

As if a switch flipped, Rafe’s thursts become quicker and rougher as he breathed out, “Nobody else can have this fucking mouth, got it?”

Dirty blonde strands of hair stuck to the beads of sweat on his forehead, his mouth hanging open as his eyes were trained on where your mouth and his dick connected.

He reaches his unoccupied hand down and tugs on the neckline of your dress, pulling it down to reveal your tits, two of his favorite things in the world.

He brings that same hand to one of your nipples, massaging and plucking at it while continuing to subject you to the brutal pace of his thrusts.

The boy can’t help but groan down at the sight of you. Hair dissheveled, mascara running, foundation smuged with drool dripping down your chin, the sounds of you choking around his cock like music to his ears. Your eyes pleaded up at him, silently begging him to spare you anymore embarassment. Unfortunately, the teary, sorrowful look only further egged him on. Your fear, your submissiveness, turned him on.

You'd resigned your hands to gripping the sides of his legs to steady yourself as Rafe continued driving himself into your mouth, the back of your head hitting the wall with almost every thrust as he held the temporary ponytail off to the side.

"Gonna cum..." he starts, grip tightening on your hair.

You brace yourself, mentally preparing for the hot liquid to spill back into your throat.

Only this time, Rafe quickly pulls out of your mouth at the last second, and your eyes squeeze shut just in time, sparing them of his warm seed.

Your face, however, was not spared.

Rafe continued pumping his dick in his palm as he painted your face, his seed mixing with your hot tears and saliva.

Your jaw dropped voluntarily this time, at what felt like a sudden intrusion, like an even bigger violation than the one he'd just committed.

He knew you had plans. He found out you were putting your own desires over him, and he had to ruin it.

"Go see your fucking date now," he chuckles as he pulls his pants and boxers back up to his waist, "show em' who you really belong to."

With that, he fastens his belt buckle and offers you a pat on the back before he casually makes his way to the staircase, going to check in on your daughter.

You're left slumped on the floor, knees weak and your head spinning. You had no choice but to wipe the remnants of Rafe from your eyelids with the backs of your hands, before shakily rising to your feet to find your phone.

The sound of your daughter laughing with her dad in the distance reached your ears just as your eyes spotted the pink phone case peeking out from underneath the couch. A tap of the now cracked screen revealed a missed call and text from Trevor.

You didn't try to stop the tears from falling as you unlocked it, fingers trembling as you offered a very late reply.

Y/N: Can't make it tonight. I'm sorry.

[instantcoughy]

This one still tears me up incredible writing fr 💗💗

》 ROMANTIC HOMICIDE — rafe cameron x reader

{ main masterlist }

word count — 5k 😮‍💨

warnings — MDNI; EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT; NOT A LIGHT READ; MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (reader 😔), mentions of murder/suicide, abusive relationship/DV, gun use (almost), swearing, manipulation/coercion, abusive!ex!rafe, dark!rafe, literally too much to name so just pls don’t read if u don’t like dark fics bc this is DARK. like dark dark.

summary — you end things with rafe after things escalate and he gets physical with you one night. if only you knew, there was only one way out of a relationship with rafe cameron…

a/n — so sorry this took FOREVER to the person who requested it. kind of rushed through to finish it so ignore any mistakes or anything. also never wrote a death scene before so bare with me 😫

& THANK YOU FOR 700 FOLLOWERS 😫 i’m so so grateful to have come across this sweet lil community and i loveee writing for you guys. pls read w/ caution but if u do read, i hope u enjoy alsjdididn that sounds so bad but YK WHAT I MEAN LOL LOVE U GUYS

pro tip: listen to romantic homicide by d4vd while u read 😮‍💨

Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest, muscles tight as he shifted nervously in the seat of his truck.

His gaze continuously darted from your ring in his hands, up to the light flooding through your bedroom window.

He wished he was parking his truck for anything other than dropping off the last teather he had to you… but here he was clutching your mom’s ring, so tiny in his hand, compared to how bulky it looked on your dainty finger.

By this point, he’d lost track of how much time he’d been loitering outside, waiting to text you… not that it mattered. Time was on his side.

According to social media, your parents were in Ibiza for the weekend, leaving you to watch over the home…

You didn’t want your parents to go. But who were you to deny them a second honeymoon that the pair so greatly deserved? They’d been reluctant to leave you, too, but the trip was already booked before your nasty breakup. Before you met the side of your ex that the entire town tried to warn you about.

The start of your relationship with Rafe could only be compared to that from a dream, or a movie. You were constantly showered with gifts, from a new phone to designer clothes or fancy jewelry. The trips were endless, his family always taking the yacht or the jet somewhere to getaway for a couple of days.

And space was…nonexistant. On the off chance that you weren’t together physically, it seemed like Rafe’s texts, calls and random pop-ups never seemed to let up.

The gifts only did so much, since you came from money, too. But no families’ wealth and assets could even hold a candle to that of the Cameron’s.

And such a grand fortune almost always paired with power, influence, notoriety… and if being the eldest son of the most powerful family on the island was all you knew, you might end up being just like Rafe Cameron, too.

You might also end up way in over your head in a relationship like Rafe Cameron, too.

Rafe had always wanted love. He’d never admit it, of course, that’s not what men do. But he’d always longed for a love that could be his with no conditions.

His own dad only liked him when he could help him, particularly with things only Rafe would risk his freedom to do, just hoping for an ounce of approval in return.

Rose… well, Rose never liked him, and she’d be the first to own up to her hatred for the boy.

Wheezie used to like Rafe, but after his falling out with their sister, a seed of resentment was even planted in the youngest Cameron, too.

And Sarah… didn’t matter. She never liked Rafe. She was always against him, even when they were kids.

But you…you loved him. You had no problem saying it, showing it, letting everyone else know.

You were a beacon of light in what Rafe had previously deemed to be a cruel, dark, cold world. You’d taught him how to show and recieve genuine affection, something he had no real recollections of, as far back as his memory could stretch.

The night you decided to dim the light of the relationship, Rafe felt blindsided. He felt betrayed, hurt, double-crossed. He’d played the final scenes of your relationship in his head everyday since.

He always wanted to do right by you. He wanted to protect you, love you, trust you…but trust was never something Rafe really knew much about.

He never meant to take things as far as he did. He wanted to believe you when you insisted the guy at the club was just a long-time family friend, ‘like a cousin, babe.’

But he saw it. He was there. The guy was too close to you, you were too comfortable letting him invade your space. You obviously knew him, you already admitted it. The family friend bullshit was surely just a ruse.

He’d snapped. He did, and he knew it. He never should’ve thrown things at you, put his hands on you, but the whole altercation lasted all of 2 minutes… surely, you were just being dramatic. Surely, it didn’t warrant a breakup.

You, on the other hand, tried to block that night from your memory completely. But each diversion of your eyes to one of the bruises or cuts littering your skin was a harsh reminder. You had to close your eyes every time, wincing at the pain you’d felt, and cringing at your inability to stand up for yourself.

But how could you be blamed? You were scared.

…Just like now, when the vibration of your phone led your eyes to a text message from a familiar number.

          Maybe: Rafe — I’m here.

Rafe was already chewing on his fingernails before the text even delivered, nerves taking over. His breathing was heavy and arrhythmic. He could hardly sit still. He decided the lines he snorted when he first parked weren’t enough, so Rafe laid out another, much larger one, inhaling it off of the dash. His nose burned as the powder rushed through it, but it didn’t compare to the burn in his chest. In his heart.

How did things get to this point?

Convinced that you were the one who poked the bear, Rafe hadn’t even seen the breakup coming. From the moment he met you, he was no longer able to comprehend or accept a life without you in it. His brain couldn’t even fathom a day where you wouldn’t be his. His whole life, he never had to ask permission, and therefore seldom ever heard any rendition of the word ‘no’.

That’s why he hoped you wouldn’t try to shoo him away after getting your ring back. He’d do anything to make sure you didn’t.

He just wanted to see you. Talk to you. He wanted you to welcome him into your house, accept his apology, and tell him you love him no matter what and you want to be with him forever. Assure him that you overreacted, that you never should’ve left him, and you never would again.

Just 5 minutes, that’s all he needed.

And he hoped you would give him the chance. He needed you to. Because Rafe wasn’t sure what he would do if things went any way but his.

You sent Rafe a thumbs up as you slipped on your house shoes. Normally, you’d never wear them outside, and Rafe knew that, too. You hoped maybe the shoes would be the subtle hint he needed to know you didn’t want to spend long outside…because you didn’t want to spend long with him.

If the ring wasn’t a family heirloom, you would’ve honestly just let Rafe keep it to spare seeing him again.

But you needed it back, and part of you also thought maybe this could be the assurance Rafe needed to know that you were serious, and you wouldn’t be changing your mind.

As soon as you made it to the top of the stairs, you could see a street light illuminating a familiar truck across the street.

Slowly, you placed a hand on the railing and started down the stairs.

You were shaking. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the banister on your descent.

Your legs even felt a bit wobbly, relying on the railing more than you normally would to get up or down the stairs.

Why did you feel so uneasy?

Meanwhile, in the car, a pit was forming in Rafe’s stomach too.

He couldn’t imagine you doing anything besides taking him back…so why did he still feel a shred of doubt?

Maybe the coke was influencing his already chaotic mind.

He loved you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to make you happy.

He wanted to… grab his gun?

What the fuck?

Rafe didn’t even realize he’d fetched the weapon from the middle console, too lost in a sea of dark thoughts.

He immediately flinched away, dropping it down onto his lap. He was thankful it didn’t go off. He didn’t want to bring a gun just to talk to you…

Did he?

No. Of course he fucking didn’t.

…So why he still slipped the cold metal in the back of his waistband, tucking his shirt over to conceal it just in case, was beyond him.

Rafe climbed out of the truck, ring in hand as he started towards your front porch.

He was standing at the top of the steps, weight shifting from one foot to another when you slowly pulled the door open.

He could’ve sworn your sweet, floral scent hit his nose before you even put your hand on the knob. 

You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup. Even with your baggy silk pajama set and your…house shoes.

That can’t be a good sign. You only slipped those on when you knew you were just running out to grab something, like your lip gloss from your car or a package from a delivery driver.

…Or a ring from your ex-boyfriend.

Rafe worked to ignore the tightening of his chest and the beads of sweat forming on his palms that he tried not to ball into fists at the realization that you didn’t seem to plan on doing much talking.

You wanted to get your ring, and you wanted to get rid of him.

The arm that opened the door joined the other in wrapping around your frame as the wood swung open to reveal your ex-boyfriend.

He immediately looked away after only a moment of eye contact. He almost looked just as nervous as you were.

It was hard to deny his charm…Rafe always looked good, never had to try.

If only looks were everything.

Your nerves drove you to break the silence. “Hi, Rafe…”

Blue eyes shot up to yours again. “H-hey, Y/N/N.”

You could see him figeting with your ring in one hand, the other rubbed over the back of his neck and shoulder.

“You look nice.”

You shifted nervously, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down gently. “Thank you… and thanks for bringing my ring by.”

Rafe let his head and gaze fall down, eyes focusing in on the gold ring you mentioned. “Yeah, uh, yeah,” Fuck. He had to ask now. “Listen, um, I was kind of hoping we could… you know, we could like, talk maybe?” He scratched the back of his head. “For a minute? Like-like inside?” His words were riddled with random pauses and ‘uh’s’ and ‘um’s’.

He could tell you were nervous. That wasn’t his goal, but hell, he was nervous too.

“I…I don’t know, Rafe, I-“

“Please, just,” He watched you pull into yourself at his sudden interruption, so he pulled back. “Just… I just wanna talk. I’m not gonna…I’m not going to hurt you.”

Leave it to Rafe to tug at your broken heartstrings, even after he’d been the one to do the damage.

Reluctantly, you stepped back through the threshold, standing off to the side just enough to allow Rafe the space he needed to enter.

But you didn’t close the door.

Instead, you spun around, keeping Rafe in your sight with one hand still resting on the door knob.

“Listen, Y/N, I-I know what I did was…wasn’t right, okay? I…It was-it was fucked up, I know that.”

You nodded, leaning into the door and offering him the silence he needed to continue.

“I don’t, I can’t…I can’t do this, without you, Y/N/N. I feel like I can’t, I can’t even breathe without you. Nobody gets me like-like you do.”

You could feel your heart strings being yanked on again.

Especially when the light from outside glistened perfectly on the tear that slid down Rafe’s cheek. You realized his eyes were glossed over, and his hands were shaking.

“Rafe…”

“I just…I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He was swiping his hands over his head and face aggresively.

“It’s okay, Rafe.” You offered, gently. His eyes immediately shot up to yours, a look of surprise on his face. It was mixed with a bit of…relief?

“R-really?” He questioned, so low you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Yeah. I…I accept your apology.”

A mountain was lifted off of the boy’s shoulders. He could feel his muscles slowly untense for the first time he left his house that night. No… for the first time since you walked out on him. 

“Wow…” he mumbled to himself. A small smile even tugged at the corners of his lips.

“…But I still mean what I said, Rafe. I…” you swallowed your nerves. “I don’t think I wanna change my mind…”

You were reluctant to meet Rafe’s gaze again, worried for what expression you might find. You prayed your words wouldn’t make him too mad.

But when you looked up, Rafe looked anything but mad. He looked…hurt. Disappointed. In you or in himself, you couldn’t be too sure.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke.

You don’t know what posessed you, but you found yourself reaching for Rafe’s arms, redirecting them from the back of his head, to you instead. You pulled him into you, draping your arms around his torso and tucking your head into his chest.

It took him a second to wrap his arms around you too. The wave of comfort that washed over him was instant. And dangerous. Because Rafe’s dark thoughts pulled his focus far past the intoxicating scent of your hair under his nose, the feel of your soft skin brushing against his. It pulled him to the realization that there was no way in hell you were going to deprive him of this. No way he would be able to let you wrap your arms around someone else the way you were around him now.

The intimate embrace had been comforting for you too, until you shifted slightly, and felt the graze of something hard on your forearm.

“What is…” you mumbled lowly, fingers tracing over the area again, and you didn’t need to see it for the placement and feel to confirm what Rafe was concealing.

You immediately scrambled away from him, pushing off of his chest and clutching the open door again. “W-why would you bring that?”

Your mouth went dry. You tried to steady your body as it started to tremble, desperate to conceal anymore alarm from Rafe. You hoped you hadn’t already shown too much fear. You didn’t want to set him off. 

And for a good reason.

“Hey, no-no it’s not…it’s not like that, okay?” Rafe’s hands up shot up defensively in the air as if to say, ‘I’m no threat to you’. He could tell you still felt threatened, though.

He slowly reached one arm back, fishing under his shirt and grabbing the gun. He kneeled to the floor, placing the weapon down before kicking it away from him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you…I-I promise.”

The absence of saliva in your mouth made it difficult to swallow, as did the lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe Rafe. You wanted to feel sorry for him. You did feel sorry for him. But why did he come to your house with a gun? Suddenly, you didn’t want to talk anymore.

“I-I’m heading to bed soon, anyway,” you started, nervously. “Maybe you should go…”

“Y/N/N, please,” He took an eager step towards you. You shrunk in on yourself, prompting him to retreat.

“Rafe…you should go.” You tried again. You hoped the way you held your breath as you pressed yourself impossibly further into the door wasn’t noticeable.

He should go?

Rafe’s eyes darted wildly between yours. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to welcome him in, check… forgive him, check… so why couldn’t you take him back? And why was he so inclined to not take no for an answer?

Pure cocaine, mixed with a jealousy that was even more pure, more potent, could do that.

You’d openly admitted that you didn’t want him. In fact, you wanted him to leave.

But Rafe didn’t care to respect your wishes. It was rare that he cared about anyone’s wishes, aside from his own.

He made a mistake. Why did you have to be so unfair to him? And then so unwilling to hear him out, give him a chance to explain his side of things?

Rafe’s brain could only deny the reality. He physically couldn’t see his world spinning without you in the center. He wouldn’t.

Rafe was convinced that you didn’t really want him to leave. You were scared, understandable. But you loved him…right?

Right. You had a dangerous amount of love for your ex.

Both of you knew it. Rafe loved you too, but his love was more than dangerous…

Rafe’s love, was deadly.

You didn’t even see him do it, but suddenly Rafe had cleared the space between you. He towered over your figure, fingers curling around your neck. 

You breath hitched in your throat at his close proximity. You’d asked him to widen the gap between the two of you, forever, not close it.

Even the soft hold had you shifting your feet, trying to hold back the urge to push him away as not to set him off.

When you felt his grip tighten though, your hands rushed to his, scratching and clawing at his skin. 

When your nails didn’t work, you fished behind you, knocking things off the table as you struggled to get your hands on something, anything that could be used to your advantage in the moment.

As soon as you felt your fingers curl successfully around a cold, heavy object, you wasted no time swinging your arm around and knocking it right into the side of Rafe’s head.

The first gasp of air seemed to burn your lungs more than the absence of air had.

You took off immediately, clumsily running through the house towards the back door. You were crying, hardly able to catch your breath.

“Shit!” Rafe yelled, hand met with a wet sensation when his fingers lightly inspected the side of his head you’d struck.

He took only a moment to regain his composure.

And now, he was pissed.

More than pissed. Rafe was infuriated. He couldn’t even recall a time he’d felt so engulfed in a rage this deep. Not even after the worst beating from his dad. Not even after Barry turned him into the police.

He took off after you, not even bothering to run. He could still hear you knocking things over as you stumbled towards the back exit.

His chest was puffed out, heaving, and his broad shoulders made him look even bigger as he stormed towards the backyard.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe used both hands to shove you violently to the ground, watching as you tripped over your own feet down the rest of the stairs you hadn’t yet descended.

Your head bounced off of the grass, and you cried out in pain.

You managed to roll onto your back just in time for Rafe to throw himself on top of you. A large hand clasped over your mouth, Rafe eager to keep you quiet and avoid any nosey neighbors.

…It was a little too late. A porch light flipped on in the corner of his eye, at the house neighboring your privacy fence.

He turned back to you.

“Shut up,” he seethed, struggling to keep both your limbs and voice contained underneath him. “Just-just shut up.”

He looked like a monster towering over you, a knee on either side of you forcing your legs closed beneath him.

Your sobs were uncontrollable, muffled beneath his hand as you shook your head vigorously.

“Can you, can you please stop, Y/N, please!” His voice was laced with desperation. He wasn’t just begging you to save the relationship anymore. He was begging you to save yourself.

He tried to shush you, masking both your mouth and nose to do so.

When it didn’t work, his hands unconsciously slipped down to your throat.

He wasn’t thinking logically. He didn’t comprehend that going from covering your mouth to choking you meant completely cutting off your air, taking a chance of killing you.

All he knew was he had a problem. He needed to shut you up. His only method of action wasn’t working, so his body moved into fight or flight mode, hands manuvering to your throat all on their own account.

You sputtered and struggled to free your airways from Rafe’s iron grip. He seemed to have a newfound strength out of nowhere. Like all of his efforts were focused on channeling his anger through his hands, and your throat was the outlet.

And that’s because any emotion Rafe had previously felt, had shut down. He wasn’t even sure if what was left could be called anger, without being a huge understatement.

Rafe was… enraged. Inconsolably, inexpicably enraged. He blacked out. 

Literally. His mind was fuzzy, his vision grew just the same. It was almost like darkness took over, and he was no longer able to control himself.

And he looked scary. Veins protruding from his forehead, his neck, his arms as he flexed every muscle he had to drain you of your air.

Rafe didn’t realize he was choking you, didn’t comprehend it was an action that could only be taken so far before it became irreversible.

You struggled hard, forcing Rafe to exert more energy than he’d assumed it would take.

Because Rafe knew, from the moment you walked out on him, things would only go one of two ways.

Either you would forgive him, choose to stay with him, help him get better, grow together.

…Or, you would deny him the chance to redeem himself. And in turn, you’d deny yourself the chance to make it to another day.

The gun was only a prop. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to shoot you. It was too messy, too inhumane.

He didn’t bring it to shoot you, no, but to scare you.

And it worked.

You were scared. Shaking, trembling, writhing around underneath him, you were so scared that your face even started to drain of color, he noticed.

His eyes fell to your lips, which seemed to be a mixture of red and a pale shade of purple almost, now.

At least they weren’t moving, he thought.

He’d hoped things would go much differently when he first got your text, asking for your ring.

He’d planned everything out, scripted it all together.

But he fucked up. He shouldn’t have been so aggresive, so quick to resort to violence with you, the person he loved more than anything that walked the Earth. After all, that’s the reason you left him in the first place. He just couldn’t see things that way.

But Rafe knew there was no way you would forgive him after this. No chance you would want to be with him after he just inflicted so much pain and force on you, the thing that prompted you to leave him in the first place.

He’d been going crazy without you. Not seeing you, hearing from you, proved to affect him worse than a day or two without cocaine did.

You left him alone, trapped by himself with nothing but his thoughts.

And boy, were they dark.

Of course, Rafe thought about your kiss, your lips on his, your beautiful body, your hair that he loved to pull and play with.

But more than that, he thought about what he would do to get back at you for leaving him. All the ways he could hurt you for hurting him.

The thoughts consumed him.

It was a terrible place to be, really, trapped in your mind because the reality you wish you had only existed in your head anymore.

It was almost as scary as walking into a storm that you didn’t even know was coming.

Had you known the things Rafe thought about while you were away, you never would’ve asked for your ring back.

You valued your life more than some stupid family ring.

An overwhelming ringing took over your ears just as clouds started to take over your vision.

Slowly, your grip on his wrists weakened, as did your will to fight back.

A deep, strained breath pulled from the back of your throat. Your last one.

It was so pronounced, the sound shattered the wall of darkness clouding Rafe’s eyes and mind, grounding him back to the current moment.

When he came to, the first thing he registered was the sound of his erratic breathing, blaring through the otherwise silent air.

Next came the strain he felt on his muscles all across the board.

Specifically, his hands.

His eyes dropped to the extremeties, and he noticed his fingers were curled inwards at the knuckles, almost…stuck. Like they’d been wrapped around something for too long.

And they had been.

His eyes blurred his hands in front of him, instead focusing in on the figure underneath them.

You laid at his knees, completely silent, and completely still.

Grimly silent.

Eerily still.

“Y/N-“ his voice came out nothing but a squeak of air when he tried your name the first time.

He paused. His eyes never left you.

He cleared his throat lowly. “Y/N?” 

Hesitantly, he tapped on your arm with one hand. “Y/N/N?”

Rafe ignored the way his hands started to shake.

He ignored the wet beads he felt starting to cascade down his cheeks.

“Y/N, wake up,” Somehow, he managed to grow impatient at the lack of response he was getting from your still body.

“Come on,” he nudged you again through tears, this time a bit harsher.

He’d come to, but his mind was now convincing him that you didn’t want to answer him. Just like you didn’t want to talk to him earlier.

You didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted him to give you your ring, and go.

…And the realization hit them that he didn’t do either of those things.

In fact, when he pulled the ring from his pocket and held it to your finger, he couldn’t help but notice now how the light blue gem sparkling in the middle of the ring wasn’t too far off from the color of your skin.

Instantly, his hand fell weak. He dropped the ring, shuddering as it clattered onto the floor beside you.

“Shit…” he drawled out, hands flying up to run through his hair and rest on the back of his head.

He almost lost his balance trying to lean on only the balls of his feet to hold himself up. “S-shit…”

He dared to bring two fingers to your neck, planting them reluctantly in the crook underneath your jaw.

He could’ve sworn his body went as cold as yours felt when he didn’t feel not the first thump of your pulse.

His eyes fell shut, and he moved his hand to clasp over one of yours.

His head hung low, tears sliding down profusely, beading on your silk pajama top.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N…”

More than crying now, he was sobbing.

“I’m so, so s-sorry baby.” He placed a kiss to your cold hand, letting the warmth of his lips linger for a moment.

Your tiny hand felt so cold, and in that moment, he only wanted to warm it up.

He wanted to warm both of them up.

He wanted to warm all of you up.

But it was too late.

He’d sealed your fate. He’d never be able to feel your warmth again.

As obvious as it was that you were gone, something about the entire thing still didn’t feel real to Rafe.

He just couldn’t understand how things had deviated so far off of the plan he had set, from the reality he’d planned in his head.

But the crescendo of sirens slowly cutting through his sobs confirmed the reality he was in… the reality that he now existed in a world that you no longer did.

And he didn’t want to exist in that world.

Rafe stole one last look at you, eyes closed, almost like you were sleeping. You looked so… peaceful. The kind of peace you could never find at the hands of Rafe Cameron…while you were alive, anyway.

Rafe placed a final kiss to your hand, then to your forehead, then your lips. He mumbled stutters of apologies and requests for forgiveness. First to you, and then to a higher power.

He slowly stood to his feet, eyes never deviating away from you until he made it through the threshold of the house.

He scanned the room for something, a sharp exhale mixing with the approaching sirens when his eyes landed on it.

Rafe slowly trudged to the corner of the room, bending at the waist to retrieve a cold, metal object from the floor.

He was a sobbing, sniffling mess as he wrapped his fingers around the gun.

The sirens grew closer, as did red and blue lights.

Rafe let out another exhale. His hands were shaking, his head was pounding, his arms burned from your nails clawing at him, his legs felt weak as he struggled to hold himself upright, the weight of the world threatening to buckle his knees.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N…” his voice was barely above a whisper as he mumbled to himself. He hoped you could hear him, wherever you were. He hoped you would make things easy, just forgive him when he asked this time.

His hand and lip quivered uncontrollably as he raised the heavy object higher. A series of chills erupted down his spine when the barrel met his temple.

He shook his head, moving it instead to rest underneath his chin, pointed upward.

If he was going to do this, he had to make sure he wasn’t one of those idiots that survived somehow.

He couldn’t survive in a world without you. He wouldn’t. So he knew he couldn’t miss.

His eyes fell shut again, both hands wrapped around the trigger, ready to pull.

“Freeze!”

“Wha- ah!” Rafe’s eyes shot open at the booming voice, just before a real boom filled the air. Suddenly, he was left with a burning sensation in his shoulder, and an empty hand, as the gun clattered to the floor.

“Fuck!” Rafe yelled out, voice hoarse from his cries. He sank to his knees, not because of the demands the officers that swarmed the house were now screaming at him, but because the pain he felt, both physically and emotionally, was too much.

He couldn’t fight back anymore.

All he could do was struggle to catch his breath, mumbling incoherent apologies and lines as police swarmed him, picking his his fate out for him, the same way he’d picked out yours.

[instantcoughy]

movie night

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, semi public sex

despite both of you being adults, ward absolutely refuses to let you be alone together in rafe’s room. the few times you’ve even been inside of it, you’ve either been accompanied by ward or the door has been left wide open.

it’s not like you don’t have plenty of alone time at your place, with a combination of your parents not really caring and them not even being home most of the time, but tonight, you’re taking refuge at taneyhill, your parents being home for once and in a very foul mood, fighting and yelling at each other.

ward gave you permission to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, on the promise that you and rafe would occupy separate rooms, and he’s been keeping an eagle eye out for any slip ups, checking on you every 15 minutes or so as you sit on the living room couch, watching a film.

“baby, it’s cold, can you get a blanket?” you ask rafe when the movie gets to a slow part.

“of course.” rafe says, kissing the side of your head as he hops up, grabbing a fluffy blanket and draping it over the two of you as he lays down, pulling you in close so that you’re spooning.

you snuggle back into him, enjoying the way the heat radiates off him as his strong arm wraps around your midsection.

“don’t fall asleep there.” ward warns, making you jump having not realized he had walked into the room.

“we won’t, dad.” rafe groans.

“we’ll sleep in our separate rooms, sir.” you say with an embarrassed smile.

“yes you will.” ward says as he walks away, always surprising you with how overprotective he’s being of rafe, considering he doesn’t seem very interested in his son outside of it. you suppose it’s because you’re the first girl rafe has ever been serious about, and he doesn’t want you two to go down the hookup and breakup path like his past girlfriends.

“sorry about him.” rafe says, kissing your neck and gently petting your tummy.

“it’s okay. it’s cute that he cares. even though i wish we could cuddle all night.” you pout, turning your head to press a kiss to rafes lips before turning back to the tv, scooching even further back into him.

“baby.” rafe places a hand on your hip.

“mmm?” you hum, both going silent as an action sequence plays out on the tv.

you wiggle again, unable to get comfortable. 

“baby, stop moving.” rafe warns, and then you feel it, his hardness pressing against your bum.

“you’re hard?” you whisper, turning your head to look at him. 

“i can’t help it!” rafe says, pressing his hips forward to get some relief. “you’re so cute in these fucking pajamas and then your ass is pressing against me.” rafe throws his head back in a groan as you push your hips back again.

you lean forward, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning it up a few clicks, before tossing it on the floor, a plan forming in your head. you make sure the blanket covers you from the neck down before grabbing rafe’s hand off your hip, sliding it under your shirt until it reaches your bare breast, having taken your bra off when you changed into pajamas.

“don’t tease, baby. you know we can’t.” rafe says, but gives your breasts a squeeze anyways before finding your nipple and toying with it.

“the blanket covers everything… no one will know.” you say, pushing your pants and underwear down to mid-thigh before rubbing your clit, wanting to get yourself ready for rafe so he can fuck you quickly. as much as you want this, you know the risk of being caught.

“fuck, i can’t resist you.” rafe says, giving your nipples one last pinch before pulling his cock out, dragging it over your slit.

“make it quick.” you whisper, opening your legs the best you can with your pajama bottoms still restricting your knees. 

rafe pushes inside of you, forgoing his usual teasing. you resist the urge to moan and squeeze your eyes shut instead as he rocks into you, not able to make full thrusts without shaking the entire couch.

rafe pushes your hand away from your clit so he can massage it instead with two fingers. he pushes in and out of you the best he can as he buries his head in your neck, tiny grunts coming out as he tries to hold himself back.

you cover your own mouth in the most casual looking way that you can, like you’re just resting your hand there.

“i’m heading up to bed soon, is your movie almost over?” ward’s voice makes you jump, and also squeeze your pussy tight around rafe, making his gasp.

“yup. i think 15 more minutes.” you say, voice sounding strained, but ward doesn’t seem to pick up on it. rafe continues to play with your clit, making your chest hurt as you hold back your moans, even going as far as to give it a pinch.

“okay, don’t forget separate bedrooms.” 

“yes, sir.” rafe grunts, watching as he walks away before grinding his hips into your backside.

“rafe!” you slap the hand that plays with his clit once you hear ward’s bedroom door close.

“what?” rafe grins, but he knows exactly what he did.

you roll your eyes and begin to push back against him, causing the couch to creak slightly, but you ignore it as you feel your orgasm approaching. you also ignore rafe’s pleasure completely as you grind against his hand, chasing your own high.

rafe moves his other hand to cover your mouth, knowing that you’re incapable of staying silent when you cum. you let out muffled moans into his palm as your orgasm hits you, your pussy pulsating around his cock, causing rafe to reach the edge, his cum spurting into you in sudden bursts.

rafe bites your shoulder as he cums, thrusting into you gently until he’s empty. he pulls out just as the credits begin to roll on the movie, tucking himself back into his pants. you pull your underwear back up, cursing yet another pair being ruined by rafes cum.

you turn over on the couch so you’re facing rafe, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, missing the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

“let me carry you to bed.” rafe says, sitting up and taking you right with him, his hands finding purchase on your bum as he stands, carefully walking up the stairs as you alternate between kissing his mouth when he stops, and pressing your lips to and nipping his neck when he needs to see.

he takes you right to the spare bedroom door, knowing better than to cross the threshold.

“goodnight my love.” he says. “i’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“gonna miss your lips.” you say, kissing him again. “and your arms around me.” you give his biceps a squeeze. “and your cock inside of me.”

[instantcoughy]

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