pixieflu

[pixieflu]

working on bestfriend!rafe content for you guys. stay tuned <333

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

mean!rafe fucking your throat after you acted like a brat

cw: smut, dark!rafe, degradation, oral sex (m receiving), face slapping (light), power imbalance.

the car ride home after dinner is dead silent.

your arms are crossed, your bottom lip poking out, and you’re burning with the kind of bratty fury only rafe cameron can drag out of you. because he made you change.

the dress was cute. it was short, yeah, but so what? it’s your body. not his to control.

he’d said, “you wear that out, and i’ll lose my fucking mind.”

you’d snapped back, “maybe that’s the point.”

he didn’t say a single word after that. just pressed his lips tight, gripped the steering wheel hard, and glared out the windshield the whole way to dinner.

you pouted all night. he didn’t even look at you. not once.

by the time you're home, you're over it. done. seething and storming into the bedroom, ripping the earrings from your lobes and flinging them onto the dresser. the necklace, the heels, the dress he made you wear, it all hits the floor in a messy trail behind you.

you stomp to your drawer in just your lace panties and a matching strapless bra, reaching for your pajamas..

but you never make it.

a heavy hand grabs your arm. spins you.

before you can even gasp, rafe’s pushing you back, hard, until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fall, your legs dangling over the edge.

face lined up perfectly with his belt buckle.

the look in his eyes? lethal.

he doesn’t speak at first. just stares down at you, chest rising slow beneath his button-down. his jaw ticks. his fingers twitch like he’s holding back.

then, he crouches. just enough to lean in and tap your cheek twice. not hard. not soft either.

“cute little attitude you had tonight,” he says lowly, voice like smoke. “got it all out of your system, sweetheart?”

you blink. lips parted. no answer.

wrong move.

he smiles. crooked. mean. that little head tilt that always means trouble.

“now look at you.” his fingers hook under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “can’t even talk. all that fuckin’ mouth earlier and now you’re quiet?”

you squirm, thighs pressing together.

he notices. of course he does.

“shoulda just bent you over and fucked it out of you before dinner,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “but no, princess wanted to push me. wanted to make a scene. wanted to test me.”

your breath hitches when he stands tall again, unbuckling his belt slow, deliberate.

“let’s fix that mouth.”

he pulls his cock out, hard, heavy, flushed. and without another warning, he grips the back of your head, yanks you up by your hair, and shoves it between your lips.

you gag instantly. saliva pools. your eyes water. you dig your nails into his thighs and try to brace yourself.

rafe lets out a groan. a dark, low sound. his hand tightens in your hair as he starts thrusting. slow at first, then deeper, rougher.

“you want to act like a fucking brat,” he growls, fucking your mouth without mercy, “then you’re gonna take it like one.”

you’re choking. he doesn’t care.

“you’re lucky i let you come tonight. lucky i let you sit beside me lookin’ all sweet when you were being a goddamn whore underneath.”

your eyes roll. he groans.

“yeah, you like this. you like when i treat you like the filthy little slut you are.”

when he finishes, hot and messy down your throat, he doesn’t pull away immediately. he holds you there, cock still twitching in your mouth, his thumb wiping tears off your cheeks.

and then, finally, he lets go.

you fall back on the bed, chest heaving. ruined, sticky and wrecked.

rafe doesn’t say “good girl.” he doesn’t coddle. but his hands reach for your thighs, spreading them wide, peeling the panties off like he owns them.

because he does.

"now," he says, undoing the buttons on his shirt, "i’m gonna fuck you stupid. and maybe then, you'll remember who the fuck you belong to."

an: mean!rafe is my favorite >.< if you guys enjoyed this, please like and reblog! i’m running out of ideas, please send requests! 🫶

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

thinking about mean!rafe when you go to a party without telling him

cw: angst (little to no comfort), implied toxic co-dependency, emotional manipulation, controlling behavior

he finds out from topper, of all people.

leans against his car outside the club, cigarette balanced between two fingers, and hears it through a smirk.

“yo, your girl looked real good tonight. that dress was doin’ something dangerous.”

rafe doesn’t react at first. just flicks ash onto the pavement. slow. deliberate.

“what dress?”

topper blinks, realizing.

“uh, she didn’t tell you?”

no, you didn’t.

and now he’s seeing red.

he waits for you. doesn’t call. doesn’t text. just lets the fury fester.

and when you stumble in hours later, glitter still stuck to your collarbone, heels in hand and that little dress bunched at the thigh?

he’s already sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, head bowed like he’s trying not to explode.

“rafe-”

“where the fuck were you.”

you freeze. “i-i went out. just with my friends and-”

“without telling me?”

his voice cuts across the room like a blade. sharp. cruel.

you flinch.

“you don’t move without me,” he growls, standing now. “you don’t breathe without letting me know first.”

“i’m not a prisoner, rafe.”

“no, sweetheart. you’re worse.”

he’s in front of you now, chest to chest, one hand gripping your jaw.

“you’re mine.”

“you don’t own me,” you whisper, breath shaking.

his laugh is low and humorless.

“keep tellin’ yourself that.”

he drags his gaze down your body. at the dress you wore knowing what it would do to people, at the faded lip gloss, the sparkle in your hair.

“d’you wear this for me?”

his tone is cold. mocking.

“or was that for whoever was lucky enough to look at you tonight?”

“don’t do this-”

he kisses you. brutal and fast. all teeth. no warmth. just punishment.

when he pulls away, you’re breathless. red in the face. on the verge of tears.

his grip on your jaw is unforgiving, forcing you to look at him.

“next time you leave without tellin’ me,” he murmurs, voice steel under silk,

“i won’t be here when you come back.”

he doesn’t stay the night.

the door slams so hard the picture frame by the hallway falls off the wall.

an: please like and reblog if you enjoyed!! also, send in requests!! 🫶

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

pogue!rafe fucking you in the backseat of his truck after you caught him doing shady shit for money

cw: smut, implied criminal activity, drug-related themes, semi-public sex, toxic behavior (arguable)

you knew something was off.

he didn’t kiss you before he left. didn’t tell you where he was going. just said he had to “handle something,” which meant don’t ask questions, but that never sat right with you.

so you waited five minutes, then grabbed your keys. followed the dot on his phone like your heart depended on it.

and now here you are, standing outside the truck, arms crossed, watching him slip something into a guy’s palm in the shadows behind an abandoned bait shop on the cut.

your stomach twisted. you didn’t need details to know this wasn’t good.

“rafe.”

his head snapped around. his whole body stiffened.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed, storming toward you. “are you serious right now?”

“don’t yell at me.”

“don’t yell at you?” his voice cracked in disbelief. “you followed me to this side of town in the middle of the goddamn night, what, to babysit me?”

you stood your ground. “you’re doing sketchy shit with lowlifes who’d gut you for a hundred bucks, rafe.”

“and i’m doing it so i can take care of you. so you can keep wearing those little dresses from the boutique and get your nails done like you like. you think i want this?”

“then don’t do it. we’ll figure it out. together.”

he cursed under his breath, jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break a tooth. then he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you toward the truck.

“get in.”

“rafe-”

“get your ass in the truck.”

you huffed but climbed in, heart pounding, jaw set. he slammed the door behind you, disappearing back into the shadows to finish whatever he had to do.

and when he came back?

he wasn’t calm. he wasn’t sweet.

he opened the door, grabbed you again, and this time, dragged you into the backseat, slamming it shut behind y’all. the space was hot, tight, pulsing with adrenaline and leftover rage.

“you do not follow me when i tell you not to,” he growled, crowding you against the seat. “you keep your pretty ass at home where it’s safe.”

you opened your mouth to argue, he didn’t let you.

smack.

his hand landed hard on your ass, making you gasp. not out of fear. out of shock. your thighs clenched.

“you listenin’ now?” he muttered, already undoing his belt with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist. “or you gonna keep arguing while i fuck you?”

“rafe,” you breathed, cheeks flushed.

“nah. you think just ‘cause you’re pretty you get to pull shit like that?”

he pushed your face-first into the seat, yanking your panties down and sliding into you without warning. deep, rough, all at once. you choked on a moan, gripping the seatbelt like a lifeline as his hips snapped into you, over and over.

the truck rocked with every thrust.

“you don’t get to scare the shit outta me,” he gritted out, “and think i won’t remind you who you belong to.”

“i belong to you,” you whimpered, dizzy with it. “i do, rafe, i swear.”

“then say it. say you’ll keep your ass home next time.”

“yes! fuck, i will! i promise!”

he grabbed your hair, pulled your head back, and bit at your jaw. “good girl.”

you came fast, shaking under him, and he followed with a groan like it hurt. like letting go of anything that wasn’t you always did.

when it was over, he collapsed beside you, chest heaving.

the two of you lay there in the dark cab, tangled and breathless, your body pressed tight to his, his hand sliding up under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“you scare me when you do shit like that,” you whispered.

“yeah?” he murmured. “you scare me too. don’t do it again.”

an: i have NEVER wrote smut before idk how i feel abt this 😭 please please like and reblog if you enjoyed this!! also, send requests!! i’m open to anything! 🫶

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

introducing mean!rafe (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

“go sit there and look pretty. i’ll handle the real shit.”

mean!rafe is the type of man who walks into a room and acts like he owns it. born with a silver spoon and a God complex the size of the island, he’s never once been told “no” without consequences following.

he thinks everyone is beneath him, and treats them accordingly. the kind of guy who throws money at problems and laughs when people call him an asshole, because to him, that’s just another word for right.

he’s cruel, but calculated. condescending with a smirk. he’s always five steps ahead, because of course he is.

and his girlfriend?

you’re the exception, but barely.

he loves you. in his own cold, controlling way.

he keeps you close. doesn’t like when you go out without telling him. doesn’t want you dressing like you’re asking for attention.

he calls you “sweetheart” like it’s an insult. mocks you when you stumble over your words. cuts you off mid sentence with a kiss and says things like, “there’s that pretty mouth. don’t use it to talk nonsense, yeah?”

he’s not tender. not sweet. he’ll raise his voice. slam a door. grab your chin and make you look at him when you try to walk away. but he never lays a hand on you. not once. because you’re his. and he doesn’t break things that belong to him.

he holds your face in his palm like a prize and whispers,
“you’d be so lost without me, baby girl.”

and maybe you would be.

but maybe he would be, too.

an: i had no idea how to write an intro for mean!rafe so i hope this is good lol 🫣 please send requests through the request box!! i never know what to write about lololol

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

bestfriend!rafe headcannons

⟡ bestfriend!rafe lives to spoil you. if you so much as glances at a necklace in a store window, it’s yours by the end of the day. he says it’s “no big deal” while dropping thousands on his platinum card like it’s nothing.

⟡ always finds a way to touch you. hand on the small of your back when you walk through crowds. thigh touches during car rides. his arm slung casually around your shoulders at every party, just enough to make other guys back off without ever having to say it.

⟡ throws parties at his house just to show you off. “this is my girl,” he says while introducing you to his friends. doesn’t correct anyone when they assume you’re dating. he just lets it sit in the air.

⟡ pays for your nails. every time. no questions asked. “what color you getting today, princess?” like it’s his business. like he doesn’t secretly have a favorite color you always pick.

⟡ he has so many photos of you in his camera roll. not even sneaky. full-on candids, videos of you singing in his passenger seat, selfies where he’s shirtless and you’re laughing in his hoodie.

• his favorite one? you’re half-asleep in his bed with mascara smudged under your eyes, his t-shirt slipping off your shoulder. he stares at it too long sometimes.

⟡ lets you crash at his place all the time. his room smells like cologne and weed, and your perfume lingers on his pillows.

• when you falls asleep on his chest, he doesn’t move. not even when his arm goes numb.

⟡ won’t say he loves you. can’t. but everyone knows. it’s in the way he stares too long. buys you things too often. in the way he shuts down when you talk about another guy. in the way he says “you don’t need anyone else, you got me.”

an: superrr rushed but i think these sum up bestfriend!rafe and reader’s relationship pretty well <333

ps the poll for bestfriend!rafe vs mean!rafe was pretty close so be on the lookout for mean!rafe next! ;)

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

introducing bestfriend!rafe (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

he acts like the world owes him everything. and maybe it does. but the only person he ever really gives anything to? her.

rafe cameron has never been told no a day in his life.

he was raised on generational wealth, private school charm, and the kind of ego that only comes from knowing your last name can buy your way out of anything.

frat house royalty. always high, always loud, always golden.

everyone knows rafe. everyone wants rafe.

but rafe only wants you.

his best friend.

the only one he doesn’t lie to. the only one he’ll answer the phone for at 3am. the only girl who can talk back without catching the sharp edge of his temper.

he buys you drinks before you can reach for your wallet. pays for your nails, your uber, your morning coffee.

calls you “princess” in front of his friends and “baby” when he’s drunk.

shows you off at every party like you’re something he earned, arm slung around your waist, eyes always on your mouth.

you don’t need him. but he needs you.

you keep him grounded. and he keeps you tangled in gold.

you’re just best friends.

no matter how many times he kisses your hand.

no matter how many times he tells you, “no guy’s good enough for you anyway.”

no matter how many nights end with you asleep in his bed, his hoodie on your shoulders, and his voice in your ear saying, “you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

and you do.

that’s the problem.

an: i think about bestfriend!rafe a lot. i think he’s secretly a sweetheart!! 😆

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

thinking about pogue!rafe scraping up a little extra money to buy his girl the dress she wants🥹

pairing: pogue!rafe x reader

cw: mentions of poverty, fluff

you stop in front of the window every time. same boutique. same dress.

it’s displayed on a mannequin with curled hair and pearl earrings. a pale yellow thing with little white flowers stitched into the hem. soft and delicate and too expensive for people like you and rafe. you always say you’re “just looking,” but your fingers linger on the glass, like maybe one day it’ll be yours.

rafe watches you every time. quiet. thoughtful.

and then he keeps walking.

but this time, you don’t see the way his jaw tightens. the way he looks down at his boots and does the math in his head. the way he quietly tells himself: next time she passes that window, it’s not gonna be there anymore. it’s gonna be in her hands.

rafe picks up extra shifts at the plant.

he starts selling scrap metal on the side, digging through rusted junk just to scrape together a few more dollars. he doesn’t tell you that he skipped dinner three nights in a row, or that his hands are so cracked from overtime they started bleeding under his gloves, or that he gave blood at the clinic just for the gift card they hand out.

all you know is that when he gets home, he’s exhausted.

you let him rest his head in your lap while you brush his hair out of his eyes.

“you’re working too hard, baby,” you whisper.

and he just hums. “don’t worry about it.”

one friday afternoon, he comes home with a brown paper bag under his arm.

there’s dirt on his jeans and grease on his cheek, but his eyes are bright. brighter than you’ve seen in weeks. he looks like a little boy holding a secret.

he holds the bag out to you, not saying a word.

you squint at it. “what’s this?”

“open it,” he says, that dimple showing in his cheek.

you roll your eyes, playful, and undo the string.

the fabric catches the light first. yellow. white flowers. soft as a whisper.

you freeze.

“rafe.”

he scratches the back of his neck, sheepish. “saw the way you always looked at it.”

you pull it out of the bag, hands trembling. it’s perfect. like it was made for you. the same one from the window. the exact one.

you blink fast. “how did you afford this?”

he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “just worked a little extra.”

“rafe-”

“i wanted you to have it.” his voice is quiet now. “you’ve never asked me for anything. and i know we don’t got much. but i saw how you looked at it and… i dunno. i just wanted to see you smile.”

you drop the dress on the couch and throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. he holds you so tight it almost hurts. but it’s the kind of hurt that makes you feel safe.

“you didn’t have to-”

“i wanted to,” he cuts in, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “you think i’m bustin’ my ass every day just for lights and rent? nah. i’m doin’ it for you. so you can have nice things. so you don’t feel like you gotta press your hands to a window and wish.”

you kiss him, soft and slow, with every ounce of love you have in you.

and when you try the dress on, he stares like you’re holy.

“shit,” he whispers, voice rough. “you look like somethin’ out of a dream.”

later that night, he takes your picture in the golden hour light, standing barefoot on the porch in your new dress. he tucks the photo in his wallet like it’s worth more than gold.

because to him, it is.

you are.

an: oh how i love pogue!rafe 🤗🤗 he’d do anything for his girl (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

nettles ༄ fully inspired by “nettles” by ethel cain

pairing: pogue!rafe x reader

cw: angst, death imagery, poverty, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort, natural disaster

the plant always smelled like something burning. not fire, no, if it was fire, there’d be sirens, but smoke, metal, something too hot for a human body to bear. rafe came home soaked in it, every night, skin blistered pink and sweat-slick. he’d toss his boots by the door and crawl into your lap on the couch, collapsing like a tree in the forest, heavy and worn.

“you’re gonna kill yourself in that place,” you whispered once, tracing a bruise on his shoulder with your pinky.

he kissed the inside of your wrist. “better me than you.”

you were supposed to get married in the spring.

no white dress. no gold band. just the two of you barefoot in the field behind the trailer, fireflies like confetti. rafe talked about it like it was already happening. said he’d find a ring in the weeds, said he’d carve your names in a tree so the Lord would see you were his. you laughed at first, but he was serious. you could see it in his eyes, those wild, soul-deep blue eyes, full of hope you didn’t know a man like him could still carry.

“i’ll make it good for you,” he’d whisper, curling around your back like a shield. “we’ll have clean water. a real bed. one of them little dogs that don’t stop yappin’.”

“i don’t need all that,” you murmured, sleepy. “i just need you.” and that was the truth.

it was a thursday night when the tornado hit.

you were sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through bills with a flashlight, when the radio cut out. then the air changed. it got still, like the world inhaled and forgot how to breathe. you peeked through the window and saw the trees bending backwards, like they were praying.

you didn’t pray. not until you got the call.

“there was an accident,” the voice said.

your knees hit the linoleum before you realized they’d buckled.

the hospital smelled like bleach and grief. when they let you see him, he was barely there. just bone and blood and the faint flicker of breath. a jagged shard of something, metal, maybe glass, had torn through his side. they said it hit an artery. said it was a miracle he made it this far. said he wouldn’t make it to morning.

you screamed. “no. no, no, no-”

they tried to pull you away, but he blinked. and that was enough.

you crawled into the bed, cradling him like he always did you. his hands were cold. his lips moved.

“baby,” he rasped.

you sobbed. “i’m right here.”

“i’m sorry,” he said, voice like gravel and wind. “i was gonna give you a good life.”

“you did.” you kissed his temple, held his hand to your heart. “you did. don’t go, rafe, please.

his blue eyes met yours. a tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ain’t scared,” he whispered. “just hate leavin’ you behind.”

and then he stopped breathing.

the world didn’t go black. it just… stilled.

like the night the tornado came.

like the radio static. the silence before the end.

you remembered everything. the broken faucet. the hole in the roof. the way he’d hum to himself while patching it with duct tape. how he’d sneak wildflowers into the house like they were diamonds. the way his hands trembled when he touched you, soft, careful, like he didn’t think he deserved something so tender.

“i’m gonna make it good for you.”

you screamed. but no one heard.

then, you gasped.

choked on air. shot upright.

the room was dark. quiet. humid.

you were back in bed. home.

and rafe was there.

rafe was there.

breathing. chest rising. hair stuck to his forehead. one arm curled under the pillow, the other draped across your waist.

your hands flew to his face. “rafe, rafe, wake up.”

he blinked awake, groggy. “what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t stop shaking. “i thought- i thought you died-“

he sat up fast. “what? baby, hey. look at me.”

you did.

and those blue eyes, his blue eyes, looked back at you, wide and worried.

“you’re okay,” he whispered, pulling you into his lap. “shit, you’re shakin’. you’re okay, i’m right here.”

you clung to him like salvation, sobbing into his neck. “it was so real. there was a storm. you got hurt. you told me you weren’t scared, but i was. i was so scared-”

he kissed your hair. your forehead. your cheeks.

“i’m here,” he murmured, over and over. “i’m here. ain’t goin’ nowhere, alright?”

you touched his chest. felt his heartbeat.

alive.

warm.

rafe wrapped his arms around you like he was scared you might vanish.

“i got you,” he said again. “you’re safe, baby. it was just a dream.”

you hiccupped. “you promised me a good life.”

he smiled, soft and sleepy. “still do.”

and in that moment, in the dark hush of your crooked little house, with the windows cracked and the bugs singing and rafe’s arms locked tight around you, you believed him.

because he meant it.

because he’d give everything just to keep holding you like this.

because sometimes, even in a world built to break you, you got to wake up.

and the love of your life was still breathing.

an: eek hi 🤗 i love love ethel cain’s new song and thought it would make a great fic! this is my first fic ever so please please be kind lolol

ps nettles is so good go listen to it rnrnrn

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

masterlist ⋆ ˚ ࿔

important: ⓲ = smut!!

pogue!rafe ۪𑁍֤

nettles .ᐟ

the window dress .ᐟ

in the truck .ᐟ ⓲

bestfriend!rafe ۪𑁍֤

headcannons .ᐟ

mean!rafe ۪𑁍֤

you’re mine .ᐟ

acting like a brat .ᐟ ⓲

more to come soon!! 🐞

[pixieflu]

introducing pogue!rafe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

he’s got work-worn hands and dirt under his fingernails, but they’re always gentle when they touch her ❤︎

rafe cameron didn’t grow up with much, and he never really expected to have more, until he met you.

now he clocks in at the plant before the sun comes up and stays long after it’s gone, sweat stained and exhausted, saving every spare dollar in a rusted coffee can under the bed. he wants to marry you properly. with a ring. a white dress. a slow song on a busted old radio.

y’all don’t have much, just four crooked walls and a porch that groans under your weight, but he still finds a way to bring you the little things you want. a thrift store sweater in your favorite color, dollar store flowers, cinnamon gum from the gas station.

he’d give you the world if he could.

but for now, he gives you himself. all of him. every day. every calloused touch and whispered promise.

“don’t worry, baby,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i’ll make it good for you. i swear.”

and he means it.

an: hi guys!! this is my first attempt at writing! let me know what you guys think!

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[pixieflu]

˃̵ᴗ˂̵ 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 .ᐟ

my name is matilda, but you can call me tilly ˙ᵕ˙ she /her ˚⟡ nineteen ౨ৎ psycho rafe cameron’s gf 𝜗𝜚 treat everyone with kindness ⋆ ˚ ࿔

masterlist 𓎆⠀.   𓍼

i write for rafe cameron only at the moment. send requests! ❤︎