prettytheyswag

[prettytheyswag]

THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS

stalker reveal r.c

pairing stalker!rafe x reader

cw 18+ mdni!! unprotected p in v, creampie, possesive rafe, mean rafe kinda??, choking, stalking (a lot of stalking), jerking off, taking pics and videos without consent, icky boy talk, threatening, blood, mentions of cocaine, ??? ending

sypnosis after fucking rafe cameron, the biggest player on the island, you find something that should scared you; make you run away. but…you find it weirdly attractive??

words 7k. someone stop me

note: middle pic edited by me. also, changed a lot in this cuz i didn’t like it😔still find it pretty boring tho

your body is already trembling by the time he drags you forward on the bed, palms flat against the mattress. you're bent, exposed, the air smelling like sex. rafe's chest is flush to your back, his breath hot against your ear, and his hips punishing so hard that it leaves you reeling

there's no barrier, just him, raw and unprotected, sinking into you over and over until it feels like you’re not fucking the enemy anymore

"fuck, you're tight," he grits out, voice sharp, mean. his hand clamps down on your hip hard enough to bruise, dragging you back to meet every brutal thrust. "so fucking good like this. knew you'd take me so good."

your knees slip on the sheets, thighs quaking, but he doesn't let up. his other hand tangles in your hair, jerks your head back until your throat arches.

"look at you," he sneers, teeth scraping the shell of your ear "moaning for me like a little slut. couldn't wait to get filled up, huh? that's what you wanted all along"

you shake your head, a choked whimper falling from your lips, but the denial only makes him laugh. vibrating against your skin.

"don't lie to me now. you spread those legs, let me fuck you raw, and you wanna play innocent?" his hips slam forward harder, forcing a broken cry out of you. "nah, sweetheart. you're mine for tonight"

the words burn through you, a mix of humiliation and sexiness. his grip shifts from your hair to your throat, not really squeezing, just holding. forcing your head up so he can hear every sound you make

"say it," he growls, grinding into you deeper "say how good i feel inside you."

your lips part, but nothing comes out except a breathless sob. he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, making you jolt forward with the force

"say.it." he repeats, more demanding this time.

"y-you feel -" your voice cracks, tears spilling hot over your lashes. "so good. so fucking good, rafe"

his groan is low, feral, in his chest. "that's it. knew you'd come around. you love it, don't you? love being split open by my dick"

he bends you lower, presses your chest into the sheets while his body cages yours. his thrusts turn frantic, rough, every stroke dragging slick and wet.

the sound fills the room skin slapping, obscene and raw, your cries caught between pleasure and pain.

he leans down, mouth brushing your shoulder as he murmurs against your skin, "feel that? that's me ruining you. you're not gonna want anyone else after this. they'll never fuck you like i do. and that’s exactly what i want"

you bite the pillow, muffling a sob, but he yanks it away instantly

"don't hide from me." his fingers grip your jaw, tilting your face sideways until your cheek presses into the mattress. his eyes bore into you from above, so mean but so sooo hungry. "i wanna hear every sound you make. i wanna hear how much you fucking love this."

your body betrays you;clenching around him, slick spilling down your thighs, your mouth spilling his name in broken, desperate fragments.

"fuck, yeah," he snarls, thrusts growing rougher, reckless "that's my name. scream it. let everyone know who owns you."

and ou do.you can't help it. his name rips out of you as the pleasure increases, your body snapping tight, release crashing through you so violently it almost hurts.

"that's it, baby, milk my cock. take every fucking drop of me. juuust like that” he fucks you through it, his hips stuttering as he comes deep inside you with a groan, grinding into you until you're crying from overstimulation.

when he finally slows, after he made sure you took every single fucking drop of his cum, you collapse forward, cheek pressed to the sheets, shaking. he slips out, the mess between your thighs proof of everything you swore you'd never let happen.

later, after the shower you take too fast, after the clothes you tug back on with trembling hands, you're home again. alone

your room quiet. your bed is cold. and your body still aches with the memory of his hands, his voice, his weight pinning you down. and now you're back home after you fucked kildare's biggest player, feeling more empty than ever.

you curl under your blankets, phone facedown on the nightstand. the silence in your room is suffocating. you thought maybe this would fill something, take away the gnawing ache you’ve been carrying around, but instead it’s worse—like you traded a piece of yourself and got nothing in return.

you tell yourself it was a mistake. that you’ll never do it again. that it didn’t mean anything.

but across town, in the dim glow of his bedroom, rafe is pacing like a caged animal. he hasn’t showered. hasn’t even bothered to pull on a shirt. he’s still slick with sweat, his jeans half zipped, the evidence of what he did with you dried on his skin. his hand drags over his face, then through his hair, restless

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, voice low and jagged. “you looked so pretty. bent over like that. couldn’t get enough.”

his laugh is hollow, sharp, not amused. he’s talking to the empty room, but in his head it’s you, listening “you don’t even get it, do you? all the times you walked right past me, pretending like i wasn’t watching. like i wasn’t already yours.” he grips the edge of his dresser, knuckles white. “but tonight—” he exhales hard, eyes squeezed shut, “—tonight proved it. you’re mine. you’ll fucking see.”

he paces again, restless energy bleeding out of him in jagged waves“doesn’t matter what you tell yourself,” he continues, voice sharpening. “you’ll sit in that little bed, thinking you can hate me, thinking you can forget me—but you can’t. no one’s gonna fuck you like i do. no one’s gonna touch you again without you thinking of me.”

he smirks at the thought, a sick, satisfied curl of his mouth

“yeah. that’s it. go ahead, cry about it. feel guilty. feel empty. i want you aching. i want you needing me.” he drags his tongue over his teeth, breathing heavy “because you’ll come back. they always do. but you—” his eyes blaze in the mirror, “you’re different. i’ll make sure you never fucking leave.”

he collapses onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed. his hands flex like he can still feel your body clenching around him, your voice breaking on his name.

“mine,” he whispers, almost reverent “always fucking mine.”

and while you lay awake, staring at the ceiling with regret burning a hole through your chest, you don’t know that rafe is already planning the next time he’ll have you, because he doesn’t believe there’s a world where you could ever really say no.

let’s go back a lil though… it didn’t start with sex. it didn’t start with drunken flirting at a party, or his body pressing you down, or the way he looked at you like he could eat you alive.

it started with coke.

last year—your final year of college—you found him in the back hallway of a frat house with a baggie in his hand, rolling a dollar bill tight between his fingers.

everyone knew him. the name carried weight on campus, just like it did back home on the island. money, football, the cameron reputation. girls lined up for a piece of him, even though half of them ended up crying about it later. guys either wanted to be him or to buy from him.

but you—you wanted nothing. you’d only ended up at the party because your friends dragged you. the music loud, the air smelled beer and sweat, and you were already two seconds from leaving when you turned down the wrong hallway and saw him.

he looked up, sharp blue eyes locking on yours. the smirk came instantly, like it was muscle memory “you want a line?” he asked, holding the bill up

you stared at him. at the coke. at his stupid smug face.

and then you laughed. not the kind of laugh girls usually gave him—not breathless or flirty, not a way to slide closer. this one was sharp and cruel “jesus christ,” you said, shaking your head. “you’re pathetic.”

his smirk faltered, just slightly but noticeable “what?”

“you heard me.” you stepped closer, pointing to the baggie “your daddy’s money isn’t enough? you’ve gotta ruin yourself on this shit too? god, you’re a fuck up.”

the words landed like blows. no hesitation, no sweetness. nobody ever talked to him like that, no one but ward.

rafe opened his mouth, closed it again, eyes narrowing. “you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“oh, i know exactly what i’m talking about.” you crossed your arms, tilting your head with a sneer “rich boy with nothing better to do but snort himself into oblivion. you’re a bitch, cameron. the kind of guy they make rehab brochures about.”

he should’ve walked away. he should’ve told you to fuck off, gone back to his coke, forgotten you existed. but he couldn’t.

your voice cut through him, merciless, slicing right through the armor he wore. no one else had ever dared. they coddled him, wanted him, envied him. but you—you humiliated him.

and something inside him lit up.

obsession doesn’t always start with love. sometimes it starts with hate. with the sting of someone seeing you, stripping you bare, and refusing to worship you like the rest.

he should’ve hated you for it. and maybe part of him did. but more than that—he wanted you.

after that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head. he saw you everywhere. walking across campus with your books hugged to your chest. laughing too loud with your friends. snapping at guys who tried to hit on you.

you never looked at him twice. never gave him the smirk or the giggle or the fuck me eyes he was used to. when you did look his way, it was always with that same sneer, that same dismissal.

“pathetic.”

“fuck up.”

“rehab case waiting to happen. again”

the names rolled off your tongue like you enjoyed cutting him down. and god help him, it only made him want you more. because under the insults, under the disdain, he saw something else

you saw him. not the money. not the football player. not the dealer. you stripped all that away and dug into the rot beneath. and instead of walking away in fear, you laughed in his face.

he replayed it over and over. the look in your eyes. the venom in your voice. the way you didn’t give a shit who he was

and somewhere along the way, it stopped stinging. it started feeding him.

he began to follow you without meaning to. at least, that’s what he told himself. walking back from class, he’d see you ahead and slow his pace to match. at the dining hall, he’d sit where he could watch you with your friends. at parties, he’d track you through the crowd without ever making himself known.

you were everywhere. and the more he saw, the more he learned.

you liked iced coffee, even in winter. you chewed the inside of your cheek when you were annoyed. you never stayed long at parties. you hated football. you had a sharp tongue for anyone who tried to get too close.

and when you laughed—really laughed, not the cruel one you saved for him—it was the most beautiful fucking sound he’d ever heard.

you became a map he wanted to memorize. every habit, every expression, every tiny detail. and with every piece he gathered, the obsession grew.

you, on the other hand, only got meaner. the rare times he tried to talk to you, you cut him down instantly.

“what, gonna offer me coke again? should i be flattered or insulted?”

“don’t you have some sorority girl to embarrass tonight?”

“seriously, cameron, get a grip. you’re embarrassing.”

each insult landed like a brand, burning into him. and he smiled through it, even when it gutted him. because it meant you were talking to him. because it meant you were thinking about him. because it meant you saw him.

he promised himself, one night when he was too wired to sleep, staring at the ceiling of his dark room with your voice echoing in his skull—he’d do anything to have you.

anything. he’d wait. he’d watch. he’d let you get all your venom out.

and when you were ready—when the world disappointed you, when the loneliness sank in, when you needed someone who understood the ugly parts—you’d realize it was him. it had always been him. he would make sure of it.

and so it began. the watching. the waiting. the need curling tighter inside him with every passing day. all because one night, you looked him in the eye and called him a pathetic fuck up.

and he decided you would be his. and so he started taking pictures of you.

at first, it was harmless—if you could call it that. blurry shots of you at parties, red cup in your hand, face hal lit by string lights. pictures of you in class, chin propped on your hand, scrawling notes while your friends whispered beside you. snapshots in the cafeteria, your expression pinched in annoyance when someone spilled a drink too close to your tray.

he told himself it wasn’t weird. it wasn’t stalking. he just wanted to remember. to hold you in his hands when you weren’t around.

but then it wasn’t enough. the pictures became constant. hundreds, maybe more, buried in hidden folders on his phone. he knew which routes you took across campus, which library tables you preferred, where you sat in lecture halls. his camera roll became a shrine.

and then came the hallway. it was late. the party was winding down, music muffled through the walls, the floor sticky with spilled beer. you slipped away, alone, cutting through the back corridor to avoid the crowd.

and he followed.

“jesus christ,” you groaned when you realized he was behind you, turning to face him with a roll of your eyes. “do you ever quit?”

he leaned against the wall, casual, smirk sharp in the dim light. “just making sure you get home safe.”

“yeah right.” your laugh “more like making sure i don’t forget you exist. newsflash, cameron—I wish i could.”

the words stung, but he soaked them in like gasoline. you stepped closer, finger jabbing into his chest. “you’re a fucking parasite, you know that? can’t stand on your own so you feed off everyone else. pathetic”

his chest rose and fell, heat crawling up his neck.

“what are you gonna do, huh?” you tilted your head, eyes glittering with disdain.“stand here and take it? thought you were supposed to be some big bad boy . but really, you’re just a pussy. hiding behind coke and daddy’s money. fuck up little boy.”

he said nothing. just stared at you, jaw tight, eyes dark.

you scoffed, shoving past him. “don’t follow me again. next time, i won’t be nice about it.”

and you didn’t see the phone in his hand, camera trained on you the entire time.

later that night, in his room with the door locked and his sheets tangled, he replayed the video over and over. the way your voice dripped with venom. the way you shoved him. the way you called him a pussy.

and when he wrapped his fist around dick, stroking hard and desperate, it wasn’t to the thought of you moaning or begging. it was to the sound of your voice spitting poison at him.

“pathetic.”

“fuck up.”

“pussy.”

he came undone with your insults echoing in the dark, spilling over his knuckles, chest heaving.

and when the aftershocks faded, he laughed—low, sharp, almost breathless. because you thought you’d cut him down. you thought you’d humiliated him.

but really? you’d just given him another piece of you to keep.

back to where we were… while rafe was having his little joe from you moment at tannyhill—pacing in the dark, whispering your name like a prayer and a curse—you were sprawled in your bed with a smug curl to your lips.

not because you got kildare’s player to fuck you. no, girls did that all the time. he was a walking bitch, known for ruining lives and leaving bodies in his wake.

but because he begged, you could still see it if you closed your eyes: rafe cameron, the boy every girl wanted, the boy who thought he ruled every room he walked into, down on his knees in front of you

“please,” he rasped, head bowed between your thighs, voice wrecked with desperation. “just let me—fuck, let me have you.”

he’d mouthed at your skin like he was starving, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, staring up at you with those insane blue eyes as if you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

yes, he was hung—biggest dick you’d ever taken, thick and heavy, making you split wide around him. yes, he was mean when he finally got inside, fucking you raw and messy, spitting cruel words against your ear until you cried.

but he begged first. that was the part that made your chest feel hot, made your lips twitch with pride even now.

rafe cameron, kildare’s biggest player, got on his knees for you. and even though he made you beg afterward—snarling at you to say his name, to say how good he felt—you still had that little victory lodged in your chest like a secret gem.

he begged.

across town, rafe sat at the edge of his bed, replaying it in his head too—but not the same way you were.

to him, it wasn’t begging. it wasn’t humiliation. it was devotion

“you think you won tonight,” he muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand through his hair. “think you got the upper hand ‘cause i dropped to my knees. nah. nah, that was me proving myself. showing you i’ll do anything. anything for you.”

his voice cracked as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he could see your silhouette burned there.

“you don’t get it yet, but you will. you’ll look back and realize you never had someone want you like this. no one else would crawl just to taste you. no one else would beg just to feel you clench around them.”

his hand flexed against his thigh, restless “and i’ll make you beg again. over and over. till you’re the one on your knees.”

you curled tighter into your sheets, smugness slowly fading into something duller, heavier. you tried to remind yourself of that little moment of power, tried to let it soothe the ache of emptiness left behind.

but the truth was still gnawing at you, unshakable. you let rafe cameron inside you.

and you weren’t sure if you hated yourself more for the fact that he begged or for the fact that you liked it.

not only that you let him in you—he came in you. you can still feel it if you let yourself think too long. the hot flood of him spilling deep, his hips grinding down like he wanted to make sure it stuck. the way your body clenched around him, helpless, as if you were made to hold it.

yes, you got a plan b right after. you didn’t even wait until morning—just pulled yourself together enough to slip out, drive across town, grab the little box and swallow it dry in the drugstore parking lot with shaking hands.

but still. some of his kids were inside you.

you laid in bed afterward, staring at the ceiling like it might peel open and crush you, stomach twisting with shame. your body knew him now, your walls still sore from the stretch, your thighs sticky no matter how many times you showered. and you hated yourself for remembering how it felt.

across town, rafe sat in the dark, grinning like he’d already won“fuck, you looked so good,” he muttered, running a hand over his face, replaying it again and again. “all mine. filled you up ‘til you couldn’t take anymore.”

he leaned back against the headboard, eyes half idded, chest rising and falling slow with satisfaction.

“doesn’t matter what you do now. pill, shower, whatever—you can’t wash me out. i’m in you.”

his fingers tapped against his thigh, restless, giddy “you don’t even get it yet, do you? that was me claiming you. that was me making sure you’ll never forget me. every time you lay down, you’re gonna feel it—you’re gonna remember i came inside you, raw, like you were already mine.”

he laughed under his breath, low and dark “yeah, sweetheart. you think you’re in control, think you’re proud ‘cause i begged. but that was strategy. that was me getting exactly what i wanted. and now?” he shook his head, smirk sharp as a blade. “now i’ve got you. doesn’t matter how much you fight me. i’m in you already. i’ll always be in you”

you’re slumped across your bed with your phone in your hand, hair sticking up in a messy halo, half of last night’s sweat still clinging to your skin. you can’t stop replaying it—the begging, the rawness, the way he came inside you—and it makes your stomach twist.

so you call your friend. because you need someone to hear you, someone to acknowledge that yes, you actually fucked rafe cameron and yes, you’re slowly hating yourself for it.

“oh my god,” you whisper as soon as she picks up, voice low and incredulous. “i… i did it. i fucked rafe cameron.”

there’s a pause on the other end. you can practically hear her blinking through the phone

“wait—what?” she finally says. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“he’s… he’s kildare’s biggest player. he’s mean. he’s—he’s everything i said i’d never let myself do. and somehow,” you groan, face pressed into your pillow, “somehow i let him fuck me. and not just like, quickies. he… he begged, okay? on his knees. begged me. like a little fuckin’ puppy, and i…” your voice cracks a little. “he made me beg more after that to put it in. i can’t even—”

“oh my god,” she gasps. “you… you actually let him? inside?”

“yeah,” you mutter, curling tighter under the sheets. “and yes, i got plan b immediately. but still. some of him is still… there. god, i’m disgusting. i feel disgusting.”

her laugh is nervous, a little sharp. “well… okay. so. you’re alive? you didn’t die? i mean, shit, at least you’re safe. mostly.”

“safe?” you scoff. “i fucked rafe cameron. i let him come inside me. and i don’t even know why. i’m… i’m proud? no, that’s not right. maybe proud? i mean, not proud. it’s fucked up. completely fucked up.”

“girl, he begged?” her voice cracks with disbelief. “he—he begged? what the actual fuck? you made him beg?”

“yeah,” you admit, hiding your face in your pillow. “i… i don’t know why. i just… i guess it’s some tiny victory. like, he begged. he’s supposed to be untouchable. and he begged. and i made him beg. but now… now i feel like shit. my stomach is twisting. my head is spinning. i think i need another shower. maybe ten showers.”

her sigh is sympathetic but laced with amusement. “well. congratulations? you officially broke rafe cameron. or… he’s broken you. i can’t even tell anymore. you’re fucked, literally and figuratively.”

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed. “i hate myself. i love myself. i can’t stop thinking about it. and he was mean. so mean. god, the things he said. but he begged. and that’s what’s… what’s fucked up. the begging. the pleading.”

there’s a pause on the line, then she laughs. soft, incredulous. “wow. you’re-wow. but also… kinda legendary. just saying.”

you roll over, staring at the ceiling, the memory of his hands, his voice, and that desperate pleading burning into your chest

“legendary?” you whisper to yourself. “more like… completely ruined.”

and as you sink back into your sheets, phone still warm in your hand, you have no idea that somewhere across town, rafe is replaying last night in his head. the begging. the way you let him inside you. your every expression, every word, etched into him.

you groan into the pillow, rubbing your eyes like maybe you can erase the memory of last night. “ugh, i hated him. i… i always hated him. every time he opened his mouth i just wanted to smack him. he’s arrogant, obnoxious, and such a fuckin’ know it all. the way he looks at everyone like they’re beneath him? yeah, i hated that. every second.”

your friend laughs “oh, honey… you hated him? maybe in public. but come on, everyone knows it. he was a dog for you anyway. the way he’s always chasing you, looking at you, the way he likes it when you’re mean… he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. not really.”

you sit up, hair falling over your face, frowning. “a dog? are you serious?”

“i’m dead serious,” she says, voice low but teasing. “he’s obsessed. and you… you act like you hate him. call him a fuck up, a pussy, mean as hell. and he just… takes it. soaks it in. loves it. like it proves he’s the only one for you. everybody knows it, okay? everybody. but you—you’re too busy thinking you’re in control to notice.”

you bite your lip, staring at the ceiling, trying to argue with her, but the truth stings. the way you pushed him down, laughed at him, called him names… and yet, last night, he begged. not because he was a loser or desperate—because he wanted you.

“so… what you’re saying,” you mutter slowly, voice heavy, “is that even when i treated him like shit… he liked me? or, like…waited to be mine?”

“exactly,” she says, smirking. “he’s always waiting. and you—oh, sweetheart—you don’t even realize how much power you have over him. that’s why he begged last night. begged. because even when you’re mean, you’re… irresistible. and yeah, he’s a fuckin’ dog for you. but, honestly? that’s exactly how you like it”

you bury your face in the pillow again, groaning “god. this is… fucked up. i hate him. i hate that he’s… like this. i hate myself. i hate everything.”

your friend sighs, laughing softly. “welcome to the rafe cameron effect. he’s messy. you’re messy. it’s gonna be fun. or hell. probably both. either way, i like it”

you roll over, hugging the pillow to your chest, a strange mix of dread and reluctant pride swirling in your stomach.

and meanwhile, while you were stretched across your bed, phone balanced on your ear, letting your friend ramble about campus gossip—who hooked up with who at last weekend’s party who got kicked out of the dorms for dealing weed, which professor got caught sleeping with a grad student…you were almost convincing yourself that last night didn’t matter.

almost. you laughed at the right parts, hummed along, pretending you weren’t hollow inside, pretending rafe cameron wasn’t sitting like a ghost at the back of your mind.

because as far as you were concerned, he was forgotten. shoved into the box labeled bad decisions, do not open.

but across the island, rafe wasn’t forgetting a damn thing. he was sprawled on kelce’s couch, legs stretched out, beer in hand, eyes gleaming like he’d just won the lottery.

topper was leaned forward in the armchair, jaw dropped, while kelce had his head tipped back, laughing so loud it rattled the walls.

“no fucking way,” kelce choked out between wheezes. “you’re telling me—you actually hit it? her? after she swore she’d never let you touch her? bro, that’s, fuck, that’s insane”

topper grinned wide, shaking his head “man, you’re a sick fuck. all those times she called you a pussy, a waste of space, said you were pathetic—and you still pulled it off? damn.”

rafe smirked, tongue pushing into his cheek, playing it cool even though pride thrummed through his veins “told you. she wanted it. she just didn’t know yet.”

kelce whistled low, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it “nah, man, that’s wild. she’s like… untouchable. always acting like she’s too good for you, too good for all of us. and you—” he laughed again, sharp and gross. “you broke her down. had her begging, huh?”

rafe’s smirk deepened. “yup, begging.”

“fuckkk,” topper drawled, eyes wide. “no one’s ever gonna believe it. she hated your ass, bro. like—hated. and now? you got her? shit. you’re a legend.”

rafe just leaned back, sipping his beer, hiding the manic glint in his eyes. because for him, it wasn’t just about fucking you. it was about owning you. proving you belonged to him, no matter what you said, no matter how mean you got.

and while topper and kelce laughed and barked their gross little praises, he just kept picturing you—messy hair, ruined lips, skin burning under his hands.

they thought it was a win. a notch. a story to brag about but to rafe, it was just the beginning.

you were half listening as your friend rambled on about some frat fight that broke out at the bar last night when suddenly she dropped it casually, like it wasn’t a bomb about to go off

“you know what would be so funny?” she giggled. “if you pranked him. like—went over to his place, got him all worked up again, made him beg like last night… but you record it this time. expose him to his tough guy friends. you know they’d eat that shit up. the big bad cameron, on his knees, whining for you.”

you froze, the idea slicing through you “what?” you asked slowly, though your lips already curled into a smile

“think about it,” she pressed. “everyone sees him as kildare’s cockiest player, right? this dude who doesn’t care, who can get any girl. but you could ruin that. you could show them he’s just your little bitch. i mean… it’s perfect.”

your laugh burst out sharp, wicked. “holy shit. that is perfect”

you sat up in bed, pulling the covers tight around you as the plan blossomed in your head. the thought of rafe—knees on the floor, voice cracking, eyes desperate—while you held a phone just out of sight? exposing him to topper, kelce, the whole fucking island?

god, it made you giddy.

“imagine their faces,” you whispered, grin stretching wider. “when they see him begging. when they realize he’s nothing but a pathetic little dog for me. oh my god, i could end him”

your friend laughed along with you, egging it on. “exactly! he’d never live it down. he’d be a joke. your joke. and honestly? after everything he’s put you through, all the shit he talks? he deserves it.”

you bit your lip, already running through the details. you knew where he lived, obviously—tannyhill. you could show up unannounced, bat your lashes, let him think you were there for another round… then flip it on him.

make him beg. make him crumble. and make sure the whole world saw it

“oh, i’m gonna do it,” you whispered, breathless with the thrill. “i’m gonna fucking do it.”

you didn’t know, couldn’t know, that while you plotted revenge in the safety of your room, rafe was still sprawled on kelce’s couch, drunk on the memory of you, swearing to himself he’d never let you slip away now.

because while you thought you were about to ruin him…he was already planning how to own you completely

so that’s how you ended up here.

you weren’t even sure how the fuck you pulled it off, but you were standing inside tannyhill, the infamous cameron mansion, shoes clicking against the polished floor.

rose, rafe’s stepmom,barely looked at you twice when you mentioned sarah’s name at the door, just gave one of her distracted smiles, muttered something about “she’s probably out,” and let you in

your pulse hammered with every step deeper into the house. the plan replayed in your head on loop: get into his room, charm him when he comes home, get him on his knees again, phone hidden and recording. the moment he begged, the moment his voice cracked, you’d own him forever.

the grand staircase felt too heavy under your feet as you climbed, like the house itself knew you didn’t belong. but when you found his door, slightly cracked, dark inside… it almost felt too easy.

inside smelled like him—cologne, faint gasoline from his constant boat tinkering. your chest tightened, but you pushed it down.

focus.

you pulled your phone from your back pocket, scanning the room for the perfect angle to hide it. dresser? nightstand? maybe the bookshelf?

you moved to the dresser first, yanking the top drawer open to check if it could hold your phone.

you froze. inside, scattered in uneven stacks, were pictures.

of you. printed, glossy, some clearly zoomed in from far away, som disturbingly close. your breath caught as your hand hovered over them, flipping through the pile with trembling fingers

you at a party, red cup in hand, laughing with your friends. you walking across campus, head tipped back, sunglasses on

you asleep in the grass behind the library, earbuds still tangled around you.

you at the beach in a bikini, sand stuck to your thighs.

your stomach flipped. each photo was more invasive than the last.

“what the fuck…” you whispered, heart thundering

the phone slipped from your hand, forgotten for a moment, as your eyes darted to his desk. laptop open, screen dark. like it was waiting

your legs moved before your brain could catch up. you sat, fingers hesitant, then pressed the spacebar.

the screen lit up—no password, no barrier. just folders.

and your name was on them. you clicked.

videos. shaky at first, then steady. clips of you in hallways, in classrooms, at parties. the audio clicked on, and you heard your own voice

“you’re pathetic, cameron.”

“pussy. god, you’re such a fucking waste.”

“you’re a joke, rafe. everyone knows it.”

your laugh rang out in one, cruel and taunting, and you watched yourself shove past him in a crowded corridor, his camera catching every second.

your throat went dry as you scrolled, heart in your stomach.

he kept everything. the way you mocked him, belittled him, cut him down. he’d catalogued it, treasured it. and not just videos—notes. word files. your schedule, what you wore, the times you left your dorm, who you were with

every second of your life was documented here. you pressed a hand to your mouth, bile threatening to rise.

the prank, the plan—you weren’t in control. you never were.

because rafe cameron wasn’t just cocky, wasn’t just obsessed with proving himself.

he was watching and you had just walked right into his nest.

your throat felt raw, your palms slipping against the edge of his desk. every instinct in your body screamed get the fuck out now before he comes home.

but you didn’t move, because under the shock, under the disgust, there was a curl of something sick.

he kept all of it.

every insult, every laugh, every time you called him pathetic. like it mattered. like it was worth remembering. like you were worth remembering.

you clicked another video—hallway, sophomore wing. you remembered it instantly. he’d been standing there, back against the lockers, eyes burning holes into your skin like he couldn’t help himself. and you snapped

“what do you want now, bitch?” your voice cut sharp through the laptop speakers. “what? you just gonna stare? can’t even talk to me? pathetic.”

the screen shook when you shoved past him, but he hadn’t stopped filming.

you bit your lip, eyes glued to the image, heat crawling low in your belly in a way that made no sense

because you realized it now, sitting in his room with stacks of your pictures in one hand and a record of your cruelty glowing on his laptop: rafe cameron wasn’t above you. he wasn’t this untouchable, cocky player.

he was yours. your little bitch.

the thought pulsed in your skull, heavy and intoxicating. he’d been building shrines to you while you ripped him apart. hoarding your voice, your face, your body like it gave him life.

and some sick part of you loved it. because what did that make you?

the one in control. the one who had him by the throat without even trying.

you leaned back in his chair, smirking at the frozen frame of your sneer on his screen

“pathetic,” you whispered again, softer this time, almost fond.

the front door slammed somewhere downstairs—loud, careless, rafe’s signature. you barely flinched, still sprawled in his desk chair, your eyes on the screen where your face sneered back at you from a frozen video frame

footsteps. heavy, uneven, up the stairs. your pulse picked up, but you didn’t move. not even when his door swung open.

rafe filled the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, jaw tight from whatever bullshit he’d been doing. and then his eyes landed on you

he stopped dead. the bag slid right off his arm, hitting the hardwood with a dull thud.

for a second, he didn’t breathe. didn’t move.

his gaze darted from you in his chair… to the open drawer, photos spilled like blood… to the laptop screen, where your voice echoed faintly, calling him pathetic.

“fuck.” his voice cracked low, raw, almost panicked.

you smirked, leaning back in his chair like you owned it, twirling one of the glossy pictures between your fingers

“wow, cameron,” you drawled. “you’ve been busy.”

his chest rose and fell hard, like he’d just been sprinting. color drained from his face and then came flooding back, blotchy and red

“you” his voice broke, throat clicking. “you weren’t supposed to—”

“see this?” you finished for him, tilting your head, letting the picture dangle tauntingly. “see the little shrine you built for me?”

his hand twitched at his side, jaw flexing so tight you thought it might crack

you stood slowly, closing the space between you and the desk, your eyes never leaving his. you wanted him to squirm. to panic. to break

“tell me, rafe,” you purred, waving the photo just out of reach, “did you get off to this one? or was it the videos that really did it for you?”

he swallowed so hard you could see it in his throat, hands clenching into fists like he didn’t know whether to grab you or fall to his knees

his lips parted, desperate, but no words came out, for the first time since you’d known him, rafe cameron looked… small.

you waved another picture at him, your smirk sharp enough to cut. “come on, rafe. don’t be shy now. you’ve been jerking off to me in secret for months, right? pathetic little—”

you didn’t get to finish. he was on you in a blink, the air knocked out of your chest as your back slammed against the wall. one of his hands pinned your wrist above your head, the other wrapped around your throat—hot, big, squeezing just enough to make your pulse stutter

your eyes went wide. his were darker than you’d ever seen, blue nearly swallowed whole

“watch your fucking mouth,” he growled, voice low and wrecked, nose brushing yours. “you think you can come into my room, go through my shit, and talk to me like that?”

his grip tightened a fraction, just enough to remind you who was stronger, who had you trapped against the wall with no escape. your breath came shallow, heat rolling through your body even as your brain screamed at you to be afraid.

“you don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, leaning closer, chest pressing hard against yours. “you’ve been in my head every second. every fucking second. you think those pictures are pathetic? those videos?”

he let out a harsh laugh, teeth bared. “that’s me keeping you close when you’d rather spit on me than look at me”

you squirmed under his hold, but it only made his fingers press firmer into your throat, sending another dizzy rush through you.

“you think i’m your little bitch?” he snarled, his lips ghosting your jaw now, hot and furious. “nah, you’re mine. always were. you just didn’t wanna admit it.”

his hips pressed forward then, sudden, pinning you harder against the wall so you could feel how hard he was.

your breath caught, and he smirked “see?” his voice dropped to a whisper, rough and sinful in your ear. “your body already knows who owns you”

his fingers flexed around your throat, not enough to cut you off completely, just enough to remind you that your pulse was under his control.

his body caged you in, every line of him pressed hot and unrelenting against yours

“say it,” he murmured, his mouth dragging down the side of your face, teeth grazing your jaw. “say i’m not pathetic. say i’m not your fucking bitch.”

your chest heaved, breath shallow and ragged, your mind a mess of panic and something hotter, darker, shameful

your lips parted, the fight trembling on your tongue—until it wasn’t fight anymore.

“…fuck” you gasped, the word breaking out of you like you’d been holding it in too long.

rafe’s grip pulsed at your throat, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

you swallowed hard, voice cracking, breathy and desperate“you fucking win, rafe.”

his smirk deepened, victory gleaming in his eyes.

and before he could drag it out of you any more, your knees buckled. you sank down in front of him, palms sliding up the denim of his thighs, looking up at him with your throat still raw from his hand

his chest rose, sharp and hungry, as he stared down at you kneeling there—obedient, finally “that’s more like it,” he whispered

masterlist ✵ req rules

tags @rafesbabygirl @rafesteddy @prettytheyswag @rgrimes @whosyourmommy69 @abireichstein @silkylovey @macbaetwo @t0x1cfaerie @imliterallysocoolfr @qversazex @sydneysslove @bebebambs @loverliner @beabogsims @dsfault @rosetintmworld @daddyrafeslittleslut @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @drewsephrry @maybejj @memoirofasparklemuff1n to get tagged

cherrywriterrr’s ©️ please do not copy, repost, steal, or translate any of my writing. failure to respect this will result in an immediate trip to blocksville

[prettytheyswag]

mortician!rafe sneak peek (18+)

“you don’t need to be anywhere else. this is where you belong. i’ll keep you warm. i’ll keep you full. i’ll keep you forever. when you’re with me, you’re safe. no one can touch you. no one can take you”

he’s trembling now, breathing rough against your skin “gonna cum, baby. gonna fuckin’ fill you up.” “want you dripping with me. leaking all the way home. you want that? want my cum inside? want me to mark you from the inside out?”

“you’ll keep it in, won’t you?just for a little while. you look so pretty full of me” he doesn’t clean you up right away. he just lays his head on your chest, still buried inside you, and listens to your heartbeat. he’s embalmed hundreds of bodies. but only yours ever made him believe in god.

some babies @rafesbabygirlx @prettytheyswag @rafesteddy @qversazex @rosetintmworld @httpsdrewstarkey

[prettytheyswag]

Quick, Kiss Me

Pairing: Bsf!JJ Maybank x Female Reader

Summary: You and JJ are on a mission to find something in an empty classroom and need to look like you weren't when you get caught

Word Count: 1,070

The classroom was dark, only lit by the sunlight outside cutting in through the blinds. You and JJ moved between desks, rifling through drawers, whispering quick updates every time you didn’t find what you were looking for.

“C’mon, it’s gotta be here somewhere,” JJ muttered, tugging open the filing cabinet at the back of the room. He glanced over his shoulder at you, blond hair falling into his eyes. “You’re sure this is the right place?”

You nodded, heart thudding. “Positive. If it's anywhere, it'd be here somewhere.”

And then you saw it—an envelope marked with the wheat stamp you’d been chasing. You held it up triumphantly, but before JJ could take it, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both your heads snapped toward the door.

“Shit.” JJ’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “Quick, kiss me.”

Your heart stuttered. “What—?”

“Kiss me. Now,” he whispered urgently, grabbing the envelope and shoving it in the back of his pants just as the doorknob rattled.

You caught on and followed his orders, grabbing his cheeks and smashing your lips against his. He pressed you back against the cold metal filing cabinet, hands braced on either side of you. The kiss was messy at first, more about covering your tracks than anything else—until it wasn’t. His mouth softened, lingering, and suddenly you weren’t pretending anymore. His body was flush against yours, and you could feel the thrum of his pulse under your palms.

The door creaked open.

“Mr. Maybank. Miss Y/L/N. Seriously?” The teacher’s voice was sharp, scandalized.

JJ tore his mouth from yours, still caging you in against the cabinet, breathless. “Uh…” he gave a sheepish half-smile, still trying to catch his breath. “Sorry about that, ma’am.”

The teacher’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment, she sighed. “You’re lucky I don’t march you straight to the principal. Get back to class. Both of you.”

“Yessir—ma’am. Absolutely.” JJ threw up a salute and grabbed your hand before the teacher could change her mind, tugging you out of the room with that infuriating grin plastered on his face.

Once the door shut behind you, you finally let out the breath you’d been holding and smiled wide, not just about finding the envelope. Your lips were still tingling, your heart pounding, and JJ was still holding your hand like he hadn’t realized it.

“That was close,” you whispered.

JJ glanced down at you, his grin softening into something else. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over yours. “Close.” He bumped his shoulder against yours.

The tension between you stretched, electric and heavy as you slowly walked through the halls.

"You're still blushing."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Shut up, Maybank.”

"It's cute."

You continued to walk but couldn't take your eyes of his face, chewing your bottom lip. JJ looked back over you and stopped in his tracks seeing the hungry look in your eyes.

Suddenly he was grabbing your wrist and tugging you gently toward another dark, empty classroom. Before you could ask what he was doing, he’d pushed the door open, pulled you inside, and kicked it shut behind him.

“JJ—” you giggled.

He didn’t let you finish. His hand slid to your jaw, and then his mouth was on yours again, hotter, more deliberate this time. No excuse. No cover. Just him kissing you like he’d been starving for it. You kissed him back just as desperately.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

Your chest squeezed, your lips still tingling. “Maybe as long as I’ve wanted you to.”

His grin spread slowly, like he couldn’t believe what you'd just said. He leaned in to kiss you again, but you pressed a hand to his chest as his lips brushed yours, breathless and smiling. “We have to get back before they start asking questions. Or before we actually get in trouble."

JJ groaned dramatically but didn’t move away, his hand slipping down to lace with yours instead. “Fine. But we’re not done with this, princess. Not even close.”

The way he said it made your pulse race all over again.

By the time you and JJ slipped back into the classroom your pulse still hadn’t calmed down. You smoothed your hair, trying to will the heat in your cheeks to fade, but JJ didn’t even bother—he strolled in like nothing happened. He handed the envelope to John B under the table when the teacher had stopped eyeing the two of you suspiciously. Your friends' eyes all widened in excitement.

“What took you guys so long?” Kiara whispered, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of your pink faces.

"That thing was hidden good."

Kiara raised a brow. Her suspiciously eyes flicked from him to you. “Uh-huh.”

You avoided her gaze, pretending to look at the papers on your desk like they were the most fascinating things in the world. But you couldn't help the corner of your mouth from twitching up. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you caught JJ looking at you again. The way his eyes softened for just a second, like he wasn’t in the room with anyone else but you.

John B tilted his head. “Why do you guys look… weird?”

“Weird?” you repeated too quickly, your voice a little higher than usual.

“Yeah,” Pope chimed in, squinting between the two of you. ���Like you're hiding something. Like—like maybe you just made out and are trying to act normal about it.” Damn Pope. Always too smart for his own good.

You almost choked. “What?!”

JJ’s smirk widened instantly, like Pope had just handed him the perfect setup. “What makes you say that, Pope? Think I’d kiss her and not brag about it?”

Your stomach flipped, heat rushing to your face. “JJ—” you hissed under your breath, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed.

Kiara’s eyes narrowed even more. “Mm-hmm. Yep, that's exactly what just happened.”

You began scribbling aimlessly on a piece of paper. You froze when JJ's foot slid to be up against yours.

You shot him a glare, but the smug sparkle in his eyes made your heart skip anyway. The air between you still buzzed with leftover tension and suddenly you'd never been so excited for school to be out.

[prettytheyswag]

girl you’re so iconic

YOU’RE so iconic wtf??? 🤭🤭🤭

[prettytheyswag]

Okay. So , I’m writing a Riara fic and going through all the canon lore we’re shown in the show , coming across this , I couldn’t help but share it.

In season three Rafe and Kiara are stranded together in the Barbados.

In this specific scene , at the time of their escape from Singh and his men , she ends up throwing Rafe into the water , taking his boat and abandoning him back in the Bahamas, defenseless.

During this scene the song Cheated hearts by yeah yeah yeahs starts fading in.

With a quick re-search of the lyrics and the meaning of them we come to a broad conclusion that it’s about being deceived in love.

The choice of the song could be both an accusation and a confession. It shows how Rafe didn’t just feel mad at her, he felt betrayed by her. And to feel betrayed you’ve got to have expectations. Romantic disenchantment, is the best way to describe it.

The song could be a way to confirm that Rafe does want Kiara, so when she throws him in the water, it’s like a slap in the face. He expected security and affirmation by helping her and thought they were getting close , but her abandoning him grounds him harshly, which is why he’s so upset. He’d put his feelings for her so high that he didn’t expect her to betray him , causing the literal fall in the water to be even more severe.

"Kept my high from the second one Kept my eye on the first one now" Sofia comes in??? He tries to move on from his feelings for Kiara by going straight to a different person (Sofia) and the high of this new connection , but his feelings for the first (Kiara) still stand strong. (First love theory???).

[prettytheyswag]

double fantasy

summary: confident city girl catches everyone’s attention including the hottest guy’s from each side of the island. What starts as a random invite to a party quickly turns into a tug-of-war for your attention. It’s clear that this ‘trio’ is about to get real messy.

warnings: MDNI 18+ , JJ Maybank x newgirl!reader x Rafe Cameron, smut , oral sex (both f and m receiving) , cum tasting (???) , p in v , teasing , unprotected sex (stay safe!!) , slight spanking.

a/n: hey!! In the middle of writing casual 2 and a new chapter of come back I’m cooking, I came up w this. Let me know your thoughts , would you want a part 2?? Likes make me giggly and Re-blogs earn you a kiss on the mouth.

words: 6.3k+

You stood behind the counter, your hands folding a pair of blue board shorts on autopilot while a loose strand of hair kept falling into your face. You tucked it behind your ear for the third time and blinked, already feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion creeping in. Three hours into your shift and this was only the morning half of your double shift day. The thought of the island club waiting for you tonight didn’t help , at all.

The shop around you buzzed quietly. Teenagers were clustered near the racks, their laughter bubbling up as they debated the best waves to catch today, while others were trash talking the tourists. Or better yet, “tourons,” as the locals liked to call them.

The bell above the door jingled, and….

JJ. of course.

He was one of the best surfers in the OBX , at least in the Cut , and even that felt like an understatement when you saw him out on the water, carving through waves like he was born for it.

He showed up every other day, sometimes just to hang out on the porch and talk trash with the locals, sometimes to swap boards and cause trouble , sometimes just because there was nowhere else he needed to be.

You don’t even flinch when his half-empty water bottle landed on the counter with a dramatic thunk.

“You’re getting tan, city girl” he points out ,

“Your tan’s the goal. You’re basically a walking SPF ad.” you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch as well.

“You want something?” you ask, pretending to go back to organizing the surf shorts.

He shrugs. “Thought I’d come annoy you for a minute. Maybe convince you to take a break and come watch the waves with me. Grab some ice cream , maybe”

You give him a look. The kind that said don’t play. “Yeah, well, I still have another six hours here , and then I’m heading straight to the Island Club for another six hour shift.”

He scoffs, sassy , “The island club, seriously?”

“What? Too classy for you?” You smile , nodding at his direction.

He makes a face like he just tasted something sour. “It’s not classy, it’s just full of-” He pauses, twirling his finger in the air like the word would appear. “Full of preppy guys with polos , button-downs and guys like Topper who’ve taken more L’s than their boat’s take gas”

You snort nodding “You’re not wrong on that.”

“So let me get this straight. You're gonna spend all day in here folding board shorts and selling board wax , then go spend all night pouring overpriced drinks for Kooks who’d run over a sea turtle just for the fun of it?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “And then I’m gonna do it all again tomorrow, and the day after that”

He let out a low whistle , clearly sarcastic “Living the dream , city girl.”

You mock-bow. “Thank you for your support, Sherlock”

“Well,” he says, drawing the word out as he stretches his arms over his head, “don’t work too hard. Would be a shame if you showed up to the party this weekend looking like you got hit by a truck full of surf wax and spilled mojitos.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you just subtly ask if I’m going?”

“What? No. I was just… making an observation. A very general, completely hypothetical observation.” He chuckles , scratching the crook of his neck.

“Right,” you stretch out the word holding back a giggle “okay , then. I’ll take it easy.”

JJ smiles, biting the inside of his cheek, but his eyes flickered toward the door, like he didn’t actually want to leave just yet. “So… you coming?”

You shrug,“If I survive the next few shifts without collapsing. And if I feel like dealing with drunk Kooks and backyard beer pong, then maybe”

“There’ll be fireworks,” he says. “And maybe , i’ll make sure I steal a keg stand with your name on it.”

You laugh, for real this time, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re trying to act unbothered. “Oh, a keg stand with my name on it? Trying to impress me?”

“Is it working?” He asks , smiling like a little kid , readjusting his backwards cup a few times.

It is working. And that’s the problem.

You tilt your head, putting your armor back on. “Maybe. But don’t think a stolen keg stand’s gonna win me over that easy.”

The bell jingles again as the door swings open, and JJ gives you one last look , lifting two fingers before stepping out into the sunshine.

You watch him go, a soft smile lingering on your lips as you shake your head.

Fuck.

Were you blushing?

Nope.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a soft pink as you finished up with your shift at the surf shop. Now, it was time to switch gears. Time to trade sandy boards and wax for the crisp work polo and mini skirt of the Island Club.

Sliding behind the gleaming bar, you took a steadying breath. This was your grind now, the night shift that paid better but came with a different kind of challenge. The surf shop had JJ , but the Island club had Rafe.

Rafe Cameron.

Speaking of the devil , for everyone else at least …

He sat on your section , like always. You had the power to soften him up , just a bit , just enough for him to not want to bite your head off.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice lower than usual, like he was measuring how tired you really were. No smirk, just the ghost of one. “Long shift?”

You nod, tucking your notepad into your apron. “Double. Again.”

“Same drink?” you ask, already reaching for the top shelf.

“Yeah, whiskey” he replies, then hesitating he asks “You eat yet?”

That made you pause. These days it seems he’s on the top of your list of people who care enough to ask something about you. Which was strange.

“Uh..no, no time. Came here straight from the surf shop”

He doesn’t say anything, just gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent ‘noted’ before his gaze drifts away for a moment, disapproving but unspoken.

You slide the whiskey glass to him and he mumbles a ‘thank you’ taking a sip , swirling the golden liquid on his tongue.

The bar buzzed around you as you kept moving between orders and customers , glasses clinking, soft laughter, music humming in the background, you couldn’t help sneaking glances his way every now and then. He watched you, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable, more like someone silently rooting for you to make it through the night without collapsing on the floor.

Once, he caught you staring, a real smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, gentle and unexpected. He shook his head like he was amused by his own soft side.

The rest of the night passed in a blur , orders, tired steps, and phony smiles that made your cheeks hurt. Somewhere along the way, Rafe disappeared, probably slipping out without a word. You found yourself watching the door for a moment longer than usual, disappointment bubbling quietly in your gut.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepping out into the humid Carolina night air, finally free from the polished quiet of the club and already daydreaming of the soft bed waiting for you at home. You were halfway to your bike when you heard him behind you, calling your name , a teasing ‘miss’ on the front of it.

“Rafe?” you turn clawing nervously at the strap of your bag, “thought you left”

“Without saying goodnight?” He shakes his head “I would never”

He hesitates, then pulls a brown paper bag from the backseat of his car , closing the door behind him. “Got you something. Couldn’t leave you starving.”

You blink , once again , caught off guard “You got me food?”

He shrugs, easy. “Yeah. Figured you’d want to eat before you crash. Burgers okay?”

He nods at the steps outside the country club and starts walking there , bag in hand , assuming you’ll follow , and you do.

You both settle on the cool concrete steps. He pulls out the burgers, handing you one along with a small paper carton of fries, carefully setting the bag down so the food wouldn’t touch the pavement.

Rafe takes a big bite of his burger , tossing a fry on his mouth , “You’ll come to the party this weekend , right?”

You wipe some ketchup from the corner of your mouth and shrug “What’s the deal with this party ? You’re the second person asking me today”

That makes his eyebrows lift, fry still mid-air. “You saying I’ve got competition?”

You grin around a bite “Depends. You planning on stepping up your game?”

He lets out a laugh, sitting back on his hands, swallowing his bite and titling his head “I brought you dinner, didn’t I? That’s gotta count for something, right?”

You tilt your head, tapping your chin and pretending to think it over “Hmm. You can’t just win me over with a burger”

“So I do gotta step up my game , huh?” He hums , taking another fry.

“You might” you chuckled.

The bonfire was already raging by the time you got there.

Which made complete sense. Around here, this monthly party had earned its own nickname , the three-way burrito , because it was the only place you’d ever find Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons all in one spot without someone throwing a punch, or someone’s head flying off their shoulders.

Well… most of the time.

You’re not even sure who actually convinced you to show up tonight.

Was it the stolen keg stand with your name on it?The late-night burgers on the country club steps?

No idea. Probably both. Probably neither.

You’d spent all day elbow-deep in surf wax and then six more hours serving rich old men. You had no business being out here. But here you were, shoes already full of sand, stepping straight into the chaos. Already half-regretting trading your warm , soft bed for this.

You were still trying to decide if the noise, the heat from the bonfire, and the smell of smoke mixed with salty ocean air were worth it, when the familiar voice cut your attention.

“I was hoping my keg stand would lure you to come” JJ says, grinning like he’d won some private bet.

“I don’t see a personalized keg stand though” you look around , and smirk when your gaze meets his again.

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish but cheeky. “Didn’t want to go to jail and miss you.”

You sigh, playing the drama queen. “I’ll let it slide , this time. But don’t let it happen again.” You point a finger at him, half warning, half teasing.

You were still laughing at JJ’s pouty face when you felt it , that shift. Like someone turned the volume down on everything but your pulse.

It didn’t take long to spot him.

Rafe.

Of course.

Cause this was your life now.

JJ straightens up slightly beside you, jaw ticking just once.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” Rafe finally says.

“Me neither , honestly , but I couldn’t resist” you say , making sure both of them feel included.

“Good thing I brought backup,” JJ adds, gesturing vaguely toward the keg like it was some grand romantic gesture. “She’s got a VIP spot.”

Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver “Yeah? Funny. I thought she already had one.” He says pointing vaguely at himself.

“You two fighting over VIP privileges now?” You scoff , playfully rolling your eyes.

JJ grins. “What can I say? I know a star when I see one.”

Rafe’s eyes never leave yours, “So do I.” He says like a child fighting for your attention.

You snort, biting back a smile. “Alright. If you keep this up , I might start charging appearance fees.”

JJ dramatically claws at his heart. “Worth every penny.”

Rafe, still calm and collected, takes a slow sip from his cup. “I’d pay in cash.”

The party has thinned out, the fire burning low now. You were seconds away from leaving without saying goodbye to anyone. You’d made your appearance, you’d survived the chaos, and now you wanted your soft sheeted cloud bed more than you wanted air.

You were just brushing sand off your legs when JJ appears again, drink in hand and his hair messier than before.

“Heading out?” he asks, tilting his head like a golden retriever.

You nod. “Yeah. Before I fall asleep standing up.”

JJ grins. “Cool. I’ll walk you, yeah?”

You open your mouth to respond but..

Once again.

Rafe.

He waves a hand , dismissively “I’ll walk her”

JJ scoffs half-joking. “Oh, we’re doing this now? That’s not your call”

“Everything about her is my call” Rafe narrows his eyes.

Your hands go up like you were breaking up a fight in gym class. “Yeah, no. This is not a custody battle. I’m just trying to go home.”

JJ throws his hands up. “I’m just saying I offered first-”

“And I’m just saying she doesn’t need you hovering over her like a golden retriever.” Rafe shoots back

You pinch the bridge of your nose sighing “How about you both walk me , or maybe neither?”

Silence. One heartbeat. Then two.

JJ blinks. “I mean…yeah?”

Rafe looks at you, then at JJ, then back at you again , then grumbled “Fine.”

You give them both a look, unimpressed but secretly amused. “Cool. Great. Let’s go, bodyguards.”

The three of you fall into step, the party noise fading behind. Sand shifts beneath your feet, cool now in the late night air.

JJ was chatting, trying to keep the mood light, but you could tell he was watching you closely, like you were the most important thing in the world.

Rafe walked quietly, his eyes locked on the path ahead but occasionally darting to you, like he was guarding some secret he didn’t want you to see.

“So,” JJ said, breaking the silence, “how’s the double shift treating you? Ready to sign up for another round?” His grin was teasing, but you caught a flicker of genuine concern.

You snort. “Are you kidding? I’m counting down the minutes till I’m horizontal.”

Rafe’s voice cut in, calm but with an edge you couldn’t ignore. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not invincible.”

“You’re underestimating me” you tease “Maybe I just like having you both worrying,” you add, voice low, almost daring.

JJ grins like he’s won a secret prize. “Told you. VIP treatment all the way.”

You reach your door, keys clinking softly as you dig through your bag. The silence behind you stretches just long enough to feel awkward , and kind of funny.

You glance over your shoulder.

“Well. Since you both insisted on walking me all the way home... might as well come in for a bit.”

They blink. Like you’d just spoken in another language.

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, wha-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe mutters, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

JJ stares at him for a beat, then just grins, shaking his head. “Fine. Cool. No commentary.”

You unlock the door and step inside like it’s no big deal , even though your pulse is tapping annoyingly at your neck and you can practically feel them both thinking way too loudly.

You glance over your shoulder again.

“You gonna come in, or what?”

They follow you in , JJ first, bouncing in like he’s been here a hundred times, even though he definitely hasn’t. His shoes squeak a little against the hardwood. Rafe lingers by the door a second longer. His shirt clung to the curve of his biceps, damp from the heat and salt air . His hand brushing the frame before he finally steps inside, eyes scanning the place like he’s trying to memorize it.

You hang your keys on the brass hook next to your door and take off your shoes. “Don’t touch anything sacred,” you say, half-joking, half-not.

JJ’s already eyeing the vintage record player in the corner. “So this is your cave of mystery, huh?”

You snort, dropping your bag by the couch. The cushions let out a soft sigh as the bag sinks in. A blanket is still draped over one armrest, rumpled from last night.

“Cave of exhaustion,” you correct. “Where I collapse and pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist.”

Rafe leans back against the wall. His arms are crossed, but his fingers twitch restlessly at the edge of his short sleeve. His blue eyes following every move you made, like he was committing each one to memory, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

You raise an eyebrow. “You good?”

He nods once, slowly. “Didn’t expect to be here.”

“Neither did I,” you admit, and for a second, that hangs between you three, honest and weirdly intimate.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of the way his quiet steadiness pulled at something inside you , like gravity you couldn’t fight. Where JJ was light and easy, Rafe was a steady rhythm you could lean on.

You grab three sodas from the fridge, press the cold tints to your arm to cool yourself down before tossing them one by one. JJ catches his like it’s a game. Rafe barely glances up and still snags his mid-air.

“And a good host” JJ noted chuckling.

You go to catch your last tint, but it slips from your fingers. Time slows for a beat before Rafe’s hand is there, steady and sure, catching it before it hits the floor. Your fingers brush , just for a second , light enough you almost think you imagined it. Still, it makes your pulse jump.

“Got you” he says.

You set your soda down on the coffee table, the clink echoing softly in the quiet room. Both of them follow suit, the three of you now clustered in the small living room. You settle next to JJ on the couch, shooting a glance his way before patting the empty space next to you.

“Come on,” you say, voice casual but with a hint of challenge.

Rafe eyes the spot, then you, and finally slides in next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. JJ shifts just a little, grinning like he’s betting the night’s just getting started.

They both look at you, eyes wide and curious, like they’re waiting for you to drop the secret you haven’t shared yet. You watch them, shifting your gaze between JJ’s confident grin and Rafe’s steady, unreadable expression.

Rafe’s eyes flicker back to you, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing just beneath his calm exterior. For a second, he looks almost caught off guard , like he’s wondering if this is really happening.

You lean in slowly, the air between you charged and electric. His breath catches when your lips meet his, sweet and sure, like you’ve been holding back just as much as he has.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your pulse hammering loud in your ears. Without missing a beat, you turn toward JJ.

He catches the shift instantly, his confident grin widening as you lean in and press your lips to his , sweet and sure all over again.

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then he’s all in, the spark between you crackling as his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you a little closer.

Rafe clears his throat, but the corners of his mouth twitch into a reluctant smile.

You bite your lip and then without missing a beat , JJ is kissing your shoulder while on the other side Rafe kisses your neck. JJ’s lips are warm and light, a featherlike touch that makes you catch your breath. Your breath catches, uneven and shallow. On the other side, Rafe’s gentle kisses trail along your neck, steady and quiet, like he’s trying to memorize the moment

You lean into the feeling, eyes practically rolling back , savoring the closeness. Your fingers drift to Rafe’s arm, warm fingertips resting there softly, while your other hand tangles JJ’s hair tensing around it and cradling his head close to your skin.

“You’re so beautiful” one of them murmurs. You don’t know which , and somehow, that makes it better. Hotter.

You don’t even answer , not with words. Instead, you let your fingers trail up Rafe’s arm, slow and deliberate, until your hand rests over his chest. You can feel his heartbeat there, quick beneath your palm. It’s a quiet giveaway. He’s always so composed, but not right now. Not with you this close.

JJ’s breath grazes your collarbone, a soft exhale that sends a shiver right through you.

His hand brushes your thigh, grounding, like he’s making sure you’re still here with him too.

You shift slightly, just enough to slide your top off, letting it fall beside the couch in a soft rustle of fabric. The air brushes against your bare shoulders, cooler than expected, goose bumps rising up your skin.

“Holy shit” JJ pants , voice low and ragged, thick with disbelief and something desperate.

You glance over at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks slightly flushed, chest rising and falling a little faster than before. His fingers twitch against his pants, like he wants to touch but doesn’t know if he’s allowed yet. Like he doesn’t want to ruin it.

Rafe’s gaze is hotter, quieter. He hasn’t moved , hasn’t even blinked. But his eyes are locked on you. His tongue flicks across his bottom lip, slow, almost absentminded. His breathing is shallower now too.

Controlled.

Barely.

You tilt your head slightly, meeting each of their eyes in turn , holding Rafe’s just a second longer, then flicking back to JJ, whose breath visibly catches.

The air between you all is thick now , not just with tension, but with need and expectation.

Then, still wordless, you stand.

They both track your every move, heads tilted upward in awe. You pause, just long enough to let their imaginations go wild, then look over your shoulder with the kind of smile that says I know exactly what I’m doing.

JJ blinks. “Wait—”

Rafe doesn’t wait . He bolts up from his seat and follows you.

You don’t wait for them. You turn and walk down the short hallway, bare shoulders glowing in the dim light.

Behind you, you hear the shuffle of movement, the quiet curse from JJ under his breath, and Rafe telling him to ‘shut his mouth’.

You push open the bedroom door with your fingertips and slip inside.The air is cooler here, shadows stretching long across the floor from the hallway light. But it’s the scent that catches you first , warm, dreamy, and lingering , rose and gardenia, your favorite Maria Novella perfume still hanging heavy on the sheets, even hours after you sprayed it on yourself.

Rafe freezes just inside the doorway, like he’s stepped into a dream again, his breath shallow, eyes drinking in the space and you.

Slowly, he leans in, lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your pulse quicken. His kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, the warmth of him grounding and electrifying all at once, when you feel a warm breath against the skin of your shoulder.

JJ’s mouth follows, pressing soft, fleeting kisses along the tender skin, light enough to send a shiver down your spine, his hands gently palming your breasts. His breath catching and your nipples hardening to the point of pain , straining against the lace of your bra, both from the fire of his palms and the breeze coming from the ceiling fan.

Your body shifts slightly between them, caught in the delicious pull of both their attention. The room hums with quiet energy, charged and full of unspoken promises.

Rafe pulls back, breath coming in slow, measured bursts, his eyes locking with yours. For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if silently asking for permission. The air between you feels charged, heavy with anticipation and aching need.

You nod, the movement small but enough to give him the green light. His hands move deliberately to the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly. As he pulls the fabric over his head, you can’t help but watch the way his muscles shift beneath his skin, the smoothness of his chest catching the light in the room.

Behind you, you feel JJ’s presence even closer now, his chest lightly brushing against your back. His lips find your neck, hot against your skin, sending a ripple of heat pooling in your lower abdomen. The room is filled with a quiet, electric tension. The soft sound of your breaths, the barely-there movements of hands, it all creates a rhythm, a dance of need and quiet longing.

JJ watches Rafe for a beat, then huffs a soft laugh under his breath , like he’s not about to be outdone. He peels his own shirt over his head in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly beside the bed.

You reach down slowly, fingers finding the zipper at your hip. You don’t rush. You don’t need to , not with their eyes on you like that.

The skirt slides down with a whisper of fabric against skin, pooling at your feet. You step out of it, deliberate, almost teasing, the cool air brushing your now-bare legs and raising goosebumps along your skin.

Neither of them says anything , they don’t have to. It’s written all over their flushed faces.

You walk backwards , until the back of your knees hit the bed. You lay down and their eyes follow your hands as you slowly peel the black lace down your knees. Rafe steps closer , unable to resist he ran his hand up your thigh , raising goosebumps on the skin. You moan softly at his warm fingertips , and he grasps the lace panties lying on your knees jerking it completely off and putting them on his pocket. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to melt , right here and there , next to the pile of clothes on the floor.

The mattress sank , slightly, as JJ crawls next to you , his tongue and teeth dragging along your collarbone and up your neck , breath warm and tickling as he panted , “That okay?” Toying with the strap of your bra.

“Yes” you breathe , more like a gasp as you feel Rafe’s mouth on your legs , kissing behind your knee before draping your leg over his shoulder , his hot lips now trailing up your thigh , the ache between your legs almost unbearable , you have to try and squeeze your legs together.

“Uh uh” he disapproves , breathy , teasing , nudging your legs apart and settling his head between them.

You were about to beg , beg for him to do something , anything to relieve the tension that’s building on your body. But JJ’s mouth on yours shut you up , his touch was electric , the sensation combined with Rafe’s was almost too much. But at the same time , not enough.

Rafe’s hands grip your hips , like they are his lifeline. Kneading the flesh filling his palms. “You’re so soft” he murmurs against the skin of your stomach , trailing hot open-mouthed kisses , throwing a nip here and there , as if trying to taste you fully.

“Rafe” you gasp as he hums , the sound making your already sensitive pussy vibrate , and he groans in response unable to stop himself. He kisses on the mound gently , running a finger up your lips. You moan again , and wanting to make sure JJ feels included you tug at his hair , pulling him in another heated kiss , letting him swallow your moans with his tongue.

You shiver as JJ slides your bra completely off , letting your breasts spill free. Hot and hungry his mouth latches onto a nipple sucking so hard , strings of drool appear. Hands flying on both of the guys heads. One on Rafe’s head , who’s face was buried in between you hips , taking care of the aching need deep inside her , and the other running through JJ’s blonde messy hair , tugging him closer to your breasts. Each demanding attention.

Rafe’s warm fingertips teased your swollen clit , rubbing slow and gentle circles while his tongue was licking flat and slow stripes in between your pussy lips. Moaning like he was the one receiving all the pleasure.

“Oh fuck” your hips stutter against his mouth , back arching off the bed and into JJ’s hot skin. Rafe lifts his head , chin glistering with both his saliva and your juices.

He doesn’t mind.

Not at all.

He savors it.

Panting and slightly trembling, you change positions, making them both lay next to each other , heads resting against the headboard of the bed. Your fingers find their way to both their waistbands , tugging at the fabric , they get the cue , quickly lifting their hips and removing their pants and boxers all at once .

Cause no man could ever deny you anything , least of all JJ and Rafe.

Their cocks swinging free. Both hard and throbbing with want. You engulf Rafe’s in your mouth and down your throat, tasting the saltiness on his pre-cum on your tongue , expertly rolling the foreskin back , while your hand reaches to stroke JJ’s cock , exploring it with you slender fingers and teasing the slick sensitive tip with your thumb.

Rafe’s hips jerk up “fuck” he groans , and it may be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, and blended with JJ’s strangled noises as you circled the tip of his cock?

Heaven.

You switch between them a few times , taking JJ’s entire length on you mouth , right down to the root, lips parting around him , hollowing your cheeks in a way that made his hips buck. Meanwhile Rafe writhes and pants as he watches you with JJ and feels your fingertips squeezing teasingly his wet heat.

At some point , Rafe positions himself over you, his thighs on either side of your hips, his burning gaze locked with yours. The air is charged with an electric tension that makes you shiver. Your body is humming in anticipation, the proximity of these two men driving you to the brink of insanity. “Just like that,” he murmurs breath hot and burning against the tender skin of your neck “my turn yeah?”.

“And what? I just watch?” JJ pants , a small scoff escaping him.

“Yeah you shut the fuck up and take the backseat” Rafe snaps.

JJ huffs on your side and continues leaving open-mouthed kisses on the skin of your neck and jaw , brushing your hair out of your face , his hand slipping in between you bodies and pinching your nipple, making you gasp so he could swallow it right up.

Your thighs clench into Rafe’s sides as he shifts rubbing the head of his cock against your folds , using your heat as lubricant , blended with his pre-cum. And he makes eye-contact.

Fuck.

The sensations almost overwhelming. The fire of his blue eyes burning through yours , JJ’s soft lips and tongue trailing kisses along your skin, impossible for you to focus on either.

Rafe’s cock disappears into your body with a long steady thrust, making your head fall on your side , giving more access of your neck to JJ , who takes advantage of the position and devours your neck likes it’s his last meal.

“Fuck, fuck that-“ you gasp out nails digging on Rafe’s back,

“Don’t stop” your hips lifting involuntarily, trying to take Rafe deeper inside you. JJ kisses your mouth as you moan and reaches between your bodies to rub your swollen clit , making your head roll back.

“You’re perfect” Rafe pants in your ear, pushing his cock in and out of your sliding pussy in a way that makes your face grow hotter , that flush making him grunt , burying his face on your chest , sucking and bitting the flesh. “Shit I’m so close”.

JJ’s thumb on your mouth muffles your moans as you lick and suck on it, which turns him on even more , making him grow impatient for his turn to come.

Or cum. Which he already kinda was, by the way.

His rigid cock still untouched but already leaking at the tip , he rubs the cum with his finger and brings it back in your mouth , making you taste the saltiness of him , and you do . Gladly.

“Good, good girl” JJ breathes , voice low and velvety.

You lick your lip and gulp, the groaning sounds Rafe is making are almost your undoing. You try to hold on to something , a muscled arm , the back of a head , anything. Rafe caught up in his own orgasm, wraps your legs tighter around his waist to pull you even closer , heels digging into his ass , enough to emerge your bodies and souls together. He keeps kissing you everywhere , corners of your mouth , cheeks, jaw , ‘his’ side of your neck, while JJ has the other.

Rafe hits the sweet spot dip between your hips and you arch off the bed , a broken moan leaving your mouth as you hit your climax , Rafe already spilling deep inside you painting your walls white with his cum , pulling a bit out , making you both gasp and then sloppily pushing it back in, riding off both of you highs.

“My turn , man. Get off” JJ nudges Rafe’s shoulder , fed up and painfully turned on.

Rafe pulling out left you empty and slightly disappointed , but it doesn’t take long and you’re already stretched out again , now with JJ’s cock , Rafe’s cum making it easier to access and move, your already sensitive body already trembling.

On your side , Rafe is kissing your arm , down your hand and then up your shoulder , before connecting his mouth with yours , his hot tongue tasting all of you. One of your hands cup the crook of his neck as you moan in his mouth and the other digging on JJ’s muscled back , enough to make him his , the pain delicious and oddly erotic.

“Harder” you gasp squeezing your thighs around JJ , eyes rolling back.

“Harder?”

“Yeah” you moaned urging him by nipping at his shoulder.

Rafe pulls his mouth away for a second so JJ could flip you onto your stomach and get back on top of you. He spreads your cheeks and you arch your hips off the bed to give him better access. His callused palms grip your hips and groans as he enters you, “you okay?”

“Yeah” you moan , reaching for Rafe , who’s pressing velvet kisses on your back , pulling your hair to the side.

“Fuck you’re so hot” Rafe grabs your jaw so you could turn your head to the side and look at him as he spoke. Reaching between bodies and connecting his palm with your ass cheek , the red of his handprint painting your skin, making you gasp.

“Shit you like that huh?” JJ asks tauntingly thrusting deeper inside you, balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

“I love it” you moan feeling Rafe’s mouth on your neck again , marking his territory, breath hot and tingly against your skin.

JJ lifts his hand slapping against your ass , so now you’ve got the red of his handprint as well, making you push back against his cock, “you love it?”

“Yes ! Yes!” you hum, nodding vigorously against the sheets.

“Lets try something , get on your sides” Rafe orders , gesturing with his hands.

JJ furrows his eyebrows and reluctantly gets off you so you can turn on your side.

“Like that , get behind her”

JJ does so , spooning you from the back , hand around you waist , confused as fuck. “Now what , man?” He scoffs “you cant just blue-ball me like this”

Rafe says your name to grab your attention “You want us both?”

“Obviously?” You huff breathlessly.

“Wanna try both at the same time?” He asks , crawling to your other side so he was facing you. You paused and JJ went rigid behind you. “Y’know like..double penetration” he says , voice low and hopeful.

“I’m in” JJ blurts out.

“Yeah figured, I’m not asking you” Rafe rolls his eyes , keeping his gaze locked with yours to make sure you’re in on this and not uncomfortable.

“Yes” you nod.

You fucking nod.

Holy. Shit.

Both guys move quickly into position. JJ on your back and Rafe on your front.

JJ spreads your ass cheeks with his hands and slowly slides inside you , careful so you can adjust to the “fullness” of the filling. You reach behind your shoulder and touch his head , bringing his face closer to your neck.

Meanwhile Rafe is making sure your legs are held open as he thrusted from your front , his cock massaging your inner walls, eyes wide.

You want to both melt and tense at the same time. A delicious mix of pain and unbelievable pleasure. Neither of you moved for a while. You stay there , sandwiched between them , split open and absolutely stuffed. Every inch of you staying filled. No part dissatisfied.

Mute with ecstasy you can only breathe as the two men start moving , their thrusts gentle and careful. Their hands are everywhere. Rafe’s gripping your ass , bringing you closer to his body , JJ’s are on your breasts, cupping and squeezing your flesh while his breath tickles your ear.

JJ quickly reaches his climax , since he was already close. Forehead falling on the back of your shoulder , trailing lazy kisses on your back. “Jesus” he rasps and it’s enough to slide a shiver down your spine and bring you over the edge , arching to Rafe’s sweaty chest.

The added contact makes goosebumps run down his skin. With one last roll of his hips he releases his seed deep between your hips, still holding you close, he reaches up with his thumb , pulling your lower lip down and sucking on it with a hum. After a few moments , both of them slide out of you.

Then you slept , still sandwiched between the two guys in a familiar embrace. Even in sleep both men wordlessly competing for your attention and affection.

[prettytheyswag]

͙ 𖦹⠀beautiful person award! once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. if you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ 🧁

I’m blushing 🫂🫂🫂🫂

[prettytheyswag]

chill cause it rlly doesn’t take much for me

me being mesmerized by you:

stop the small talk. when we fuckin???

[prettytheyswag]

you’re my beautiful wife with a disorder(s)!! my wife. mine. i’m obsessed w u

I’m so pregnant rn y’all , I don’t play about my wife

[prettytheyswag]

this is dealer!rafe btw

[prettytheyswag]

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

corpse bride!rafe introduction...

paired with emily!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. mature content. potential descriptive smut, cheating (not really), kinda necrophilia if you think about it, use of cannibalism as metaphors, drinking, angst, talk of heartbreak, trauma, dead!reader i guess?? i will write a cw for every separate work for this !!!

sypnosis: what if rafe was in corpse bride…? when rafe cameron, victor’s brother, is dragged into the lively land of the dead with you, he doesn’t expect to find beauty in decay. as victor tries to trick you to get back to his intended bride, rafe finds himself wanting to stay because he fell…for you.

note- no use of y/n, no descriptions of looks/body but emily!reader is wearing the same thing as her in the movie. i take requests and suggestions for this pairing!!!

𓉸 chapters... (soon)

masterlist

tags @rafesbabygirl @rafesteddy @prettytheyswag @rgrimes @whosyourmommy69 @abireichstein @silkylovey @macbaetwo @t0x1cfaerie @imliterallysocoolfr @sydneysslove @bebebambs @loverliner @beabogsims @dsfault @rosetintmworld @daddyrafeslittleslut to get tagged

cherrywriterrr’s ©️ original work. please do not copy, repost, steal, or translate any of my writing. failure to respect this will result in an immediate trip to blocksville.

[prettytheyswag]

Part two to casual?

👀👀👀 you’d want that????

[prettytheyswag]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. if you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out 🤍🪽🧸🦌

don’t play I’m pregnant w your babies rn

[prettytheyswag]

yaaaallll my game is oooooonnn

seven days undone r.c

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni!! smut, rough sex, degradation, praise, choking, possession, dacryphilia, creampie, overstimulation, multiple positions, choking, light pain play(???),language, petty behavior, relationship tension, arguing, possessive!rafe, boyfriend!rafe, light manhandling, detailed descriptions of emotion and body language, established relationship

words: 10.3k

note- based on this ask. i hope this is good enough????

it started with the way he’s leaning in the doorway. one shoulder pressed to the frame, the other hand dragging down his jaw like he’s keeping himself from saying something worse than what’s already passed between you. he’s looking at you like he can’t decide if he wants to apologize or snap, and that flicker in his eyes tells you he’s closer to the second option.

“you’re really not gonna drop this?” his voice is rough, impatient, like you’ve been circling the same point for hours.

“drop it?” you repeat, eyebrows shooting up. “rafe, you literally flirted with her right in front of me.”

he groans, head tipping back against the frame like he’s physically exhausted from hearing you talk. “it wasn’t flirting. i was just being nice.”

“you touched her arm,” you remind him, each word deliberate, pointed. “you laughed at every dumb thing she said, and you let her stand there with her hand on your chest for, like, thirty whole seconds.”

“i was talking,” he bites back, stepping further into the room. “what do you want me to do, shove her away?”

you cross your arms, holding his gaze without flinching. “oh, god forbid you be rude to some random girl who’s clearly into you. wouldn’t want to bruise her ego.”

his jaw tenses, and his nostrils flare in that way they do when he’s about two seconds from losing it. “you’re making this into something it’s not.”

“no,” you say, taking a small step toward him, just enough to make your point sting. “i’m calling it what it is. and what it is, is you enjoying the attention.”

the corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smirk, but not quite—and you can tell it’s the wrong thing for him to do right now “you’re jealous,” he says, he’s testing you.

you laugh, sharp and humorless. “i’m not jealous. i just don’t like my boyfriend acting like he’s single.”

rafe takes another step, close enough now that you can smell the faint bite of his cologne, but you hold your ground “you think i’m gonna leave you for her?” his tone is almost mocking, but there’s an edge under it, like he’s daring you to answer wrong.

“no,” you admit, tilting your head, “but you sure as hell didn’t look like you remembered you had me.”

he stares at you for a beat, breathing heavier now, and you can see his knuckles flexing like he’s resisting the urge to grab you “you’re being dramatic,” he mutters, but it’s quieter this time, almost like he knows he’s losing the upper hand.

you smile, stepping back just enough to put space between you. “or maybe you just don’t like when i’m right.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, and you watch the muscles in his jaw shift as he grinds his teeth “you’re not gonna let this go?”

you shrug, pretending to think. “not tonight.”

he scoffs, a sharp sound that bounces off the walls. “don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing at topper’s party last month.”

your stomach drops, heat rushing straight to your face. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” he says, his voice rising now. “standing there with evan, all giggly and leaning into him like you didn’t know i was right there.”

you blink at him, stunned—not because you don’t remember it, but because he has the audacity to pull it out like some kind of gotcha moment. “rafe, are you serious? evan is literally your friend. and i wasn’t touching him. i was talking. but you? you let that girl pet you like a damn golden retriever in front of half the island.”

“you’re exaggerating,” he snaps, his voice sharp.

you laugh, but it’s loud and humorless, a sound that makes him flinch just slightly “oh, fuck it. you know what? fine. you want to act like that? then i’m done.”

his brows knit together, confusion sliding over his anger. “done with what?”

“done letting you touch me until you learn how to act like my boyfriend and not a sixteen year old boy who just figured out what attention from women feels like,” you spit, every word dripping with venom. “call that bitch if you’re so desperate for hands on you. maybe she’ll scratch behind your ears too.”

he stares at you like you just slapped him, chest rising and falling hard. “you’re joking.”

“nope,” you say, popping the “p” and crossing your arms again. “i’m not fucking you, not kissing you, not letting you so much as put a hand on my thigh until you remember who you’re with.”

he lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t be serious.”

you tilt your chin up, holding his gaze without blinking. “watch.me.”

his eyes narrow, and you can see the tension knotting in his jaw, the way his fists curl like he’s debating whether to argue or grab you and make you take it back. but you don’t move. you just stand there, smug in your silence, letting the weight of your words hang between you until it’s suffocating

your voice cuts through the thick, tense quiet. “i decided,” you say, steady and unflinching, “no sex until then, rafe.”

he blinks at you like he didn’t hear you right, then lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh “you’re out of your mind.”

“maybe,” you shrug, shifting your weight onto one hip, “but at least i’m not letting some random guy rub his fingers down my shirt while my boyfriend watches.”

he steps closer, slow but deliberate, like a predator testing the distance to its prey “you think you can play this little game with me? cut me off? punish me like i’m” he stops himself, exhaling hard through his nose, eyes raking over your face

you hold his stare, refusing to budge. “you said i was being dramatic. fine. call it whatever you want. but until you can go a whole night without acting like the lead in some bad high school rom com, you’re not getting anything from me.”

his jaw tightens, and he tips his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re bluffing. “you’re serious.”

“dead serious.”

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, and you can see the way his hands twitch at his sides, the restless frustration boiling just under his skin. “you’re gonna regret saying that.”

“we’ll see,” you shoot back, voice cool, even though your heart’s hammering. “until then, maybe find something else to keep your hands busy.”

he stares at you for a beat like you’ve grown a second head, chest still rising and falling a little too fast for the calm tone he forces out next “oh, c’mon, baby. don’t be this way.”

his voice is lower now, coaxing, that half pleading lilt that’s meant to melt you down, make you forget the heat in your own blood. normally, it works. right now, it just irritates you more

you arch a brow, crossing your arms tighter. “this way?”

“yeah,” he says, stepping forward, palms out “this whole… punishment thing. it’s crazy.”

“punishment?” you echo, tilting your head, feigning confusion. “oh, so you admit you deserve one?”

his mouth opens, closes, the corner twitching like he’s trying not to smirk. “that’s not what i said.”

“mm. sounded like it to me.”

he groans quietly, dragging a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s trying to keep himself in check. “look…i was out of line, alright?”

you tap a finger against your arm, unimpressed. “out of line? rafe, you let her touch you for half a minute like i wasn’t standing right there. that’s not ‘out of line,’ that’s”

“baby,” he cuts in, the word sharp, desperate, like if he says it enough you’ll soften.

but you don’t. you just glare, tilting your chin higher. “don’t ‘baby’ me.”

he sighs, stepping closer again, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “it didn’t mean anything. i wasn’t even thinking about her. you’re—”

“don’t finish that sentence,” you snap, and the way his lips twitch says he was about to feed you something sweet enough to rot your teeth, anything to drag you off your high horse.

you shake your head. “you’re not talking your way out of this, rafe.”

his eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance breaking through his practiced patience. “so what, you’re just gonna ice me out over something this small?”

“this small?” you repeat, incredulous. “god, you’re lucky i’m not kicking you out until you learn some manners.”

“manners,” he mutters, like the word tastes bitter in his mouth. “jesus, you make it sound like i slapped her ass in front of you.”

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “you might as well have. you looked like you were enjoying it.”

“i wasn’t,” he says quickly, too quickly. “i was just being—”

“nice,” you finish for him, mocking his earlier excuse. “yeah, i heard that one already. didn’t buy it the first time.”

he blows out a slow breath, shaking his head. “you’re really not gonna let this go.”

“nope,” you answer, popping the “p,” again because you know it gets under his skin.

he studies you for a second, jaw flexing, then takes a deliberate step forward until you’re practically chest to chest. his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to grab your hips and force you to listen. “i didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“but you did,” you counter, matching his stare.

his lips part, and for a second, it looks like he might say sorry—might actually give you the thing you’ve been waiting for. instead all he gives you is “you’re my girl. you know that.”

you laugh under your breath, sharp and humorless “oh, that’s comforting. ‘my girl’ who gets to watch other girls paw at you.”

he swallows, throat working, the muscle in his jaw ticking again. “i don’t want them. i want you.”

“you’re impossible,” he mutters when he sees your blank stare, but there’s no heat in it just frustration.

“and you’re not touching me until you stop being impossible,” you shoot back instantly.

he lets out a dry laugh, leaning back half an inch like he’s trying to study you from a safer distance. “you think you can hold out longer than me?”

you shrug. “i know i can.”

“baby—”

“stop calling me that.”

his jaw works agai, but he doesn’t stop moving closer until his hands are braced on either side of you, caging you in against the wall. “you’re killing me.”

you tilt your head, feigning innocence “good.”

his eyes darken, and for a split second you can see it—the moment he considers throwing your little rule out the window, pinning you here until you’re too wrecked to remember why you were mad. but you keep your chin up, keep your mouth curled into that smug little smirk that you know drives him insane.

“you’re serious about this,” he says finally, low and disbelieving.

“dead serious, rafe.”

he huffs out a humorless laugh, dropping his head forward so his forehead almost brushes yours. “you’re gonna cave.”

“we’ll see,” you whisper back, sweet and taunting.

his fingers flex against the wall, and he mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch before pushing off and pacing a few steps away like he needs the distance to keep from doing something reckless.

you watch him, unbothered, leaning against the wall with your arms still crossed like you’ve already won. because in your mind, you hav

he runs a hand down his face, groaning. “this is actually insane.”

“what’s insane,” you say lightly, “is thinking you can let some girl touch you and still get to crawl into my bed like nothing happened.”

he turns back to you, eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension still buzzing in the room. “you’re evil.”

you grin, slow and unapologetic. “thank you.”

he shakes his head, muttering something about how you’re gonna drive him to an early grave, but there’s no mistaking the heat in his stare as it lingers on you, like he’s already plotting exactly how he’s going to make you pay when you finally cave.

you let the silence stretch for a beat, watching him breathe hard, watching the way his hands won’t stay still—rubbing at the back of his neck, running over his jaw, curling into fists at his sides. then, like you’re just remembering something casual, you tilt your head.

“oh, by the way—”

he freezes, suspicious. “what.”

“about that whole slapping her ass thing you mentioned earlier…” you let it hang, watching his eyes narrow, “…you thought about it or what? you do it when i’m not with you?”

his whole face tightens. “jesus christ, no—”

“hm,” you hum, pretending to think it over like you don’t believe him. “just checking. since you apparently don’t mind her hands all over you in public, i figured maybe you’re a little more generous in private.”

“baby—”

“don’t ‘baby’ me,” you cut in again, sharp. “just answer the question.”

his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. “you’re acting like—”

“like what?” you challenge, taking a step forward, eyes bright with mock curiosity. “like i don’t trust you? because after tonight, i don’t know if i do.”

he exhales through his nose, short and sharp, raking both hands through his hair. “you’re acting up just to piss me off now.”

you smile sweetly, leaning against the counter like you’ve settled in for the long haul. “maybe i am.”

his head snaps toward you, eyes dark, voice low and tight. “you love pushing me, don’t you?”

“depends,” you say, shrugging one shoulder. “do you love giving me reasons to?”

he runs his tongue over his teeth, pacing a few steps away like he’s trying to physically walk off the frustration. “you’re out of control right now.”

you lift your brows, biting back a smirk. “nah, just making sure we’re on the same page. so—you didn’t, right? no ass slapping when i’m not there?”

he turns back to you, breathing hard now, and you can see the storm building in his expression—the way his restraint is starting to fray, the way his hands curl like he’s imagining them on you.

“no,” he grits out, each letter bitten off.

“good,” you say simply, like the conversation’s over, like you haven’t just shoved him another inch toward the edge.

you turn on your heel without another word, crossing the room toward the bedroom. you can feel his eyes on you the whole way, heavy and heated, like he’s debating whether to follow or let you have your little show.

“where are you going, baby? c’mon,” he calls after you, voice rougher now, like the frustration’s finally seeping through the cracks.

you glance over your shoulder just long enough to meet his gaze. “i’m going to sleep, rafe.”

“sleep,” he repeats, like it’s a foreign concept.

“yep,” you say, pushing the bedroom door halfway closed behind you. “and like i told you—no closeness from me.”

he laughs once, dry and humorless, but it’s edged with disbelief. “you’re really sticking to this.”

you lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms, watching him stand there in the living room, jaw tight, hands flexing. “dead serious,” you repeat, calm as ever.

“baby—”

“goodnight, rafe,” you cut in, voice light, almost sing song. and before he can get another word in, you shut the door the rest of the way, leaving him on the other side with nothing but his own frustration to keep him company.

it’s been three days. three whole days since the argument, and you’ve been meticulous about the punishment. not cold enough to seem like you’ve stopped loving him, but sharp enough that he feels the sting every time he looks at you.

you still eat with him—because you’re not heartless—but your fork scrapes your plate with more attention than his presence at the table. your eyes skim over him, once, maybe twice, before you return to scrolling your phone or sipping your drink. you kissed him once, on instinct, a quick brush of lips when he leaned in before work, but you pulled back immediately, leaving him standing there like you’d ripped the ground out from under him.

and rafe—oh, rafe is unraveling.

the first night, he tried to play it cool. sat too close to you on the couch, hand stretching over to your thigh like nothing had changed, only to feel you peel his fingers away with the smallest shake of your head. the second night, he came home with a bag from your favorite place, setting it on the counter like peace offerings from a defeated soldier. “thought of you,” he said, voice hopeful, but you only hummed, thanked him, and went right back to the book you were pretending to be absorbed in.

by the third night, the cracks were showing. he’s followed you around the apartment like a restless shadow, muttering compliments like he’s tossing lines out on a hook, hoping one will reel you back in. “you look so good in that shirt.” “you smell fuckin’ sweet, you know that?” “nobody’s like you, baby.” and still—you brush past him, let his words roll off you like water.

tonight, though, he’s desperate.

“babe,” his voice calls from the living room, rough with something between exhaustion and need. you’re at the kitchen sink, rinsing your glass, pretending you didn’t hear him.

“babe, c’mon,” louder now, closer—he’s padding toward you.

you sigh, setting the glass upside down on the drying rack, and finally glance over your shoulder. “what.”

he’s leaning against the doorway, hair pushed back messily like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times today. his eyes are dark, restless, his jaw tight. “i swear on my life, i only want you. you know that, right?”

you hum, noncommittal, and turn back to the sink.

“no, hey—look at me.” his voice cracks on the edge of frustration.

you wipe your hands on a towel before turning, slow, folding your arms across your chest. “i’m looking.”

he runs a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “i even called topper and kelce. asked them to tell you themselves—that girl? she’s no one. i don’t even have her number, don’t even know her last name. they’ll back me up. i’ll put them on speaker right now if you want.”

your brows lift, impressed in spite of yourself. “you really called your friends to give me a character reference?”

“yes,” he says immediately, stepping closer, voice insistent. “because i’m losing my mind here, baby. you don’t get it—I can’t stand this. not touching you, not having you.”

you fight the smirk tugging at your lips, tilt your head like you’re weighing your options. “hm. sounds like a you problem.”

rafe’s chest rises sharply, and for a moment, he looks like he might actually fall to his knees just to prove his point.

he wanted to scream. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you understood that it was nothing—that you’re everything. but he also knew that if he touched you, if he broke your little rules now, you’d slip further out of reach. so he didn’t.

he’s never felt this restless in his life. not during football, not during boxing, not even in rehab when he was climbing the walls with withdrawal. this is different. this is worse. because he can see you, touch you if he wanted, but you’ve drawn a line, and crossing it means losing you for real.

and god, it’s all because of a fucking mistake. he didn’t even realize he was doing it. didn’t realize his laugh was a little too sharp, his hand lingering a little too long when she touched him. didn’t realize you were standing there, watching his every move like a hawk. he wasn’t thinking of her—he never thinks of anyone but you—but the optics were bad. he knows that. he knows he fucked up.

but the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. not touching you, not tasting you, not even being allowed to run a hand down your side when you walk past..it’s hell. it’s worse than hell. it’s like watching the only thing that matters to him dangle just out of reach, knowing he put it there himself.

he lies awake at night, staring at the ceiling while you breathe slow and steady beside him, just inches away but galaxies out of reach. his hands clench and unclench against the sheets, every muscle wound tight with frustration. he wants to pull you on top of him, cage you against him until you forgive him, until you believe him. but instead, he stares at the ceiling and listens to your calm, even breaths, while his chest aches with a cocktail of guilt, anger, and desire that has nowhere to go.

three days. he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

he knows it’s punishment. he knows you’re teaching him a lesson. but god, it’s driving him insane.

he swallows hard, runs a hand through his hair. “fuck, baby… please. i’m begging you. i’ll take anything. you don’t have to—” his voice cracks, and he clears his throat, softer now, almost broken, “—you don’t have to give me all of you. just… something. a kiss. a hug. fuckin’—hold my hand, i don’t care.”

your heart lurches at the crack in his voice, but you keep your expression smooth, tilting your head like you’re considering it. “hm. a kiss, huh?”

“yeah,” he says quickly, leaning forward, hope burning bright in his eyes. “just a kiss. not even—” he gestures helplessly toward his mouth, “—not even on the lips. just… a kiss. anywhere. i don’t care if it’s on the fuckin’ cheek. i just need—” he stops, biting the inside of his cheek, then mutters low, “—i just need you.”

you set your phone down slowly, and shift onto your knees on the couch. his eyes track your every move, wide, hungry, like a man watching water pour after three days in the desert. you crawl closer, your hands planting on the cushion by his thighs, and his breath hitches when you lean in.

“a kiss on the cheek?” you murmur, lips hovering so close to his skin that he can feel your breath.

“please,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

you hold his gaze for a long moment, then press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning back just as quickly.

his whole body tenses, chest rising sharply like you’d just fed him oxygen.

and then you smile, saccharine and smug, and murmur, “here you go, buddy.”

the word slams into him harder than your withdrawal ever could. buddy. like you’re patting him on the head, like you’re giving him scraps. his jaw works, his fists clench against his thighs, and for a second, he looks like he might actually snap—might grab you and kiss you until you can’t breathe, punishment be damned.

but you’re already leaning back, picking up your phone again, eyes dropping to the screen like the moment meant nothing. rafe sits there, cheek burning where your lips touched him, chest aching with frustration, every nerve in his body sparking with the need to pull you against him.

rafe is still sitting there with your kiss burning into his cheek like a brand, watching you pick up your phone again like you hadn’t just dismantled him with three words. here you go, buddy. it echoes in his skull, twisting in his gut, and he can’t take the quiet between you anymore.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on you like a hawk. “how long do you plan on keeping this up?” his voice is low, rough, like he already hates himself for asking.

you don’t even look up from your phone. you hum, draw the pause out until he’s practically vibrating. finally, you tilt your head, lips curling just slightly. “hm… seven days total.”

seven. his head drops back against the couch with a groan that sounds ripped out of his chest. “fuck.”

you smirk at your screen, pretending not to see the way his whole body sags.

“baby, please,” he drags out, desperation seeping into his tone. “seven days? that’s torture. this is torture.” he rakes both hands down his face, palms dragging over his jaw, his voice cracking as he mutters, “i can’t even go one more hour without touching you. not kissing you, not even—fuck—just having you close.”

he tips forward again, elbows digging into his thighs, his eyes wild when they lock onto yours. “you don’t get it. i’m crawling out of my fuckin’ skin. i can’t sleep, i can’t think. you walk past me and i swear to god my chest hurts from not reaching for you.”

you shift slightly, phone slipping lower in your hand, though you still try to look unaffected. “sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?”

“it is a me problem,” he snaps back instantly, then softens, voice breaking. “but it’s also a you problem, ‘cause you’re mine. you’re supposed to let me hold you. i need you, baby.”

the last line lands heavy between you, raw enough that it slices through the armor you’ve built these last three days. you sigh, setting your phone down on the cushion, and crawl closer—not much, just enough to put yourself in his orbit again.

his eyes flicker, hope flaring bright and desperate.

“alright,” you murmur finally, slow and deliberate. “you can hold my hand.”

he blinks at you, like he misheard, then his hand shoots out before you can take it back. he grabs your smaller one in his, clutching it like it’s a lifeline, like if he holds it tight enough he’ll stop unraveling. his thumb drags over your knuckles, over and over, and his shoulders sag with a shuddering exhale.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, almost to himself, staring at your hands like they’re something sacred. “feels like i haven’t touched you in years.”

you roll your eyes, but your lips twitch despite yourself. “it’s been three days, drama queen.”

he shakes his head, squeezing your hand tighter, voice dropping into something rough, nearly broken. “three days too fuckin’ long.”

and you let him hold you there, your hand warm and trapped in his big, desperate one, watching the relief melt across his face like you’d just handed him oxygen after letting him drown.

he doesn’t let go. if anything, the second your hand is in his, he clutches it tighter, like he’s terrified you’ll change your mind. his thumb keeps sweeping over your knuckles, slow, reverent, like he can’t quite believe he’s allowed even this much.

then, suddenly, he brings your hand to his mouth “i can do this, right?” his voice is hushed, almost pleading, lips brushing your skin. “this doesn’t break the rules.”

before you can answer, he presses a kiss to your knuckles. then another. then another.

he doesn’t stop. his mouth traces every line, every angle, moving from the base of your fingers to the tips, kissing each one like it’s a vow. his eyes stay locked on yours, dark and burning, as if daring you to pull away.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice breaking at the edges. “you’re perfect, baby. i don’t want anyone but you—don’t even see anyone but you.” another kiss, soft but desperate, to the space between your fingers. “shouldn’t have let it happen. shouldn’t have been so fuckin’ careless. i’m sorry.”

you swallow hard, watching the way he worships your hand like it’s the only part of you he’s allowed to touch. his lips drag slowly across your palm, warm breath ghosting over your skin, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he holds yours like it’s made of glass.

“i’ll do better,” he whispers, words almost frantic now, kissing across your knuckles again. “i’ll prove it. i’ll be the boyfriend you deserve—swear to god, baby, i’ll make it right. just don’t—don’t pull away from me, please.”

he turns your hand over, mouth trailing along the inside of your wrist, and the brush of his lips against your pulse makes you shiver. “you feel that?” he murmurs, kissing the spot again. “that’s yours. always yours.”

he keeps going—praise spilling from him in broken fragments between each kiss.

“so good to me.”

“don’t deserve you, fuck.”

“i’m yours. only yours.”

and through it all, he doesn’t stop kissing, doesn’t stop caressing your hand like it’s the last tether holding him together.

he’s still kissing along your knuckles like it’s the only thing keeping him alive when he suddenly scoffs against your skin, the sound half choked, half amused. his lips brush your fingers as he mutters, “this is so stupid, baby. seven days without sex? you’re killing me.”

you yank your hand slightly, just enough to make him tighten his grip in panic, but your voice is cool when you warn, “i’m not allowing you to hold my hand anymore if you whine.”

his head snaps up, blue eyes wide, a groan ripping out of him before he quickly shakes his head, pressing hurried kisses back onto your knuckles. “no, no—alright, alright. i won’t whine.” he smirks faintly though, the edge of his frustration leaking through. “won’t hold your hand either if that’s what you want.”

he pauses, the smirk spreading, darker now, wicked in the way only rafe can manage. his voice drops low, rough“but i might just hold your head down,” he drawls, his thumb sweeping slow over your palm, “while i pound your anger away.”

the words hang heavy, filthy in the quiet of the room, his mouth still brushing the back of your hand like he hadn’t just said something that could crack your little punishment wide open. his eyes glitter, daring you to take your hand away now, daring you to call his bluff.

but he doesn’t stop kissing, doesn’t stop worshiping. he just laces the softness with his threat, with the kind of promise that makes your stomach flip—even while you force your face to stay cold.

rafe is actually dead. like… deceased, rotting, slowly drying out like a flower left in the sun with no water. at least that’s what he looks like to you on day seven.

his eyes are dark rimmed, like he hasn’t slept in a week—which he hasn’t, not properly. he keeps shifting in his seat at the dining table like he can’t find comfort in his own skin. his hair is a mess, because every time you brush past him without touching, he’s dragging his hands through it in frustration. he’s unraveling, and the worst part for him is that you’re fine.

you’ve held on strong these seven days. shockingly strong, even to yourself. even when you went out together—groceries, grabbing takeout, the quick trip to see sarah and john b—you kept the rules airtight. no sneaky lapses, no bending.

at best, you let him hold your hand if he was lucky. if he behaved. if you decided he earned it. and maybe, maybe, you let him kiss it once or twice if he was being an especially good boy.

but it was never about starving him of affection for the sake of it. not really. it was about setting your boundaries straight, drawing a line in thick, permanent ink, so he could see it and never pretend he didn’t know where it stood.

you weren’t going to be with a boyfriend who acted like a sixteen year old boy just discovering attention from women. you weren’t going to tolerate the sideways glances, the careless touches, the blurred lines he thought you wouldn’t notice. if he wanted you, he was going to prove it.

this wasn’t about punishing him. it was about teaching him. about showing him what you refused to accept, and how quickly you’d take away the very thing he thought he was entitled to—the closeness, the touch, the sweetness he burned for like oxygen.

you wanted him to know: you won’t love a whore of a boyfriend. you won’t let yourself be diminished to just another option in his orbit.

and he knows it now. oh, does he know it. you can see it in the way he watches you tonight, chin in his hand at the table while you scroll on your phone across from him. he doesn’t even try to disguise it anymore. he stares like a starving man, like you’ve stripped him bare this whole week and he’s down to the bones of who he is without you.

seven days. seven days of listening to him groan, beg, mutter half apologies under his breath at two in the morning. seven days of him trying to fold himself around you on the couch only to be met with your hand pressed to his chest, holding him back. seven days of his jaw flexing every time you got dressed in front of him, every time you stretched, every time you looked too good just existing.

seven days of you reminding him, without words, that love has rules. and if he wants to keep you, he’s going to learn them.

you pad into the bedroom with damp hair and clean pajamas, steam still clinging to your skin from the shower you took alone. like every night this week. the bathroom door clicks shut behind you, and the silence in the room thickens. rafe’s already on the bed, flat on his back, arms folded behind his head like he’s trying not to move, like even shifting might make you pull further away.

you can feel his eyes track you from the second you step inside. his stare burns down your legs, up your body, sticky and restless, like he hasn’t seen you naked in years—even though he saw you step into that same shower fifteen minutes ago.

the room smells faintly like his cologne. the sheets are rumpled from where he’s been tossing and turning, from the nights you kept to your side of the bed, a whole ocean of mattress between you.

you miss him. of course you fucking do. you miss the easy intimacy of showering together, his big hands working shampoo into your hair while you lean against his chest. you miss how he’d tilt your head back under the stream, rinse you off, kiss the water from your lips before you could blink.

you miss eating from the same plate while perched on his lap, his fork pushing food to your mouth like you couldn’t feed yourself.

you miss sleeping with his arm around your waist, thigh hooked over yours, the comforting weight of him keeping you pinned, tethered. you miss waking up to find yourself practically strangled by his limbs, chest to chest, heartbeats thudding against each other in perfect rhythm.

and he misses it more. you can tell in every twitch of his fingers, in the way his throat works when you drop your towel into the laundry basket, in the way his jaw clenches when you slip into bed without even brushing against him.

he doesn’t last long tonight. the air is too heavy. his patience, too frayed.

as you crawl under the covers and roll to your side, he turns his head, his voice low and wrecked “it’s been seven days already, baby.”

not angry, not sharp. just broken. reverent. like he can’t believe you’ve survived this long without touching him. like he’s surprised he has.

and you hear the weight in it, the plea wrapped in the simple count of days. the confession that seven has been hell, that seven has been more than enough to crack him open.

“it wasn’t about the days, rafe,” you murmur into the pillow, voice even but weighted, like you’ve been waiting the whole week to say it out loud.

he shifts instantly, his body turning toward yours, frustration bleeding into his face, his tone. “you made your point, okay? you win. you fucking win. i’m a jerk and i deserved it. there.” his hands fling upward in defeat, then rake through his hair, tugging at the strands. “you got what you wanted.”

you whip around, eyes flashing, anger rising sharp because he still doesn’t get it. “fuck ,you—don’t even understand, do you?” your voice cuts, sharper than you mean, but it has to pierce through. “it’s not about who won. it’s not about the fucking days.”

his jaw tightens. he looks confused, cornered, but you push through it, sitting up against the headboard with your knees pulled close.

“it was about my fucking boundaries, rafe.” your chest heaves with the words. “you made me feel small. like i didn’t matter enough for you to stop and think. you embarrassed me—us. our relationship. do you get that? do you get how humiliating that was?”

your throat feels thick, but you force it out, because if he doesn’t understand now, then he never will. you watch the weight of your words land on him, heavy, dragging his shoulders down, making his lips part like he wants to argue but nothing comes out.

he looks at you like the floor’s been ripped from under him—like he’s finally realizing this wasn’t about punishment at all. this was about respect.

you shove at his chest when he tries to inch closer, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him freeze where he is “i didn’t win, okay?” your voice rises, trembling with fury and ache. “do you think i liked this? do you think i wanted to go seven days without you touching me?”

your eyes blur, hot with frustrated tears, and you swipe at them angrily. “i missed you, rafe. i missed your touch, i missed everything. yes—i missed fucking you, i missed kissing you, i missed you holding me, making me feel like i was yours. i missed all of it.”

your chest heaves, breaths sharp, unsteady. “but i was fucking humiliated. do you get that? you humiliated me. you made me feel like some stupid girl on the sidelines, like i was the only one who didn’t know my boyfriend couldn’t keep his fucking hands to himself.”

the words sting your own throat, but you don’t stop, don’t look away from him. you want him to see the wreckage he caused, the way it twisted in you all week. your voice lowers, but it’s steel when you say, “so no, i didn’t win. i just… refused to lose myself in the process.”

rafe’s face falls, every muscle softening, like you’ve knocked the air out of him. he looks stricken even as his mouth opens and closes, searching for words that can’t even scratch the surface of what he feels right now.

“and before you say anything—” your voice cuts the air before he can even try, your hand raised like a shield, “i appreciate that you kept to yourself for a whole week. i know that wasn’t easy for you. i know you were going fucking insane.”

he blinks at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’s holding his breath.

“but i think it taught both of us something,” you continue, calmer now, though your tone is sharp around the edges, firm. “that our relationship is not just about sex.” your throat tightens, but you hold his gaze, not letting him look away. “we don’t fall apart just because we’re not fucking every night. we’re more than that. i need us to be more than that. i need to know i’m not just—” your voice wavers, softer, “—something you touch when you’re bored.”

the words hang heavy between you, echoing louder than the silence. rafe shifts, sitting up straighter, his hands balling into fists against the sheets like he wants to reach for you but knows he doesn’t have the right yet. he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to memorize every crack in your expression, every tremble in your voice.

his thighs brush yours, and when you don’t recoil, he exhales shakily, relief flooding through his body. his hands rise—tentative at first—but then he takes your face between his palms, firm, anchoring, making sure you can’t look away from him this time.

“baby. look at me.”

your eyes flicker, wet, stubborn, but you do. and when you do, his chest caves a little, because the sight of you like this—hurt because of him, holding yourself together in spite of him—it kills him.

“you think you’re just something i touch when i’m bored?” his voice is low, but sharp, as if the words themselves offend him. his thumbs press against your cheekbones, not rough, but enough to force your eyes to stay locked on his. “fuck no. don’t you ever say that again.”

his breath comes heavy through his nose, his jaw working like he’s fighting to hold himself together. “you are it for me. do you hear me? not some girl i toss around, not some toy i get bored of. it.”

he leans closer, so close his forehead nearly presses against yours. “you’re my fucking oxygen, baby. you’re the reason i even… the reason i’m even trying to be better at all.”

his voice cracks on the last words, but he swallows them down, shaking his head like he needs you to understand before you can even try to argue.

“i fucked up. i touched her, i let it get too far—yeah, i know. i did that. and you’re right to be pissed, you’re right to set your boundaries. i needed that. i needed you to pull me back and make me realize i can’t just… slip into old shit, old habits, and think it doesn’t matter. because it does. you matter.”

he squeezes your cheeks lightly between his palms, not letting you glance away, not letting your mind spiral anywhere but into him. “you think i don’t feel humiliated too? i do. i felt like the biggest fucking idiot in the world when i saw your face. i never wanna see that look on you again, baby. never.”

his voice drops, darker now, a growl curling at the edges. “i don’t give a fuck about anyone else. those other girls, the eyes, the bullshit? i don’t even see them when you’re around. and when you’re not? i’m still thinking about you. how you laugh, how you get mad at me, how you taste when i kiss you. it’s always you. it’s only you.”

you swallow, your lips parting like you want to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“you taught me something this week too. you’re right—it’s not just about sex. and fuck, i hated it. every second of not having you on me, every time you pulled away when i reached for you—I thought i was gonna lose my mind.”

he huffs out a bitter laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth even as he holds you still. “but it showed me something. that i can still love you, still want you, still need you, without touching you. that you’re not here just because i fuck you—you’re here because you choose me. and i need to make sure you never regret that choice.”

his tone hardens, his grip on your face firmer, dominant now, grounding you in the weight of him. “so listen to me. i’m not that sixteen yearold kid you accused me of being. i don’t want attention from anyone else. i don’t want anyone else’s hands, anyone else’s eyes. i want yours. i want the way you look at me like i’m something worth keeping. i want the way you get jealous, the way you fight with me, the way you love me so hard it scares the fuck out of me sometimes.”

he presses his forehead against yours now, breathing you in, his hands framing your face like he could mold you into him if he just held tight enough. “you don’t make me feel small, baby. you make me feel fucking huge. like i could take on anything. but when you’re hurt because of me?” he shakes his head, voice breaking low. “that makes me feel like nothing. like i’m gonna crawl out of my skin.”

his thumbs stroke over your jaw, rough but reverent. “so yeah. you had to teach me a lesson. you had to remind me that you’re not just mine to hold, you’re mine to respect. and i get it now. i swear to god, i get it.”

his lips brush your cheek, soft, lingering, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “but i need you to hear this—” his voice sharpens again, commanding, absolute. “—you are mine. not as some accessory, not as some body to keep me entertained. you’re mine in every way that matters. your heart, your trust, your boundaries. i’ll protect those with everything i’ve got. because if i lose them? i lose you. and i’ll never let that happen.”

he tilts your chin up, eyes blazing into yours, his breath hot against your lips though he doesn’t close the gap yet. “do you hear me, baby? never again. i won’t cross you like that again. i’ll fucking die before i embarrass us like that again.”

your eyes are wet, your lip trembling, and he kisses it—just a ghost of a kiss—before pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart. “this? this is what i want. not theirs. not anyone else’s. yours.”

his other hand slides to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer until your noses bump, his dominance seeping through every word, every touch. “so don’t you ever doubt what you mean to me. don’t you ever think you’re small, or replaceable, or just sex. you’re my whole fucking life, baby. i’d burn everything else down if it meant keeping you.”

he breathes you in, desperate, like he’s starving. “say you understand. say you know i’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”

and for the first time in seven days, his voice isn’t just begging—it’s commanding. low, rough, dominant. it leaves you with no space to doubt, no space to feel small again. because rafe won’t let yo

your chest feels like it’s splitting open. all his words—low, rough, relentless—have been battering against your walls until you can’t hold them up anymore. he’s still gripping your face in his big hands, still forcing your eyes to stay on him like he can burn his truth into you if he just keeps talking long enough.

“baby, i swear to god, i’ll never—”

you don’t let him finish. your mouth crashes against his, sudden and wild, teeth clashing, lips bruising. you kiss him like you’ve been starving, like the past seven days were a desert and he’s water. it’s messy, too rough to be soft, all tongue and teeth and pent up fury spilling into the way you drag him closer.

he freezes for a split second—like he can’t quite believe you’ve given in—then groans into your mouth, low and guttural, like the sound’s been stuck in his chest all week. his hands tighten on your face, fingers digging into your jaw as if to make sure you don’t pull away this time.

you nip at his bottom lip, tug it between your teeth, and he hisses, muttering into the kiss, “fuck—baby—”

but you don’t stop, you press harder, tilting your head so you can swallow every apology, every promise he tries to spill between the heat of your mouths.

his words crumble, disjointed as you kiss him rougher, sharper “i’m—so—fucking—sorry—”

each syllable breaks under the weight of your mouth devouring his.

his body lurches forward, dragging you onto his lap, his chest pressed so tight against yours it feels like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. one of his hands slides down, curling around the back of your neck, anchoring you to him as though you might vanish if he loosens his grip even a little.

your fingers fist in his shirt, yanking, tugging, clawing at him with all the frustration you’ve bottled up. it’s not tender—it’s a war. your war, his surrender, and something deep in you revels in the way he moans against your mouth like he’s been broken and rebuilt just for this.

he tries again, breathless between the wet heat of your kiss. “never—again—i swear—”

and you swallow it down, rough and unyielding, like you don’t need the words anymore. like you only want the proof of them burned into your lips, your teeth, your tongue.

his whole body trembles under your touch, his desperation bleeding out of every movement. it’s not just a kiss—it’s him begging for your forgiveness in the only language you’re letting him speak.

and when you finally pull back, panting, lips swollen, his eyes are blown wide, pupils black and wild, his chest heaving like he just sprinted miles.

“fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked, forehead pressing against yours. “don’t stop. please don’t stop.”

your lips crash against his again before he can even finish begging. it’s like your body doesn’t care about your brain anymore—seven days of restraint snapping like a rope pulled too tight.

rafe groans into your mouth, guttural, a sound that feels like it vibrates through his chest into yours. his hands are everywhere at once—one cupping your jaw, thumb dragging across your cheekbone with something feral, the other sliding down to your hip, squeezing bruises into the flesh like he’s reclaiming territory he thought he’d lost.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes against your lips, panting, teeth grazing your mouth, “seven days—seven fucking days—you’re gonna kill me.”

you tug his hair, rough, pulling his head back just enough to glare at him. “then die, rafe,” you spit, lips red and wet, eyes blazing. “you deserved it.”

he smirks, but it’s unhinged, hungry, desperate. “deserved worse,” he growls, dragging your body fully onto his lap, cock straining hot and hard against his sweats. “but you’re not making me wait another second.”

you let him manhandle you, straddle his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. the heat between your legs aches, throbs, humiliates you with how wet you already are after all your stubborn coldness.

his hand slips under your oversized shirt, calloused palm finding bare skin, dragging up until he’s palming your tit, thumb rolling your nipple.

“missed these,” he mutters, biting your jaw, your throat. “fuck, baby, missed everything. missed the way you sound when i’m in you. missed your pussy clenching around me like it was fucking made for me.”

your breath stutters out, shuddering, nails digging into his shoulders. “shut up and fuck me, rafe.”

his laugh is dark, mean, vibrating low in his throat. “nah. not after seven days. you don’t get to rush this.” his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite down on your throat, sucking bruises like he wants to stamp his name there. “gonna take my fucking time. remind you who you belong to.”

you grind down on him, needy, spiteful, and his grip tightens. “fuck—look at you. so fucking wet, i can feel it through my pants.” he ruts up once, letting the thick press of his cock drag along your slit through the fabric. “you missed me, huh? little liar. acting cold, acting tough, but your cunt never lies.”

i hate you,” you gasp, nails clawing down his chest.

“yeah?” he smirks into your skin, breath hot as he mouths down your throat. “you’ll be screaming my name in five minutes.”

your shirt is ripped off—literally ripped, the seam popping as he yanks it up and over your head like he can’t be bothered with patience. his eyes drink you in, wild, pupils swallowing the blue whole.

“god, baby,” he mutters, almost reverent, thumbing your nipple again before sucking it into his mouth, biting, tugging until you whimper. “seven days too long. this body’s mine. all of it. no one else touches you—no one.”

you whine when his mouth leaves you, arching for more.

he shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you, hands pinning your wrists above your head with an iron grip. his cock grinds down between your thighs, and your hips buck up, chasing friction.

“rafe, please,” you finally crack, voice breaking on the need.

please what, baby?” his voice drips with mockery, forehead pressed to yours, sweat already gathering at his hairline. “say it. what do you want?”

“want you,” you choke out, thighs trembling. “want your cock.

his groan is sharp, guttural, like you’ve ripped it from his chest.

he yanks his sweats down, cock slapping against stomach, thick, flushed, precome smearing hot across his skin. “look at that,” he snarls, grabbing the base, slapping it against your pussy until slick strings between you. “seven days and i’m harder than i’ve ever been in my fucking life. all for you. only for you.”

your hips cant up, desperate. “fuck me, rafe.”

he presses the head inside, just barely, not enough to push in. his eyes darken, his grip on your wrists tightening. “say it properly.”

your teeth grit. “please. please fuck me. fuck the condom, just put it in!”

he smirks, satisfied, before shoving in all at once, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

“fuck!” you cry out, back arching, head slamming back into the pillow.

rafe groans, deep and wrecked, lips parted as he stills inside you for just a second, savoring the way your pussy clamps down around him. “jesus fucking christ, baby,” he mutters, voice broken. “so tight, so wet. you’re choking my cock.”

he pulls back and slams in again, hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall.

your moans rip out, raw, uncontrolled. “rafe—oh my god—”

“that’s it,” he grits out, pounding into you, hips snapping sharp. “that’s what i missed. your voice, those fucking sounds. scream for me. let the whole building know i’m the only one who gets you like this.”

you’re clawing at his back, nails dragging angry red lines. your eyes blur with tears from the stretch, from the overwhelming way he fills you after starving yourself of him for days.

he notices instantly, his pace faltering just enough to press his forehead to yours, one hand coming to cup your cheek roughly. “crying already, baby? that’s mine too. those tears are mine.”

you sob when he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out “fuck, rafe, i—”

“say it,” he growls, snapping his hips faster, slamming into you so hard the bed squeals. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours!” you scream, nails digging into his biceps. “fuck—i’m yours, rafe, only yours.”

his mouth crashes onto yours again, wet, rough, stealing your cries and swallowing them down.

“good girl,” he moans into the kiss, pace unrelenting. “knew you couldn’t hold out forever. knew you’d come crawling back for this cock.”

your orgasm hits fast, brutal, tearing through you with white hot pulses. your pussy clenches around him like a vice, and he growls, head thrown back.

“fuck—baby—keep squeezing me like that, i’m gonna—”

he slams into you harder, chasing his own high, and with one last brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, spilling hot inside you with a guttural groan that vibrates in his chest.

he stays buried, grinding shallowly, holding your face between his hands as his come floods you.

his lips find yours again, softer this time, broken murmurs spilling between each kiss. “never again—never fucking again—only you, baby, only you.”

you’re both panting, bodies slick with sweat, his cock still pulsing inside you, keeping you connected even as the world tilts back into silence.

he doesn’t even pull out. you’re still shaking from the first orgasm, body quivering, walls fluttering weakly around his cock when you feel his hand snake down your thigh. before you can catch your breath, before you can even complain that you’re too sensitive, rafe flips you over like you weigh nothing.

your face hits the pillow, ass dragged high into the air, his cock still buried deep, refusing to let you go.

“nah, baby,” he pants, voice wrecked, sweat dripping from his temples as he positions himself over you, chest flush to your back, “you thought i was done? after seven days? you’re fucking insane.”

you whimper into the pillow, cunt clenching involuntarily when he rolls his hips, grinding into you.

“rafe—” you gasp, voice muffled.

“what?” he snarls, one hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so you arch for him. “too much? you think you get to tell me when it’s enough? no fucking way. not after you starved me all week.”

the first thrust knocks the air out of you, sharp, punishing. his hips slap against your ass, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room, and you cry out, tears streaking your face as pleasure and overstimulation collide.

“fuck—fuck—rafe, i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he growls, slamming into you, unrelenting. “you will. you’re mine. you take what i give you.”

your arms give out, collapsing into the sheets, but he’s right there, fisting the back of your neck, keeping you upright while he pounds into you.

“so fucking tight,” he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder, “like your pussy missed me too. did it? did she cry for me when you were trying to play cold?”

“yes!” you sob, broken, raw. “yes, she missed you. i did”

he grins against your skin, teeth scraping over the bite marked curve of your shoulder. “good girl. that’s what i like to hear.”

his hand slips down your stomach, two fingers pressing hard on your clit, rubbing circles that make your thighs tremble. “gonna cum again for me? already? so fucking greedy, baby.”

“please, rafe—”

“please what?” he taunts, fucking you harder, faster, the headboard banging mercilessly against the wall. “beg for it. beg like the needy little slut you are.”

you choke on a sob, back arching, cunt spasming around him. “please—please let me cum—i need it so bad.”

“yeah?” he pants, biting your ear. “then do it. cum for me. soak my cock.”

and you do, your orgasm ripping through you like lightning, your whole body seizing as you scream into the mattress. your pussy milks him, squeezing around him like a vice, dragging a guttural groan from his chest.

“fuck, baby—holy shit—”

he doesn’t stop, not even as you tremble, not even as your walls spasm uncontrollably. he keeps thrusting, chasing his own high, fingers digging bruises into your hips.

“gonna fill you up again,” he snarls, voice gone, broken with lust. “stuff you so full you won’t even remember why you were mad. you’ll just remember who fucking owns you.”

“rafe!” you cry, tears spilling, body overstimulated beyond reason.

he wraps an arm around your waist, hauls you upright so your back is flsh to his chest, his cock still driving into you. his hand comes up to grip your throat, holding your head back against his shoulder as he groans in your ear.

“that’s it, baby. cry for me. take all of it. you’re mine. only mine.”

your legs shake, cunt quivering, and he grunts, hips stuttering as his release crashes over him again.

“fuck—fuck—baby—” he buries himself deep, holding you in place as he spills inside you a second time, grinding against your ass, cock pulsing, filling you until it leaks down your thighs.

you collapse, boneless, and he finally eases his grip, kissing the side of your head, your damp temple, your jaw, like he can’t stop touching you

“never again,” he murmurs, hands splayed over down your stomach to where his come drips out of you. “never fucking again, baby. i’ll die before i let you feel small like that again.”

he’s still inside you, cock softening but refusing to leave, keeping you connected, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he lets go again

masterlist ✵

tags @rafesbabygirlx @prettytheyswag @rgrimesr @whosyourmommy69 @abireichstein @silkylovey @macbaetwo @t0x1cfaerie @imliterallysocoolfr @sydneysslove @bebebambs @loverliner ✵ to get tagged

[prettytheyswag]

come back

⤷ part one

summary: is leaving SF the worst thing that could happen ? heartbreak, betrayal and a hoodie on the floor. Maybe outer banks is exactly what you need.

warnings: betrayal , emotional distress , sexual implication , emotional trauma , heartbreak.

a/n: new series !! I’m locked in. Opinions on Miles ?? Let me know your thoughts !! Big smooch xx

“Non, je ne regrette bien” starts playing through the speakers of your phone, not failing to jolt you awake.

After watching Inception—besides developing an almost unhealthy celebrity crush on Cillian Murphy—you also stole the kick song of the movie to wake you up every morning. It worked. Unfortunately.

Your eyes are puffy , eyelashes practically glued together, so much you have to physically separate your eyelids just to see.

You roll over, kicking the sheets off of your feet and reaching for your phone to shut off the alarm. A deep sigh escapes you.

You start getting ready for school , already dreading the day. Just the thought of random greek letters on the board , mixed with vectors —and the events of last night — made you want to puke your guts out.

Cold water hits your face , trying to get rid of the puffiness in your eyes . Spoiler : it doesn’t help much.

You slip on some comfy pants and Miles’s sweater. It smells just like him, the scent of the fabric comforting you .

Fuck

how were you supposed to confront him with those news?

Downstairs , the warm scent of cinnamon toast and coffee enveloped the kitchen . The silence almost as heavy as your backpack.

Your mom sits at the kitchen table , sipping her coffee and squinting at her crossword puzzle without her glasses, like it personally offended her. It’s a ridiculous sight , almost enough to make you laugh.

Almost.

You sigh , shaking your head , fingers lingering on your sweater as you reach for a cup of coffee .

Your mom squints at the puzzle again, muttering, “Starts with B. Another word for ‘disloyalty’”

“How can you do this?” You snap , pointing at her.

She glances up , eyebrows furrowed “Do what?”

“That! Doing crossword puzzles , sipping your coffee casually like you didn’t throw a nuclear bomb on me last night!”

She blinks and pauses , clearly caught off guard by your tone.

“Okay, I know you’re mad” she sighs , setting her pen down “but you can’t speak to me that way.”

“You know nothing . You don’t even care to know. I cried myself to sleep last night, and you’re here acting like you’re not actively trying to uproot my entire life!”

“I made cinnamon toast.” She offers you a plate , like that fixes anything.

“I’m not hungry , mom” you shake your head and rub your face

“I haven’t even told miles yet! I don’t know how.”

“I’m sorry” she says softly , reaching for your hand .

But you pull away.

“I’m gonna be late” You grumble, sliding your bag on and heading for the door.

“Don’t forget your jacket!” She calls after you.

You ignore her , already out.

The cold weather , hits your face as long as you step out of the house. You tug at the sleeves of your sweater, the air cold enough to make your nose sting and goosebumps spread all over your skin. Usually you’d consider it comforting , familiar.

Now it just feels like a cruel joke.

Your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your pants , you know who it is before you even pull it out to check.

Miles 💘

“Morning. Meet me at the cafeteria?”

You stare at the screen , the soft words almost mocking you. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. A sigh escapes as you type back , hitting sent before you can overthink it.

“Morning baby, I’m heading straight to class. After maybe..”

He hearts the text and it makes your own heart aches in response, but you keep walking, head heavy and lowered , footsteps dragging as the school gate finally comes into view.

You pause, hesitating. Just for a second.

Then, with another sigh , you shake of any piece of hesitation holding you back and step inside.

The final bell rings , and you’ve successfully avoided Miles all day.

You have rehearsed what you’d say over a hundred times through physics. You could do this .

Right?

You’d smile . You’d speak calmly.

You’d tell him everything. About moving away. About the Outer banks.

You’d explain that you don’t want to lose him . That you’d visit constantly.

That you could do long distance.

You love each other.

That’s all that matters.

You pack your bag quickly. The soft thudding of it against your back the only sound you could hear aside from the pounding of your heart. Your breath is shaky , just like your legs.

Rounding the stairs, you stop at your tracks as you hear a voice you know all too well.

Miles and his friends .

“Man, I can't believe you got away with that!” Harry slaps Miles’s back , snorting.

“Told ‘ya .” Miles snickers

“Easiest fifty bucks I’ve ever made.”

“You’re shitting me!” Nick says dramatically “Just fifty for the whole thing? A steal”

“Hell yeah! Fifty bucks and my gym membership. I’m a cheap slut” Miles exclaims , laughing.

Loudly . Carelessly. Familiar.

Like a slap in the face. Sharp, stinging and humiliating.

It makes you freeze. Every nerve in your body running cold, fingers curling around the strap of your backpack.

But the conversation keeps going.

“It was so easy bro!” Miles says and they all laugh.

“And I was just about to get her to sleep with me too”

“I mean…” Harry starts leaning closer to him, voice low but audible

“you can take advantage of the fact that she still doesn’t know and get your dick wet , before she finds out and the you dip”

They dab each other up “That’s exactly why we’re friends, bro.” Miles says grinning.

You chest physically hurt. Your heart clawing its way up your throat with every word that escaped their mouths.

You don’t even remember walking.

One second you were at the verge of tears at the stairwell and the next , you were pushing through the way to the girls’s bathroom. Desperately trying to breathe through the sting in your eyes.

No.

You wouldn’t cry.

The bathroom lights are harsh and white . The mirror , shattered and warped , blurs your reflection as you look up at yourself.

You drop your bag down , kicking it across the tile. A symbolic release of your feelings.

Gripping the edge of the sink , you brace yourself.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Your stomach twists. Your throat clenches.

Your boyfriend’s smug voice replaying like a broken record as you squeeze your eyes shut. The words are carved into your chest . Into your heart.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you , and through the mirror you see your friend.

Kayla says your name softly , coming behind you.

“Hey…” she whispers cautiously like she’s approaching a wounded wild animal.

You turn around and, ready to fall into her arms for some comfort, to let it all out

But the look on her face feels like another knife in the back.

“You knew” you say quietly , eyebrows furrowing.

She squeezes her eyes shut , and that’s all the confirmation you need.

“You knew?” You say , voice louder now. “Fuuuuck” you mutter under your breath , a humorless laugh escaping you. Bitter . Breathless.

She swallows hard, eyes darting to the floor. “It wasn’t… I didn’t think it would go that far.”

“Oh my god” you stepped back , like you’ve been burned “oh my god Kayla!”

She rushes to explain, her voice cracking, “It was supposed to be stupid. Just a joke. I didn’t even know he actually took the bet until after you two started dating, and by then…he seemed to actually like you. I thought it was real.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything!” You exclaim “You could’ve said something. You should’ve said something!”

“I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want to break your heart.” She says weakly

“No.” You shake your head. “No. It was him you were trying to protect”

You push past her and walk out, letting the door swing shut behind you.

The front door shuts close behind you . You’re greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread , something your mom always made when she wanted to sweet-talk you.

Right.

The moving.

You had almost forgotten about that.

You can hear your mom humming softly over a simmering pot, maybe flipping through a recipe book, still refusing to use her glasses.

She calls your name , and you can almost see her dry her hands in a kitchen towel , making her way to the front door.

“Oh hey baby , You’re home a little-“

You don’t say anything . Just give her a pained look.

Your shoes squeak faintly against the hardwood as you head straight for the stairs, your backpack still slung over one shoulder like dead weight.

Her smile falters.

She’s just upset about moving, she tells herself.

Upstairs , you close your bedroom door softly. You let yourself sink to the floor, your back sliding down the door until you’re curled at the base of it. You bury your face in your hands. Your breaths are shallow and uneven.

Then, with shaking fingers, you pull the sweater over your head.

His hoodie.

The fabric still smells like him , and that alone is enough to make your stomach twist. You toss it aside.

Even the sight of it makes you want to set it on fire.

Burn it down to ash. Like whatever you had. Whatever you thought you had.

You’d thought leaving San Francisco would be the worst thing to ever happen to you.

But betrayal?

Betrayal hurts worse.

You look around your room, at the walls filled with memories that suddenly don’t mean what they used to. Polaroids. Concert tickets. A bracelet he gave you. It's all just evidence now. A crime scene.

Maybe the Outer Banks isn’t so bad.

Maybe being a stranger in a new place is safer than being known in one where people smiled to your face… and lied behind your back.

The house is quiet. Not silent, but quiet enough that you can hear your own footsteps on the kitchen floor.

You haven’t eaten all day and craving stirred your gut when you remembered your mom’s fresh bread and warm chicken and orzo soup, the soup she made when someone was sick , or sad, or just tired of maintaining the walls around them.

You find the pot still on the stove.

You reheat it.

Put it into a bowl.

And sit down the table , silently. Taking slow and careful spoonfuls.

The tears have dried on your cheeks. You’re past crying now.

The warm soup feels like a warm blanket , like it was the only thing keeping you up all day.

Your mom finds you eating. She doesn’t say anything . Just watches you with a concerned expression from the doorway.

She walks into the kitchen slowly, careful not to break whatever fragile peace has settled in the dark. “I can make some more, if you’re still hungry.”

You don’t look up . Just shake your head. “No , it’s okay…this is nice”

She stands beside the table, hands resting lightly on the back of a chair. She’s watching you again , like she’s seeing something she doesn’t quite know how to fix.

After a moment, she speaks. Gently.

“Does the idea of moving to the Outer banks upset you that much?”

You pause. Spoon halfway to your mouth.

Your throat tightens.
But you don’t answer.

That’s answer enough.

She doesn’t push.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”

“It’s not that” you whisper , finally looking at her. “Not just that” and without even realizing, you tear up again.

Your mom nods silently . Gripping the chair tightly to keep herself from asking all the questions on her mind and scare you away.

You sniff quietly . Wipe your tears with the back of your hand . the exhaustion finally settles in. “Miles he uh-“ you start , shoulders flinching slightly at the reminder. “I heard him with his friends, It was all a bet , a fucking joke.”

Normally your mom would firmly say ‘language’ but it wasn’t appropriate tonight, so she just nodded exhaling through her nose.

“Oh my baby” she sighed and moved away from the chair , coming to hug you , your head on her stomach , like when you were a baby , it was the only thing that could calm you down back then , and it’s still effective.

“Hey look at me” she gently grabbed your chin , tipping it up so you could look at her , “he’s lucky you even looked at his direction, yeah?”

She said and you let out a shaky , breathy laugh.

“What?” She chuckled as well , “i’m serious” she says shaking you.

“I care” you sniffle “and I hate that I care”

“I know..” She sighs , rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head “I wish I could just..take all the pain away from you.”

Her words are spoken so tenderly and it breaks something in you. Not the messy, collapsing kind , just a quiet softening.

And she just holds you. Not saying anything else. Her fingers gently running through your hair, her breath steady and warm above you.

You close your eyes.

You don’t cry again , not the way you did in the bathroom, or on the floor of your room.
Now the pain feels quieter. Thicker. Like fog settling in your chest instead of a storm.

“Mom?” you whisper , voice soft and fragile, lifting your head to look at her. “Maybe the outer banks isn’t such a bad idea”

She looks at you for a moment, like she’s checking to see if you mean it.

You do.

Your mom stands, brushing a few breadcrumbs off the table.

“Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

You nod, biting your lip. A small breath shakes out of you

“Mommy?”

“Yes?” She wipes her hands

“Can I sleep at your bed tonight?” You ask , hopefully , almost childishly.

She smiles , gently , kissing your forehead. “Of course baby”

[prettytheyswag]

MASTERLISTˎˊ˗

mini series / series

affection you can't escape 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 …..

pogue!reader x ex!Rafe Cameron

come back 1, 2, 3 , 4 …..

Rafe Cameron x reader

more to come...

one shots

casual

wlw!reader x wlw!Sarah Cameron , fem x fem

double fantasy

JJ Maybank x newgirl!reader x Rafe Cameron

more to come…

au’s

more to come…

[prettytheyswag]

blair's world

nineteen | she/her | 18+ only | Gemini | INTP | married

𖦹 Aubrey plaza undercover or her wife , loves to yap about politics and anything psychology related , I daydream a lot and I’m very curious about everything. Probably out there ruining a man’s life rn.

𖦹 Riara is real to me (and canon)

masterlist

𖦹 any request is welcome as long as it’s asked respectfully