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itneverendshere · 8 months

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can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with feelings; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism; p in v out in public??; wrote the word moan a thousand times.

you drive him insane.

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind?

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself.

it's not fair.

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration.

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from.

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you.

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked.

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does.

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here.

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes.

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself.

too fucking smart for you own good.

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right?

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm.

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober.

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates.

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven?

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words.

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure.

the heat is not helping his situation at all.

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere.

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs.

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business.

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you.

rafe is staring at you.

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him.

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button.

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain.

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree.

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke.

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this?

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now.

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion.

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time.

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment.

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat.

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs.

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze.

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him.

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger.

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure.

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body.

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth.

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips.

and then, you feel empty.

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not.

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him.

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind.

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you.

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching.

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy.

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.”

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air.

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name.

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs.

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you.

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you.

______________________________________________________________

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute.

let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

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eroticnoices · 4 months

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Okay but your last imagine was so good!

But it gave me an idea

Riding rafe and his wife walks in and you just keep going while holding eye contract with her

married!rafe cameron x afab!reader

warnings: dirty talk, slight ass play

Rafes bottom lip was caught between his teeth in a fit to ignore how badly he wanted to moan for you. “Rafe!” you gasped feeling his tip kiss your little sweet spot, he hit almost every time.

you clawed down his chest trying to grab ahold of something due to his harsh thrusts from below you, as you slammed down to meet his pace. the bed frame crashing against whatever old ass wallpaper, rafes wife picked; almost creating a scratch mark.

he grunted feeling your pussy tighten around him. “shit.. you close, princess? can feel you squeezing me, baby.” one hand slapping your ass a few times.

you nodded your head, not able to form any actual thoughts or sentences. Rafe smirked ramming into you faster, and removed his hand from your ass to circle your clit.

of course, due to the bed slamming against the wall and your loud moaning no one heard Mrs. Cameron come home.

“m’ gonna-“ you stopped your sentence when you opened your eyes to the door being wide open and a very mad wife; but didn’t stop the chase to your orgasm. “fuckin’ cum for me, y/n.”

he knew she was there.

he just didn’t care.

#rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe imagine #older!rafe cameron smut #married!rafe cameron smut

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babygorewhore · 5 months

Text

Love bites.

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Part two to bite me!

After you disappear, Rafe finally finds you and decides that he’s going to win this final round, showing you exactly who you belong to. And maybe even return the favor of your little love bites. W. C 2.5K

Warnings! Biting! Non-graphic description of blood! Male masturbation! Oral! Male recieving! Daddy kink! Switch! Rafe! Unprotected sex! Spitting! Slight degrading! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx barely proofread because I’m tired and depressed. I also wanna burn it but I promised I wouldn’t lmao. Anyway. Enjoy!

“So, let me get this straight,” Wheezie drawls as she sips her milkshake, narrowing her eyes on Rafe. “My teacher's assistant, the girl you hooked up with, is a vampire?”

Rafe rolled his eyes and glared. “I told you. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Yup! You’re right. I don’t. It’s insane.”

“Okay so then how did this happen?” Rafe pointed at the bandage on his neck and Wheezie sighed.

“She’s kinky?”

“Wheezie!” Rafe scolded and she gave him the middle finger and continued drinking from her beverage. He sighed and pinched his nose. She would be the death of him.

But he did sound crazy. Who in the hell would believe he fucked a vampire? He hadn’t seen you in three weeks. It was like you completely disappeared. Even on social media you hadn’t posted anything and he felt like a stalker but he couldn’t stop himself from constantly checking to see if you showed signs of existence.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind. Everything about you was electric and fucking addicting. Better than any drug he’d ever taken.

“Is that why you’re obsessed with vampires and werewolves now?” Rafe didn’t respond and Wheezie snorted.

“Okay, Bella Swan.”

Rafe gritted his teeth but he couldn’t blame her for teasing him. But he was determined to find you again and if it included begging you to be with him then god damn it he would.

Another week passed before he had some luck. A new nightclub opened and the advertising was catered specifically to alternative people. It was expensive and elegant. Just like you. He dug through his wardrobe for anything acceptable and impressive enough to get your attention if you went.

Rafe climbed out of his car after paying a ridiculous amount for parking and peeked at his reflection. It would work. His long legs carried him to the entrance of the club and he paid for his way. As he walked through, he was captivated by the darkness. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, decorative wallpaper covered the walls on either side and the floor shined. People were dressed in dark clothing with luxurious material and he honestly didn’t feel like he belonged. The music was reminiscent of what you played at his house and he looked around. Searching for your unmistakable beautiful face.

Minutes went by without seeing you and he decided to try and wait. You were stealthy and if you were here, you had already spotted him. He strides to the bar, ordering a shot to spark his energy. What if you went back home? To Salem? What if he was completely wrong?

The music stopped and he naturally glanced around the room and noticed the dance floor was empty. That was until a female stepped up and the lights focused on her.

It was you.

He wanted to immediately stand but your red stained smile and tilted head in his direction left him frozen. His entire body went warm as the song played. Your body began to move slowly, your dark dress clinging to your body and curves. You still wore elegant jewelry only now he noticed you looked tired. You were beautiful. Perfect. But he could see the way your lips were slightly turned down and his stomach tightened with worry.

You extended your hand, pointing your finger at him before curling it in a come here motion, your ring shining and he shot up. He maneuvered through the crowd, including an elbow to a man who wasn’t moving fast enough and Rafe stood in front of you, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Hi, Rafe.” You leaned in and rested a hand on his chest. Rafe’s palms set on your hips and his senses went into overdrive as you fluttered your lashes at him.

“Where did you go, baby doll? Thought you left here. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Awww, did my pretty boy miss me?” You tease as you tug on his sleeve. “You wanna be my little toy tonight?”

Rafe shivered before he gripped your ass, pressing you against him as tightly as possible. “You wanna tell me why you look so tired, princess?”

“You’re such a simp,” You smirked and Rafe furrowed his brows before cupping your face. You felt even colder than usual.

“Tell me. Where have you been?”

“Hmm…I’ve been thirsty. But the drinks here just aren’t as good as they are in Salem.” Your eyes flash with a wicked glint and Rafe’s neck prickles in memory of your sharp teeth puncturing his skin.

“You went back home?”

You nod as you both sway to the rock music, your head tilted up at him and Rafe peered deep into your eyes.They held years of mystery and darkness. He wanted to get lost in them forever. “If you need something to taste, you can always come to me.” He said with a hardened seriousness.

You hold your head to the side and trail your gaze along his face. Rafe leaned down and brushed his lips to your ear. “Come on. Show me how good that mouth is, baby girl.”

You smile and cup the back of his head. Bringing him down, you press kisses to his neck, moving aside his collar and Rafe’s cock hardened as he felt you nip at his shoulder before you settled in the crook of his throat. Two sharp points pricked his flesh and he sighed as his eyes rolled back in his head. Your soft lips slightly open as he felt droplets fall, his head lulled as you drank from him, moaning quietly before you pulled back.

The corners of your lips were glistening and you licked your fangs. “Mmm, daddy. So sweet.”

Rafe went to kiss you but you reached up and paused him. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

“You love to fucking torture me, don’t you?” He growled and you laughed.

“You make it so easy. You’re like a little submissive puppy, Rafey. You’ll do anything I say. Won’t you?” Rafe wanted to take you right in the middle of the dance floor but he also didn’t want this to end.

“You’re really cocky,” Rafe decided to change his approach. “Is that all you can do? Drink my blood then run away like a scared little bunny? I thought vampires were scary.”

You grinned with a shrug. “Trying to bait me, huh? Nice move.”

“Oh, I’m just pointing out the obvious. I had you creaming on my cock better than any other fucker and you know it. I know your pussy is dripping right now, I can see the way you're pushing your legs together. Baby girl, try to be more subtle than that.” Rafe cupped your chin and watched you inhale sharply as his fingers brushed the exposed skin of your chest, lingering above your heart. “Now, try and behave yourself. I want you to think about how good it felt being my little greedy slut and how hard I made you cum but you’re not gonna touch yourself. No. You’re gonna wait. For me.”

You tried to catch his lips but he stood back with a wink. “You know where I live, Angel. Be a good girl for me and remember what happens when you’re not.”

It was almost impossible to walk away from you but Rafe was determined to finally meet you at your level and as he walked away, his heart raced with triumph.

He won round three.

Rafe stared at his ceiling three nights later, rubbing his eyes as sleep refused to claim him. He missed you so much it hurt. He knew he was obsessed with you but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about how desperate he looked. He needed you. He needed everything about you. He needed your sweet, tight pussy that made his cock ache just thinking about it.

His hand drifted to his boxers and as much as he wished it was you, his own palm would have to be enough for now. Rafe clutched his dick, precum leaking from the tip as he smeared it with his thumb and fisted it. He jerked it, hard and roughly as he thought about your pretty sounds when he pounded you from the back, panties stuffed in your mouth as your ass bounced. Fuck, he needed that. As his eyes fell shut and his mouth parted as he touched himself, already getting close just from the memory of you.

“Oh? Looks like someone is being a bad boy.”

Rafe stilled at the sound of your voice and sat up quickly. He saw the outline of your body standing by his open window. He could see the glimmer of your jewelry in the dark and he turned on his light on his phone. You were smiling, fangs out and your makeup was applied perfectly. Only you weren’t wearing a dress. You were wearing one of his black t-shirts without any pants underneath, showing off the perfect curve of your thighs.

“I mean come on, Rafe. Is it really fair to say I can’t finger fuck myself when you’re jerking off to the thought of me alone in bed?” You shook your head and clicked your tongue. “That's very bad.”

You slowly walked over to his bed, standing beside it and Rafe breathed heavily as you leaned down, pressing a hand to his heart. “I can hear your heart beating…racing just for me.”

You flipped the covers back, exposing his hardened cock underneath his underwear and he saw you smirk. “Looks like you need some help, daddy.” He inhaled sharply as you crawled on the bed, separating your knees as you lowered yourself down. You pulled down his boxers, spitting on his cock before you lapped at the tip, causing him to lay back and his hand found your hair.

Your tongue traced the sides, hand pumping the middle of his shaft before your lips wrapped around his balls and you sucked. He was going to go crazy as you released it with a pop and returned to his dick, pulling it into your mouth and you sucked.

You moaned as he lightly tapped your cheek and then tightly pulled your hair as you bobbed your head up and down, working him with your tongue at the same time as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper down your throat.

“Fucking shit. You’re a dirty little slut,” He huffed as he thrust his hips upward, spilling into your mouth and you moaned. He shakes violently as you continue sucking, messily overstimulating him and he finally manages to reach down. He maneuvered you onto your back, yanking up his shirt up over your head and exposed your black lace set you had on.

“Did you listen to me like a good girl?” He quirked an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. “Mmm, I’m actually glad you didn’t. Now I have another excuse to put you in your place.”

Rafe tore off your panties, throwing them off the side of the bed and he tugged off your bra. Your tits bounced and he groaned at your hardening nipples. He leaned down, flicking his tongue on the sensitive buds before nipping at them with his teeth. “Let’s feel how fucking wet you are,” he shoves his hand down, not wasting time being gentle and swiped his fingers along your dripping core.

He shoved them into your mouth, your lips wrapped around his digits and he growled. “Taste that? That’s for me. All me. You belong to me, princess.” He smacks your ass before he slides his cock along your slit, “I’m gonna fuck you and then lick it clean.” He promises before pushing in, his dick hardening inside your tight pussy.

He holds down your wrists, “you don’t get to touch me, baby girl. You gotta learn somehow,” he breathes as you roll your hips, sucking him deeper and your eyes roll back as he moves.

Your cunt squelches as he pounds into you, the bed jerking from his strength and your legs wrap around his waist. “Daddy,” you whine and try to pull your hands loose but he shakes his head.

“Yeah? Your cunt belongs to daddy. Say it. Beg for me to make you cum and maybe I’ll let you touch me.” He licks up your neck to meet your mouth in a bruising kiss before he pulls back.

“Mmm, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you, I’ll be so good for you,” You choke but he shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t fucking think so.” He pulls your lower lip between his teeth and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out slightly.

He takes the invitation and spits inside, watching you swallow it before you shriek as your orgasm hits you. He feels your cum around his dick and he slams into you one more time before his own peak hits him. Ropes of his cum gush into you, leaking out and he buries his head in your neck.

“Bite me,” you whisper. “Want you to mark me,”

Rafe sinks his teeth into your skin and tastes slight copper as you moan loudly. He finally lets you go, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. “Does this mean I’ll be like you?” He chuckles and then makes his way down your body, separating your sticky thighs.

“It’s not that simple,” you respond before you sigh with pleasure as he drags his tongue along your pussy, licking up your cum with a small amount of blood in his mouth.

“Taste so good, baby girl. So you’re so sweet,” He mumbles against your clit before circling around the center, making your thighs close around his head. “Could stay down here forever,”

“Kiss me, Rafe.” He feels you pull him up by his hair and he meets your lips, mixing your tastes together.

“Don’t leave me again,” He asks between harsh kisses. “Stay. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

You both stayed there for minutes, breathing in each other and he couldn’t get enough. “Will you be here when I wake up?” He asks, coming to a stop as he hovers above you.

“I’ll be here. I promise.” You cup his cheek, slightly stroking it and he leans into the touch. “You’re such a little simp,” you repeat from earlier and he shrugs.

“I have a thing for vampires.”

He laid on his back, pulling you to his chest and you listened to his heartbeat. “One of these days you’re gonna have to show me everything you can do.”

“Yeah? You wanna hear all my stories?” You tease in the dark and he nods.

“All of them, baby. Then maybe you’ll tell me how old you are.”

You pinch his side and he laughs. “Promise me again. You’ll stay?”

“I promise.”

His eyes drifted shut after you both fell into silence. He woke up to his alarm and smiled when he looked down. You were still in his arms.

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @drewstarkeyslut @rafescurtainbangz @emsgoodthinkin @drudyslut @oceandriveab @rafesthroatbaby @theoraekenslover @redhead1180 @gri959 @voyeurmunson

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years

Text

JJ Maybank x Male Reader - You Are Home.

JJ Maybank *Outerbanks* x male kook reader [Sarah’s brother]

I did it, just like I said I would. Enjoy y’all. [Two more days till season 3!]

“It's always have and never hold

“You've begun to feel like home…”

[-The Fray, I’ll Look After You, 2005]

Outer Banks, North Carolina. More specifically, Figure Eight.

The air that whirled around him was warm, the island’s nonchalant charm lulling him into a sense of calm. Sure, the faint arguing that drifted in from downstairs was distracting, but alas- in Y/n’s tired state he wanted nothing more to ignore it, and stay in the welcoming breeze from the window sill of the large, white house.

In his hands he twisted and untwisted the cap of his water bottle, eyes still watching over the navy blue shadow reflecting from the sky. He tried focusing in on the sounds coming from outside, the wind’s song flowing through the ocean waves around the corner. However this proved to be more and more difficult, when he repeatedly broke out of his zoned out state and was dragged back into the growing yelling coming from Ward and Rafe downstairs.

Rafe’s persistent arguing, the frustration becoming more and more clear in Ward’s normally calm, manipulative tone.

“Hey, please let’s just-“

“No- no I’m done talking about this.��

“Let me finish, Rafe….”

Y/n let out a frustrated groan, after Rafe had blown yet another college interview it seemed Ward’s patience was bubbling down to the final straw, dragging the rest of the family into it as they heard and watched it all in the emptiness of the house.

Y/n forced his gaze away from the outside world, looking around at his dimly lit room. Perhaps he should go to see Wheezie, check on Sarah. He knew how the latter especially hated conflict, though Wheezie herself seemed more drawn into her phone recently.

But it was never a waste to check in.

The h/c boy steps away from the white window sill, closing and locking it as he’d been taught.

The bright lights from the hallway jumped at him, his eyes taking an extra moment to adjust as the downstairs argument became more clear. It seemed everyone in the house had been more on edge recently, Ward tensing at short conversation and Sarah beginning to pull away more and more.

Y/n himself had always found himself closer to the side than anything, both him and Wheezie often being sat on the bleachers while the rest played at the game. Ward could acknowledge them as his kids, drag them around to events and all, but they each knew that they were never his first priority.

Sarah, center of attention of course, had it all laid out for her since day 1. A legacy, a throne of you will, being built for her the day Ward laid eyes on her- his daughter, his child. She was his pride and joy, leaving the rest of the family to sit and applaud as he spoiled her.

Y/n used to fight for it, too. Being born solely a year prior, his naive, 6 year old mind could never grasp why Sarah had been deemed the golden child. He still couldn’t really, but overtime it became more and more clear that nothing would ever change. And while he still found himself there, by the same window sill he had been today, he looked out at the family’s extravagant garden and wondered- “why?”

Rafe was the same way. Being born first in the family he still found himself pushed off to the side, set to watch his father grow instead of growing there with him. However, unlike Y/n, he never accepted it. He clung to any bits or pieces of his father he had, wanting nothing more to impress the man.

But Ward Cameron was a hard man to impress, especially when it came to the majority of his own blood. And when you stumble as often as Rafe himself had, another rung in the twisted, family ladder falls.

The hallway, covered in old paintings and dainty floral wallpaper, led Y/n down its paths until he found himself at Wheezie’s room.

2 knocks, 3, and Y/n stands awkwardly in front of the tall white door.

“Wheezie?” He calls, looking at the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. A ringing silence fills the hall, as he receives no answer.

“Wheezieeee, you alive in there?”

Curiously, the h/c grabs the golden handle and twists- peaking his head into the room.

Lights still on, he found his sassy little sister asleep on her bed- curled into a ball blended with the comforter. He paused for a second, wondering how she managed to sleep through the houses overwhelming ringing, as well as the mindless and repeated shouts from all around. But when his eyes landed on the small, white buds poking out of her ears and tangling with her hair he put it together.

“Smart kid..”

His hands slide up the wall, reaching the light switch before he flips it off.

“G’night, weirdo” he mumbles, closing the door behind him as his bare feet pad down the hallway once more.

It was at this point that Y/n decided against checking in on Sarah, knowing that not only their somewhat strained relationship would create an awkward tension, but also that the chances of her sneaking out her window again were far over likely.

So instead the teen trudged down the stairs, making a beeline to the kitchen to replace the water bottle he’d been fidgeting with just minutes before.

The further down the long staircase he walked, the more he was able to see of the rest of his family.

The tense fighting between Rafe and Ward had settled into the living room, stray documents and pamphlets scattered across fancy glass coffee tables as one man stood on each side.

They went back and forth, back and forth with the blonde boy starting, his father following closely in suite.

With the roll of his eyes, hand sliding down on the wooden banister, Y/n neared the bottom of the staircase.

“Dad I don’t need to go to college- I’m fine here.”

“Yeah? Yeah well I’m not Rafe. This is not…”

Rose watched on uncomfortably, sat in a stool next to the kitchen’s island. With an open laptop in front of her, and a half empty glass of wine, she stared on at the two with her eyebrows furrowed. Y/n could see her now, stepping off the final stair as he untwisted the lid of his water bottle. Back now turned to his father and brother, he could only see her in front of him.

The h/c heard voices rise, the urge to go back up to his room growing stronger in his mind.

“I knew I should’ve checked on Sarah-“

Just as he steps forward again, no less than 10 feet from the staircase, he heard it.

The painful slap, a harsh hit of skin on skin contact, echoes through the now silent room. He could see Rose’s eyes widened, sitting up straight suddenly as she stared in shock.

Y/n freezes, slowly and almost hesitant as he turns around in his spot.

Rafe’s face was turned away, mouth agape. Ward’s hand was still outstretched, a soft and lamented look filling his eyes as he seemed to finally realize what he’d done.

The fights had been happening for weeks now.

But never had it ever gotten physical- not once. Ward always took Rafe for granted, this was well evident in the claustrophobic walls of the Cameron house. But Ward had enough sense to not bring it to a physical level, his heart belonged to his family, he never purposely damaged that.

In a small moment of panic, Ward stepped away. His hand retracted, firm against his chest as he cleared his throat.

“Rafe-“

“Wow, dad…wow.”

The blonde’s voice is full of malice, chuckling deeply as he turned to look at the man. His voice lowers to a whisper again, eyebrows furrowed down.

“Wow.”

In the matter of a minute, perhaps two, Rose is up and rushing forward to stop the fight like she’d been wanting to for minutes on end. Blood rushed away from Y/n’s knuckles, his grip on the bottle tightened extremely. In the back of his mind he still heard them, Ward rushing to his own defense as Rafe riled himself up more. Rose’s desperate, annoying pleads as she stood between them.

But he wasn’t truly there, not present in the moment. His head screamed at him to leave, the need for fresh air bubbling over as he felt too fed-up with his family to stay another moment.

And so Y/n left, stormed out of the building before the other 3 could do more than notice him.

Swiftly grabbing the car keys off the counter, stuffing his feet into his shoes, the h/c rushed out to his car and ducked into the drivers seat.

He knew he hadn’t been the one to get slapped, the one to yell and scream in the fights. But if he had to sit in his room one more night, the air thick and heavy from this scrambled family’s tension he just might suffocate.

Trees blurred past him, eyes zoned onto the road ahead of him as his brain went into autopilot- driving him to the one place he felt he must be.

“JJ…”

The blonde boy, although a Pogue, offered him an embrace like no other. It should feel wrong, it’s supposed to be, but for whatever reason it didn’t, it felt right. Y/n could never recall how they’d come to be- in fact at the beginning the boys tried keeping it at “no strings attached”. But, they couldn’t help it- he felt like home.

JJ’s laugh, his voice, the warmth that would emit off his body whenever Y/n got too close. He wasn’t supposed to love him, his family’s reputation laid on the line- but he just didn’t want to stop himself. This wasn’t the first time one of them had run off to meet the other in the heat of the moment, sometimes in the middle of the night, others simply in broad daylight. It seemed the small compass engraved into Y/n’s brain was constantly pointing in JJ’s direction.

The more these thoughts flowed through Y/n, the more agitated he grew as he sought out the comfort he needed. His grip on the wheel was firm, mind a haze as he could see JJ’s near empty house coming into view. After the seemingly hundreds of times driving here, as if it was muscle memory, Y/n had barely realized he had made it to the Cut.

Y/n came to a stop in front of the house, taking a sharp breath. He snatched the keys from ignition, hopeful eyes leading him out of the car and onto the porch. That house, so different from his own, lured him in yet again.

All his thoughts seemed to fizz inside his head, bubbling and sizzling away so distantly, yet so present he could hear them still. Keys gripped in his hand tightly, fist knocking against the old door no more than 3 times before he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Answer the door, Maybank…” the teen mumbled, running a hand through his hair as his felt his muscles tensed in his shoulders.

Inside some shuffling was heard, the squeaks of door hinges alerting Y/n as he spun around to meet the blue eyed boy.

“Y/n? What-“

He looked confused, immediately taking note of Y/n’s dazed face and disheveled appearance. In the back of his mind, he felt he knew why Y/n was there.

Y/n opened his mouth to talk, stepping forward. JJ didn’t wait for him, jutting his head towards the door as to invite the h/c inside.

It wasn’t too long before Y/n was situated at the couch, fed up and frustrated. JJ followed close behind him, stopping at the door way almost hesitantly, for he’d only seen the boy act that way a handful of times. It was more recent that the two began to open up to each other, the intimacy they would share building an odd sense of trust, a safe space within each other that before they didn’t know they were capable of.

Though JJ had noticed that almost each time, it was due to something from that of the Cameron house. And so, he had a feeling he already knew what this was about.

The blonde moved forward from the door way, until he was standing in front of Y/n on the couch. The latter was almost doubled over, curled into himself with his elbows on his knees to hold his head up. His chest rose up and down heavily, fingers tangled with his h/c hair. JJ raises one eyebrow, sitting on the small table just a foot or so in front of the sofa.

“Y/n? Hello, you with me? What happened?”

Y/n sucks his teeth, hands sliding down his face.

“I’m so done with them, JJ.”

He didn’t have to say any names for the blonde to understand, it was almost always the same 2 or 3 people. And so he doesn’t ask any more questions, instead leaning closer to the boy in an attempt to give any sort of comfort.

JJ Maybank didn’t know too much about comfort, after all.

Years of not having the right comfort, not knowing how to give it, etc lead him to taking guesses, cracking jokes until one of the Pogues finally told him he wasn’t being helpful.

Perhaps, that’s why he always felt so attracted to Y/n Cameron.

“-I’m so fucking sick of it, they don’t,” Y/n pauses, trying to think of the right words to describe his mess of a family, “they fight, then pretend it’s all fine. And I normally can suck it up, or whatever, but I just- right now-“

He stumbles over words, frustration building up until he’s saying too many things at once to finish one thought, before another starts.

However he’s cut off, rambling suddenly turned silence as he feels JJ’s hands now cupping his face. The boy had leaned forward, sitting just on the edge of the coffee table, his face a mix of confusion and worry. Y/n’s shoulders drop, melting into the warmth of JJ’s hold.

“Hey, hey it’s alright-“ JJ comforted, finally getting a voice over Y/n’s thoughts. His e/c eyes finally move to meet the bold blues of JJ’s, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Just breathe, ok? I’ve got you now..”

Y/n listened, his shaky hands moving to rest on top of JJ’s, his face sandwiched in the middle. Eye contact never breaks between the two as the blonde coaxes Y/n into steady breathing, thumb shifting gently to rub comforting circles into his cheeks.

As Y/n finally feels a sense of stability, now much more aware of the floor under his feet and the walls that surround him, he laughs. It’s not awkward, much closer to embarrassed than anything, and it’s just enough to bring a small sense of relief into JJ’s system.

“I’m sorry, that was, sudden.” He laughs out, tilting his head up to the ceiling. But JJ doesn’t accept that, shaking his head.

“Nope- no. No saying sorry.” He states firmly, his blonde hair falling messily across his forehead. He stands up, bringing the h/c up with him. Their hands have now separated, leaving a lingering warmth across the other teen’s face where they had been before.

Y/n doesn’t even get a moment to protest, as JJ has already swung an arm around his shoulders and leads him to his bedroom.

“JJ-“

“Nope, nah uh.”

He turns around, them now standing in the middle of JJ’s messy room. “You-“ he jabs a finger into Y/n’s chest, “-just had a panic attack, amigo, you’re staying over here tonight.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, a smile plays at his lips, amused. He no longer had any intentions of protesting, knowing that he didn’t want to leave anyways. Instead he turned around to watch JJ scrummage through his closet, following the boy’s figure with his eyes.

A minute passed, standing in comfortable silence. And as Y/n continued to stare at JJ, a playful grin pulled the corners of his lips.

“You just call me ‘amigo’?” He asked, tapping his fingers on the dresser.

JJ paused, turning to look at him over his shoulder.

“Yes, actually, I did.” He replied, grabbing a sweatshirt from the closet and tossing it to Y/n. Neither boy made a move to change, though, nothing else than Y/n pulling the old “North Carolina” sweater over his head and running a hand through his hair.

“And you’re giving your ‘amigo’ a sweatshirt? How sweet-“ he teased, JJ simply rolling his eyes as the incident merely a few minutes prior seemed to be left behind. JJ didn’t know why he gave Y/n that sweater, this was the first time he had done that. Perhaps it was something in the way Y/n:s eyes had been so red and wide before, he wanted to see comfort instead.

The blonde settled onto his bed, Y/n following close behind and kicking off his shoes. He laid down next to him, shuffling around as he falls into the pillows.

“Better not cuddle me, Cameron.” JJ joked, although said in a flat tone it wasn’t hard for Y/n to know he didn’t mean it. He would make jokes like that quite often, actually- Y/n already knew the outcome.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He jokes right back, getting comfortable on his side.

But then as the minutes go by, hands ticking away slowly on the clock, it was predictably JJ himself who began to inch closer and closer.

Y/n peaked one eye open, the warmth radiating from him so close, as his breath fanned lightly across his shoulder. Happens everytime.

“What were you saying, Maybank?”

“Shut the fuck up and cuddle me.”

Blunt, yes, but in no more than a split second Y/n found his legs entangled with those of the blonde, ducking his face into the crook of JJ’s neck as a strong sense of home overcame him.

This happened often, the teasing jabs that would only lead to such small space between their bodies. Though, that is how they liked it. Not even the beating heat of the summer could stop it, the restrictions that kept them apart in public but pulled them so close together in private.

Because in private, there was no one else but each other to keep them company.

#x male reader #jj maybank x male reader #outerbanks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #JJ Maybank x Cameron reader #Obx

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rafecameronsgun · 6 months

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rafe cameron/drew starkey wallpapers!what do you thinkkk??

@sunkissedrafe @stepbrorafe @sadfury @drewsbebe @starkeyisthelastname

@rafeinterlude

#outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #smut #drew starkey

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maneater217 · 2 months

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Little Miss Perfect: Chapter 2

TW: this story contains substance abuse, eating disorders, violence, and sexual themes. Interact at your own risk <3

Chapter 2: Acing It

Y/n Von Gatton had all the attention a person could ever dream of- almost.

Her parents were always away on business. Her father Clay was a hot shot lawyer who often had to travel to the mainland for his clients and her mother Heidi refused to leave his side. Y/n often wondered what it would be like to have someone that loyal to her- to be prioritized above anything else, especially money.

She knew deep down though that moping around or picking up a cocaine addiction would not turn her parents heads in her direction. Instead, she became a chronic overachiever in everything.

It had seemed as if her efforts were finally paying off. Her parents had told her that they would be back from their business trip on the mainland just in time for her first preseason match. The years of pushing herself would finally be worth something- her parents attention.

That was until she had gotten a call from her dad.

"Hey, Dad! What's up?" she asked in a cheery mood.

"Princess, I'm sorry. This call probably isn't news you wanna hear," sighed her father.

"Oh," she whispered.

She knew what was coming. It was almost clockwork at this point. a part of her wished they would stop saying they'd come to matches at all. They only ever streamed her highlights or showed up to playoff appearances.

"We are just so sorry, darling," said her mother in the background.

"We tried to make it fit into the schedule but things got backed up with a client here on the mainland," her father added.

"No it's ok. I understand the sacrifices you guys make for me," she assured- it was only half a lie.

"That's my girl! You understand the family priorities," gushed her mother.

"We promise to make it up to you, Princess. Love you," said her father.

"I love you guys too!" replied y/n.

Of course she was an understanding daughter. She didn't have a choice. She couldn't convince her parents to come watch her success. She couldn't stop the hot tears from running down her face. She couldn't stop the hunger in her stomach, but she could win her match tomorrow.

Y/n Von Gatton did not like to lose control. Everything in her life was a factor she could control. Her grades- control, her tennis- control, and even her weight was all about control.

Rafe Cameron had lost control of almost everything in his life. He had no control within his family, no control of his money, and somedays he felt as if he had no control of his mind.

Within the tacky wallpapered walls of Tannyhill, Ward Cameron held all control. He came from nothing, wanting to give his children everything and he did-in his mind. The one thing that he could not give, however, was approval to Rafe. There was always something wrong with the boy in his eyes and in Rafe's eyes there was no use in trying anymore.

Rafe had been lounging on the patio that afternoon, enjoying the fact that there were virtually no thoughts in his head.

Ward was quick to change that.

"Son, we need to talk," said Ward. His voice stern as usual.

Rafe wanted to roll his eyes. They always needed to talk but never about anything good.

"What's up Dad?" he asked as nicely as possibly.

"Midsummers is coming up. Now, this year is special because they're celebrating my contributions to the club. All eyes will be on the family" his father replied.

Rafe looked at him to continue and Ward shook his head and sighed, as if Rafe was supposed to understand what he was implying. Impossible as ever.

"Son, what I'm getting at here is that you should- no need, to have a date. A respectable one too," he lectured.

"I don't understand why it's so important," Rafe huffed; he regretted it instantly.

Ward sighed, lowering his head and taking a deep breath.

"I don't understand why you make things so difficult. A boy with your last name should find a respectable date easily, especially considering it's only one night," his father growled.

"I understand," Rafe said quietly.

"Good," finished Ward as he returned to the house.

Rafe barely slept that night. He was pissed that he was only a pawn in Ward's chess game. Pissed that his father only ever saw him as something that could either make or break his image.

Ironically, in the development over was y/n. She was also pissed. She was pissed that she wasn't even a variable in whatever game her parents played. Pissed that she so desperately wanted to be in their image.

The next morning had y/n anxious. She was so anxious that she couldn't eat- she must've been anxious for the last 48 hours then too.

She had told herself to get it together. There was no room for failure. If her parents couldn't be there then she would make their loss her victory. Her competitive spirit had won her SEC freshman of the year, it couldn't fail her now.

Y/n showed up to the courts earlier than need, as usual. She wanted time to herself to really take in where she was and what she was there to do. Today's match was not high stakes by any means but her most recent phone call with her parents had given her a different kind of motivation.

After what had seemed like seconds of practice, people had started filling the stands.

A hungover Rafe Cameron was one of the people in the stands, surrounded by Topper and his sister.

"Babe, I'm surprised your cousin could get all three of us in for free," gushed Sarah.

"Well she told me her parents weren't coming so she didn't need to reserve seats for them," replied Topper.

"Oh," said Sarah, looking down.

"Yeah, kinda feel bad for her. They never go to her stuff because my uncle gets busy with lawyer stuff," he continued.

Hearing that surprised Rafe. He always assumed y/n's parents must've thought she was a God sent or something. Maybe this was why she was such a stuck up bitch.

The match had started and y/n was winning. No surprise there. She was getting exhausted though. Every swing was harder than the last and she was terrified people were noticing. Nobody could tell- except for Rafe. He thought it was odd that a D1 tennis player could run out of gas so quickly. By the second set, she could barely keep up with her opponent. This was a clear sign to Rafe that little miss perfect had to be overrated.

Y/n was pissed at herself. She had lost the second set, which would meant they needed to play a third.

Going into the third set wasn't easy. The match was close, showing how both girls were extremely hungry for the win. With one final serve, y/n pushed herself over the edge. She had won.

Her win may not have meant much statistically, but in that moment it meant everything.

Yes, y/n Von Gatton was acing it.

This feeling did not last long as pride was replaced by exhaustion. She scurried over to the locker rooms and was quickly followed by her coach. Y/n felt herself stumble onto the cold tile, her legs too wobbly to support her.

Rafe was lazily walking towards the bathrooms when he stumbled upon a conversation he knew he was never meant to hear.

"Y/n, you have to stop doing this to yourself. Your coach at Florida will start to notice," said an older female voice who he had assumed was her private coach.

"I know," responded y/n, heavily winded.

"Go, you're off for the next week. Go eat something good," ordered the older woman.

"Coach, you know I can't afford that," she argued.

"Yes you can. No complaints, y/n," said her coach who then left the locker rooms.

Rafe quickly ducked behind the wall in between the locker rooms and the bathrooms as her coach briskly walked away.

He peered into the locker room to see her sitting against a bench, still breathing heavily.

"Hey are you alright?" he asked.

She quickly turned towards him, obviously caught off guard.

"This is the women's locker room Rafe. Are you seriously that perverted?" she scoffed.

"Just wanted to see what the problem was, heard you and your coach going at it," he smirked.

"It's none of your concern, especially considering the fact you have plenty of your own issues to be concerned about," she spat, now looking at the ground.

"You know it's funny you say that because you could help me with one of those concerns," he said.

"Not interested, however, I'm sure one of the cart girls would be more than willing to help you out," she laughed.

"Funny," he said in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, I was thinking how you're gonna go to midsummers with me," he added.

"And why the actual fuck would I do that," she questioned.

He smiled to himself, lowering himself down to her level.

"Because if you don't, I'll tell everyone on Figure 8 that little Miss Perfect starves herself," he chuckled in a dark manner.

"Yeah because everyone is gonna believe coked out Cameron," she argued.

"Not everyone has to, but it'll get people talking. I think that's more than enough to do some serious damage to your squeaky clean reputation," he smiled.

She thought he was evil and unfortunately knew he was right. She bit the inside of her cheek.

Rafe smiled even more. Y/n may not have verbally admitted defeat but her body language had said enough.

"So here's the deal, Princess. You're gonna go to midsummers with me and be the prettiest little date Figure 8 has ever seen. If you can manage that then your secret is safe with me," he said, dangerously close to her face.

She whipped her head towards him, looking directly into his piercing blue eyes and smirked.

"Fine, Cameron, but if all of this was just to tell me that I'm pretty, you could've done it more directly," she teased, regaining her footing.

She grabbed her bag and strutted out of the locker room, leaving Rafe a little shocked.

In Rafe's mind, however, he had his perfect date to midsummers.

He was acing it.

#outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe obx

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whatsmypersonality · 6 months

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i fucking need him

rafe cameron wallpaper//collage//whatever by me <3

#dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe #rafe x reader #so hot omg #i need him #me #mine

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pumpkin-writes · 16 hours

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worlds apart: part 1 – the fall

pairing: ooc x rafe cameron x jj maybank

warnings: maybee some mild language ( i don't think there's anything wild ) mention of death, this is super introductory and completely sfw!

word count: 1.2 k

notes: phew! y'all! it's been almost a yearrrrr since i first talked about writing this series!! i started writing this before i experienced a deep loss in my immediate family and my depression hit me so hard, this idea was almost lost forever. however! after rewatching outer banks with my boyfriend a few months ago, i was inspired to pick this back up. i hope you can all forgive me if you were expecting this in decemember, but here it is now, and i hope you all enjoy <3

delaney castle stood in the middle of a sea of black, her heels sinking into the freshly cut grass. the scent of damp earth and flowers weighed heavy in the air, but all she could focus on was the gaping hole in the ground just a few feet away. her father’s grave. it felt surreal—like she was watching this moment from a distance, as if it were happening to someone else. people swarmed around her, offering meaningless condolences, their voices blending into a dull hum. faces she barely recognized. people who’d never really known her father, only his money, his status. her fingers clenched around the edges of her black dress, trying to ground herself in something, anything. rafe cameron lingered at the back of the crowd. she hadn’t expected him to come, hadn’t wanted him to, but of course he did. always appearing at the worst times. she’d broken up with him a week ago, right before everything fell apart, right before her father collapsed in his office, leaving her with nothing but debts and a one-way ticket to the cut. he caught her eye, and for a split second, something flickered in her chest. she quickly tore her gaze away, focusing on the casket instead.

after the ceremony, delaney’s mother, alicia, stood beside her, stiff and awkward. it had been years since they’d spent more than a handful of hours together. growing up, alicia had been a name whispered in hushed conversations, a fleeting presence in her life. the only memories she had of her mother were foggy—a vague recollection of a small apartment, and a woman too thin, too tired, always on edge. she had let her father take her because it was "for the best." at least, that’s what everyone always said. her mother had been clean for years now, or so she claimed. but delaney still barely knew her. now, alicia was all she had left. the drive to the cut felt like a journey to another world. alicia’s car rattled over the uneven streets, the interior bare except for a few fast-food wrappers crumpled on the floor. delaney stared out the window, her chest tight, the silence between them suffocating. "i know this isn’t what you’re used to," her mother began, her voice tentative, as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. "but… it’s a fresh start." delaney didn’t answer. she didn’t know how. her life had already been flipped upside down—first her father’s death, then rafe, and now this. a fresh start felt like a cruel joke. they pulled up to a small, weathered house tucked away on a narrow street. it wasn’t much—paint chipping, the yard overgrown—but alicia smiled weakly as she gestured toward it. "home sweet home," she said, her voice straining to sound cheerful. delaney wanted to say something—anything to break the awkwardness—but the words stuck in her throat. instead, she grabbed her bags from the trunk, dragging them inside. the house was modest, to say the least. alicia had mentioned she worked as a waitress now, and it showed. everything felt small, cramped, compared to the sprawling estate on figure eight her father had raised her in. there were no marble floors or grand staircases here, just squeaky wooden floors and faded wallpaper. she set her suitcase down in the spare bedroom—her new bedroom—and sat on the edge of the bed. everything about this place felt foreign, including the woman standing in the doorway, watching her with hopeful, nervous eyes. "i’m really glad you’re here, laney," alicia said softly. "i know… i haven’t been the best mom, but i want to try. i want to make things right between us." her throat tightened at her mother calling her the nickname her father had coined years ago. she knew alicia meant it, but it didn’t change the fact that she still felt like a stranger. "yeah," she muttered, barely glancing at her, instead scanning every little detail of the room she now called her own. "we’ll see."

the first few days passed in a blur. delaney kept to herself, avoiding her mother and the uncomfortable conversations that lingered between them. she could feel alicia’s attempts to connect—making her breakfast in the mornings, offering to drive her places—but it felt too forced, too late. it was like trying to bond with someone she barely knew, which in a way, she was. on the third day, the walls of the house started to feel like they were closing in on her. she needed air, space to clear her head. delaney grabbed her hoodie and stepped out, walking aimlessly through the streets of the cut. everything was different here—the houses smaller, the people rougher, more direct. she wasn’t sure where she was going, but she followed the sound of laughter and voices until she found herself at the wreck yard. that’s when she saw them. the pogues. kiara, who she knew from school, sat on a rusted car hood, laughing at something pope said. jj leaned against a tree, a smirk on his face as he twirled a cigarette between his fingers. john b was there too, but his eyes were locked on sarah cameron. they all looked so at ease with each other. she hesitated, feeling out of place. she was the girl who’d grown up in wealth, the girl who’d been with rafe cameron—the enemy. but then kiara spotted her. "laney?" she called out, waving her over.there was no turning back now. jj couldn’t help but smirk as delaney made her way over. he’d heard all about her, the kook princess turned cut dweller. she was pretty, sure, but he didn’t trust anyone who used to swap spit with that dick rafe cameron. "well, well, if it isn’t a kook slumming it with us poor folks," jj said, his grin wide. delaney rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "nice to see you too, maybank." kiara shot him a look, but jj just shrugged. something about delaney made him want to push her buttons. pope stepped in before things could get more awkward. "you holding up okay?" he asked, his voice softer than jj’s teasing. delaney shifted on her feet. "i guess. it’s… an adjustment." "yeah, i bet," kiara said, offering a sympathetic smile. "if you need anything, we’re here." delaney smiled back, though it felt strange. she wasn’t sure how she fit in here, how to leave behind the version of herself tied to the kooks and rafe. as the conversation moved on, jj leaned in, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. "so, how’s life without your favorite psycho?" her stomach twisted at the mention of rafe, but she kept her expression neutral. "better," she said, though the word felt heavy in her mouth. jj studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp. "yeah, we’ll see about that."

that night, delaney was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when her phone buzzed. she picked it up, her chest tightening when rafe’s name appeared on the screen.

miss you, d.

she stared at the message, her finger hovering over the reply button. but after a long moment, she tossed the phone aside, not ready to face the storm that always followed him. for the first time, she wasn’t sure what scared her more—rafe cameron, or the way her heart still skipped a beat when she saw his name.

#obx #obx fic #fic: worlds apart #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank #mine #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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