#Drew starkey x you

[rafecameronssl4t]

Thinkin’ bout me || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @chenslucy

Summary: inspired by the lyrics of “thinkin’ bout me” Morgan Wallen 🤗🤗

Warnings: slight angst ig

Word count: 1,964

A/n: I rlly wanna do one with a Zach Bryan song but the ideas aren’t coming to me 😔

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Don't know where you at, don't know where you've been. Don't know nothin' 'bout that boy you're into.

It had been two months since you’d left, pulling yourself out of Rafe’s orbit so completely that he’d almost started to believe you’d vanished for good. Then tonight, here you were, mingling at the yacht party like nothing had happened.

Only now, an unfamiliar blonde had his arm wrapped casually around your waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your hip as you leaned in close to hear him over the music, a bright, carefree smile lighting up your face. Rafe’s stomach twisted at the sight.

He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he could see the way you laughed at something the guy said, your head tipping back as if his words were the funniest thing you’d heard all night. The version of you he saw now felt almost foreign to him—like he’d been replaced by someone who wasn’t weighed down by your shared past.

Maybe you really were happier, but seeing you with someone else so soon cut deeper than he’d anticipated. It was the smile that got to him the most—the one he remembered as his—now aimed at someone else.

Don't feel bad for you, but I feel bad for him. And all the hell you gon' be puttin' him through. Probably tell him we're a burnt out flame. Probably tell him that I ain't been on your mind. How I ain't nothin' but a long gone thing. You can cuss my name, but baby, don't you lie

The unfamiliar blonde looked wildly out of place in the gleaming luxury of the yacht party, as though he’d just wandered into the wrong scene altogether. He had a wholesome air about him that felt like it belonged more to a Kildare bonfire than this slick, exclusive gathering. Rafe’s jaw clenched as he watched the guy, wondering what you could possibly see in someone so blatantly average.

“Who are you staring at?” Topper’s voice broke into his thoughts, a teasing chuckle in his tone as he followed Rafe’s gaze. He spotted you almost immediately, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “Oh. She looks good—”

“Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t wanna hear it,” Rafe muttered, not breaking his stare. He didn’t need anyone telling him how good you looked; he already knew. Topper just threw his hands up, backing off with a smirk. Before Topper could throw in another comment, you shifted, turning around just enough to spot him.

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, catching the way you froze for a split second and in that instant, he saw the flicker of nerves in your expression. Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, watching the way you subtly fidgeted under his stare. He could practically see the wheels turning in your mind as you quickly turned back to the guy beside you.

The blonde followed your gaze, catching sight of Rafe and Topper watching. His expression tightened just slightly, his eyes darting back to Rafe every few seconds, clearly trying to size him up. Rafe’s smirk widened; he knew exactly what was going through the guy’s mind. You were probably telling him some watered-down version of what you and Rafe had been—a burnt-out flame, a chapter you’d left behind.

Maybe you were painting Rafe as the villain, the one you’d gotten over, glossing over the parts that didn’t fit. Even cussing him out just to make it seem like you’d moved on. But he saw right through it. He knew the kind of hell you’d probably put this guy through, the stories you’d tell him, the ways you’d pretend you’d forgotten.

He’d been in your life long enough to know you, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for this poor bastard. He didn’t feel bad for you—not anymore. But for the guy who thought he’d won you over? Rafe almost pitied him. He had no idea the hell you’d eventually put him through, just like you’d put Rafe through.

When you're tastin' what he's drinkin', are you thinkin' 'bout me? When you're ridin' where he's drivin', are you missin' my street?

Rafe’s eyes lingered on you, the smirk slipping into something colder as he watched you lean closer to the blonde, your laughter ringing out over the music. But he saw right through it. He knew you well enough to pick up on the tiny tells—the way you glanced over your shoulder just slightly, probably checking if he was still watching.

You were putting on a show, and he knew it. He could almost picture it: you, lifting a drink to your lips, tasting the same burn of bourbon he used to pour you, and wondering if it would ever hit the same. Or maybe it was later, on some midnight drive as the blonde took you back home, the car turning down familiar roads but never quite the right ones. He could almost feel that ache settling in you when his road, the one leading up to Tannyhill, passed by without a pause.

You might be so close, just one turn away, and yet still missing that feeling of belonging you’d only ever felt pulling into his place, the street you’d once called home. He could feel Topper glancing his way, but he didn’t care, didn’t let up. He wanted to make sure you knew he was still there, that he was watching you, and that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t just erase him. Not from those old habits, not from those half-forgotten memories that clung to you like shadows.

And even as you turned back to the blonde, pretending you didn’t care, he could tell. Somewhere, deep down, he knew you’d feel that same hollow ache—the same one he was feeling right now—whenever you tasted what he was drinking or found yourself driving down a street that just didn’t feel the same.

Every time you close your eyes, tell me, who do you see. Comin' over tonight, wish that truck in your drive was mine. Just like you know it's supposed to be

Every time you closed your eyes, he wondered if it was his face you still saw, if memories of him filled those moments you tried to shut out. He imagined you lying awake, maybe with that blonde by your side, but when you let your guard down, it wasn’t him you’d see. It was Rafe, pulling up to your place, the sound of his truck rumbling in the driveway as he walked up to your door, familiar and steady as if he’d never left.

He could picture it so clearly—his truck parked outside, headlights washing over your front porch, the way he’d make himself at home in your space without a second thought. Rafe knew you could pretend all you wanted, but when you closed your eyes, he’d be there, waiting in those memories you could never quite shake. And somewhere, deep down, he knew you’d feel that pang of regret every time you wished that truck in your drive was his.

When you're up in his bed, am I up in your head? Making you crazy, tell me, baby, are you thinkin' 'bout me?

He couldn’t help but wonder if, in those quiet hours of the night, when you were lying beside him, it was his name that slipped into your mind uninvited. When you were up in that guy’s bed, was it him who filled your thoughts instead—if the memory of his hands, his voice, his presence stayed just beneath the surface, making it impossible to forget. He wanted to know if he’d left a mark, lingering even now, pushing you to the edge of madness as you tried to convince yourself you’d moved on.

Rafe moved in quietly, blending into the crowd, making his way closer as he watched the blonde step away, leaving you alone for the first time all night. He didn’t hesitate, just closed the distance, eyes fixed on you with that knowing look you’d tried to ignore. Reaching for a glass, he pretended to pour himself a drink, but his attention was fully on you, his voice low and taunting.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, “are you thinkin’ ’bout me?” The words hung in the air between you, his gaze steady, daring you to look away. He didn’t need to say anything else. The challenge was in his eyes, his tone, the slight smirk playing at his lips as he watched your reaction. He knew he was under your skin, that no matter how hard you tried, memories of him had a way of creeping back. And now, standing close enough to feel the tension humming between you, he was waiting, pushing just enough to make you wonder if he’d ever really left your thoughts.

You swallowed, eyes narrowing as you tried to brush off the effect he still had on you. But the heat of his presence was unmistakable, almost magnetic, pulling you into that familiar territory you’d been trying so hard to avoid. His eyes searched yours, unreadable, but you caught the flicker of something darker beneath the surface—a mixture of anger, curiosity, maybe even the smallest hint of longing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice steady, forcing a smile that you hoped would mask the way your pulse quickened. But Rafe’s smirk only grew, as if he could see right through your act. He leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Sure, keep tellin’ yourself that.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in as he stared at you side profile before chuckling to himself.

“But we both know who’s really on your mind tonight.” You felt a shiver roll down your spine, his proximity making it impossible to ignore the pull between you, the way his presence filled every corner of your mind despite the months apart. He lingered there, eyes never leaving yours, daring you to deny it, to keep pretending he was just a part of your past.

“You look good,” he added, voice soft, with just the slightest edge. “But maybe that’s ’cause I remember how you used to look at me.” The words hit harder than you’d like, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that left no room for anything else. You wanted to come up with something quick, something sharp to throw back at him. But for a second, you just stood there, caught in the moment, feeling the weight of every memory between you—the late nights, the laughter, the arguments, the way he’d looked at you like no one else ever had.

[lovelookspretty]

waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: Y/N & RAFE DATE 😋 teasing, pretty safe chapter

authors note: btw readers only “weird” around cynthia bc ngl id act like that if i came across her bc shes so annoying on the show omg. but EEE hi guys. if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

previous

you’re not surprised to wake up in rafe’s bed again. at this point, it’s almost routine, though every time still feels surreal.

you’ve gotten used to the soft sheets, the familiar scent of him on the pillows, and the way the morning light filters through the blinds just right, casting a warm glow over his peaceful, sleeping face.

he looks so different like this—calm, almost vulnerable. it’s a version of him that no one else really gets to see. and you? you don’t mind at all.

you take a quiet breath, just watching him for a moment longer. but then, his eyes flutter open, and you freeze, quickly closing your eyes to pretend like you’re still sleeping. maybe if you play it off well enough, he won’t—

a finger pokes at your side, and you can’t help the involuntary squirm and groan that escapes you. “rafe,” you mutter, barely opening one eye to glare at him. but he just grins, clearly pleased with himself for catching you.

“thought you were asleep,” he teases, voice rough from sleep, poking your side again until you half-heartedly swat at his hand.

“you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “get off of me.”

the morning quickly slips into a blur, and before you know it, you're tagging along with rafe for a ride around the island—except not just any ride. he’s got his dirt bike out, the same one you’d seen on the show.

you were kind of surprised when you first saw it in the garage. in the world you knew, rafe got this bike after the first episode started, but here? no rules seem to apply anymore.

you’re wrapped tightly around his torso, his helmet snug on your head as he drives the bike through town, on the beaches, through quiet streets and long stretches of open road. the wind whips past your face, and you can’t help but smile into it, arms locked around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

eventually, he pulls up to some kook-itorium, the bike coming to a slow stop. rafe kicks the stand down and hops off first, turning to help you off like he always does. his hands are warm as they slide into yours, and for a second, he just holds them, staring down at you with a grin.

“so, what do you think?” he asks, pulling you a little closer as you hop off the bike. he’s been practically advertising himself on the way over here. “a date? hrm? just you n’ me. anywhere you want.”

you smile up at him. “yeah,” you say softly. “i’d like that.”

he tugs you toward the entrance of the building, still holding onto your hand. “just don’t pick somewhere like the seaview grill or— god, that lame museum your mom likes.”

when you step inside the building, it takes you a moment to realize where rafe has brought you. the place has that unmistakable country club vibe—polished, pristine, like every corner of it has been touched by money. but it’s smaller, rounder in shape, and more modern than the main country club building next door. servers move swiftly between tables, balancing trays and drinks. rafe, of course, heads straight past all of this, not even glancing at the downstairs dining area.

you follow him upstairs, past the busy floor where people are eating, drinking, and talking in their quiet, refined way. upstairs, though, it’s a whole different world.

the second floor is open and airy, with barely any walls to box anything in. it’s just the floor, held up by tall pillars that support the roof above, letting the fresh air and views of the island spill right in. the only structure that really stands out is the bar in the middle—a sleek, modern setup that takes up a good portion of the space, all glossy wood and glass shelves stocked with high-end bottles.

the place is filled with kooks, most of them middle-aged. they don’t seem to notice you and rafe, or if they do, they don’t care. oh right, rafe should be about 22 now, legal to drink here. does that make the others 18 and 19?

anyway, rafe is clearly familiar here. a few nods are thrown his way as he leads you forward, and he nods back, murmuring casual greetings under his breath as you weave between tables. you’re amused, but there’s a small part of you that’s bothered.

you thought maybe rafe had brought you here for food downstairs, but it’s pretty clear now that this is just one of his regular stops to get a drink—probably whiskey or even scotch, knowing him. but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to spoil the mood.

he finally lets go of your hand when he reaches the bar, leaning against the counter with crossed arms as he asks for his drink. you linger beside him for a second, glancing around the open space. the view from up here is stunning, with a perfect sightline to the docks and the country club’s main establishment just next door.

you rub your arm awkwardly, feeling a little out of place among all the well-dressed older folks. after a beat, you step closer to rafe, gently touching his arm to get his attention. “i’m gonna go use the restroom,” you say quietly.

he nods, not taking his eyes off the bartender. but before you can turn to leave, he grabs your arm, tugging you back toward him for a quick kiss. it’s his way of saying 'be safe,' you guess, a small gesture that makes you smile despite the surroundings. you give his arm a gentle squeeze in return, then slip away to head downstairs.

just as you’re descending the steps, though, a familiar voice drifts up toward you. and then you see him—topper, making his way up the stairs. your heart sinks in the half-second you have to process it.

great. the last time you talked to him was at the party, when he was stumbling over some half-assed apology. and now here he is, about to cross your path.

fantastic. just what you needed.

the moment his eyes land on you, there’s a flicker of recognition that lights up his face, just for a moment—like spotting an old acquaintance in a crowd.

“y/n!” he says, his hands coming up as if he’s presenting you to the world. he glances at his mom as if to say, ‘look who it is’. you can feel your heart rate pick up as you pause on the steps, furrowing your brows at them.

they were definitely just talking about you right before this.

you force a smile, but it’s small and tight, barely breaking through your unease. “hi, topper,” you mumble, glancing between him and his mom. there’s a brief moment of silence as you weigh your options—whether to continue this conversation or slip away.

ultimately, you choose the latter. you take a step forward, moving past them and continuing down the stairs, leaving them behind. as you go, you can feel topper’s eyes on you.

he glances down at his shoes and shifts awkwardly, but then, just as quickly, he looks up again. “come on, let’s just go upstairs,” he insists to his mom, trying to shake it off as they both start moving again.

it’s not that you wanted to dismiss topper and his mom or anything. really, you just don’t see the point in lingering in the middle of a public staircase, one of the only two that connected the floors of the country club. you don’t want to be rude, but you also don’t want to talk to topper—especially after your last encounter at the party.

topper and his mom step off the stairs, but the moment topper spots rafe, a grin spreads across his face.

“hey, good seein’ you back here again,” topper greets, approaching the bar with a friendly demeanor.

rafe daps him up casually. “you too, man,” rafe replies, genuinely glad to see him.

topper's mom stands just a foot away, carrying her purse and looking utterly uninterested in the interaction, her gaze flicking off to the side as if she’s assessing the other patrons. she’s never been a fan of rafe, just barely tolerating him because he comes from a good family, and it shows in the way she avoids direct eye contact.

pulling away from the handshake, toppers eyes glance back toward the staircase as if expecting you to appear at any moment. “saw you and y/n come in,” he adds, “just wanted to say hi.”

rafe nods with a smile as he leans back against the bar, one elbow resting casually on the counter. he glances at topper’s mom. “hey, cynthia,” he says, flashing her a grin.

her expression shifts from indifference to surprise, and then it hardens, almost offended by the casual familiarity. she’s always been the type to keep her distance from him, and rafe knows it. to her, he’s still just another troublemaker, another bad influence.

topper notices the slight tension and looks back to rafe, his brow furrowing slightly. “so, what’s up with y/n?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with a hint of concern.

rafe squints, his head cocking to the side as he regards topper. “what do you mean, ‘what’s up’?” he replies, his voice subtly defensive and carrying a hint of warning. “is there something wrong with her?”

topper realizes how that might sound and shakes his head quickly. “no, no, man. i just think she’s, like . . . avoiding me or something,” he clarifies, waving a hand dismissively as if trying to brush off any potential drama.

rafe chuckles, raising his glass up to his lips. “are you surprised?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at topper, the teasing tone evident. he shakes his head, a look of amusement on his face. “girls, man.”

cynthia catches the comment, her expression shifting to one of disapproval. she mutters a clipped ‘ten minutes’ to her son before leaving without a word, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs to leaving topper there with him.

topper watches her go, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle over him. he glances back at rafe, who is now watching the scene unfold with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“so, what are you guys up to?” topper asks, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

when you step out of the bathroom, you spot her immediately—cynthia, standing at the bottom of the stairs like she’s waiting for her son. you briefly consider turning around, maybe pretending not to notice, but it’s too late. her sharp gaze finds yours, and there’s no escaping it now.

this is great.

you adjust your posture, trying to look casual as you make your way toward the stairs, your mind racing for an excuse to cut this conversation short. the last thing you want is to get caught up with cynthia—if she’s anything like the way she was on the show, you are not open to a conversation.

but it’s like you’re trapped. her eyes lock on you, and she takes a few steps forward in those polished black heels. “y/n,” she says, and there’s a hint of something icy behind that tone, even though she’s putting on a smile.

you stop, eyebrows raising as you stand in place, trying to gauge the situation. her smile is forced, you can tell immediately, but so is yours as you mirror her expression. “cynthia, it’s so . . . nice to see you again,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth because, well, kooks always know kooks, right? you assume this universe’s y/n has seen her before.

but as soon as the words leave your mouth, cynthia’s expression shifts—her lips purse, and her eyes narrow slightly, pulling her head back like you’ve just said something ridiculous. yep. that was wrong. completely wrong.

“last time i saw you, you were just a kid! every time you come over to my home now, it’s like you’re always sneaking around,” she remarks, her voice dripping with that fake kindness, the kind that’s so transparently bitter it almost stings.

your stomach twists. yeah, this is definitely not the conversation you wanted. “and how are your parents?” cynthia continues, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

you wave your hand, trying to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “they’re great! in costa rica right now, on vacation,” you respond, trying to keep things light.

but cynthia hums, her expression a little too knowing. “i heard it was a business trip?” she says, tilting her head slightly.

you clear your throat, feeling the tension grow. this woman is the worst. you’re slipping up so bad. “mix of both,” you say, your voice strained as you force another fake smile.

there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence before the two of you lean forward, laughing in that awkward, forced way where neither of you are actually amused. the laugh dies quickly, and as soon as it does, you drop the pretense, turning on your heel as you head back upstairs, feeling weird about the interaction.

you feel like you were just quizzed. and you failed.

once you’re back upstairs, you immediately catch rafe’s eye as you step into the room. he’s leaning casually against one of the tables, a glint in his eye that matches the small smirk tugging at his lips the second he spots you.

his whole demeanor shifts, but topper, who’s mid-sentence, doesn’t seem to notice right away—until he realizes rafe isn’t paying attention. topper twists around to follow his line of sight, spotting you before continuing whatever rant he was on.

rafe briefly glances back at him, half-listening, as you approach the two of them. when you get close enough, you quietly reach for rafe’s glass, bringing it to your nose to smell whatever’s left of his drink. without a word, you tilt your head back and down what’s left, swallowing with a grimace as you place the empty glass back on the table.

both boys stare at you, each reacting differently. topper furrows his brow, eyes flicking to the glass to see if there’s anything left. “what’s up with you?” he asks, confused, clearly sensing something off.

rafe, on the other hand, is looking at you with a blank expression, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth—because he knows. “she was definitely just talking to your mom, top,” rafe says with a knowing smile, his tone carrying just the right amount of humor to suggest that, naturally, a conversation with cynthia would drive someone to drink.

topper’s face falls slightly, but he doesn’t even argue. he just glances between the two of you in silence because he knows rafe’s probably right. with a quick check of his phone, he pushes away from the table, his energy deflating. “alright, i’ve gotta go. see you guys.”

“bye, top,” you murmur, watching as he walks off, leaving just you and rafe standing together. once topper’s out of sight, you tilt your head all the way up, meeting rafe’s gaze with a lazy, playful smile.

“you decide on where we’re going?” rafe asks, sliding an arm around you, pulling you close as he starts guiding you toward the stairs.

you hum for a long moment, trying to think, before making something up on the spot. “let’s go jet skiing,” you say, half-joking but testing the waters to see what he’d say.

rafe raises his eyebrows, a slight chuckle escaping him. “you wanna go to monty’s?” he repeats, and you assume it could be some jet ski rental place you must go to. he’s amused but surprisingly open to it. “we can go to monty’s, darlin’.”

rafe drives the two of you out to some place a mile or two away, the sign out front reading ‘montgomery’s jet ski rentals’ in bold blue letters. it’s tucked away along a small marina.

you step out of the car. it’s here that you notice the way rafe moves—a kind of quiet confidence that’s hard to ignore. he strides toward the dock with his head held high, like he’s done this a hundred times. you can’t tell if it’s because you two have apparently been here so often that he just knows his way around or if he’s just naturally this confident.

while rafe chats easily with the staff, laughing and slapping one guy on the back like they’re old friends, you find yourself preparing for the ride. you slip into a life vest, adjusting the straps so it fits snugly.

then you’re stepping onto the dock, the jet ski bobbing gently in the water. rafe climbs on first, settling into the front seat, and turns back to offer you his hand. you take it, letting him guide you into place behind him, and then you wrap your arms around his waist. it feels natural, like you’re meant to be there, holding onto him like this.

and, god, the thought hits you—this is probably a dream for hundreds, maybe thousands of people. to be on a jet ski with drew starkey, any version of him, arms wrapped around his waist, close enough to feel the warmth of his back.

it’s a little surreal, and you can’t help but feel grateful for this weird fucking alternate universe you’re in. being a kook, being rafe cameron’s girlfriend, living out days like this—you could get used to it. you could live like this forever.

rafe glances forward, that cocky smirk barely visible at the corner of his lips. without looking back at you, he mutters, “hold on.” and before you have a chance to reply, he twists the throttle, and the jet ski leaps forward, tearing across the water. your arms instinctively tighten around his waist as the engine roars, and you feel the force of the speed pushing you back slightly.

your eyes widen as you’re propelled across the open water. the jet ski skims over waves. you can barely keep from laughing as the wind whips through your hair. it’s fast—so much faster than you expected—and your heart is beating more than ever.

rafe steers you two in wide, looping turns and tight figure-eights, shouting the loudest, most carefree ‘woo!’ that you think you’ve ever heard. his voice carries over the hum of the engine and the slap of the waves, his laughter echoing as you cling on, a laughing mess yourself.

as the jet ski finally begins to slow, you let your chin rest on his back, just near his shoulder so you can look out ahead. you’re both breathing heavily from the ride, and he’s still grinning, clearly thrilled by his own reckless route. he isn’t heading anywhere specific, just weaving around, but that’s what makes it even better. there’s no destination—just you, him, and the freedom of open water.

“wanna take over?” rafe calls out, and you laugh, thinking he’s kidding. but when he glances back over his shoulder, you catch his expression and feel your own smile falter, realizing he’s dead serious.

next thing you know, you’re seated in front, fingers gripping the throttle while rafe sits behind you, holding on with that unshakeable grin of his. the jet ski jolts forward as you try to get the hang of the controls, and you immediately feel the panic rise, the machine moving faster than you expected.

“rafe, i don’t know what i’m doing!” you shout over your shoulder, but rafe’s only response is laughter.

“just go easy on the throttle,” he says, half-shouting and half-laughing as you attempt to steer. but the jet ski wobbles, veering off a bit too quickly, and your grip slips.

“rafe!” you yell, barely keeping control as he’s practically doubled over behind you, finding the whole thing hysterical. he tries to guide you through it, but it’s impossible to listen when you’re both shouting and laughing, the jet ski zigzagging across the water.

but it slows. he wants to teach you properly.

you feel rafe's hands slip over yours, his fingers resting gently against yours as he takes control of the throttle from behind. his touch is firm but relaxed, guiding your grip as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “steady now,” he murmurs. “ease it forward like this, yeah?”

you nod. his voice is a steady hum as he talks you through it. “just a little pressure here,” he says, pressing lightly against the throttle. “see? easy.” his fingers guide yours over the controls until you can feel how each movement changes the jet ski’s pace.

after a minute or two, he lets you take over, his hands staying in place to catch you if needed, but he’s not pushing or pulling anymore. you start to feel it, understanding the rhythm of the throttle and how to steer, and rafe just chuckles.

“that’s my girl,” he says, patting his hand on the spot between your thigh and hip, sending a flutter through you as his hand settles back around you.

a grin stretches across your face, and before you know it, you’re letting out a loud scream that echoes across the water as you pick up speed, trusting yourself more with every second. you’re moving faster, the wind whipping past, and for a moment you feel invincible.

when you decide to slow down, you ease off the throttle, leaning back just enough to press into rafe’s chest. you feel his laugh rumble against you. it makes you smile as you let out a breathy laugh of your own. then, you’re off again, speeding forward with rafe’s steadying hands nearby, the two of you gliding over the waves like you were born to do this together.

you’re both sitting across from each other at a little table outside a bayside café. you pick up your sandwich and take a big, satisfying bite, eyes rolling back with a muffled oh my god because it's just that good.

you didn’t realize how hungry you were until now. you lean your head back, savoring the taste, a content sigh escaping as you sit up again, still chewing, and glance at rafe across the table.

he’s got his phone out, scrolling with his eyebrows furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening behind his sunglasses. he’s squinting slightly, or maybe he’s just annoyed by whatever’s on the screen. you pause mid-bite, lowering your sandwich slightly before asking, “you okay?”

rafe clears his throat, not looking at you just yet, and clicks his phone off. he flips it over on the table, his hand rubbing down the front of his shorts like he’s brushing something off. “yeah, all good,” he says, reaching for his own food, voice casual, but there’s a tension you can sense from his reaction.

it doesn’t add up, but you decide not to push it. you’ve learned when to give him space, and right now, you’re way more into this sandwich than trying to open up that conversation.

you take another bite, glancing around at the scene in front of you as you chew. it’s a perfect day, bay glistening in the sunlight, people passing. by with relaxed smiles, stopping in at shops or heading toward the water. montgomery’s rentals is right across the street, jet skis and kayaks lining the dock.

rafe leans back in his chair, “dad’s finally starting to trust me to, like, step into his position at the company.” he pauses for a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “he’s flying out of state next week, and he’s leavin’ me in charge while he’s gone.”

you just stare at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips without even realizing it. you can feel the pride in your expression as you tell him, “rafe, that’s really good. i’m proud of you.”

he grins wider, clearly trying to play it cool, and then takes a massive, messy bite of his sandwich. he chews with the gusto of someone who thinks a bite is a whole experience, sauce smearing slightly at the corner of his mouth.

you reach over instinctively, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and tossing it back down on the table before going back to your sandwich like it’s second nature.

he swallows and continues, “he hasn’t really told me much, but i figure he’s got some new properties lined up, maybe working out deals or, like, finalizing stuff with investors. you know how he is.”

“yeah, that sounds like ward,” you say, taking another bite, your eyes never leaving him.

“so he’s gonna give me this schedule,” he adds, “a ‘run-down’ or whatever, of what i’ll need to cover. probably sit at the office, sign some stuff, and meet with clients or partners who can’t be pushed off until he’s back.”

“sounds pretty official,” you say, trying to imagine rafe at a desk, talking clients through real estate deals like he was born for it. “do you know what kind of properties he’s working on?”

he shrugs, a small smirk still lingering as he speaks. “knowing him? probably something big—new development or another investment property he wants to secure. he’s been hinting at something ‘game-changing’, like some waterfront project.”

you hum thoughtfully. “so you’ll be doing the groundwork? like, maybe even closing a deal?”

“yeah, maybe,” he says, sounding a little impressed with himself. “i’ll actually get to see if i can handle it.”

it's nice to see rafe so eager to step up, to take on something this big, probably just to prove himself to his dad. he always acts so casual about the family business, but there’s a spark in his eyes today, and you think . . . he can maybe handle being ward cameron for a week.

you just hope you can stay here long enough to see him prove it.

he’s finishing his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin, and suddenly he’s looking right at you. “oh, yeah—did you ever tell me how that call went with your mom?”

it takes you a second. right, that call with your mom. you remember mentioning it to sarah, but rafe? he still doesn’t even know you hung out with sarah and the others while he was off fishing with ward.

“oh, yeah,” you say, smiling as if the thought just occurred to you. “it was fine. nice to hear from her, i guess. i miss them.” you shrug, playing it casual. but the truth is, you kind of do.

rafe nods, shifting his empty plate and leaning back in his chair, still watching you as he says, “that’s good. i mean, you get so wrapped up in life on the island, it’s easy to go a while without catching up.”

he talks on, making small comments about family and how he totally gets it, but as you sit there, nodding occasionally, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

you almost forgot about that call with your ‘in-this-universe mom.’ it seems so strange—no, it’s stranger that you forgot about it at all. and dad . . . right, your i.t.u. dad was there, too, wasn’t he?

wait . . what?

you feel a slight prickle of discomfort, shifting in your seat as you try to catch every third word rafe’s saying, but really, your mind is circling back to that call.

dad. mom. two words, so familiar. but why are they slipping through your fingers, blurring just a bit?

you force yourself to remember something about them, to pull up a memory, clear as day.

oh! like that one time you and mom spent the whole afternoon baking, sugar and flour coating every surface in the kitchen . . . and dad was there, wasn’t he? but what did he do? your chest tightens, just slightly, and you fidget with your napkin.

okay, try again.

dad. right. he was . . . wait, no, he was definitely there—no, he was doing something.

and then, just like that, the memory clicks into place. right, he’d taken one look at the mess you and mom made, then grabbed the dog and headed out, calling back that he’d be home ‘once the tornado’s over,’ and you and mom laughed.

you exhale, relief washing over you, but there’s still a flicker of something unsettling. why couldn’t you remember that right away?

you try another memory, to reassure yourself. dad did this, mom did that. you’re sifting through so many small, precious fragments, but there’s something strange about each one, something hollow.

the parents you remember—your parents—were so vivid before. but as you replay these memories in your head, they feel softer, blurred at the edges. somehow, they seem more like your parents here—the way they’re talking, laughing, looking at you with the same expressions as your i.t.u. parents.

your stomach twists, realization beginning to dawn, but you can’t even hold onto what that realization is. the longer you stay in this world, the harder it seems to be to grasp what was real and what was . . . this.

are you forgetting your memories?

authors note: okay poor execution LMAO but i know if i was y/n, i wouldve wanted to stay in this universe but we cant have that, so essentially the conflict / the thing that makes her work harder to solve all the relationships in this life for obx!y/n is that shes losing her memories from her real life the longer shes there.

does that make sense?? 😭 like she cant have her cake n eat it too, she can only have one lifetimes memories, her real ones or the ones that belong to the y/n who lives in this universe. makes her work faster to get back to her world so she doesnt feel like she can stay !!

tags: @v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @drewsephrry @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @thereallifebambi @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @thewrittenpodcast @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @benbarneslut @illicit-affcirs @helo1281917 ++

[rafesbabygirlx]

Drew’s Birthday Gift

Masterlist

Drew Starkey x Wife!Reader

Summary: It’s Drew’s birthday and the two of you usually have a ton of fun, drinking and going out with friends but this years different. You are 7 months pregnant, constantly exhausted and in pain.

A/N: A day late but the idea came to me last night then I fell asleep lol

I allude to Drew’s gift on his 30th with reader. I have a fun idea for that if you’d like a part 2!

Warnings: fluff/smut all in one, smut towards the end, body insecurity (reader being pregnant) hormones, reader is hard on herself

Coming home from Poguelandia was a relief. You’d spent most of the day on your feet, swollen and aching all the way up to your claves, but it had all been worth it. The OBX cast adored you, and despite the physical toll, it was an amazing day.

The past few months had been nothing short of magical: Drew’s film premiere, getting engaged in Venice, Paris Fashion Week, a courthouse wedding a week later, the OBX premiere, and Poguelandia. Working remotely allowed you to travel with Drew effortlessly, though adjusting to new time zones was always a challenge.

Your wedding was intimate, just as you both wanted. Chip served as your witness, which felt fitting since he was the reason you two met. Family and close friends flew in for a dinner celebration afterward. You never envisioned yourself as a wife or mother, but Drew had a way of changing everything you thought you knew about yourself.

As your pregnancy progressed, the constant travel began to wear on you. Now in your third trimester, even the simplest tasks left you breathless, sore, and utterly exhausted. Putting on shoes was nearly impossible and every muscle ached in your body.

This year, guilt gnawed at you for not being able to plan something extravagant for Drew’s birthday. The best you managed was flying in his sister, brother, and a few close friends for a small dinner. For the past five years, you’d always organized grand celebrations. His 30th birthday was unforgettable, with a *special* gift that left Drew infatuated for days. But this year, you barely had the energy to make it through the day, let alone plan something big. You worried it wasn’t enough.

Pregnancy brain struck hard when you realized, as you were getting ready, that you hadn’t even bought him a gift. The sudden wave of panic brought tears to your eyes, but you forced them back, determined not to ruin the day. You felt like the worst wife.

Dinner was nice, set at Drew’s favorite restaurant in LA. The food was impeccable, and you managed to push aside your self-doubt, even as your back ached from the uncomfortable chair. Drew noticed and rested his hand on your thigh, concern in his eyes. “You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight,” he asked softly.

“Yeah, just uncomfortable,” you said, tapping the back of the chair. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you and the chair closer, and held you there for the rest of the night.

When the cake arrived, the group began to sing “Happy Birthday.” You smiled at Drew but glanced at the cake and noticed “birthday” was misspelled. Normally, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, but today, it felt like the final straw. You kept it together until Drew kissed you, and you whispered playfully, “Save me a piece.” You kissed him again before slipping away to the restroom, locking the door behind you. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm the storm of emotions. You felt selfish for not being able to handle your emotions, but the third trimester had turned you into an emotional rollercoaster. A few tears fell before you dabbed your cheeks with a paper towel with cold water and pulled yourself together.

Returning to the table, Drew’s eyes met yours, now filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me, baby,” he said.

You managed a small smile, placing your hand on his cheek. “I’m fine, just… you know, it doesn’t wait for anything now,” you joked, gesturing to your belly. You both chuckled, but Drew wasn’t convinced. He knew you too well.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Back home, you collapsed on the couch, Drew helping you out of your boots. The sense of relief was immediate. He sat beside you, lifting your swollen feet onto his lap to massage them. “This is your day, you relax. Don’t pamper me for once,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted. You lifted your feet off of him and he felt the disconnect from you.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Can we go to bed?” you added, the exhaustion weighing down your voice.

“Of course, let’s go.” Drew helped you to your feet, and you changed into pajamas. Lying in bed, facing each other, a silence hung between you as you propped up one arm, rested your head in your hand, and absentmindedly traced patterns on his bare chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong now,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

“I told you, nothing’s wrong.”

“Five years together, and you think I don’t know when something’s up? What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s 11:50,” you replied after checking the clock.

“Okay, in 10 minutes, my birthday will be over, and you’ll tell me what’s really going on. Deal?” He knew that’s what the constant dismissal was for tonight.

You wanted to deny it, but all you could manage was, “Deal.”

Those 10 minutes passed in silence, your mind racing. As soon as the clock struck midnight, Drew spoke again. “Tell me, please, baby.”

“I… I just think I ruined this day for you.” He looked puzzled but waited for you to continue. Sitting up, you leaned against the headboard, and he mirrored you.

“I usually go all out for your birthday, make it a huge event with everyone you love. But this year, all I could pull together was a dinner. I’ve felt terrible all day, and when the cake was misspelled, it was just the cherry on top. I didn’t even get you a gift, and our birthday sex is usually amazing. But I’m so swollen and uncomfortable, I didn’t even want you to see me naked. It’s just a lot, and I didn’t want to ruin your day.” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you spoke.

Drew leaned towards you and cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, don’t cry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I loved today. I love every birthday we spend together because you’re what makes it special. This might be my favorite birthday yet. I was surrounded by the people I love, and most importantly, I had you and our son with me. What more could I possibly want? Next year, it’ll be even better when he’s here and you’re singing happy birthday to me, I’ll holding him.” His words sent a fresh wave of tears down your face. How could he be this sweet? How are you this lucky.

“I know it’s been tough on you, and I didn’t want to push. But I do still have a birthday wish,” he said, smirking as you wiped your tears and smiled.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked.

“You. But only if you’re comfortable. I’m going to love you no matter what, and I think you’re more beautiful now, with this bump and everything you’re going through to grow our son.”

His words melted away your insecurities and exhaustion. “You’re the only gift I want, Y/N,” he whispered.

You wiped your eyes and stood up. “Where are you going?” Drew asked, confused.

“To get your gift wrapped.” A few minutes later, you emerged from the closet wearing the white lace lingerie set you’d bought for your maternity shoot. His jaw dropped, and you knew you’d made his night complete. “Wow.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Drew got out of bed and sat at the edge, reaching his arms out for you. You settled in between his legs.His hands glided over your body, igniting a spark within you. "All this for me? You shouldn't have," he whispered, his smirk sending shivers down your spine. You blushed at his words, but your heart swelled with affection as he continued, "I told you, you were beautiful when I met you. You were beautiful every day for the past 5 years, and you're even more beautiful now that you're my wife and the mother of my child. There's no one else I'd want to do this with."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Thank you, my love.” His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck, each touch light and deliberate. His hands moved gently, offering a reassuring comfort as he reached for the clasp of your bra. You tensed for a moment, and he paused. “Can I see all of you?” he asked, his tone full of affection. You nodded, allowing him to remove the fabric. His lips found their way to your chest, kissing you with a reverence that sent warmth through your body. He moved with care, knowing how tender your body had become.

Drew lifted you effortlessly and placed you at the center of the bed, returning to remove his own sweatpants before joining you. Your confidence surged in the safety of his presence, and you began to slide down your underwear. He helped, eyes never leaving yours, full of admiration and love.

It had been months since you last shared an intimate moment. Between your growing belly and hidden insecurities, and sex drive plummeting from hormone, your desire had waned. But now, Drew’s touch and words reignited something inside you, a closeness you’d missed. He gently ran his fingers along your body, his touch both soothing and electrifying. His movements were slow and careful, each one a reminder of how cherished you were.

He rubbed his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal, he ran his hand up and down his length as he met your entrance, and slowly entered you. The stretch felt amazing, and you squirmed beneath him, eager for more. You loved the way he made you feel, the way he took care of you.

You two usually have fun in bed. You experiment and are usually rough. It’s easy to do with him, knowing he’ll never truly hurt you and you’re both just so comfortable with each other. Tonight was different, though. Everything was more intimate, more tender. His strokes were slow and full of love. He leaned in, careful of your bump, placed one arm beneath you and the other on your side. His forehead pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes. "So good, Drew," you whispered, and he smiled, his eyes filled with affection. "Just wanna take care of you, baby, you're the best gift ever."

You felt overwhelmed with affection, tears threatening to spill as he continued to hold you with care. The room was quiet, filled only with soft whispers and shared breaths as he adjusted his pace to your need.

He keeps this pace, until you grow a little impatient. “A little harder… please.” He picks up the pace the second you ask. Still soft with his movements but the speed is much better. His head is wedge in the crook of your neck as you run your fingers through his hair and down his back, feeling more connected than ever. He licked his fingers and touched your clit. Moving slow deliberate circles keeping the same pace as his hips. You’re getting closer and you clench down on him. “Come for me baby, forget about the pain for a little bit.”

You become putty in his arms and his words send you spiraling into an orgasm that washed over you like a tidal wave. Drew’s follows behind. He sits up and runs his hand over your bump. “Most beautiful mother I’ve ever seen. You’re an angel.” You smile at his words.

"You're the most beautiful mother I've ever seen," he whispered, his eyes filled with adoration. You smiled, feeling loved and cherished.

He gets up and puts back on his sweatpants returning with a washcloth and a big t-shirt of his. He cleans you up and pulls the shirt over your head. He gets back into bed and pulls you to him. “Best birthday ever, thank you my love. I love you so much.”

“I love you too Drewbug.” And as you fell asleep in his arms, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[emotionalblues]

DREW STARKEY LOOKALIKE CONTEST IN MY BEDROOM

[103rafes]

TAPE 007 ᯓ★

"Woah, you're at my game sober?"

in which varsityboy!pogue!reader is playing against a rival University, and frat!rafe is actually there; weird.

-

FRAT!RAFE and VARSITYBOY!POGUE!reader

Nothing could be louder than a Varsity hockey game between both Harvard and Michigan University, the echoes of people scrambling at the fierce competition that took place on the ice of Bright Landry hockey center. Both teams were out for blood, slamming eachother into the boards, skates faintly scraping from how much pressure they were putting on the ice, and inhumane speed of the puck being passed back and forth.

It was crazy alright, but then again it was the norm. No.

This was your norm.

The sweat that was surely sticking to your hair from the compact space of your helmet, the mouthguard you were suddenly hyper aware was practically glued to your pearly whites, and of course, the strain your legs muscle had from all the rushing and speeding you were doing.

They never said hockey was easy, you knew that and yet that had never stopped you even as a child. Now here you were, fully supported on a sports scholarship and the C of Harvard's Crimsons. You were the best out there, you knew that. You proved it time and time again, and as you dribbled the puck, swerving past a Michigan player and towards the net, you reeled your arm back and slapped the puck towards the net with a force that would've hurt in the form of an actual slap.

The buzzer above the opposing net blew, and you raised your stick up while you skated behind the neck and out. Goal.

Your team was now 4-0.

You grinned as your teammates rushed up to you, mitts colliding with the top of your helmet in a congratulatory sense, some hard smacks to your back while your team yelled praises right into your brain.

It felt good, it would always feel good.

Within a few minutes, it was already half time and intermission had stopped the game temporarily for a well deserved break. You walked back on your skates to your team's bench, both Michigan's and Harvard's teams exchanging cusses and insults between one another and promises to destroy eachother.

Quickly, you were sat down with your stick between your legs and hands, slowly zoning out while your coach spoke to the majority representing; though, it's not like you were listening.

Especially when your eyes saw the last man you'd ever expect to show up to a varsity game, let alone a hockey one.

Rafe Cameron. The leader of probably the biggest fraternity on the Campus.

You blinked, eyes slightly wide and brows furrowed dumbly.

..Huh?

You hadn't realized you'd been staring for long until your coach practically screamed into your ear, causing you to flinch.

"Number 78! Is your head here or elsewhere?" Your coach barked, and you stared at him dazed, before nodding, "Yup yup, I'm here, I'm here," You hastily answered, doing a mini salute. The coach seemed unconvinced, eyes narrowing as he studied you before he gruffed out, "k, keep up the work out there, you boys are killing it; just keep your head in the game."

With those words travelling through your mind in a loud loop, halftime seemed to fly by.

Skates slid smoothly against the ice as you chased down the other Captain on Michigan's team, the two of you on a head on duel to gain control for the puck. You were trying to steal the puck right from the other guy's stick, breath baited as you almost managed a few times. You had just went infront of the guy in an attempt to block him, before he suddenly turned around and shot the puck across the ice.

Icing.

You grimaced, some muttered curses as you skated to replay the puck. A little irritated by that cheap move the opposing captain had pulled, you skated slowly before a bang to the tempered glass made your head whip up to attention.

It was none other than Rafe Cameron. You didn't know why, but amusement filled you and you snickered, "What're you doing here?" You asked, your voice somehow getting to him over the crowd.

Rafe had that smug smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off so bad, resting on his features, before answering, "Thought I'd see y'gettin' your ass kicked, seems I was wrong," he shrugged, and you slightly rolled your eyes, "Oh, cause you would've fuckin' loved that," You snorted.

The one Kook you'd bury alive, yet the only one who could manage a conversation with you, even if it was one filled with distaste.

Rafe rasied his eyebrows mockingly, "Might've even jerked off to it."

Your eyes narrow at that, and you're about to skate off before Rafe spoke, "Woah woah, a'ight, m'just kidding!" He quickly spoke up, and you turned your head slightly to the side, not willing to sell his game cause Mr. Pussy frat eater wants to tease his balls off.

Rafe scratched the back of his head, adjusting the snapback he wore backwards, "Sooo..uh, got a party this weekend 'n uh..was wondering if you'd show," He muttered, and you stared in disbelief, before a laugh escaped you, "Bro? Look, I have practice this weeke-"

"S'on a Sunday, relax," Rafe interrupted, and you could already hear your coach's voice piercing your hearing, though you didn't care; that's weird, why didn't you care?

You hummed lowly, "Hm..no." You denied, and Rafe's nose scrunched in annoyance, "Oh c'mon-"

"Why? You're gonna be kissin' your frat sweetheart's face off, what's her name..Sofia? Yeah, I don't wanna see that shit buddy," He snickered, and Rafe's gaze darkened in obvious irritation, "Hey, I was drunk," he argued half assedly, and you groaned, "Yeah, like cause fuck! When are you not drunk, riddle me this-" You joked before Rafe cut you off once more.

"Just! Come, okay? Yes or no question, dipshit, don't fuckin' uh, do your teasing shit. You comin' or no?" Rafe asked firmly, and you realized that oh, you had to give an actual well thought answer; you were already on thin ice, testing both your limits and your coach's with how long you were stalling the replay.

After a bit of thought and panic beginning to settle into your skin for not getting back into the game any longer,you groaned in annoyance, "Fuck..fine, I'll come. Ya need my number?" You asked, venom in your voice as you silently stressed, hearing your coach's yells grow louder and angrier.

Rafe nodded, "Uh..pshh, yeah I do." He concurred. You considered your options for a bit, before you leaned your mouth towards the tempered glass, and let your breath create a fog against it. You quickly took one of your gloves off, a slender finger tracing letters into the foggy surface.

Rafe watched you with a focused gaze, the sentence forming before his eyes, and no doubt a number.

647 087 8895 better have coors light, or twisted tea if you're weak LMAO

You put your glove back, before you skated off to the face off with a snicker and no prior word.

By the end of the game, you'd gotten a huge earful from your coach about how long you'd stalled the replay faceoff (despite winning 6-2 by the end of the game), but again - it flew through one ear and out the other.

You were heading back to Campus now in your car, your best friend talking to you about something while you absent mindedly hummed, before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at the screen of your car, waiting for the notification.

Maybe: Rafe Cameron

yo [10:18PM]

2 attachments

[10:18PM]

topper approves kign0re the mass [10:18PM]

ignore* mess* lmfao holy shit i'm a sbit durnk [10:19PM]

so you down? [10:19PM]

You stared at the messages in disbelief. Well, shit. Now you had to come to this party, and try your damn hardest to avoid everyone who tried to lay you.

Now at a red light, you could think over what you wanted to. You murmured some words to your best friend, and he gave you advice. Some really bad advice.

"You should go, I'll come with you if you want." He told you, and you were quiet, nodding as you pursed your lip.

After a hot minute of contemplating between bad probably fun decision and safe boring decision, you sighed loudly as your one hand quickly typed out a short response, while you pressed the gas lightly at the bright colour of a green light against your face.

LMAOO damn [10:22PM]

ight fine i'll come [10:22PM]

-

note: zest fest fr. This is short, I just wanted to pull something out of my ass real quick for this. I'm missing AA, missing hockey over an injury is the worst. Hope this is good, and uh..yeah, have a good day, thank ya kindly.

also, this shit isn't proofread. Maybe later.

[madsfavs]

rafe fucking you because you’re the only thing he feels like he can control when he’s spiraling out 🙂‍↕️

✦ 18+ smut ✦ minors dni ✦

dating rafe is the ultimate whiplash. you’re either the only thing he thinks about, or the annoying girlfriend he has to put up with. he texts you sweetly in the morning to come over, and when you go see him it’s a complete 180. he’s pacing the room, ranting on the phone to someone, and acting like you don’t exist.

“rafe i can come back later-”

“NO. sit down and wait until i’m fucking ready.”

he snaps at you and points at the couch, giving you no room for argument. you nod meekily and sit down on the couch, watching him yell at someone on the phone in an angry, and slightly panicked, tone.

rose walks in, sees rafe yelling, looks at you, and walks right back out. smart.

“i don’t fucking care! we need to figure something out!” he rants to the person on the other side of the phone. you sit there, a little bored, a little turned on by his yelling. “you know what? don’t call me until you have answers you dumb piece of shit.”

he hangs up and throws his phone against the wall, smashing the screen and putting a dent in the wall. he puts his hands over his face and yells angrily. “FUCK.”

you jump a little at the noise and watch rafe nervously. he won’t hurt you, you think.

“rafey? can i help you?” you look at him as he paces the room, mumbling curses under his breath.

“NO. just shut up. i need to do something, sarah- and her little gang of pogues are fucking EVERYTHING up. wait here, don’t move.” he doesn’t spare you a glance as he grabs his car keys and slams the door on the way out of the house.

you wait for hours, laying on the couch scrolling through your phone, watching tv, it was a little boring, but you didn’t want to piss rafe off more than he already was.

four hours later, when he finally walks back into the house, he doesn’t say a word. he walks over to you, and immediately picks you up, carrying you into his bedroom.

“hey rafey-“ you gasp as he throws you over his shoulder and walks into the bedroom angrily, slamming the door behind him. “uh, is sarah okay? what happened?”

he throws you onto the bed and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. “do me a favor, and just stop talking. i don’t need- all of your fucking questions right now.”

you nod and look over at your shoulder at him. he tugs your shorts down and gives a harsh smack on your bottom. “good girl. keep that mouth shut.”

you flinch slightly at the sting of the smack but push your hips back towards him. he pulls your shorts down further, the fabric bunching at your knees, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks.

rafe's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you back towards him. you feel his breath on the back of your neck, hot and ragged, and his chest presses against your back, his heart pounding against your skin.

he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispers; his voice is low and rough. "don't move."

you nod and lay there obediently as he grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips so your ass is pointed towards him. he pulls his belt off and wraps it around your wrists, tying them behind your back.

“so fucking good, just for me. right?” he whispers, his hand groping your chest through your shirt as he pushes tugs his pants down.

you nod and whimper a little as his rough hands move under your shirt, squeezing your chest. his calloused fingers brush against your nipples. you feel a rush of arousal shoot to your core as he pinches your nipples, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. your wrists strain against the belt, but it's tied too tight, holding you in place.

"you're so perfect like this. such a good listener." his hands move down your body, tracing the curve of your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

you hear his pants hit the floor, the sound echoing through the room as he steps out of them. you try to look back, to see him, but he grabs your neck and pushes you into the mattress. his grip is firm, but not painful, as he holds you in place.

"just let me fuck you," he says bluntly, his voice low and rough. you feel him pull himself out, and then he gives himself a few tugs, the sound of his hand moving over his skin making you squirm. he shoves himself into your tight walls, and you gasp as he fills you.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust, his hips immediately snapping in and out, the force of his thrusts making your body jerk forward, your face pressed into the mattress. you whine desperately, trying to hold onto something, but your hands are trapped behind your back, the belt digging into your wrists as you struggle to find a grip.

rafe presses your face into the mattress, his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as he pounds into you. the sound of his labored breathing and the creaking of the bed are the only things you can focus on, your mind numb from the intensity of the sensations.

“you’re the only one that fucking listens to me. sarah and her little friends have to go and screw everything up-“ he starts ranting as he buries his cock within your walls, ignoring your little noises. his thrusts become more aggressive, his hips slapping against your ass as he vents his frustration. you feel his anger and tension seeping into you, his cock pulsating with each word. the belt around your wrists digs deeper into your skin, but you don't dare to struggle, fearing it might make him angrier.

as he continues to rant, his words become a jumbled mess, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.

“i’ll fucking kill her- i’ll kill all of those damn pogues.” he snarls, slapping your ass before grabbing your wrists by the belt and pulling you up so you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him, your back pressed against his chest as he fucks up into you.

you feel his heart pounding against your skin, the rhythm intense and wild. his hands, still gripping the belt around your wrists, pull you tighter against him, and you feel his cock surge deeper into you. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound echoing through the room as he slams into you, his hips snapping wildly.

rafe's lips brush against your ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "you're the only one who doesn't defy me. the only one who listens."

he shoves you back onto the bed, pulling your hips up and pressing your face back into the mattress as he mounts you from behind. he pins you down, his weight crushing you into the bed. his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he holds you in place, his cock still buried deep within you.

as he begins to move, his hips slapping against your ass, you feel his anger and frustration boiling over, his movements becoming more aggressive and primal. the bed creaks and groans beneath you, the sound echoing through the room as he pounds into you, his breathing heavy and labored.

his fingers wrap around your throat, the pressure gentle yet unyielding, as his hips snap against yours. the sound of his labored breathing fills your ears, and you feel his hot breath dancing across the nape of your neck.

"you're fucking mine, you get that?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. "this pussy is mine, this pretty little face is mine, everything is mine."

[littlelamy]

fittings; drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader; mdni

the atmosphere in the fitting room was electric. a mix of bustling excitement and high stakes surrounded you as you stood in front of the mirror, admiring the intricate details of the lingerie you were trying on. it was one of the final fittings for the victoria’s secret fashion show, and you were set to take the stage in a few days. the excitement was palpable, but your thoughts were elsewhere today.

today, drew was here.

the reflection in the mirror showcased your figure, adorned in lace and delicate silks that clung perfectly to your body. the soft lighting accentuated every curve, and the sight alone made you feel powerful and confident. you adjusted the straps of the bra, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin as you glanced toward the door.

drew stood leaning against the doorframe, his gaze locked on you with a mixture of admiration and something darker, more intense. his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on every exposed inch of skin as you shifted under his gaze. you had invited him to this fitting for a reason—his presence made you feel something extra, something exciting, and today felt like the perfect day to indulge in that energy.

“you look incredible,” drew murmured, his voice low and husky. he moved toward you, his hands sliding up your sides before resting on your hips, fingers grazing the edge of the sheer panties you wore. his touch was light, teasing, but it sent shivers down your spine. “i can’t believe you’re mine.”

a playful smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. “you’re going to have to behave yourself,” you teased, your voice soft but carrying a hint of mischief. “i’ve still got to practice walking the stage after this.”

drew’s grin widened as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “i don’t think i’m capable of behaving right now,” he whispered, the heat in his voice unmistakable.

your breath hitched as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing his lips down your collarbone, each kiss slow and deliberate. you knew you should stop him, tell him to wait until after the fitting, but the way his hands explored your body, skimming the curves of your waist, made it impossible to focus on anything else. his touch was intoxicating, and every nerve in your body was alive, sensitive to his every move.

drew’s hands traveled lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose more of you. his fingers brushed against your core, teasing you with feather-light strokes that made your legs weak. you closed your eyes, biting your lip as a soft moan escaped you. he knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you melt under his touch.

“you’re so perfect,” drew breathed, his voice filled with awe as he kneeled in front of you. his eyes never left yours as he slowly dragged your panties down, leaving you completely exposed before him. “so beautiful.”

you gasped as his lips pressed against your inner thigh, slowly kissing his way up. each touch sent waves of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation. drew’s hands held your hips firmly, his mouth inching closer to where you needed him most. he paused, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you squirm in his grasp.

“you taste even better than you look,” drew murmured before finally diving in. his tongue flicked over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the fitting room table for support as he devoured you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes that had you seeing stars.

he didn’t rush. drew took his time, savoring every second, his mouth moving expertly as he licked and sucked, his praises spilling from his lips between each movement.

“you’re so sweet, baby. god, i could do this all day,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your core as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. his tongue circled your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

your breathing became ragged, every moan and whimper spilling from your lips growing louder. it was hard to stay quiet, especially when he was this good, but you had to remind yourself that the walls were thin and anyone could be passing by outside the fitting room. still, that sense of urgency only made the moment more thrilling, more forbidden.

you couldn’t hold back anymore as drew intensified his efforts, his tongue moving in rapid circles while his fingers slipped inside you, curling and hitting that perfect spot. the combination was enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you.

you cried out his name, your grip on the table tightening as your legs trembled, barely able to support your weight. drew didn’t stop until you were completely spent, drawing every last bit of pleasure from your body before finally pulling back.

he looked up at you, his lips glistening with evidence of what he had just done, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste so good, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before standing up, pulling you into his arms.

your head was spinning, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. you leaned into drew, your breathing uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

“fuck, drew,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “i’m supposed to be practicing right now.”

he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he kissed you, his lips still tasting like you. “you can practice in a bit,” he murmured against your lips. “i just wanted a taste before you had to leave.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, pushing him away slightly as you stepped back to adjust the lingerie. the lace was still perfectly intact, though your legs felt a bit like jelly after what he had just done to you.

you caught your reflection in the mirror again and smoothed the fabric, still feeling drew’s eyes on you, hungry and full of desire. but you had work to do, even if you could feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin.

“i need to go,” you said, giving him one last playful glance as you turned toward the door. but the way he looked at you, all hungry and satisfied, told you this wouldn’t be the last of his "distractions" before the show. and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Golf day || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: INSPIRED BY THIS TIKTOK

Warnings: pure fluff hehehehe

Word count: 497

A/n: if anyone has any tiktoks that they want me to turn into a Rafe fic, send them thru pls!!!! I love finding random vids on my fyp that are so Rafe coded. ALSO BEGGING FOR MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTSS

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Do you think she’ll enjoy it?” Rafe questions, turning his head to you, his eyes lingering on Mabel, comfortably nestled on your lap. He looks genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know she loves watching you do anything,” you reply with a reassuring chuckle, trying to soothe his anxiety. As you adjust the tiny hat on your daughter’s head, you can’t help but smile at her innocent excitement.

It was Mabel’s first time at the golf course, and Rafe had been on edge all morning. He’d peppered you with questions like, “Don’t you think it will be too hot?” and “What if she gets bored?” His nervousness was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

You had spent the morning reassuring him, reminding him repeatedly that Mabel would be perfectly fine. You knew she would be thrilled just to watch her dad play golf, her eyes following his every move with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’ll like this spot?” Rafe asks as the golf cart comes to a gentle stop under the shade of a large oak tree. “Babe, you’re the one playing,” you giggle, enjoying his overprotectiveness. Rafe laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Mabel, do you like it here?” he asks, his voice tender as he tickles her chin. Mabel responds with a delightful giggle that melts your heart.

You adjust Mabel on your lap so she’s facing Rafe, her wide, curious eyes tracking his every move as he unloads his golf clubs. The sun casts a warm glow over the course, and you can’t help but admire how handsome Rafe looks in his golf gear. “Doesn’t Daddy look so handsome, Bels?” you murmur to Mabel, pressing light kisses on her rosy cheeks. She giggles uncontrollably and tickling sensation.

Rafe turns at the sound of her infectious giggles, a broad smile lighting up his face. “You girls doing alright?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with joy. You chuckle, giving him a thumbs-up and lifting Mabel’s tiny hand to wave at him.

Remembering that Rose wanted a video of Mabel’s first time at the golf course, you quickly pull out your phone and aim the camera at Mabel’s expressive face. She’s watching Rafe intently, her anticipation palpable.

As Rafe lines up his shot, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The moment the club makes contact with the golf ball, sending it soaring through the air, Mabel flinches in surprise. You can’t help but laugh, immediately clamping your hand over your mouth, feeling a bit guilty for laughing at her reaction.

Rafe shields his eyes with his hand, squinting into the distance to see where the ball landed. Satisfied with his shot, he turns back and walks towards you and Mabel, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Daddy’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckles as he reaches you, gently lifting Mabel from under her armpits and pressing a loving kiss on her round cheek.

You quickly snap a photo of the sweet moment. Their joy is infectious, and you can’t help but chuckle as you send the video and picture to Rose. Mabel’s earlier reaction to the sound of Rafe hitting the ball plays in your mind, making you smile.

Rafe notices your amusement. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he sees you smiling at your phone. You glance up, grinning, and show him the video of Mabel’s startled reaction to his golf swing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, babygirl,” Rafe says with a laugh, his eyes softening as he watches the video. “I’ll let you know when I’m going to hit the ball next time.” Mabel, already captivated by her dad’s presence, giggles and reaches out to touch his face, her earlier surprise forgotten.

Rafe’s heart melts as he cradles Mabel in his arms, swaying gently. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. Mabel coos in response, her tiny hands grasping at Rafe’s shirt.

[poge-life]

he just looks so big

[starkeyisthelastname]

Drew sometimes just needs to be inside you. 😵‍💫

“C’mere. Been fucking hours since I’ve got to touch you.” Drew’s low voice vibrated against the smooth skin of your neck as his large hands squeezed your waist. It didn’t take long for him to have the both of you naked, his blue eyes boring down into yours as he buried his thick cock into you until you were stuffed full.

“That’s my g-good fucking girl. Wanted to be inside your pretty pussy all night.” His tone gruff as he began thrusting into you at hard pace. With Drew liking to keep your relationship private and seeing the way you looked at the Outer Banks season 4 premiere that evening had him feral. He couldn’t touch you the way he really wanted to and as soon as he got you back to the hotel he had you folded in half in no time.

“Drew baby… fuck me.” You mumbled, your manicured nails digging into his thick biceps as he pounded your poor hole out. He had looked so good tonight and you were so proud of him. Him being inside you was just a plus to end the amazing night. Your cunt was leaking around his fat length, your sweetness making his cock shine each time he slid out. You reached up with one hand to yank at the back of his growing mullet, a low growl escaping between his lips as you seemed to pull him impossibly closer.

“Don’t you worry baby. Gonna be fucking your tight little holes all night. You’ll have no problem sleeping on that flight tomorrow after I’m done with you.” He teased, pulling his cock all the way out only to slam it back in full force to make your toes curl and cunt gush.

[starkeysprincess]

⟢ MAKE YOU MINE FOREVER

presenting kinktober day 2 ➔︎ breeding w trevor

warnings: breeding, use of 'daddy', unprotected sex, creampie, praising, 18+ mdni word count: 673 a/n: ty to the sweetest angel @cameronsprincess for helping me <3

kinktober m.list ⟡ trevor m.list ⟡ main m.list

“feel so fuckin’ good, and you’re all mine, yeah?” trevor rasps, pushing your face further into the plush pillows. he pressed on the small of your back, keeping you still as he rolled his hips into yours. “yes, ‘m all yours,” you moaned breathlessly, clinging to the sheets. 

“yeah? you gonna let me put a baby in you?” his hand moved from your back to entangle in your hair, pulling your head back, “s’what you wanted, yeah? want me to make you mine forever and fuck this sweet cunt full?”.

“p-please, daddy,” you stuttered, gasping when he wrapped his hand around your throat. 

“you like that? like the idea of me not stopping till you’re filled to the brim?" trevor nipped your ear, his breath hitching when he felt your pussy growing wetter, your slick coating his cock. 

trevor chuckled at the whine that escaped your throat when he pulled out, his hands gripping your waist to flip you onto your back. his fingers encircle your ankles, spreading your legs apart as he settles between them. he dragged his length along your slick folds, teasing and making you squirm as he smacked your puffy clit with the head of his cock. 

“daddy,” you whined, bucking your hips, trying to rub your cunt against his cock. “what is it, baby?” he cooed, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. he guides his fat tip back into your weeping hole, sucking in his breath as your pussy stretches around him, swallowing him whole, “shit, pussy suckin’ me in so well, she’s a greedy little thing, huh?”.

he dips his head down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kisses. his teeth sink into your skin, sucking and biting bruises into the sensitive flesh while he pounds into your poor, abused cunt.

“use your words, baby.”

the sounds of skin smacking and your pussy squelching around him filling the room. “please fuck a baby in me,” you pleaded, your eyes rolling back as his thrusts become relentless. “shh, don’t worry baby, daddy’s got all night to fuck a baby in you,” trevor whispered, making your cunt clench around him, wanting nothing more than for him to give you what you wanted.

he grasped the underside of your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips, earning a squeak from you as he fucked into your drooling cunt deeper. your pleas and whimpers were music to his ears, “that’s right, let daddy know how good he’s makin’ you feel.”

trevor shoves his thumb into your mouth, pressing down onto the warm muscle of your tongue, groaning when you eagerly suck on his digit. your head lolls to the side, and your moans increasingly get louder as his cock deliciously massages your walls, his tip hitting your cervix repeatedly with each pump of his hips.

he pulls away from your neck, cupping your jaw and turning your head to look at him when your pussy flutters around his cock, “cum f’me…cum for daddy, and i’ll fill your pretty pussy, sweet girl.”

your body goes into overdrive from the overwhelming amount of pleasure, making your vision blur. trevor groans when you clutch onto him, your legs tightening around him, your voice becoming hoarse from crying out his name as you come all over his cock.  

“need you to cum inside me, daddy…please,” you whimpered, feeling his cock twitch, knowing he was close.

trevor leaned down to capture your lips with his, swallowing your pleas. his thrusts become sloppy, his hips stuttering as he fills your warm, tight cunt with thick ropes of cum, “that’s it, baby, look at you takin’ my cum so well.”

he slowly pulls out, leaving just his tip inside you before pushing his cock inside you once again, shoving his cum deep back into your cunt.

“gonna cum in this pretty little pussy over and over again just to fuck it back in to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

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[nativegirltapes]

can we see more of drew being physically clingy to angel

drew being clingy towards angel!reader …..

࿔*:･ 🎀 ღﾟ

𝜗𝜚 when he hasn’t seen you in weeks/months. drew swears he’s ’good’ at handling long distance but is the one who literally needs to be attached at the hip when you’re reunited again. you’ll tell him you need to use the bathroom and he’s like “okay. need me to come with?” like boy leave me alone!!!!!!!

𝜗𝜚 when he’s horny. you can tell when drew is horny because he physically can’t keep his hands off you. he’s always got his hands wrapped around your waist, roaming all over the place. & when you’re in public around friends he won’t keep his eyes off you. he keeps giving you smirks and smiles. you have to text him ‘can you stop being a creep 😐’ to which he responds ‘What? You know you want a kiss.’ his old ass…….. but yeah he’s right, you do want a kiss <3

𝜗𝜚 when he literally just misses you even though you’re right in front of him. drew is a grown man baby, he loves burying his head into your neck and abdomen and just telling you that he loves you. he’s so pouty and needy sometimes, just telling you that he needs you and doesn’t want to ever be away from you.

𝜗𝜚 when he’s jealous. you’ll be at the club with him and some mutual friends and drew will notice some guy eyeing you up a bit too much while you dance with your girls, and he don’t like that attttt allll. so he’ll keep nodding to you and beckoning you over to him and his friends, and you’re just like “whatttt??” and he’s like “just making sure you’re okay.” and he’ll wrap his arm around you, giving you a peck on the cheek. “love you.”

[4rafe]

rafe cameron

setting down the perfect shade of a baby pink louis vuitton backpack onto rafes messy bed. he had got you a full set of louis vuitton luggage for your birthday just a couple of weeks ago, personalized it with such a beautiful pink and your name embroidered on.

opening your bag, mindlessly going through the couple of pairs of brandy melville pajama sets you packed with you and choosing which one you wanted to wear more. choosing between one and the other was so complicated but when all else fails, you can always rely on the opinion from a man with the name, rafe cameron!

you picked up both sets, making sure the cute design showed perfectly with a huge giggly smile on your face. the sounds of your feet hitting the wood floor as you were walking up to him to ask the big question, "rafey, which one" you smiled big, only your eyes peeking over the pj sets as you held them up for his decision. even though you gave him two options, there was one you 'picked out' in specific. insisting he answer 'correctly' with the tone in your voice.

he turned around to look at you when you called his name following with a question. his eyebrows furrowed from the petty little design that covered the sets of your clothing. raising his pointer finger to choose which set even as the words came out of his mouth, "that one, bunny." he answered as his phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer.

you squealed to yourself with a big happy smile on your face, you were ecstatic that he choose the one you wanted him to even though you knew either one would have been just.. fine. you thought to yourself about your silliness to ask whenever you knew what you wanted to wear but it was much better having rafey pick for you.

when he choose, you stood up on your tippy toes as far as you could to reach rafes cheek as he held his phone up to his ear on the other side, giving him a sloppy kiss for his decision before having to come back down as you couldn't stand on them for very long. being in a talking stage with a man who stood at 6'1" came with its many different challenges, romantic ones included but, in all ends, you really liked it.

making your way back to rafes bed where your backpack still laid you heard him mumble something to you. hearing his mumbles made you turn back around, looking at him, "hm?" you questioned. notifying to rafe that you don't know what he had asked of you the first time but now he had your attention.

rafe brought his hand up to chin, rubbing slowly as if he was in a trance of thought, "why do you bring that backpack with you every time you stay, princess?" he had asked of you. you turned around to face him, placing the backpack onto the ground after all decisions were made. "its my spend-the-night bag!" you smiled big at him and giggled in response.

"what the hell is a spend-the-night bag, that's fuckin stupid." he said to you and your smile dropped instantly which was so weird because you knew how rafe was, mean. but he never really meant it "mean" towards you it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

he saw as your smile dropped, knowing his words hurt you tremendously. he waved his hand at you, telling you to come to him. he took a seat on the bench that was placed in his room, as you walked towards him. as you stood in front of him, he wrapped his fingers around your thigh, pulling you forward as he guided your legs around his. as you sat down on his lap you let down your head, feeling embarrassed that he saw his words effect you so much. he brought his hand up to your chin, feeling his cold golden rings on your skin, lifting it up so you were looking at his eyes and he started to explain to you,

"bunny.. all im saying is, everyone in this shitty town knows you're mine. there's no need to keep bringing your stuff back and forth. just move all your stuff in with me." hearing his sweet words made a big smile appear on your face again which made rafey smile as well. he made you so happy, it was silly, you were head over heels for him and you wanted everyone to know it.

later that week, you were all moved in. so so in love.

[rafesproperty]

texting bf!rafe <3 pt. 4

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here

i love it when he’s a little sassy shit 🤭

» masterlist

[lovelookspretty]

routledge!reader x rafe, after big john comes back and finds out that both of his kids are dating the camerons, he gets mad, especially at his daughter, cause he thought that she wasn't thinking straight. After a few days, he throws a stupid comment about rafe when they were with the rest of the pogues and reader just snaps at him. pure angst now 🥰 she realises that he's never been a good father, only caring about treasures and yells that she wishes he never came back. Then goes to rafe, crying, for comfort 💕 (i love angst im sorry.)

hold me close

rafe cameron x routledge!reader

warnings: angst, swearing, a kiss, pretty safe !!

authors note: OKAY ik thats trevor n not rafe but erm, we’ll pretend bc that pic is what gives the energy for this oneshot. anyway hii, hope u guys enjoy this one. feel free to send any requests guys! n thank u for 1k followers yesterday. ilyasm <33

you sit in the backyard, the soft hum of cicadas filling the warm night air. the pogues are just behind you, laughing and talking in a huddle. it feels good to see them like this again—normal, for once, after everything.

after the chaos of the last year, of treasure hunts, betrayals, and close calls. you’ve always tried to stay out of it, letting john b and the others chase after the gold while you lived your life. but eventually, you couldn’t stay on the sidelines, not when rafe got involved, not when it became a matter of life and death.

it’s been hard, being stuck between two sides, torn between your brother and your boyfriend. but tonight, you just want peace.

you glance over at your dad, sitting a little ways away from the group, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face. big john routledge—alive, after these three years. you still can’t believe it sometimes.

he looks different, a little more worn, a little rougher around the edges, but the way he carries himself hasn’t changed. he’s still larger than life, still full of stories, still your dad. and god, you missed him.

he catches your eye, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. like you’re just a kid again, sitting with your dad, listening to him talk about his crazy ideas, his wild adventures.

“you know,” he starts, leaning forward, “i remember that time you and john b tried to catch that fish out by the dock, and you both fell in. i swear, i thought i was gonna have to drag you two out myself,” he says, chuckling to himself, shaking his head like the memory is some long-lost treasure of its own.

you smile, even though it feels a little bittersweet. “yeah,” you murmur under your breath.

you pull at a piece of grass by your feet, your fingers absentmindedly tearing at it. you’ve waited so long for this moment—for him to come back, for your family to feel whole again.

but now that he’s here, you don’t know what to do with it. you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed, that he’s not just the dad you remember, but something else entirely. still, you can’t help but feel like the little girl who always looked up to him, who wanted nothing more than to make him proud.

“i never thought we’d see you again,” you mumble, your voice low, barely above a whisper. you don’t look up from the grass, your fingers still picking at the blades, but you can feel his gaze on you.

“i never thought i’d be back either,” he admits quietly. “but i couldn’t stop thinking about you two. every day out there . . . i thought about coming home.”

you scoff softly, a bitter smile pulling at your lips, even though you don’t mean for it to. “but you didn’t,” you say, barely above a whisper. “you didn’t come back for three years.”

he shifts in his seat, his fingers tapping against the arm of the chair. “it wasn’t that simple, y/n,” he says. “i was trying to protect you. there are dangerous people out there, people who want what we’re after. i couldn’t come back until i knew it was safe.”

you nod, but it’s a hollow gesture. you’ve heard it all before from other people—the excuses, the treasure, the danger. it always comes back to that.

you glance at your friends, laughing and sharing stories with each other. you’ve spent so long trying to push this life aside, to live outside of the mess of treasure hunts and betrayals. but it always pulls you back in.

“yeah, you always did put the treasure first,” you murmur as you face forward again. you’re not even sure if you mean to say it out loud. it’s more to yourself, just a thought that’s been living in the back of your mind for too long.

“don’t do that.” he leans forward, his voice soft, almost pleading. “i did it for you and john b,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “for our family. i wanted us to have something—something big, something that would change everything.”

“yeah, but we didn’t need that,” you say, your voice small, but firm. you’re still pulling at the grass, twisting it around your fingers. “we just needed you.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment. it’s like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but there’s nothing that can fix the years of distance. nothing that can make up for what you lost when he left.

there’s a long silence, and for a moment, you think maybe this is as close as you’ll ever get to understanding each other. you don’t want to fight tonight. you just want to sit with him, to pretend that things could go back to how they were before.

“so,” he starts again, his tone shifting back to playful, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “you and john b teaming up with the others to chase down treasure? guess it runs in the family.”

you laugh, but it’s a little forced. “yeah, well, i tried to stay out of it. but . . .”

“but what?” he presses, leaning forward with a smirk. “got a little taste of adventure, didn’t you?”

you glance up at the marsh, a faint smile on your lips. “something like that,” you mutter.

but you don’t mention rafe, don’t mention how he’s become a part of this tangled mess, how hard it’s been being caught between him and your family. you’ve already told your dad the day you reunited a few days ago in barbados. didn’t end well that time either. you don’t want to ruin the moment, don’t want to start another fight.

but, as if the universe is reading your mind, your dad shifts the conversation in a way that makes your stomach drop. “just promise me,” he says, suddenly serious, “you won’t let that rafe cameron kid get too close. he’s no good, y/n.”

the words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at him. it takes you a second to process what he’s said, to even understand the casual way he’s dismissed rafe, like it’s nothing. like he’s nothing.

“and i hear john b’s with sarah now, too?” his tone shifts, bitter and disapproving. “so now both of my kids are wrapped up with the camerons. hell of a choice you both made.”

you freeze, your stomach tightening. there it is. you knew it was coming, but it still hits you like a punch to the gut. it’s not the first time he’s made a comment about rafe, and you thought you were doing the right thing confessing what’s changed since you last saw him, but now he’s dragging john b into it, and that makes it worse. so much worse.

“dad,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady, but there’s an edge to it, a warning. “don’t.”

he shakes his head like you’ve said something ridiculous. “no, i am gonna say something. sarah, rafe, they’re cameron’s kids. ward cameron’s kids. you’re smart enough to know better than to get mixed up with people like him. they’re bad news. always have been.”

“yeah, but they’re not like him,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “sarah’s not ward. rafe’s not ward. they’re not their father.”

he just laughs, but there’s no humor in it. it’s harsh. “you really believe that?” he asks, shaking his head again. “they’re camerons. it’s in their blood. you think you’re any safer with rafe than you were without me here? because i’m telling you right now, you’re not.”

you stand up, your hands balled into fists at your sides. you’ve heard enough. for days now, you’ve listened to him make little digs about rafe, about the camerons, and you’ve kept your mouth shut. but tonight, it’s too much. you can’t keep it in anymore.

“three years, dad. three years you were gone, chasing your stupid treasure, while we were stuck here. john b and i had to figure it out on our own. so don’t stand there and act like you have any right to tell me who i should or shouldn’t be with.”

big john looks at you, stunned, like he’s seeing you for the first time. but you’re not done. there’s too much you’ve kept bottled up, and now it’s all spilling out.

“you care more about that gold than you ever did about us,” you say. “you care more about treasure than you do about being a father. you don’t know anything.”

big john’s face hardens, his jaw clenching as he stares at you. “i know enough,” he says, his voice cold. “i know who the camerons are.”

“yeah?” you snap, your voice breaking. “well, maybe if you’d been here, you’d actually know something about me too.”

you turn on your heel, ready to storm off, but the moment you move, you notice it.

the pogues are silent now, all of them watching. sarah, jj, pope, kie—they’re still, their conversations dropped as they stand there, wide-eyed and uneasy. john b, though, he’s just sitting there with his can of beer held low in his hands, lips pressed together. you can tell he’s heard it all before. he’s not going to step in because he knows you need to let it out.

you’re just done with it. you take a step forward, ready to leave this backyard and the suffocating tension behind. but something stops you, a feeling gnawing at your chest, pulling you back. you hesitate, turning just enough to glance at your dad over your shoulder.

he’s still staring at you, his expression set like stone, as if he’s waiting for you to say more, to take it all back, maybe. but you won’t. not now.

your voice wavers, but it’s steady enough. “i wish you never came back.”

his face doesn’t move, but something flickers in his eyes. you don’t wait for him to respond. you turn away for good this time and walk out, leaving the backyard behind.

before you know it, you’re at rafe’s house, your knuckles rapping against the door almost frantically. you pace, glancing down at your phone, watching as the notifications keep coming—texts from john b, a few from kie, and even jj. they're all asking the same thing: ‘ where are you? ’ or ‘ are you okay? ’

you drag your hand down your face, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. before you can get lost in your thoughts, the door swings open, and there he is.

rafe stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. he leans against the doorframe for a second, his lips slightly parted, taking you in. you know he’s already pieced together what’s happened from the voice messages you left on the way over. not that he’s the type to acknowledge it with some grand gesture or comforting words.

he doesn’t say anything, but he steps aside without much ceremony. you slip past him and leave your phone in the foyer, tossing it carelessly on the side table as you pass, the pinging of messages finally fading into the background.

you make your way down the hallway, not even sure where you’re going, but your feet carry you to the living room. rafe follows close behind, his presence looming, but not overbearing. his eyes are trained on you, watching as you take in the dimly lit room. there’s a bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, a glass next to it, already finished. it’s so rafe—quiet, controlled chaos.

you stop, your breath shaky, your chest tight, and before you can hold it back, everything comes spilling out.

“he doesn’t get it, rafe. he just doesn’t fucking get anything,” you start, your voice louder than you intend. you turn to face him, your hands gesturing wildly as you try to make sense of the mess of emotions coursing through you. “i mean, he’s been gone for years, and he comes back, and suddenly he thinks he can just . . . control everything? like he gets to have an opinion about my life after everything he’s done. he doesn't even know me anymore.”

rafes eyes are fixed on you, and he’s listening, letting you get it out. his jaw twitches slightly, but he stays silent, just watching as you unravel in front of him.

“and it’s like . . . it’s like no matter what i do, no matter how hard i try, it’s never enough! not for him, not for john b, not for anyone!” your voice cracks, and you press your palms against your temples, trying to hold yourself together, but the tears are already brimming, threatening to spill over. “i didn’t ask for any of this. i didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of all this shit with my family and you and . . . god, it’s too much.”

you turn away from him, your breath coming out in shallow gasps now as you try to steady yourself. but it’s no use. you’re falling apart, and it feels like the weight of everything is finally crushing you.

before you can say another word, rafe steps forward, his arms sliding around you in one swift motion. “alright, alright, c’mere,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “c’mon.”

you collapse into him, burying your face into his chest, the tears coming freely now. he holds you tight, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as his hand rubs slow circles on your back.

rafe’s not one for words, and you don’t expect him to be, but this—this is enough. the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his arms keep you grounded, it’s enough to make the world stop spinning for just a moment.

you don’t say anything else. neither does he. the silence stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. for once, you feel like you can breathe.

even though he’s holding you, his mind seems elsewhere—his jaw clenched, muscles rigid beneath the surface. it’s not hard to guess where his thoughts have drifted, especially after everything you told him in those voice messages.

you can tell he’s upset. not just because you’re upset, but because of what your dad said—about him, about his family. his body is stiff as he holds you, and you know him well enough to see the silent anger simmering just beneath the surface. his eyes aren’t on you; they’re somewhere distant, staring past you as if he’s imagining your father’s words in his head.

“i’m sorry about what he said, rafe,” you whisper into his chest, feeling the way his breathing shifts, more shallow now, controlled. “he said something about sarah and john b, too.”

he doesn’t respond right away, but you feel his hand pause against your back, fingers pressing a little harder. for a moment, it feels like he might pull away, but instead, he just tightens his grip on you. his silence speaks volumes. rafe is the type to internalize everything, to let it fester until it boils over, but you can feel it now—the tension thrumming through his entire body.

“doesn’t matter,” he finally mutters, though you can tell by the way his voice is low, that it does. “it’s nothing i haven’t heard before.”

you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to meet yours. they’re darker than usual, clouded with frustration, but he still tries to soften his expression for you.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you say quietly. “he doesn’t know you.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. rafe’s hand resumes its slow, steady motion against your back, though the tension hasn’t fully left his body. you can feel the war going on inside him—the part of him that’s angry, defensive, but also the part that’s trying to be here for you, to let go of his own frustration long enough to comfort you.

“fuck him,” rafe mutters after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “he doesn’t get to talk about you like that. or me.”

there’s a dangerous edge to his voice now, but you know it’s not directed at you. he’s angry, not just at your dad, but at the situation—the impossible mess you’ve both found yourselves in, caught between your family and his.

“i don’t care what he thinks,” you murmur, holding onto him tighter. “i’m here with you. that’s all that matters.”

he doesn’t respond, but his hand moves to the back of your neck, his fingers curling gently into your hair as he exhales, long and slow, like he’s finally letting go of whatever was eating at him.

for the first time tonight, the room feels quiet as the two of you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

you’re gazing up into his eyes, searching for something—comfort, understanding, maybe a little reassurance. your hands find their way up his shoulders, one resting gently on his collarbone while the other slides higher, rubbing the area around his ear and jaw.

“you know that i love you,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady, as if the confession can dissolve the tension still hanging in the air.

rafe stares down at you, and in that moment, you can see everything in his eyes. he’s never loved anyone more than he loves you—the way you stood your ground against your own dad tonight, defending yourself and defending him and his family. it’s a vulnerable space, one he doesn’t often let himself occupy, but with you, it feels different.

he nods, pressing his lips together as if trying to hold back a flood of emotion. then, with a sudden urgency, he leans down and kisses you deeply. the taste of whiskey lingers on his lips. it’s a kiss that speaks of everything unspoken.

but just as quickly as it begins, he pulls away and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. you close your eyes into the gesture, feeling the warmth of his lips linger against your skin.

rafe goes back to resting his chin on your head, his breath steady as he holds you close again. you breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of sea salt and something distinctly rafe, and let the silence wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

in this moment, nothing else matters. not the fights, not your dad’s harsh words, not the stupid tangled web of family and expectations.

just you and him, together, holding onto each other for as long as you can.