#Rafe Cameron blurb

[whytheylosttheirminds]

bestie!reader has no idea her texts are driving her best friend Rafe crazy...or does she?

✧✧ suggestive comments and pics, 18+ only ✧✧

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a/n: if you just saw me post this with a gradient title and missing some slides....no u didn't. tumblr hates me.

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ a little dry humping never ruined a friendship.

warnings — 18+ MDNI. bsf!rafe x bsf!reader. dry humping, dirty talk & praise.

cherie's note — based off of this tweet!

your hips rolled against his like this was normal — like you weren't even thinking, and this was all just instinct. thighs straddling his lap, his large hands guiding your movements in rhythm with his. rafe's mouth was on you like he was starving — like he had anticipated this moment for years.

his back was slouched against his headboard, head tipped just enough for you to take what you wanted: sloppy kisses, open mouths, gasping against each other when the heat surged too fast. your lips slid against his like you owned them, tongue teasing until he groaned into you, that deep, guttural sound that vibrated straight to your core.

you could feel him under you — hot and hard through the thin material of his boxers, one of the only two things acting as a barrier in this moment— flimsy fabric, and a label you were dangerously close to ignoring.

best friends. nothing more.

"jesus," he muttered, breath ragged, hands gripping your waist with determination, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt like he needed to feel every inch of your skin. "you feel so good on me, baby."

a broken, throaty whine tore from your lips, raw and unrestrained, your chest rising and falling in frantic, shallow breaths. your eyes fluttered shut as your hips moved on their own, chasing friction like it was the only thing keeping you alive. every slow grind dragged your soaked panties across the thick, throbbing bulge straining against his boxers — each pass nudging your swollen clit with aimed precision. the wet heat between your thighs was unbearable, your need slick and shameless, seeping through the fabric that felt far too thin to separate you from what you really wanted.

"you're soaking through your panties... fuck, baby. you feel that?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes — his pupils blown wide, mouth swollen from kissing.

his words hung in the air, and for a second, the tension was almost suffocating. you could feel the heat creeping on your face, a mix of embarrassment and guilt. you swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep from responding too quickly, but your body couldn't lie.

"shut up," you whispered, your voice low, almost pleading. you didn't know if you were telling him to stop, or trying to distract yourself from the growing feeling in your stomach. but your hips still moved, still rocked, against the pressure of him beneath you, betraying every word you tried to say.

rafe smirked, but his eyes were still locked on you, unreadable — dangerous. "i'm hardly doing anything, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough, a little shaky. his hands glide against the skin of your waist, goosebumps rising in their path. "you're the one who can't stay still."

the taste of copper in your mouth was undeniable — teeth biting down on your bottom lip, hands gripping his shoulders in attempt of stability, trying to keep steady — trying desperately to keep yourself together. "you're one to talk — whose idea was it for me to sit in your lap, ray?"

rafe's gaze faltered down to where you were both pressed together, lips parting like he was going to say something, but he didn't. instead, he gripped your hips again, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate, just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat.

the pressure was building, slow and unbearable, like the air itself was too thick to breathe — suffocating. each grind of your hips against his sent a shock to your shaking body, tightening everything within you.

rafe's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling under you, his blue eyes half-lidded watching you with a hunger you couldn't ignore. "fuck, you're close, huh?” he muttered, his voice thick with need, the words pulling something deep from within you.

"come on," rafe coaxed, his voice rough, low. "let go, baby. let me watch you come undone."

each roll of your hips made the pressure at your core spike higher, sharper. you were so close — until, finally, something snapped. the words sent a wave of heat crashing over you, the combination of his touch and his filthy praise pushing you to the edge. you gasped, nails digging into his chest, hips rutting harder against rafe, desperate for that release.

he lets out a sharp, unmistakable whimper, hot spurts of his own cum coating the soaked fabric of your lace panties, sticky strings of his release mixing with the wet mess between your folds.

for a moment, the air is thick with something undeniable — hot, heavy panting, chests heaving against one another as you both blink in astonishment, then break into soft, methodical laughter at the predicament you’ve found yourselves in.

"we're supposed to be—"

"friends?" he laughs, catching his breath, gaze flickering down towards where your messy cunt presses persistently against his crotch, "yeah, keep sitting on me like that and say it again."

[cameronsbabydoll]

how do you think scc!rafe would feel if the kids started bonding with their mom by things she really enjoys and not just because she's their mom? like, their son starts bringing home some sonny angels/calico critters for his mom cause he find out she used to collect them, or her and their daughter starts to have weekly movie nights where they see reader's favorite movies? idk what rafe did with her old clothes, but if she managed to save some of it, and now their daughter is in that phase where girls starts to wear their mom's old clothes and she founds them deep in the closet

idk just heart warming bonding time but not because they're mom and child, but because they genuinely like their mom as a person, out of that persona that rafe build for her

to him — she was always his wife. his girl. his little trophy in pearls and silk, in soft pastel manicured perfection. his to dress. his to spoil. his to control, in that warped, possessive way that rafe loves.

but their kids? they’re older now. and rafe’s walking past the living room after a long day and — wait. are his sons sitting criss-cross on the floor, helping their mother unbox her old calico critters like it’s the most normal thing in the world?

he pauses at the doorway, arms folded, watching her light up as she tells them the dramatic backstory of one tiny plastic animal family — and they’re actually listening. engaged. laughing at her jokes.

then later, their daughter — teenage, getting older, moodier — coming down the stairs in her old cardigan. the one he forgot existed. the one he probably tried to quietly retire years ago when he started curating her wardrobe more.

"where’d you find that, baby?"

"mom’s old stuff." casual. "she used to be kinda cool, huh?"

and that — that’s when it really hits rafe.

because this isn’t them loving their mother because he made her lovable — soft, pretty, untouchable. this is them loving her — the version of her that existed before him. the version that still somehow exists despite him.

and god does that do something ugly and tender to him.

maybe he gets real quiet after moments like that. thoughtful. watches her more carefully when she laughs with them, hair messy, feet tucked up, not being perfect but being loved anyway.

because he never planned for that. he planned for a wife.

not for a woman their kids would look at one day and think, god, mom’s actually kinda the coolest person we know.

and maybe — maybe for the first time in his life — rafe feels something like jealousy over it. not angry-jealous. just... aching.

because they get to love her without all the strings he tied to her. and for the first time in a long, long time — he wishes he knew how to do that too.

[littlelamy]

clingy with rafe

rafe would never call himself clingy. clingy was for guys who didn’t have their shit together or needed constant reassurance. but with you, it wasn’t insecurity—it was something else entirely.

he wasn’t sure when it started, but the second you walked into a room, it was like his body moved on its own. at toppers’ parties, his hand found yours before you even said hi to anyone. you were his grounding force in the chaos, and he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

“stick with me,” he muttered, fingers laced tightly with yours. his voice was low, the kind of tone that was more of a command than a suggestion. you weren’t complaining—his hand was warm and steady, making you feel more at ease in the wild, drunken crowd.

“i thought this was supposed to be a chill thing,” you teased, trying to match his long strides as he led you through the sea of bodies. your tone was light, but you couldn’t help smirking at the way he scanned the room like a hawk. he always had that protective edge, though he’d never admit it outright.

“yeah, well, topper’s definition of ‘chill’ is breaking every piece of furniture in the house,” rafe said, rolling his eyes. his thumb brushed over the back of your hand like it was second nature. “where the fuck is topp, anyway?”

you shrugged, barely holding back a laugh as you glanced around the room. “you’re asking me? i thought you were keeping track of him.” his jaw ticked slightly, but his focus never wavered from you for long.

when someone brushed past you a little too closely, rafe’s grip on your hand tightened. his shoulders tensed, and he pulled you into his side without missing a beat. “you good, princess?” he asked, his voice dropping in that way that made your stomach flutter.

“i’m fine, rafe,” you said, rolling your eyes but feeling secretly pleased at how much he cared. it wasn’t like the guy bumped into you on purpose, but rafe wasn’t about to let it slide. “you’ve asked me that, like, five times tonight.”

“yeah, well, just making sure,” he shot back, his lips twitching into a grin that didn’t quite mask his protective streak. he glanced down at you, eyes scanning your face as if checking for any hint of discomfort. “can’t have anyone messing with my girl, right?”

later, when the two of you found an empty spot on the couch, rafe was already pulling you down next to him. “sit,” he ordered, his voice taking on that familiar commanding edge.

you raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, sinking into his lap with a sigh. before you could even get comfortable, his hands were sliding over your legs, his fingers brushing gently over your skin.

“rafe,” you said, leaning back against him as his hands roamed, moving up to your thighs and rubbing slow circles over the soft fabric of your dress.

“relax, princess,” he murmured in your ear, his voice low and almost playful as he traced his fingertips along your legs. “you’re too tense.”

you shot him a look, feeling the heat of his hands on your skin, but despite your attempt to act nonchalant, you couldn’t stop the warmth flooding your chest. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, but didn’t move away.

“nah,” he whispered with a smirk, fingers continuing their teasing path along your legs. “i just know how to get you to relax.”

later, when you nudged him and told him you needed to use the bathroom, his reaction was immediate. “cool, i’ll come with you,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. you stopped mid-step, looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“rafe, i’m not gonna get lost. it’s the bathroom,” you said, already exasperated. his expression didn’t budge, that familiar mix of confidence and stubbornness plastered across his face. “you don’t need to come with me.”

“it’s not about you getting lost, princess,” he said, smirking in a way that made your pulse quicken. the nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like he’d been calling you that forever. “just making sure no one tries anything while you’re gone.”

“so, what? you’re gonna stand outside the door like a security guard?” you asked, crossing your arms in challenge. his grin widened, the mischievous glint in his eyes telling you he had other plans. “you’re unbelievable, rafe.”

“not standing outside, babe,” he said with a wink, already following you toward the tiny bathroom. you gaped at him, half-annoyed and half-amused, as he casually shut the door behind you. “i’m coming in with you.”

“rafe!” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper as you gestured around the cramped space. his nonchalant demeanor made it even more infuriating, like this was the most logical thing he could’ve done. “you can’t just—this is weird!”

“what’s weird about it?” he asked, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. his gaze was steady, like he genuinely couldn’t understand your objection. “not like i haven’t seen you before, princess.”

your cheeks flushed at his comment, and you smacked his arm lightly in protest. “rafe cameron, you’re impossible,” you muttered, turning toward the toilet with a defeated sigh. “at least turn around or something.”

“fine, fine,” he said, laughing as he spun to face the door, his shoulders shaking slightly. his smugness was practically radiating off him, and you knew he was enjoying every second of this. “just say the word if you need me, babe.”

when you were done and washing your hands, he turned back around without missing a beat. his eyes softened as they landed on you, his usual teasing replaced with something gentler. “you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“i’m fine, rafe,” you said, shaking your head with a small smile. his concern, as ridiculous as it was sometimes, always managed to make your heart ache in the best way. “but you’re never living this down.”

“don’t care,” he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. his lips brushed against your temple, his hold on you firm and steady. “you’re stuck with me, princess.”

and honestly? you didn’t mind one bit.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[personapeters]

𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝

— a rafe cameron one shot

✰ when y/n gets her boyfriend to partake in a viral tiktok trend.

rating: sfw — cw: none

anyone who had a phone and internet access knew of the viral couple’s trend, and y/n was no exception. endless sickeningly sweet videos flooded her feed of men effortlessly lifting their girlfriends onto their shoulders, some ending with them toppling over into a heap of laughter; it left a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach and she, too, wanted the first hand experience.

she knew rafe better than anyone; being recorded doing some silly trend for the world to see simply wasn’t something he’d be willing to do. despite that fact, she knew it wouldn’t hurt too terribly to propose the idea. so, with little hesitation, she made her request known.

“rafe?” she quipped from her place on the couch, her legs draped lazily over her boyfriends lap. “hm?” he hummed, his attention momentarily glued to the phone in his hand as he finished a text. “can we, maybe, try something?” she asked, watching as he completed his typing before tossing the device onto the coffee table with a clank.

“what’s that?” he mumbled, running a hand up her bare leg and resting it on her thigh, lightly squeezing as he gazed at her. “before you say no, just hear me out, okay?” she asked, his face quirking at the request. he nodded his head in a way that prompted her to continue, so she did.

“i wanna see if you can lift me,” she informed simply, to which rafe’s brows rose in question. “if i can lift you?” he clarified with a mild confusion, “y’know i can — do it all the time.”

“no, i mean, like—,” she fumbled with her phone for a moment, tapping at the screen before turning it to face him, “it’s for a video thing… like this.” he watched intently as a couple performed the ‘lift’ in reference and his face contorted to one of scrutiny.

“why?” he questioned, genuinely not understanding the appeal. “i don’t know, looks fun — it’s cute,” y/n mumbled with a shrug, gradually becoming less enthused. “looks kinda dumb,” he muttered honestly, completely disconnected from the internet and it’s need for spontaneous niches. “oh,” y/n spoke quietly as she stared down at the device — maybe he was right.

rafe noticed the shift in her demeanor instantly, his heart squeezing as she slouched against the armrest of the couch, a small pout pulling at her lips that she tried to fight against. he felt a pang of guilt in his chest, hating how filter-less his mouth could be. he didn’t mean come off as cold and dismissive, but he knew that he did, and often does; he also knew that he needed to fix it.

“okay, come on,” he sighed, patting her thigh before sliding her legs off his. “what?” she asked in surprise, her eyes following him as he stood. “let’s do it,” he shrugged, holding out a hand for her to take. immediately, a bright smile flooded her face as she wrapped her digits around his larger palm. “really?” she beamed as he pulled her to her feet. “yeah, i just— is that it?” he motioned to the phone in her grasp, “i just pick you up?”

“yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically with a grin, her eyes glistening as she did so and rafe couldn’t help but let his lips mimic her own. “alright, go set it up,” he instructed as he peered down at her, softly patting her hip in encouragement. she obliged quickly, propping her phone up on the coffee table and setting a timer to count them down from thirty, hoping that would allot them enough time to prepare.

“please don’t drop me,” she laughed as rafe situated his large hands around her waist, his long fingers nearly touching each other at the center of her stomach. “i’d never,” he scoffed with a soft smile, “just tell me when.”

“almost,” she muttered as she watched the numbers descend on the screen, “okay-okay, three, two, one.” instantly, she felt the hold on her body tighten as rafe effortlessly lifted her through the air; she didn’t need to jump in assistance, nor did he grunt or struggle in the slightest, carrying her gracefully as though she was a feather. she instinctively gripped his wrists as a squeal left her mouth, a melodic stream of laughter following as he propped her onto his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly on the broad surface.

the recording ended and the song looped softly in the background as rafe carefully slid her down his body, his hands resting underneath her arms as he lowered her to the ground. as soon as her feet hit the floor, she padded over to watch the perfectly imperfect recording — the framing was off, seeing as rafe was too tall to fit, and she didn’t lip-sync to the lyrics as most others had, but none of that mattered in the slightest.

“look,” she grinned, holding the phone out for rafe to see. he smiled fondly down at her, his eyes flickering between her face as she watched the clip and the clip itself. admittedly, he enjoyed participating, enjoying even more how giddy she was about it. “i see,” he assured with a small smile, his focus primarily on his happy girl as he rested a hand on her hip, rubbing small circles on the bone.

“i love it,” she gushed, ecstatic to have something so sweet and silly of herself and her boyfriend that she just knew she would watch over and over and over again. “good,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the moment being interrupted when his phone rang out — a call he was expecting.

“i’ve gotta take this,” he informed, running his fingers under the hem of her shirt and softly grazing the skin before breaking the contact. he grabbed the cell from it’s place on the table, answering it with a hushed greeting before exiting the room, leaving y/n to rewatch their video again with a cheek-aching grin; her man was in-fact very jacked and oh-so kind (but only ever for her).

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[fitzells]

rafe having to deal with a tipsy reader but lowkey being overwhelmed at the whole situation cuz she’s being so lovey dovey and clingy but they’re not dating? 😭

oh hello this is me all over! requests are nowwww open for rafe btw

The party had gotten out of hand hours ago, but you — all warm and flushed and leaning way too close to him— didn’t seem to notice. Your hand kept searching for his arm, your head tipping onto his shoulder, lips brushing the shell of his ear when you spoke, saccharine sweet and slurred.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” you mumbled, fingers trailing over the hem of his shirt like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Like, annoyingly pretty. I hate it.”

Rafe tensed, glancing around the crowded room, sharp jaw ticking like he was holding back a full-body flinch. He wasn’t used to this — wasn’t used to you like this. All soft edges, big eyes, clingy hands and no filter. You were usually the one who kept your cool, you were the one always reenforcing the casualness of the agreement. But tonight? You were drunk on cheap liquor and whatever leftover affection you’d been bottling up between hookups, and it was driving him totally nuts.

You bring your red solo cup up to your lips, pink hued lip gloss staining the rim. His hand wrapped around your wrist, steady but firm. “Think you’ve had enough,” he muttered, guiding your wandering hands off his chest before they could test his self-control any more than they already had.

You only giggled, swaying into him anyway. “Don't be like that, Rafey. You love me,” you teased, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “You just don’t know how to say it.”

His throat bobbed, the nerves creeping under his skin like static. You were too close, too sweet, too easy to want. And the worst part? You were right. Bang on, in fact.

“Love you, huh?” he tries to tease, but his tone is gruffer than usual and his eyes are darting around, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t you. “Barely like you half the time. And don’t call me Rafey. Making me sound like some simp, or something.”

Your eyes are still all big and glassy, and your smile doesn’t waver. You’re used to his antics by now. “You’re funny.” You giggle tipsily. He sighs. Then you pout, and he softens.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, voice low and uneven, smoothing a hand over the back of your head before he’s steering you toward the door — because if you keep looking at him like that, he’s unsure what the hell he’ll do.

He pushes open the front door, one hand firmly on the small of your back as he guides you down the driveway.

The night air hit you like a second wave, cool against your flushed cheeks, contrasting the heat on your lower back at the feel of his hand, steady and constant.

The stars were spinning, or maybe that was just the alcohol, but either way you didn’t seem too concerned — too busy humming under your breath and bumping your shoulder into his every few steps.

“I can’t deal with you sometimes,” Rafe muttered under his breath, yanking open the passenger door of his truck. “Get in.”

You blinked up at him, head tilting like you were trying to figure out if he was serious — even though the door was wide open, the seat waiting, and he was clearly two seconds from losing his mind.

“No, you’re warm,” you argued lazily, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, like you had no intention of letting go.

Rafe scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. His nerves were stretched thin, your closeness short-circuiting the part of his brain that usually had control. You were so soft like this, no sharp comebacks, no teasing bite — just pure, unfiltered affection. And it was throwing him off. Big time.

“Baby,” he said, the word slipping out before he could catch it, rough and quiet. “C’mon. Get in the truck.”

Your brows lifted, a slow, crooked smile pulling at your lips like you’d just uncovered a secret. “You never call me that. Not unless we’re— y’know.“

His jaw tensed, the tips of his ears burning. “Yeah, well” he grunted, “you’re not usually this… clingy.”

You finally let go, but not before pressing a lazy, tipsy kiss to his jaw — barely there, but enough to leave him blinking hard, stomach flipping.

“‘M not clingy,” you mumbled as you climbed into the passenger seat, curling up like you belonged there. “That makes me sound like I’m some crazy lady. I just like you. And I think you’re cute when you’re all flustered.”

“Seatbelt.” He ordered quietly, trying to glaze over the fact you’re staring up at him like he was the most important thing you’ve ever breathed near. He closed the door a little harder than necessary, gripping the top of it for a second before shaking his head.

He took a beat before walking around the front of the truck, stifling a breathy laugh as he watched you wave at him lazily through the windscreen.

The second the door shut, the truck felt too small.

Rafe slid behind the wheel, knuckles tight on the steering wheel, jaw locked. You were curled up in the passenger seat like you’d always belonged there — legs tucked up, head resting against the window, watching him with that sleepy, lovesick little smile that made his chest feel like it was caving in.

The engine rumbled to life, but his mind was still stuck on the way your lips had brushed his jaw before you got in. The way you’d called him cute like it was the easiest truth in the world.

“You good?” he asked, voice rough, eyes flicking over to you as he pulled out onto the dark, empty road.

You hummed in response, stretching your arm across the console, fingertips brushing over the back of his hand where it rested on the gear shift. Light, absent-minded — but every pass of your fingers was another hit to his self-control.

“You’re so serious all the time,” you whispered, voice soft and slurred with affection. “You don’t have to be, you know.. Not with me.”

His throat tightened. “Somebody’s gotta be,” he shot back, trying for sharpness but it came out too low, too strained.

You just smiled again, like you could see straight through the front he was barely holding onto. Your hand slipped fully into his, fingers lacing with his like it was nothing. Like this wasn’t new and confusing and dangerous for both of you. Too casual, too intimate.

And Rafe just… let it happen.

He didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when your head tipped toward him, voice all soft and sleepy.

“You take care of me,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded. “I really like that about you.”

His fingers curled tighter around yours, gaze fixed on the road but his mind miles away — stuck on the feeling of your hand in his, the weight of your words, the slow, terrifying realisation that this was a hell of a lot more than just hooking up.

And for the first time, Rafe wasn’t sure if that scared him or if it was the only thing that felt right.

[sematarygirls]

⠀     ⠀   ♯┆Rafe Loves Your New Lotion.ㅤ  ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎he's such a softie‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎WARNINGS . . . fluff, sexual comments.   ̼ ₊

"Yeah, baby, bend over a lil' more for me," Rafe's voice came from his place propped up on his bed, watching you intently through the open bathroom door as you stood in panties and one of Rafe's t-shirts with one leg up on the bathtub, applying some body butter.

"Oh, quit being such a perv," you rolled your eyes, rubbing the thick substance thoroughly into your skin. You'd just went shopping—with Rafe's black Amex, of course—and picked up a bunch of new body care in new scents. You smelled absolutely divine, and your skin was as soft as ever already.

He groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Just come to bed already. Didn't you already put shit on your legs?" He complained—which he'd been doing since you'd gotten in the shower and denied him entry with you.

"That was body lotion. This is body butter," you explained, straightening up and applying it to your arms.

"Christ, you women and your products. What's the fuckin' difference?" He scoffed. You gave him a shrug in response. You didn't really know the difference or if using both made any difference at all, but you liked the routine of it all, taking care of yourself and basking in the rewards felt nice.

"Dunno," you said, turning off the bathroom light and walking into the bedroom. "But I like it."

"Fuckin' finally," Rafe mumbled, grabbing you when you got close enough and pulling you onto his lap. His entire demeanor changed the moment you entered his space, his face lighting up as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of you. "Goddamn, you smell fuckin' amazing," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and making you giggle.

"Not complaining now, huh," you rolled your eyes playfully, a smile on your lips as he ran his hands over your exposed skin, clearly enjoying the soft, smooth feel.

"Shut up," he mumbled, pressing a kiss right below your ear as he squeezed your thighs. "Fuck, baby, you smell like heaven. And your skin is so soft," he murmured, spreading your thighs apart slightly and running his hands down them slowly. "Jesus. No wonder you put half a fuckin' pharmacy on yourself." He teased, making you laugh again.

"I'm glad you like it," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss, already knowing that it was going to be nearly impossible to get Rafe to keep his hands to himself with this new regimen you had going. He was already obsessed with you, but now? Now, he was utterly addicted.

[robinsgrl]

rafe with a clingy and weird girl.

weird girl masterlist

main masterlist

rafe wasn’t always so buff. when you two first started dating he was sorta lanky. you would pinch his thin arms and tease him. when he starts buffing out? holy shit you can’t get enough of him.

he’s come home from the gym and the first thing you do is shove your face into his chest, inhaling him as you rub your face against his pecs. he wraps his arm around your head, practically suffocating you in him. “mell goo.” you mumble into his chest. your hand slowly trails up and you squeeze his pec. like it’s a boob. he hisses and smacks your hand away, shoving you playfully.

you pout, “i wanna squeeze.”

he snickers out a laugh, smacking your hand away from him again. “leave me alone.”

this brightens you up. “are you ticklish?” your tone is teasing, fingers twiddling at him.

he lets out a full bodied laugh at this, pushing your hands away again. “get off, weirdo.”

“just let me honk your tit and i’ll stop”

“i don’t have tits.”

“dude, they’re staring right at me”

“im not your dude”

“okay my beautiful dude let me honk it”

“im feeling very sexualized”

another time when you guys are getting ready for bed. he’s brushing his teeth and you’re applying under eye cream. his arms look absolutely delicious, flexing soflty as he keeps brushing. you can’t control yourself.

you chomp down on his bicep. he stares at you completely bewildered. “did you bithe me?” mouth full of toothpaste

“you looked yummy” you say it lamely. as if it’s no big deal

“you’re like a dog”

“only like? Let’s solidify that” you chomp the air

he laughs, playfully shoving your face away from him.“get away from me”

“come on, it’s just cute aggression. I need to get it out”

“cute aggression? you think im cute??”

you shrug again, nodding. “i’ll show you cute baby,” he scoops you up trodding you over to your shared bed as you laugh happily. “it’s my turn to honk and bite you”

[urcoolgf]

LET HIM SEE

pairing. boyfriend’s bsf¡rafe && reader

content. 18+. cheating (not on reader). smut. unprotected sex. getting caught. angst(?). rafe lowkey being manipulative. language.

summary. part two of ‘off limits?’ where you try to break it off with rafe, but you && rafe end up getting caught by barry… oops.ᐟ p.s. i couldn’t find any pics for this, so you get nothing—use your imagination

it wasn’t the last time—not even close.

rafe cameron was a drug, and you quickly became an addict.

it was a routine at this point—you’d sneak out when barry was sleeping, rafe would come over, fuck you outside the trailer in the darkness, or in his truck. sometimes he’d sneak you over to his place, that way you could be as loud as he wanted you to be.

the only problem—you were actually talking. when you were done, and rafe cleaned you up, you’d lay in his bed and talk, or sit in the backseat and talk. you knew more about him than you knew about barry—than you knew about anyone. he was shockingly easy to talk to, and it was dangerous. it was bad enough when you were just cheating to have sex, but now you were cheating… and getting attached?

it had to end.

you had texted rafe to come over to the trailer—told barry was out ‘handling business’ as always… rafe thought he was getting lucky—a little afternoon’s delight—little did he know.

you sat on the old couch, knees to your chest, waiting. your nail resting between your teeth—you were nervous. rafe wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, so you didn’t know how messy this was about to get… literally.

the sound of his truck tires crunching against the gravel made you jump. his footsteps echoed through your ears. a knock on the metal door startled you—even though you knew it was coming.

“come in,” you squeaked out. you were trying not to sound nervous, but it was impossible.

“hey, baby,” rafe’s voice was quiet, but you could already see the desire darkening his eyes. he made his way over to you, sitting himself right next to you on the couch. his hands moved to grab your hips—attempting to place you on his lap before you stopped him.

“rafe– stop. we gotta talk,” you tried to sound firm, certain—but you weren’t, and you couldn’t fake it.

"okay…,” he replied uncertainly, hesitantly—like he didn’t like where this was going. he slowly released his grasp on you, shifting to lean back against the couch, arms crossed in front of his chest. you cleared your throat, but it was no use—your voice still cracked as the words left your mouth.

“we– we can’t do this anymore,” you voice barely above a whisper, you turned to look up at him. it scared you—how close you were getting to him—you would rather be clueless with barry than be with rafe and know everything.

you always thought you wanted to be best friends with whoever you were dating, but the attachment that was growing didn’t make you feel safe—it made you feel exposed.

“the fuck are you talkin’ about?,” his gaze turned dark—not with lust or desire, with control. you could see the way his jaw tightened, and his posture stiffened.

“this,” you motioned between the two of you, “can’t happen anymore.”

rafe scoffed, but it was more like a laugh—like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like it was some kind of joke. he shook his head, processing what you just said to him.

“i’m serious,” you replied blankly, your voice finally more stern.

“what’s the matter, princess? finally got a guilty conscience? ya didn’t seem to care too much about your little boyfriend when you were screamin’ my name literally last night,” he was amused at this point, mocking and taunting you like he knew you wouldn’t be able to stand your ground for much longer.

“it wasn’t supposed to go this far… shouldn’t have even happened in the first place,” your voice was shy again, like he had scared you back into your senses.

“don’t play all innocent now… act like you weren’t the one sneakin’ out, weren’t the one textin’ me. you want me jus’ as bas as i want you, doll,” his words struck you right across the face—they were harsh, but they weren’t wrong.

"was a mistake,” you barely got to words out, your eyes glossed over. you forced yourself to keep looking at him, even though all you wanted to do was hide.

“no, baby. it was a lot of things—mistake? not one of ‘em,” he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head again with that knowing smirk plastered on his face. you hated him—hated that he was right, hated that he was actually changing your mind, hated that you really didn’t hate him at all.

“let me ask you somethin’… if it was so wrong why didn’t ya break up with barry? hm?,” he asked. his expression told you that he knew he had you—had you right where he wanted you—trapped because he was right. you should have broken up with barry. should have left him after the first time rafe kissed you.

you didn’t know how to respond. you just sat there—staring at him while a single tear fell down your cheek—a sense of hurt tainting your face.

"don’t bother answerin’, i know you liked it—liked the sneakin’ around, liked being someone’s dirty little secret. y’know you act all innocent, but you’re just as sick as me,” his eyes narrowed. his arms were still crossed, guarding his chest the same way you were trying to guard your heart.

it wasn’t working.

the look on your face should have broken rafe’s heart. it should have made him ache. well… it did—just not in the way it should have. he was turned on beyond belief right now, seeing the rogue tears trailing down your cheeks, the way your lips were puffy, and your eyes were glossy. he had always wanted to ruin you, and now he had… in more ways than one.

he knew you’d never be able to leave him, and it made blood rush to his dick.

he knew how sick that was—how twisted he was—but that’s just what you did to him. you made him obsessive.

rafe’s hand moved to your cheek, wiping away the tears as if he wasn’t the one who caused them. he caressed your face with a gentleness that felt foreign.

“shhh, it’s okay baby… so pretty when you cry,” he cooed. you didn’t even fight him, didn’t push him away like you should have. you melted into his touch, resting your head in his palm like it was your safe haven.

—

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, holy shit,” he grunted, punctuating his words with rough thrusts. you couldn’t do anything—not that you even wanted to—you hated yourself. the tears streaming down your reddened skin were a mixture of pleasure and pain. you were frustrated, you were overstimulated, and you were begging for more.

"wan’ more, doll? yeah, i know ya do,” he was breathless above you, pounding you into the sheets until all you could do was whimper around his dick.

“fuck! ray,” his name was leaving your lips like a broken record, like you knew nothing else. it felt so dirty—letting him take you like this on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, not when he was hitting that spot that only he could. he was all over you, claiming you like he had something to prove after your conversation minutes earlier. his hands squeezing and gripping any part of you he wanted.

“crazy to think you ever thought you could leave me—like that little boyfriend of yours could ever make you feel the way i do,” his tone was low, possessive, almost amused.

“say it– say he can’t make you feel the way i do. tell me who you belong to, y/n,” he was demanding you—the feeling of his dick working you open made your back arch off the bed.

“shit– rafe… please!,” you pleaded with him—not just for more, but for mercy. you already felt like a shitty person, and he was not making it easy on you.

“nuh uh, princess. tell me.”

“you! fuck– i belong– ‘m yours rafe. only yours,” your words were broken by your moans, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“that’s my girl. so perfect f’r me,” he grunted with a satisfied smirk on his face. the way he was moving above you was hypnotic. you watched his abs contract and relax as he pumped into you. but, when he moved his finger to your clit, you lost it—throwing your head back impossibly further into the sheets.

you were so lost in the feeling of rafe that you didn’t hear barry’s bike ripping through the gravel around the trailer.

“the hell is goin’ on here?!,” barry shouted, the sound of the door closing harshly behind him rang through your ears. you jumped at the sudden voice, trying to move out from under rafe, but he wouldn’t let you.

rafe didn’t care. he didn’t even stop, if anything he went harder. he grasped your wrists in his hand, moving them above your head, forcing you to stay where you were.

he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “don’t act clueless now, princess… let him see– let him see how i’ve ruined you. all you could do was moan—at his words, at the feeling of his warm breath against your ear, at the way he was so deep in you.

rafe looked down at the ‘B’ necklace still decorating your chest—you had fixed it after the first night to not raise suspicion with barry. rafe basically growled before ripping it off—once again— throwing it behind him to where barry stood in shock, hitting him right in the chest before falling to the floor.

“you’re fuckin’ sick! get the fuck out!,” barry shouted, trying to lunge at rafe, but he wasn’t letting anyone or anything get him off of you. he used the hand that wasn’t on your clit to push barry away with a strength he didn’t even know he had.

“let her finish first man, she’s close,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips. you weren’t even here anymore, totally gone in the feeling of rafe inside you and the sensation he was giving your clit. you were moaning even louder now, and all barry could do was watch, jaw slacked.

barry just walked out, unable to even process what was happening. he paced outside the trailer, your noises still audible. once you came around rafe’s cock—and he shot his release into you—he just picked you up bridal style, and carried you out the trailer toward his truck.

“i’ll be back f’r her stuff,” is all rafe said as he passed barry calmly, holding his ‘best friend’s’ naked girlfriend in his arms.

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[rafescolors]

i'd run away and hide with you.

𖹭 pairing: rafe cameron x reader.

𖹭 summary: when rafe goes after sarah, tricking her with a text from wheezie's phone, you do your best to get him to back off, leave his sister alone, trying to stop him from doing something you know he'll regret.

𖹭 tags: canon divergence (he doesn't kill Peterkin, Ward did), s2e5 au, established relationship.

𖹭 other: she/her!reader, idk man, i really wanted to write an au where reader stops rafe before he can hurt sarah okay she is my CHILD. he really loves reader and there's a lot of crying.

pls be gentle with me english is not my first language <3 also, this is not proofread at all.

◟ ⟡ ◟

YOU SLAM THE DOOR OF HIS TRUCK before running after him.

"Rafe! Please don't do this! You don't have to do this!," you cry out, trying to grab his arm but failing every time.

Even if he's shaking you off, he does it gently, never once hurting you in any way.

"No," he rasps out. "I have to. She'll turn my dad to the cops, I can't have that, baby."

Your breath hitches, the nickname never sounding so foul, so ugly, when he's directing it at you. He's usually so sweet and gentle when he says it, and yet there he is, angry and about to, you fear, hurt his sister.

He sighs, turning around and grabbing you by the shoulders, his gentleness a great contrast with the anger brimming in his eyes.

"Sweetheart, I'm only going to talk to her, try to convince her to not turn my dad in. I promise you, it'll be okay."

You clench your jaw. "Rafe, but what if you don't? What if you lose it?" You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to say and the possible reaction. "I know you love your family, I know you love your dad, but every time it's about him, you always lose it," you whisper. Whenever he's with you or Wheezie, Rafe is the sweetest man you've ever known, but you remember the few times he's come to you bruised because someone insulted his dad. You love him, yet you also know that the man you know can so easily turn into a monster when his father is involved.

Rafe's eyes darken, his hands twitching on your shoulders, gripping you tight one second before relaxing. "Baby," he whispers in warning, "I'm not gonna lose it. You can even come with me." He smiles, but you tremble a little, because there's something dangerous about his smile and his eyes.

You quickly grab his wrists. "Okay. Promise me you won't hurt her." You know asking that of him is setting yourself up for disappointment, but you also know you can't risk him hurting her. And if he goes alone? You're not sure he'll be able to reign himself in. The best bet is if you're there.

His smiles gentles, hands sliding up until he's cupping your cheeks.

"I promise, baby." He gives you a soft kiss, and even if you feel tense, you kiss him back and sigh, frame relaxing slightly.

You both walk towards the place he told Sarah to go, your hand gripping his tight enough it could bruise him.

When you hear Sarah, Rafe steps forward, squeezing your hand and asking you to let him talk to her alone.

"Nah, not Wheezie," you hear him say, his back towards you. You try to take a peek without being seen by Sarah.

You don't hear her answer, but you can clearly hear Rafe's voice:

"Listen- Whoa. It's all good. I… I just… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay? Listen to me, okay? The cops are going to talk to you, and… And I need to make sure the story's straight because-"

"Dad killed Peterkin. My story's straight," Sarah answers loud and firm.

You gasp, taking a step back before storming towards the siblings. You didn't know that. You just thought it had to do with some shady business deal.

"What?!" Your question is said in a shrill scream, Rafe's frame suddenly tensing. He turns to you, but before any of you can do more than look at each other, his eyes begging and yours full of shock and anger, Sarah runs and Rafe follows.

"Rafe! Stop!" You shout, trying but not able to catch up to Rafe's longer strides.

When you can finally see them both, Rafe's body is looming over Sarah, and she looks at you with eyes full of tears and fear. Your gaze drifts to Rafe's clenched fists, and before you can think about it, you jump between them, your back to Sarah and arms spread to shield her from Rafe.

"Rafe, please stop. This-" You breath in shakily, "You'll regret this, okay? Please, stop."

Sarah grabs the back of your shirt. "Rafe, I'm your sister," she cries, and your heart breaks form the pain in her voice, protectiveness flaring in you.

Rafe takes a step back, hands rubbing his face harshly and messing up his hair. "Go, baby. I need to take care of this, please go, and don't tell anyone, okay?" His tone is pleading, his eyes filled with tears. You shake your head.

"I'm not leaving until you back off," you say in a thin voice.

Sarah sobs, before a scream that makes you flinch and hurts your heart makes you freeze: "John B might get the death penalty because of you!"

Enraged, Rafe takes menacing steps forward, but you just stand taller and try your best to hide Sarah behind you, hands scrambling to Rafe's chest to stop him. "Rafe stop! Stop for a fucking second!"

He tries to get past you, but he can't, because even if his eyes scream murder, he can't hurt you.

"Baby, go! Let me deal with this!" He shouts.

You push him as hard as you can, trying but failing to stop him from touching Sarah, her cries behind you breaking your heart.

"You won't!" You push him, "Touch her!" And do it again. He grabs your hands, eyes pleading and conflicted, but you just tilt your chin up in challenge. "I won't let you do anything to her. You'll have to kill me to hurt her." Your voice trembles, yet carries a finalty that finally makes him falter.

Rafe takes a step back, hands falling to your sides.

"Baby-" His voice cracks, eyes filling with tears.

You sniffle, your own tears falling freely down your cheeks.

"Please, Rafe. I know you love your dad. But if he really did that? I will testify myself. No kid should pay for someone else's sins."

Rafe falls back, his back colliding with a crate. He rubs his hands over his face harshly, sobs ripping out of his throat, murmured words you can't catch escapig his lips. Your lips tremble, but you stand your ground, only leaving Sarah when he starts hitting his head repeatedly.

"Baby, baby, baby," You say, scrambling to grab his wrists tight enough he's forced to stop, standing on your tiptoes to rest your forehead against his. "Breathe, please. Breathe with me, okay?" Once you're sure he won't hurt himself again, your hands craddle his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "Please, look at me."

He opens his eyes, red and watery, and gazes into yours.

"You- you can't-" He says between gasping breaths, hands flying to your wrists.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Rafe. But you can't enable that. You can't."

"He's my dad," he cries, breaking your heart with the confusion and pain his voice carries.

"I know, baby, I know. But even parents can do wrong, and we can't excuse them." Your voice comes out gentle, trying to soften the blow of your words.

He sobs, hands craddling your face. "I love you."

You sigh, nodding and brushing his tears away. "And I love you. It's why I'm trying to stop this madness. It's why I'm asking you to let Sarah do what she has to. You don't have to do anything, okay? You can stay with me. We can take Wheezie, we'll just be on our own and you won't even have to face this, I promise you."

He looks torn, torn between his duty towards his father and his love towards you and his sister once he hears Wheezie's name.

"But I have to take care of him."

You sniffle, tears falling harder than before. He sounds so hurt, so vulnerable. You want to take him far away from Ward Cameron. "I know that's what you think, but you don't have to do anything, Rafe. This is not taking care of him. This is enabling his wrongs."

He closes his eyes, jaw clenching but his grip on you gentle.

"I don't wanna hurt you. But- I can't- He's my dad."

You shush him softly. "Rafe, please. Please. A kid is paying for something he did. A kid."

He hugs you around the waist, squeezing you against him and hiding his face on your neck. "I don't know what to do," he confesses in a broken whisper.

Your fingers comb softly through his hair. "Just- You don't have to do anything, okay? I promise you. You and me? We'll go away for a while, yeah? We can take Wheezie too."

He cries softly, his tears falling on your skin and making you shiver. "Where?"

His questions gives you a bit of hope, a bit of hope he'll let you take him away from all of this.

"Wherever you want to. We'll take your truck, grab Wheezie, and just make a little roadtrip wherever, yeah? Far from Kildare." Far from your dad, you think bitterly, everything you know Ward Cameron has done to his son in the forefront of your mind.

With a last tight squeeze, he sighs, nodding. "Far from Kildare."

You smile brightly, grabbing his face from your neck and kissing him, pouring all your love in that one small act. "Promise. We'll go tonight." You look back at Sarah, her eyes wide with surprise, darting from you to her brother. "Go," you whisper to her. "Just go, okay? Be safe."

She nods, running towards wherever she came from. You feel the need to take her wherever she's staying, but also know that Rafe's barely agreed with you to not try and defend his father. Taking Sarah with you would be more of a risk than anything.

Rafe hides his face on your neck again, leaving a small chaste kiss on the exposed skin.

"Let's go take Wheezie, yeah?" You whisper.

With a final nod, Rafe lets you go and grabs your hand, tugging you to his truck, never looking back to where Sarah was standing.

You exhale, relieved this is over, squeezing Rafe's hand.

[hearts4hughes]

RAFECHELLA | RAFE X FEM!READER

note: i’m super jealous of anyone who got to go to coachella. my outfits would go so hard 😓

more like this…

rafe hated coachella. he hated the music festivals, the skimpy outfits, the pure spectacle of a clear money grab.

but you? oh, you loved it.

you asked him if he wanted to go with you. it’d be two weeks in palm desert, spending time together, and partying on the weekends. of course, he politely declined, pressing a button on his phone and wiring you all the money you could need.

but now he knew he fucked up.

he clenched his phone so tightly that it creaked in his hand. the screen illuminated your instagram post: a photo of you wearing next to nothing with some douchebag male influencer next to you. his hand grazed the bare skin of your hip, not obnoxiously, but enough to have rafe dialing your number within two seconds.

it rang two times too many before you answered.

“hi, baby! i miss you so much!” you squealed, barely taking a breath before rambling on. “oh my gosh, it’s so hot out here. i mean i was in a bikini and i was practically having a heat stroke.”

“baby-”

“wait one sec, i have to tell you about charli xcx’s set,” you screeched into the phone. “it’s tonight and i’m praying that she brings out billie eilish or lorde-”

“that’s nice, hun, but-”

“and then julia forgot her shoes at her house and we had to go out and buy a new pair, and-”

“y/n.” rafe snapped, his voice stern and demanding. you stopped blabbering with a furrow of your brows. “who the fuck was next to you in your instagram photo?”

“that was just julia, sarah, and lexi… why?”

he scoffed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. he was losing his patience. “i’m talking about that fucking douche-lookin’ male model that had his hands all over you.”

“oh, you mean mark? yeah, he’s super nice. he’s some influencer that is being sponsored to be here. i only posted the picture because i looked hot.” you said so casually that it made his jaw clench.

“why do you know his name? why does he know your name? why are you even speaking to men? scratch that, why are you even in a ten-yard vicinity as other men?” is what he wanted to say.

instead, he hummed. “yeah, mark, that’s who i meant.”

he thought of twenty ways he could kill mark—half painful, the other half excruciatingly painful.

you thought nothing of it though, continuing to yap about everything under the california sun. rafe sat on the other end of the phone, head in his hands, muscles taut. he crossed the room to his computer with a dangerous stride.

it looked like he was going to coachella after all.

~

the desert sun was merciless, but you barely noticed it. your body moved to the bass pounding through the speakers, hands in the air, hair a mess of waves and glitter, skin warm and glowing. you were in your own little world; sweaty, tipsy, high on adrenaline, and overpriced festival cocktails.

coachella was somehow even more unhinged than the day before. influencers everywhere. lights flashing. girls in metallic bikinis and guys in fishnets for no reason. and you? you were dancing in the middle of it, laughing with your friends, practically vibrating with the energy of it all.

and then it hit you.

that prickly feeling at the back of your neck.

like someone was watching you. no… staring.

you turned instinctively, and there he was.

rafe.

dressed in all black, looking like a threat, jaw flexing, sunglasses low on his nose. his eyes locked on yours like a heat-seeking missile. he didn’t move right away. just stood there, watching. as if he couldn’t believe his eyes; as if he wanted to scream.

you blinked and he started walking.

not fast but not slow, just determined. people moved out of his way like they could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

and then he was in front of you. no words. no warning.

his hand slid around your waist, fingers splaying over the bare skin above your skirt. he pulled you back into his chest like it was nothing.

you gasped, breath catching. your head tilted back automatically, lips parting in surprise.

he leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear. his voice was low. dangerous. like a threat and a promise all wrapped into one.

“you’re lucky i like that little outfit,” he whispered, every word laced with heat. “but if another guy even thinks about touching you, i swear to god i’ll put him in the fucking hospital.”

your thighs clenched, your pulse spiked, and all you could do was smile.

[nemesyaaa]

ughhhh soft spot for dad!rafe. he's m'y guilty pleasure, i love him so much !!! this is so cute plss 🥹🥹‼️ « does she miss me » a good dad will always make me melt idc, my heart is full Reading this i cant 😮‍💨🩷

texts between mama!reader and dada!rafe on his first day back at work since Jojo was born…

{based on this fic} {full au}

a/n: gonna write some blurbs and answer some recs for this little fam, but these pics were so cute I could resist a little text post 🥹 I love dem sm

[rafeslittlepup]

— TRY IT ON FOR ME

the box is on the bed when you walk in—sleek, black, no card, no label. you raise an eyebrow curiously “you got something for me?”

rafe’s already lounging across your bed, with that smug, half-lidded stare. “it’s for rose’s yacht thing, on friday” he says, tapping his fingers against his jaw.

you lift the lid like it might bite. and there it is, tiny, barely-there, bias cut so fine it could melt on her skin.

“it’s… a lot.” you glance at him and giggle sweetly.

“it’s perfect., try it on for me, baby.”

you slightly nod.

your tan looks deeper. your collarbones sharper. you look like a dream—someone else’s, maybe. you smooth the fabric, uncertain.

“i don’t know if I like it.” you say, soft, almost inaudibly, a little scared, looking up at him.

there’s a beat of silence, he frowns. “what do you mean you don’t know if you like it?”

you look down shyly, “it- it’s just not really me.”

rafe scoffs, slowly turning you around so you’re facing yourself in the mirror. “it is you, that’s how i see you. just wear the dress, baby, let me show you off.”

you bite your lip, checking every inch of your body.

rafe leans to kiss your neck softly, making you chuckle and squirm a little. he chuckles too, because he knows he’s got you.

“fine… i’ll wear it.”

“you’re such good girl, princess.”

[cameronsbabydoll]

drew starkey and younger!ditzy!reader going to coachella

wc: 405 — a/n: part two maybe ?

it happens during one of the main sets, sun setting golden behind the stage while you're bouncing like a literal bunny on those tiny heels, both hands in the air, hair a mess, glitter everywhere.

your top—barely held together by a few strings and vibes—is not designed for jumping, but you're too busy singing your lungs out and giggling to care. drew has got a tight grip on your waist, trying to ground you, but you're still managing to wiggle out of his hold every few seconds.

then—disaster (or, depending who’s watching, content).

you spin too fast, bounce too high, and one little tug of the desert breeze lifts your micro-mini top juuuust enough for a flash of skin and lace to peek through. a couple phones catch it. a tiktok goes up before the next beat even drops.

drew’s hand immediately flies to your side, tugging your top down with that tight-jawed, i told you so look, while you just blink up at him all wide-eyed and pink in the cheeks.

“what?” you pout, cheeks puffing slightly. “i didn’t even feel it!”

“you almost gave the whole crowd a free show, baby,” he mutters low in your ear, tugging his hoodie off and wrapping it around your shoulders. “this stays on.”

you nod sweetly, slipping your arms through the sleeves and snuggling into the hoodie like it was your idea all along. “you’re so dramatic, babe. it was, like… two seconds. and it’s coachella! everyone’s basically naked.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose. “you’re not everyone.”

meanwhile, across the internet…

deuxmoi: SPOTTED — drew starkey’s much younger mystery girlfriend had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction during [xxx]'s coachella set tonight. sources say drew was “visibly annoyed” (but still wrapped her in his hoodie after).

the comments explode:

“she’s like a bratz doll on too many mimosas.”

“she looks 19 but acts 12 and i kind of love her???”

“he’s so protective i need him.”

“someone said she thought a vegan hot dog had no calories and now i can’t unsee it.”

you, of course, are blissfully unaware—curled up in drew’s hoodie, eating a churro with cinnamon sugar on your cheek, asking if you can dye your hair cotton candy pink when you get home.

he’s scrolling through the deuxmoi post while you hum beside him, and instead of showing it to you, he just turns off his phone and mutters, “don’t worry about it.”

[maybanksangel]

—

rafe and yourself had a very unique relationship. it’s not that you and him were waiting for marriage, it just didn’t happen yet. you thought maybe you were holding rafe back because you were scared. but trust me, rafe had plenty of experience and would definitely tell you if you were holding him back

while sex isn’t something that has to happen right away, rafe understood your boundaries and waited until you felt this most comfortable before starting to ease your way into an intimate relationship. 

of course, you and rafe had times where you had intense makeout sessions and things got touchy. but it never crossed your mind knowing you put your foot down when you guys started dating that you were still a virgin and you’d like to wait to see how things would go first.

things got touchy, like they always did. groping at the waist, hands on abs. whatever, that was normal for the relationship you guys were in.

tonight felt different.

tonight you had a feeling it was time to step up into a new chapter of your life and finally put yourself out there.

after awhile, the total crazy makeout session comes to a stop.

you look up at rafe, staring into his eyes as he looks down at you.

“rafe, i think i’m ready..”

that’s how you ended up with your back to the bed, your pants already discarded with just your small tight tank top on — and your panties of course.

rafe is already struggling to get his belt off from the built up adrenaline he has inside of him in this exact moment.

now, before he pulled his pants and boxers down, you had never known that rafe had this specific thing. you never thought to ask and he never thought to let you know.

rafe’s pants pool at the bottom of his knees, he then pushes down his boxers to expose his angry, red cock.

a sparkly object catches your eye in a glimpse, you give it a double take.

a fucking piercing. he has a piercing on his dick.

how were you gonna take his cock, while being a virgin, and on top of that take it with a piercing.

“whatcha lookin at hm? ya scared already baby?” he chuckles, pulling your chin in between his fingers and forces you to look up at him.

“not scared rafey, just.. i’m scared of your piercing..” you whine, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

his eyebrows raise up, a smirk appearing on his face. “out of everything you could be scared of, you’re scared of my fucking piercing?” you nodded, shamefully.

“let’s give it a try, okay? you won’t even feel it.”

he lines up with your hole, pushing his way in. the stretching feeling stinging you already, as you let out a hiss.

“hey hey hey, just wait a minute. it’ll feel better once i start movin’.” he stills, all the way inside of you before he thrusts out, and back in. creating a rhythm. you grip onto him tightly, already your pussy was begging for him to come back in.

it started to feel better, you moans filled the room and you could hardly even feel the piercing. it wasn’t poking you, nor was it scraping against you. you were scared for nothing.

“see? i told you didn’t i? that’s my good girl, sweetheart.”

[starkeysbunny]

blue collar rafe x farmer’s daughter reader

hellooo i am back :p i’ve been so obsessed w @issues4him blue collar rafe concepts and one shots and i just needed to write some and make reader a farmers daughter.. plsss go check out their blog they are so good im obsessed !!

anyway here’s a little mood board in the meantime before i post some blue collar rafe goodness <33