#obx 4

[lolxdswag123]

Bed Chem series pt 8

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Y/n was away at college in New England all year, but now she’s returning for the first time for the Summer. When she reunites with her friends… it gets… complicated. What happens when her secret ex-fling who also happens to be her best friend’s brother takes notice to her return?

author's note: the drama🚨🚨🚨 who do you guys like better for her? JJ or Rafe?

Tag list: @fandomhopped @percysley @frankoceanluvr11 @hockeybabe87 @whoreyzontal @deepeststarlightmoon @rrosiitas @smootbrainchicken @faephoria @especially-obsessed @0bsesedwithmen @purplerose291 @loveu-always @redhead1180 @enthusiastms @the-universe-and-karma @from-the-stars-to-the-moon @tincanhat @mariamadison6-blog @psychicnatural @harrys-housewife @urbrunettebombshell @shincidios @mayhapsnini @akobx @mightyavngrs @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @raspberryslxt @rrafeswhore

part 9

[especially-obsessed]

Anchor

Summary: JJ wonders why you never go swimming with any of the Pogues. So he takes it upon himself to find out

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of drowning/death, aquaphobia, mild swearing

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Enjoy <3

Masterlist

You peer into the water, watching the bubbles breaking the surface from where Pope had just dove in, nearly landing on John B’s head. You let out a soft chuckle, watching them play like there wasn’t a care in the world. Kiara was further away from the boat with Sarah, waiting for the boys to follow them. 

You wondered what it would be like to swim out here again. It would be nice not to feel left out anytime the group wanted to go swimming or surfing, even though it was a feeling of your own making. Your smile faded at the thought. 

Suddenly, you feel your body being pulled from the edge of the boat by two strong hands gripping your waist. Just as quickly, your feet are no longer touching the floor of the boat; they’re being swept out from under you. You feel a body pressed to you and look into his eyes, yours wild with fear.

“J, what are you-” you start, grasping at his biceps, struggling against his strong hold on you.

“Better hold your breath, sweetheart,” he says, moving closer to the side of the boat. 

You can feel his chest expand as he sucks in his breath of air and takes a step up. “No, JJ, no, put me down!” you scream.

But it was too late.

The two of you were already falling through the air off the side of The Snapper. You held on to JJ as tightly as you could, your stomach dropping farther than the drop off of the boat (which was even more terrifying because this boat was much larger than the HMS Pogue was).

Your body started to drift from JJ’s just before you hit the water, and there was no air in your lungs. You were petrified with fear. The water encompassed you, and you instantly lost JJ. The bubbles from your abrupt entry into the water surrounded you, tickling your skin. You opened your eyes under the water's surface and saw the outline of JJ’s body already making its way back up for air. 

But you were still sinking. Why were you sinking? What the hell was happening right now? You opened your mouth to scream for help, instantly regretting your decision. Water flooded your airways, seeping to the very bottom of your lungs. Your eyes were burning, and you didn’t know where you were.

Is this what drowning felt like? You fill up with water like a sponge until there’s nothing left for you to take in. You tried to move your arms in any direction you could, trying to move your body in any direction. The water was thick like honey, keeping your limbs stagnant. But you still weren’t moving fast enough. You weren’t going to make it to the surface. There was no time left. 

The corners of your vision started to blur before beginning to go dark. Your limbs were weightless, floating aimlessly in the water. You felt no pain, no fear. Your body was shutting down. You felt your body jolt upwards suddenly, just before your vision completely faded.

Before your eyes are even open, you’re coughing up water. Aggressively. Your lungs can’t fill up with air fast enough, and the water clogging your airways going in the opposite direction wasn’t helping. Your gag reflex kicked in, and you rolled your head to the side to try to keep yourself from drowning. Again.

“Oh my God,” you heard someone mumble. There were a few sighs, even a 'thank God'. You finally opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. You were blinded by the sun's reflection on all the white surrounding you. You closed your eyes, unable to see anything anyway.

From the gentle swaying you felt, you were back on the boat. Thank God. You rolled onto your back again and took deep breaths, still coughing every few breaths.

You opened your eyes again, seeing a blond mop of sea-kissed curls blocking the sun from your view. You could see the sun rays poking out in a few different directions past his head. It almost looked like a halo around his head. JJ was hovering above you, his hands placed on either side of your head, his legs straddling your hips. He looked into your eyes, worry written all over his countenance. It pained you to see him so upset. 

“What the hell happened?” someone asked. Pope. You recognized his hoarse voice instantly. He was somewhere by your head, out of your field of vision. 

“They jumped in together, and y/n just never came back up,” Kie said somewhere to your left. You turned your head toward her, seeing how worried she was. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know,” you said, trying to relieve the apparent tension surrounding you. Pope sighed as he walked to the back of the boat. 

“Apparently, we can,” John B retorted. He was standing next to Kie. Sarah was cradled into his side and smacked his chest lightly, even though she was smiling. 

 “You never said you can’t swim,” JJ muttered. You turned your attention back to the blonde boy still blocking the sun from you. You gave him a confused look, not processing what he just said. 

“You never told us. Why the hell wouldn’t you tell us something like that?” He asked, his voice getting louder. He moved himself off of you, allowing the sun to blind you in his absence. You squinted and attempted to sit up. Sarah jolted forward to help you. JJ was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. “If I would have known that, I wouldn’t have jumped into the water with you!” He shouted. 

“JJ..” you started, but he wasn’t stopping. 

“You could’ve died! You were just at the bottom of the marsh and-”

“It’s okay, J-” John B started, placing a hand on his chest. JJ brushed him off and shook his head. He grabbed his hat from the floor of the boat and fixed it the way he does so effortlessly. You looked up to try and meet his gaze, but he was looking anywhere but at you. He shook his head again and moved to the boat's cockpit.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, unsure what to do. Guilt washed over you. JJ started the engine and did quick work to get the boat going. John B patted your shoulder and smiled before walking towards the back of the ship. Kie wrapped a towel around your shoulders, goosebumps blanketing your skin as the salty marsh air whipped around you. Sarah and Kie sat on either side of you, wrapping their arms around you. They were keeping you safe in their own way.

You looked back up, trying to catch JJ’s eye, but he was looking out on the water, not so much as glancing in your direction. His jaw was clenched tightly, unwavering as he maneuvered the boat through the marsh.  

You felt terrible. Guilt was seeping out of your every poor. You felt nauseous. And your diaphragm hurts, like the feeling you have after you’ve had hiccups for an hour. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” you whispered to the girls. Kie scoffed, resting her elbow on her knee and placing her hand under her chin.

Sarah rubbed your back. “It would have been nice to know,” she said lightheartedly. 

“I just figured you were scared of sharks or something crazy. Even though they are very gentle creatures,” Kie added. You laughed (or attempted to). It quickly became a cough with even more water coming out of your lungs. You wiped at your mouth with the towel. When you looked up, JJ’s eyes were boring a hole into your skull. He looked away when he noticed you were staring back at him. It was going to be a long ride back to Poguelandia. 

You were almost dry by the time JJ had the boat docked. Pope had made his way back to the front of the boat to check on you. He checked your pupils and made sure you didn’t have a concussion. He confirmed that your chances of surviving were almost 100% (because, of course, we could die at any given second). 

Everyone unloaded off the boat, JJ being the first to take off once everything was tied down. He walked up the ramp to the shop and sat behind the counter. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair again before putting it back on. He was pacing back and forth, checking on random things in the small store space. Kie waited up for you as everyone made their way back to the house.

"I'll catch up," you told her, glancing at the shop and back to her. She gave you a sympathetic smile before turning and following the others. You unwrapped the towel from around your shoulders and laid it across the railing leading up to the shop. You walked up slowly while making sure not to sneak up on him.

But he knew you were coming.

JJ had his back turned to you, looking out on the water now. You could see his chest moving quickly. His hands were resting on the railing. He used his hands to pull his body forward, bringing his mouth to rest on his hands.

“J, I’m so sorry,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You stared at the back of his head, trying to read his body language.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. He shook his head and straightened his back, turning around to face you. You stared at his face. He no longer looked angry. He was upset, eyes red and bloodshot. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

This wasn’t carefree JJ Maybank, reckless and altruistic until the day he died. This was JJ, vulnerable and terrified, cracking open right before you. All you wanted to do was rush up to him and hug him. Tell him that it was all just a fucked up joke and that he didn’t need to be worried. He could go back to being his energetic self and not worry about you anymore. 

But you knew it was time. It was time to tell him the truth. 

You sighed deeply. Before you could form the right words to start, JJ huffed and put on a stern face. He wiped aggressively at his cheeks, thinking that your sigh was a sign that you weren’t going to justify yourself, that you thought he was being stupid and overreacting.

No, he wasn’t about to stick around for that. He started to walk away, trying to brush past you and get away as quickly as possible.

You caught his wrist before he could get too far. “Stay,” you practically whispered. You held his wrist in your hand. JJ refused to look at you at that moment. You took in a shaky breath. “Please,” you begged. JJ sighed and threw his head back. He slowly turned around, and you let go of his wrist. He kept his gaze lowered to the ground, leaning against one of the wooden beams, studying a knot in the floorboard. When you examined his face, you could see the fallen tear trails. Your heart broke in half. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you started. He still didn’t look up. You could see his nose twitch as he sniffled. You continued anyway. “I should have said something months ago. Hell, I should have said something the first time we went out to surf the surge. But I was scared you guys would judge me.” You paused, still trying to look him in the eye. You moved closer to him, your face inches away from his. You gently lifted his chin with your hand, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were red, and his jaw was tight. You moved your hand to cup his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch slightly. “But…I know how to swim, J,” you said slowly. JJ’s eyes went wide, a multitude of emotions wracking through his brain. He started to pull away from your hand unknowingly. You quickly dropped your hand from his cheek and turned your back to him. You thought he was rejecting your touch, his anger unforgiving. The guilt was engulfing you, swallowing you whole. You felt terrible. 

There was an uncomfortable pause, the silence deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat threatening to beat out of your chest.

“What happened then? Why didn’t you swim?” He asked you. JJ followed you to the edge of the shop where he stood earlier, staring out into the horizon. You just shook your head. Now, it was your turn to avoid eye contact. JJ was leaning on the railing to your left, and you focused on everything and anything to your right. 

“When I was seven, my dad took me out in the marsh. A quick fishing trip, nothing fancy. Some daddy-daughter time. But it all went so wrong. My dad, he…” you stopped, choking on your words. You swallowed harshly. JJ stared at you intently, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. “I was stuck out there for three days by myself,” you whispered. Realization dawned on him.

You were the Marsh Girl. 

Rumors still went around about the Marsh Girl. People said that her dad went out there and killed both of them, leaving the boat behind as the only evidence. Or that the girl pushed him off the boat and claimed that it was an accident.

The news said a girl was found after three days of being out there, but the name was never released, so of course, kids made up stories. JJ’s worry and anger melted away. He didn’t dare move closer to you, afraid that the slightest movement might shatter you into dust, letting you fall between the gaps of the dock and taken away by the murky water below. Instead, you turn to face him, building up the courage to look at him when you say this. 

“My dad...he must have had a heart attack or something and lost his balance. I was too young to remember all of the details. But when he went over the side of the boat, he took me into the water with him. He almost drowned me," you took in a shaky breath, reliving the memories in a flash second. "When we jumped into the water today…I don’t know what happened to me. I saw you going back up to the water's surface, and I was just…stuck. I wondered if it was how my dad felt when he went into the water. He could see me getting to the surface but couldn’t make it back up himself,” you stated calmly. You close your eyes, unable to look at JJ. Another second, looking at his shattered face, and you would break yourself. “J, I know how to swim.”

“What?” he didn’t mean to say it; it slipped out before he could stop it. JJ mentally smacked a hand over his mouth. He studied your face to see if you were messing with him. 

“I can swim,” you repeated. 

This whole time, JJ thought that he almost drowned you. He had always wondered why you never went into the water with everyone else. He figured it was so that you could keep up on your amazing sunkissed skin or because you didn’t want to get your hair wet. He knew you weren’t that superficial, but it still had crossed his mind. He never in a thousand years would have guessed that this was why you didn’t touch the water. 

“y/n, I almost killed you,” JJ said, fear seeping back into his every pore. The thought of losing you, especially at his own hands, was suffocating. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, unable to control his now erratic breathing. Noticing his panic, you closed the distance between the two of you and placed your hands on either side of his face. You used your thumbs to gently wipe away the stray tears that fell from his eyes. 

“No, no, J, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“I should have known. I should have just asked you why you didn’t ever swim with us. Lord knows I’ve bothered you enough times about going with me,” he dropped his head again, feeling defeated. You gently pushed his face back up, forcing him to meet your eyeline. 

“You had no way of knowing,” you reassured him, smiling a little. You stroked your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch. He closed his eyes tightly. 

“The thought of losing you…” he sucks in a jagged breath. He won’t let the thought go. He can’t. The images of your lifeless body floating in the water, replaying over and over again like a bad movie montage. “I was the one who pulled you out of the water. You weren’t breathing, and I-” 

You quickly pulled JJ’s face down to yours, connecting your lips gently. You couldn’t think of a better way to ground him. To keep him from spiraling again. He was stiff for only a second, his brain not catching up to what you were doing. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. 

Then his face pressed closer to yours, his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You smiled into him. JJ’s hand moved to your hips, and he squeezed gently. Your hands slid down to his neck, and you pulled back, seeing JJ's toothy grin. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he was smiling. He was downright giddy, swimming in a wide range of emotions he didn’t understand. But you grounded him.

You were his anchor. 

“Would now be a bad time to ask if you wanted to go surfing with me tomorrow?” He asked, teasing. You smacked him on the chest and let out a genuine laugh. JJ pulled you into a tight hug. One that told you he was never letting you go. 

From the shore, you could hear the Pogues hooting and hollering, witnessing your very public display of affection. But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered now except the sweet, broken boy before you. Your entire world.

Your anchor. 

“Why don’t we go ahead and give them a real show,” JJ whispered in your ear. You squealed as he started to pepper your face with kisses.

Taglist: @pogueslandia @milkiane @bjrmaybank @strnqer

Masterlist

A/N: I desperately needed to write something happy after watching season 4 <3 This is unedited, so please ignore any typos or stupid grammatical errors.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected, but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

Please check out this post for useful mental health resources.

[baocean]

flirt - rafe cameron

nice!rafe x reader college au warnings - smut, swearing, drinking summary - when rafe cameron finally takes an interest in you, you think its just another one of his one night stands

get comfy, grab a snack, because baby its longgger. i spent all day on this :) (hahaha ha ha h a) anyways, i wanted a nice, possibly even goofy rafe instead of him being batshit crazy all the time. so please forgive the personality change, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programs soon.

━

when rafe cameron entered the room, everyone swooned. the football star of unc chapel hill, the hottest guy on campus, the flirt. everyone would gladly drop to their knees for him, except you.

it was like something was wrong with you. because you absolutely did not understand what everyone was always going on about over him.

sure, he was tall and handsome. he was good at football. but he seemed like a complete jerk.

you were a sophomore at unc, rafe was a junior. you’d become very familiar with the horror stories of being around and getting with rafe cameron.

he fucks girls then leaves them on read, picks fights for no reason, drinks way too much, and has a god awful ego.

you just did not get it.

at the party, in some worn out, dirty frat, you stood with your friends in a corner, people watching and giggling.

it had been a fun night so far, meeting new people and having a few too many shots.

but when rafe cameron and his friends walked into the room, everyone’s attention was on him.

you saw him, and wanted to scream ‘boooo’. rolling your eyes, you walked away from your enchanted friends towards the makeshift bar.

a drunk frat brother poured you another drink as your phone dinged. you went to check it, and when you looked back up, there he was, in all his materialistic glory.

“hey angel.” rafe lifted the corner of his lip, handing you the cup the brother just filled.

“thank you.” you smiled for only a second, hopefully fast enough he didn’t even see it, then started to walk away.

“hey, wait!” rafe called behind you, useless. you took a guess that tonight, it was your turn to be the special girl in rafe cameron’s life. you didn’t want that title.

your friends stared in bewilderment as rafe cameron stalks behind you, and pulls on your arm ever so gently to get you to turn around.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his face blank of any little smirk he had before.

“depends on who’s asking.” you shrug, taking a small sip of the juice from your cup. it was strong.

“me.” he clarified, a look on his face telling you should have already known that.

“oh. then, no.” you give him a sweet smile. he scoffs, shaking his head.

“and if it’s for my homeboy over there?” his long finger sticks out and points towards one of his friends, one you’d seen on campus before, but couldn’t put a name to his face.

“oh, if it’s for him, get him to come over here and i’ll tell him myself.”

“what’s your problem with me?” rafe’s face scrunched up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“i don’t have a problem, im just not interested.” you give him one last sickly sweet smile, before returning to the group of friends, patiently waiting to interrogate you.

it had only been a few days since your’s and rafe’s interaction. you hadn’t thought about it much, after getting home to your apartment and debriefing your friends, it had slipped out of your mind completely.

that was, until, you saw him walk into the coffee shop you were studying at.

immediately, you ducked your head, hoping not to get spotted.

he went up to the counter and ordered, fiddling with a straw in his hands, back turned to you.

you thought maybe he had missed you, so with a sigh of relief, you went back to your schoolwork.

“hi, angel.” you cringed at the voice. looking up, there he was.

he was wearing a bandana, tied around his head, some old carhart jacket. he had good style, you’ll give him that.

“oh, hey.” you tried your best to not sound so sincere.

“how’ve you been?” he asked, inviting himself to take a seat across from you.

“great. how about you?” his smile lit up his face, thinking he was finally getting somewhere with you.

he went to answer, when you cut him off, “i’m so sorry, i don’t know your name?” it came out more of a question, a dare.

his smile faltered for a second, and you took that as a win, before he stuck his hand out in between you two.

“i’m rafe cameron.” despite protests, you took his hand in yours to shake it, ignoring how much of a difference in size there was.

he raised his eyebrows, “your turn.”

“still not interested. lovely to see you, though.” you let go of his hand, putting your focus back into your schoolwork.

he scoffed, stood over you for a second, appearing to be looking at something on the table in front of you.

he chuckled, low, then bent down a bit. “i’ll see you later, yn.”

he picked up his coffee and walked out the door without a second glance. alarm bells were going off in your head. how could he possibly know your name?

you grabbed your cup to take a sip, and realization hit you like a brick. on the side of the plastic, your name was written in simple black sharpie.

recently, practice hadn’t been fun. especially since rafe realized the football team practices right next to the women’s soccer team. and also, since rafe found out you were on the women’s soccer team.

he’d made every effort to get your attention, calling your name and throwing footballs towards the soccer pitch, more or less annoying you. your teammates would squeal and giggle, and you groaned.

coach called practice, and as you were packing up your gear and getting ready to make the trek back to your locker rooms, you heard the distinctive voice from behind you.

“angel, how was practice?” you turned, seeing rafe, sweaty and red.

you probably looked the same at him. you’d been running on and off for two and a half hours today, you probably did not look your best. rafe would have disagreed.

“fine, thanks.” you wiped your face with a towel, taking your cleats off and finding your shoes.

“you know, when your face is all red like that, it makes me wonder what you look like when you’re getting f-” you hit rafe on the chest with the back of your hand.

“you’re appalling. does that line ever work on anyone?” you were completely disgusted by him right now, even if the thought did draw a little curiosity from you.

“sometimes. let me take you out on a date.” un phased, rafe cameron persists.

“why would i ever say yes after the comment you just made?” you laugh in his face, earning a shit eating grin from him.

“give me one chance. i don’t know what you think about me, but give me a chance to prove im not whatever it is.”

“no.”

“please, angel.” the way his voice upped an octave erupted thoughts, lot and lots of thoughts.

so, you’d finally give him a little bait to chew on for a while. “i'll think about it.”

with that, you left him standing by the benches. you rolled your eyes at the boy, but couldn’t help but smile.

three hours later you had a follow and dm from rafe cameron.

rafecam: have you thought about our date yet?

yourusername: no, not really

rafecam: come on angel

rafecam: one date is all i’m asking

yourusername: that’s all it’ll be since you’ll ghost me afterwards! it’s perfect!

rafecam: ohhh so that’s what you think

yourusername: the answer is no

rafecam: i’m not taking that for an answer

rafecam: it’s yes or yes

rafecam: i’ll be the perfect gentleman

rafecam: im the man of your dreams come onnnn

yourusername: you’re funny

rafecam: so does tuesday night sound good?

read

yourusername started following you!

deciding on something nice, but not too nice, you took your hair out of the rollers and sighed.

it’s your date with rafe tonight. you were feeling a lot of emotions.

you’d gone through rafe’s instagram the night he dmed you, had followed him back. there was even some 'get to know you' conversations somewhere in between.

pictures of his parents and sisters, his friends, pictures of them on a beach, all smiling. no pictures of him out at a party, or arms slung around girls. there was an image to maintain, though. the quarterback at unc, with forty thousand followers, of course he wasn’t going to post that.

you rolled your eyes and jumped up to show your roommate the black silk dress you were wearing for the dinner date at the fancy restaurant in town. anna was funny, bowing down in front of you like you were some god.

the doorbell to the apartment rang and your eyebrows furrowed. you thought, ‘no way he’d find a way to get up here, no way he’d find your apartment, no way he’d willingly come up here and ring my doorbell’.

but there he was, on the other side of the door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. your jaw almost dropped.

he was dressed nicely, a smile painted on his tanned features.

“how did you know where i live. and how do you know about the flowers?” you invited him in, giving him a undoubtedly suspicious look.

“don’t worry, angel. i have my ways,” he smirked, looking at your roommate. “hey anna.”

“oh, okay. got it. got it, thanks anna.” you shake your head, grinning as you put your head in your hands.

“we’ll put these in water then head out, yea?” rafe grabbed the scissors while you grabbed a vase to fill up with water, moving in perfect harmony.

the dinner went well, surprising you. he was a gentleman, like he had promised.

and as much as you hated yourself for it, you swooned, just like that.

his smile, and his jokes, and the lack of inappropriate ones. you thought maybe the bar was on the floor, right now you didn’t care. you could only thing about maybe, you could have been wrong about him.

he’d walked you back up to your apartment on the second floor, carrying his jacket and your heels over his shoulder as you walked together.

when you got to your door, it was unlocked, thank goodness, because you forgot your keys.

“these are yours. angel, i had a really good time. promise you’ll text me in the morning?” rafe asked as he held out your heels, a true, genuine look in his eye signaling he meant it.

you shrugged, love drunk, and pulled his arm so he fell inside with you. “we’ll see.”

he dropped the jacket and heels on one hump on the floor, grabbing around your waist and pulling you in.

the kiss was so desperate and rushed, but still gentle. one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you clung to his neck.

pulling apart, you grabbed his chin and lifted it upwards, placing light kisses on his neck, then sucking. his hands grabbed at your hips.

“you look so good. holy fuck, angel.” he returned the favor, kissing down your neck and shoulder, playing with the strap of your dress with his teeth.

you pulled him towards your room, and at first, he didn’t hesitate.

he faltered once you got to your door, pulling back from you.

“angel, i’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment i saw you, but i want to do this right.”

you were taken aback, not believing the words that were coming out of rafe cameron's mouth. you almost thought he was kidding, letting out a anxious chuckle, met with a confused stare.

"did you just say no to sex?" you questioned. he nodded, looking just as surprised by himself as you were.

he doesn't fucking like me, you thought. how could you be so stupid? of course, of course rafe cameron doesn't want you the same way you want him. do it right? what does that even mean?

and there it was, surprising you again, because since when did you want rafe? have feelings for rafe?

"okay, um well, goodnight, then." you tried, tucking your hair behind your ears and grabbing your heels from the ground.

"okay. goodnight, angel." he took a step forward to try and kiss you, but you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head.

he faltered, heart shooting out of his chest. the one time he tries to treat a girl right, and he's fucked that up, too. he grabbed his jacket, stood up straight, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

rafe: good morning

rafe: do u maybe want to get coffee with me

rafe: or i could get it and bring it to u

read

rafe: helllllloooooo

read

rafe: angel what's goin on

rafe: text me back yn

read

it had been three days since you spoke to rafe. it'd been three weeks since you met him, officially. your emotions had been twisted, confusing. he’d been gone for an away football game. he stopped texting you after that.

you watched the game with your roommate anna, rafe throwing pick after pick, completely off his game. you sighed, hoping that the small flame inside trying to convince you you're the reason he keeps messing up is wrong.

the game ended, they won by one point. the team cheered on the field as number forty six walked off the field, helmet in hand and head hung low.

rafe: can you please talk to me

rafe: i would take you telling me you hate me over this

you: can you come over?

rafe: be there in ten

he was there in seven minutes, actually. looks of hesitation painting his features when you opened the door for him.

"you've been okay? you didn't text me back on wednesday."

"yea, we should talk about that." you nodded. his face slumped, he looked defeated.

"what? what is it, angel?" he took a step towards you.

"listen, i really only said yes to that date so you'd leave me alone," rafe felt a little bit liked he'd been punched. "but that entire date i felt so good, and i was honestly just fine with having one night with you and never speaking to you again. but then you said you didn't want to and whatever you meant by that, i'm not sure, but it, like, threw me off." you rambled, arms crossed over your chest in defense.

"i wasn't gonna have sex with you if it meant i never talked to you again." his blue eyes hidden under thick lashes, unable for you to get a good read on them.

"but rafe, thats like all you're known f-" your hands went up in defeat as you tried to finish your statement.

"was, it was. i wish you'd just talk to me instead, angel. but this-" he waves a finger between you two- "is different. i don't know if its because you give me shit every time i try to flirt with you or that you're just unlike anyone i've ever met, i don't fucking know. but id rather give this an actual try than pretend i could treat you like you didn't mean something more."

speechless, thats what you were. taking two steps forward and pulling him in. he tasted like mint gum, smelled like wood and vanilla. his lips parted, letting you familiarize yourself with his mouth.

he pulled back, "go on another date with me?" you laughed, then nodded, then pulled him back into you.

he pulled back again, "be my girlfriend?"

"you're pushing it, rafe." giving him a peck on the lips.

"well, just using my logic, here. if you're my girlfriend, then that means were giving it a try and we can fuck all we want." he shrugged, a hand finding its way under your t-shirt and onto your hip.

"you sound insane. ask me again later." you whispered into him, pulling him into your room, this time he didn't budge. rafe cameron, in your small, student housing bedroom, pulling your shirt off.

he kissed your neck, bit at the spots he'd sucked, picking you up and rolling onto the bed with you, earning a laugh from you.

you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, rafe helping you out. your hands found their way to his upper arms, he closed his eyes and flexed under your touch, almost unconsciously.

"you look so pretty, angel. always do." he whispered, leaned down to kiss you again. he pulled your thin, loungewear bra to the side, let out a quiet groan, and kissed.

and he would have done anything to hear that small moan from you for the first time again. your hand reaches up to grab his hair as one nipple is in his mouth, the other being rubbed between his fingertips.

"angel, you want this as bad as i do?" he looked up at you, watched you nod, and smiled, kissing down to your naval.

lifting your lips, he slid the shorts off you, then his sweatpants next.

he lined himself up, pushing into you slowly, memorizing the sound of your gasps and moans. surely, this is what heaven felt like. sounded like. "holy fuck."

two strong arms landed on each side of your head as he slid in and out of you.

his words came out all incoherent, with a lot of 'please', 'angel', and 'pretty''s thrown in there.

this wasn't the kind of sex you'd have with rafe, you thought it would be more rough, not sweet and caring.

your eyes closed, his hand flying to your face, gripping your chin. "open your eyes, pretty girl. i wanna see you. wanna see whats mine." you let out a moan, clenching around him, too deep in pleasure to care that rafe knew you liked that.

"say it." rafe moaned, his pace fastening, a steady hand still on your face.

"im yours, rafe." he pulled you up as you gasped for the millionth time. now, riding him, your face was an inch above his, his features looked perfect under the sunlight.

"are you mine?" you got out, in between moans.

"since the first time i ever laid eyes on you. all yours, angel."

[greengoblinswifey]

Dark Paradise—JJ Maybank x Pogue!Reader

summary— in a foreign land far from home, you’re forced to say goodbye to your love. as grief consumes you, you cling to the hope that your souls will find each other again, no matter the distance, no matter the life.

warnings— season 4 part 2 spoilers, death, angst.

a/n— still not over JJ’s death, won’t ever be.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The world around you felt suffocating. The distant sound of the strange land and faint sobs from the others faded into nothingness. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing, choked sobs breaking through as you cradled JJ's lifeless body in your arms.

“JJ, no,” you whispered, voice trembling as your fingers brushed against his face. His skin, once warm and full of life, was cold under your touch. His golden hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead in messy strands that you once loved to push back with teasing affection. “Please, wake up. You always wake up.”

But he didn’t.

You leaned over him, your tears falling onto his face like raindrops. His chest, which had always risen and fallen so rhythmically, stayed still. You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you pressed them to his heart. Nothing.

“No, no, no. JJ, you don’t get to do this,” you said, voice cracking, desperation clawing at your throat. You shook him lightly, as though you could jolt him back to life. “You don’t get to leave me. You promised me, JJ. You promised we'd always make it back home.”

But there was no home without him.

The memories came flooding back, crashing into you with the force of a tidal wave. His wild laughter as he leaned against his bike, the wind whipping through his hair as he drove you both down the Cut. The way his lips would curl into a cocky grin whenever he caught you staring at him for too long. The way he always had your back, no matter what chaos surrounded you.

And his hands — oh, God, his hands. They had always been there to catch you, to hold you steady when the world felt too heavy. Now, those same hands lay limp and lifeless.

You curled into him, your forehead pressing against his. “You always said you’d wipe my tears, JJ,”’you whispered. “So why aren’t you here now? Why aren’t you wiping them away?”

Your mind played cruel tricks, replaying all the times you’d fought together, laughed together, survived together. All the times you made it back safely to the Cut, bruised and battered but alive. This time was different. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. He wasn’t coming back.

Sarah’s muffled sobs reached your ears, and you vaguely felt John B’s hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away. “We have to go,” he said softly, his voice thick with grief.

"I’m not leaving him!" you screamed, your voice echoing into the endless dark of the night.

“You’re going to have to,” John B said, tears streaming down his face as he pulled harder. “He’s gone.” His own voice was laced with disbelief.

The words cut through you like a knife. He’s gone.

“No!” you screamed, your voice raw. “He’s not gone! He’s just—just hurt. He’ll be okay. He always is!”

But even as you said the words, you knew they weren’t true. He wasn’t coming back. You pressed your forehead against his one last time, your tears soaking his hair.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I love you, JJ. And I don’t know how to do this without you.”

You sobbed harder, clutching onto JJ as though holding him tighter could somehow pull him back to you. But deep down, you knew. No amount of crying, no amount of screaming, would bring him back. He wasn’t going to open those bright blue eyes and crack some stupid joke to lighten the mood. He wasn’t going to smirk and tell you to stop crying because, “Tears don’t look good on you, baby.”

It was over.

JJ had been your paradise, your home, your light in the dark. And now, he was gone.

Forever.

You wanted to believe you’d see him again, that somehow, somewhere, he’d still be waiting for you with that crooked smile and those bright blue eyes. But for now, all you had was the ache in your chest and the memories that refused to fade.

JJ Maybank was gone.

And so was a piece of you.

The grave was small, shallow, hastily dug in the foreign soil. A makeshift wooden cross stood at the head of it, his name carved into the wood by John B’s trembling hands. The cross looked crude, unfinished, like it didn’t belong to someone as full of life as JJ.

You stood frozen, your feet anchored in the sand as if any step closer would make this all too real. The wind kicked up grains of sand around you, stinging your cheeks, but you didn’t care. Your gaze was fixed on the dirt they were about to pile over his body, the final separation between you and him.

The others stood nearby, their faces tear-streaked and hollow. John B was clinging to Sarah, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Pope had his arm around Cleo and Kiara had tears streaming down her face, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the sobs.

“JJ always said he wasn’t afraid of anything,” Pope said, his voice hoarse and cracking as he tried to find the words. “He was fearless. And I guess, in a way, he still is. Wherever he is now, I know he’s—I know he’s free.”

Kie stepped forward, her voice trembling as she said, “You were our brother, JJ. Our family. And I promise we’ll keep fighting for you, no matter what. You’d hate it if we gave up now.”

You couldn’t move. The lump in your throat was too big, the weight in your chest unbearable. How could they talk about him in past tense like this? How could they just accept it?

Your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground in front of his grave, your fingers digging into the dirt as if you could pull him back up, as if he were just a little too far beneath the surface.

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “This can’t be real. JJ, you, you’re supposed to be here. With me. With us.”

Your hands trembled as you pressed your palms to the ground, trying to feel something, anything. “You said we’d always make it back, remember? You promised!”

But the sand beneath your hands was silent.

John B knelt beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We have to let him go,” he said softly, his own voice raw with grief.

You shook your head violently, tears streaming down your face. “No! I’m not letting him go. I can’t.”

The others watched as your sobs filled the air, a sound so broken it made Cleo turn away, unable to bear it.

As the first handful of dirt hit the grave, something inside you shattered. You collapsed to the ground, your cheek pressing against the warm sand as you screamed his name, screamed until your voice gave out.

“Every time I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise.” The song’s lyrics echoed in your head, mocking you with their cruel truth. JJ was your paradise, your light in all the chaos, and now, without him, everything was dark.

The desert wind carried your cries, blending them with the grief of your friends as they said goodbye to the boy who had kept them laughing, kept them fighting, kept them alive.

The grave stood lonely and out of place in the arid Moroccan desert, so far from the marshy shores of the Cut that had shaped him, nurtured him, and kept him tethered to his home. This wasn’t Poguelandia. This wasn’t the dock where he used to sit for hours, feet dangling off the edge, or the familiar roads he sped down with reckless abandon on that beat-up bike. It wasn’t even near his house, if you could call it that, where the broken windows and peeling paint still held memories of the boy who made the most of nothing.

He didn’t belong here, buried in foreign soil so far away.

“How will your soul find me, J?” you whispered, voice trembling as your knees sank into the sand beside his grave. “How am I supposed to leave you here?”

The wind carried your words into the vast expanse, your grief disappearing into the endless sky. The thought crushed you, his body trapped in this foreign land, while you would have to carry his memory back without him. You hated it. Hated that you couldn’t take him home.

Tears blurred your vision as you traced his name on the makeshift wooden cross. It didn’t seem fair, not for JJ. Not for someone who burned so brightly, who carried you all through your darkest moments. The boy who swore he’d never leave.

“I’ll find you, you know,” you said, your voice cracking. “Even if it’s not in this life, I’ll find you. You and me, we’re tethered. We always will be. No matter how far you are, I’ll wait for you.”

But the thought of waiting, of the long journey his soul would have to take to find yours again, made you sob even harder. The journey would be so long, so cruel. He deserved to rest somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. Somewhere he could always find his way home.

You pressed your hands into the warm sand, the heat burning into your skin. “I’m sorry I have to leave you here,” you choked out. “I hate it. I hate that you’re not buried on Poguelandia, where you belong. I hate that you’re not near the water, near your house, near us.”

The others stood quietly behind you, their grief palpable but unable to match the hollow ache inside your chest. No one knew JJ like you did. No one had seen him in those quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when he wiped your tears away and whispered that you’d always have him.

Now, your tears fell freely, soaking into the sand, and there was no one to wipe them away.

Your fingers dug into the dirt, desperate for something to hold onto. You didn’t want to leave him behind, but you had no choice. Morocco would keep him now, this strange and foreign land that didn’t know the sound of his laugh or the way his smile lit up a room.

“Promise me,” you whispered to the grave, the words catching in your throat. “Promise me you’ll find me J, even if it takes forever.”

The makeshift cross stood still in the desert wind, offering no answer.

You stayed on the ground for what felt like hours, forehead pressed against the sand, as if you could anchor yourself to him one last time. Somewhere in your heart, you knew you’d see him again. Whether it was in this life or the next, you and JJ were bound together, tethered by something even death couldn’t sever.

But as the others gently pulled you away, their hands guiding you back, you realized the weight of leaving him here would stay with you forever. JJ wasn’t just gone. He was gone from you.

And as you walked away from his grave, the distant hum of the wind in your ears, you whispered one last time:

“I’ll find you. No matter what.”

[phantompoguefangirl]

NOW WHY WOULD YOU-

realizing jj saved sarah from drowning the same way he initially thought his mother died drowning with her baby

[d1strict12-peacek33per]

I hate how the Pouges just didn’t notice JJ wasn’t okay. Like that boy was downing bottle after bottle and no one—NOT EVEN HIS GF said anything to him. They were just mad at him, like that kid did not wanna be here anymore.

But I mean, if I found out my apparent step-dad that abused me my entire life wasn’t my real dad, my bio dad killed my mother, my grandfather, and was a bad person, my step-dad screwed me over and made me lose the house I paid so much for, and the court is doing nothing about it AND I got falsely accused for a murder my bio dad committed, on top of being homeless, I’D WANNA FUCKING DIE TOO.

[drewstarkeyupd]

Drew Starkey behind the scenes of OBX4 in Morocco.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

snooze - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 4.1k words)

summary Your man works harder than anyone you know, and you couldn’t love him more for it, but some mornings you just want to hold on to him a little longer…

content fluff/smut, mutual mast., p in v, 18+ minors do not interact

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe’s alarm rings through the large bedroom like a blaring siren, jerking you violently from the sweet sleep you were just wrapped in. He doesn’t hear it at first, still sound asleep next to you, snores rumbling through his bare chest.

You blink your eyes open, the room is still dark, though the first golden rays of the sunrise creep in through the small crack in the curtains. You twist your body towards Rafe, snuggling your head into his neck, an attempt to both shield your eyes from the sunlight and get his attention, desperate for him to silence the loud alarm.

After a few seconds, he still hasn’t heard it, so you reach up and gently tap his cheek.

“Baby,” you groan, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too loud.” 

Rafe takes a deep breath in, eyes still closed as he reaches his bedside table, tapping his phone screen clumsily until the sound subsides.

He settles back in, placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head as he pulls you into his side. You sigh happily, running your nails softly up and down his chest and stomach, drawing little hearts and stars on his skin. He shivers when you graze over the soft skin of his lower stomach, following his happy trail down to his waistband. You fully plan on dipping your hand below it, where he’s already twitching and firming up for you under his sweatpants, but you get distracted by the delicious deep V lines on either side of his waist. You dip your pointer finger into the valley of muscle and trace the shape down, switching to the other side and drawing back up.

He stirs when you angle your finger to scratch lightly with your manicured nail, lingering just above the band of his Calvins that peeks out from his sweats.

“That’s so nice, baby,” he mumbles in his deep, crackling morning voice, “I love these hands.”

Rafe laces his fingers in yours with one hand, his other arm sliding under your neck and wrapping around your shoulders. He pulls you close so he can drop a sloppy kiss on your temple.

You sigh and lift your intertwined hands to place a kiss on each of his knuckles.

“Maybe you should stay home,” you suggest between kisses. “Then you can enjoy these hands all day long.”

He smiles knowingly, still not opening his eyes. You play this game every morning, trying to find ways to convince him to play hooky from work, though they never succeed. He’s always showered and out the door by sunrise, leaving you with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a quick kiss as you drift back to sleep.

“Sounds perfect, but I have an 8 a.m. with a potential investor,” he explains.

In the quiet, Rafe starts to drift off again. You continue to stroke his chest and think of all the many enticing reasons for him to stay, but before you can list them for him, his alarm blares from his phone again. 

You lean over him, reaching to the phone on his nightstand. He takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your waist and slide it under his big t-shirt you're wearing. His hands feel so nice on your lower back, you pause, almost forgetting what you were reaching for in the first place, until the alarm rings out again, making you both wince with its volume. You tap the screen desperately until it’s silenced.

“Just hitting snooze so we can have five more minutes,” you say, settling down over him and resting your cheek on his chest.

“Liar,” he says with a sleepy smirk. “You turned it off.”

You fake an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of such deception, Rafe Cameron.”

“So when five minutes go by and the alarm doesn’t go off again, what are you gonna say then?”

“I was hoping you’d fall back to sleep by then,” you confess with a giggle, laying a soft kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

“I knew it.”

He sits up in bed, causing you to fall back onto the pillows, immediately missing his warmth. You paw at his arm as he reaches over to check the time on his phone.

“Nooo,” you whine. “Don’t go yet.”

He smiles down at you, leaning over to place loving kisses on the edge of your jaw and up your face, touching his lips to your temple one final time before standing from the bed.

Your vision is still fuzzy from sleep and the darkness of the room, but you follow the general shape of him as he walks to the wall of windows on the other side of the room. He’s shirtless, the lower half of his body covered in soft gray sweats. You squirm a little under the comforter as you take him in. You didn’t know it was possible to be this attracted to someone, but it’s like every day you’re with him, your body craves him more, and it makes it that much more painful when he leaves.

Rafe interrupts your reverie by lifting his arms and throwing the curtains wide open. You flinch at the bright sunlight that pours through the windows like it’s burning you.

“Too bright, Rafe!” You protest. 

He just turns with a smug smile, his tall silhouette casting a shadow over the bed, blocking you from the blinding sun.

“I’ll make you some coffee before I go,” he promises as he leaves you alone in the bedroom, pulling a pillow over your face to shield yourself from the daylight.

It’s silly to complain when his hard work is the whole reason you can lay in this comfortable bed so late into the morning. When he’s not with you, he’s at the office, earning you all this comfort, but it still seems unfair when you want him this badly.

You used to be an early riser, but the way he lays you down every night when he gets home, fucking you hard and slow until you fall asleep clinging to him, it’s made you a whole new person. You’d pay him twice his salary if you had it just to get him to stick around a little longer, make you feel that good again.

A devious idea comes to your brain, and you pull the covers from yourself quickly, making fast moves before he gets back.

When Rafe comes back into the room a few minutes later, he nearly spills your hot coffee all over himself at the sight that greets him.

The comforter is bundled at the end of the bed, nothing covering your body as you stretch out on the mattress. You’ve switched out his t-shirt and your baggy sweats for a silky pair of boy-short panties and a lacy bra. You're facing away from him, laying on your side, the curve of your hips and peekaboo view of your ass casting a scandalous shadow on the wall. The fabric of your panties is so flimsy, it climbs up the curve of your ass, revealing you to him as if they’re barely there at all.

“Nice try,” he shakes his head, though the small crack in his voice betrays his defiance. You know you’ve got him hard and frazzled.

“Hmmm?” You don’t turn to look at him, instead bending your knee and sliding one leg up higher to give him an even better angle of your ass. 

“It’s not gonna work…” he insists, setting your coffee down, fully intending to turn and make his way to the walk-in closet to get dressed, yet somehow finding himself completely immobile.

“What’s not going to work?” You echo, feigning cluelessness in a way you know is gonna drive him mad.

“I really do have a meeting,” he continues his one-sided argument, trying desperately to convince himself. “I can’t be late, it’s important.”

“Okay! Have a good day, baby,” you yawn, shifting on the sheets as if you’re just getting comfortable, hoping he doesn’t see the smile you’re hiding in your pillow, obsessed with the strain in his voice that reveals his resolve is cracking.

The mattress sinks slowly under his weight, and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches your skin. His hand slides up your leg, from your ankle all the way up to your thigh, where he pauses to squeeze your flesh. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you let your mouth twist into a cheeky smile. 

He huffs a defeated laugh, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder in frustration, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You giggle, arching your back and giving him a better glimpse at the other side of you, your nipples already pebbling in anticipation, clearly visible through your see through bra.

Rafe responds by saying your name, so low and needy it’s almost inaudible. You twist your torso just enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t respond with words, just a piercing gaze. His blue eyes are blown wide with lust as he takes you in, dragging over your body helplessly, fighting an internal battle as he plots his next move. Filthy thoughts are etched on his face, you know him well enough by now to see the gears turn behind his eyes, imagining all the things he could do to you if he stayed.

“Can I at least have a kiss before you go?” You ask, hoping the taste of your lips will tip the scales in your favor.

He can’t deny you a kiss, he never does, so he leans in and meets your lips with a nod, his hand rising to softly cradle your jaw. You run your tongue so gently across his lower lip that he wonders if he imagined it. When you part your lips for him and release a small sigh, the game is over.

With another squeeze of your thigh, he pulls back from you just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand. You watch with a victorious grin as he types out a quick message, surely to his secretary, and tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. 

“Bought us an hour,” he tells you.

“Only an hour?” You pout.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teases you, shuffling behind you so he can spoon you, placing a dozen quick kisses up your arm, making you giggle in delight.

Rafe’s hand slides from your thigh to your waist, dipping to splay over your stomach so he can pull you flush against him. You sigh dreamily as he begins to suckle on your neck, leaving little pink marks everywhere his lips touch.

“Wasn’t that kind of an important meeting?” You ask, feeling a little guilty for potentially making him miss out on a good opportunity.

“Nothing’s more important than this,” he assures you.

You let out a little whimper at his sweet words, igniting a fire in him. His hand drifts up your stomach until his palm is settled over your breast, kneading gently. 

“Oh,” you gasp. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” He drawls with a crooked grin, pausing to drag the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Just needed a little attention today?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Needed you.”

His hand leaves you for a minute to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You lift your arms up so he can slide it off and toss it somewhere on the floor of the massive master suite.

The rough skin of his palm comes back to rest over your hard nipple, the sensation is so sweet that your whole body hums with pleasure. 

“God you’re so soft,” he breathes over the wet spot he’s just left on your skin, “love these tits so much.”

With that confession, he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, the pain lasting only a second before he smoothes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“Rafe!” You squeak out at the sting.

He shushes you gently, lowering his mouth to pull your earlobe between his teeth, the pressure strong, but not strong enough to pull your mind from the way his hand is dropping lower on your torso towards your panties. A pool of silky arousal gathered between your legs, you rub your thighs together in search of friction as his hand continues to move maddeningly slow.

“Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “gonna take good care of you like I always do.”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets in preparation when he finally reaches the band of your panties, lifting them to slide his hand in.

“You always take such good care of me, Rafe,” you agree.

He places his other arm under your head for support, allowing you to look down at the outline of his big hand wriggling under the damp cloth of your panties. His fingers find your entrance easily, pausing outside to swirl in your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he praises. “Always so ready for me.”

After a few more swirls, he’s satisfied with the coating, dragging his fingers back up to your clit. He hits it right away, he could find it in a hurricane. He runs his fingers over you at the perfect angle, starting with delicate figure eights.

Your head falls forward in ecstasy, unable to form words. Rafe bends his arm at the elbow, laying his hand flat against your forehead to pull your head back into his chest, your neck arching with the stretch. The pink spots he’s left on your exposed throat have darkened nicely, giving him a chance to appreciate his handiwork. He reattaches his lips, desperate to claim you as many times as he can, hungry for you.

The sweetest, breathiest moans fall from your puffy lips, and he basks in them like the sunlight that’s bleeding through the curtains. He’s nibbling on your shoulder like it’s his breakfast as his fingers pick up speed on your clit. 

Between circles and flicks, he stops to tap quickly with the tip of his middle finger, the rhythmic pressure and release has the sensitive bud pulsing. You chase his fingers pathetically with the roll of your hips, needing more.  

As you writhe, his cloth covered cock slots between the valley of your ass, each wave of your hips grinding perfectly against his shaft. You shut your eyes tight, picturing his perfect length and the gorgeous noises he makes when he comes. You need to hear those sounds like you need air.

Your hand releases from the sheets, reaching behind you to rub the hard ridge of his dick over his sweatpants. Rafe clenches his jaw, a throaty groan vibrating through his chest and straight into your body. 

“This what you wanted, angel?” He asks, his tone dominant and desperate all at the same time. The perfect balance of ownership and a genuine urgency to please you.

“Just wanted you,” you confirm through labored pants, grinding yourself into his hand, “all I ever want is you.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

No further instruction needed, your hand finally dips below his waistband, immediately finding his pulsing cock. 

“Shi-ii-t,” he shudders as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly and reveling in how hard you’ve made him.

You notice goosebumps rush up the arm that’s disappearing into your panties, you realize your hands must be cold. You know he’d never complain, but you don’t just want him to feel good, you want him to feel as amazing as he makes you feel.

You draw your hand back from his boxers, and he groans at your absence, nearly protesting until he sees what you’re doing. You dip your hand into your underwear, gently nudging his out of the way, and collect some of your wetness onto your own fingers. Your hand glistens in the morning sunlight when you pull it out, displaying it for him before returning your grip to his cock.

He’s speechless. Eyes rolling back at how fucking sexy that was, desperate to ground himself before he comes too quickly in your hand. He moves his palm down from your forehead to cup your throat, not too much pressure to hurt, but enough to remind you how strong he is. You whimper, swallowing hard under his broad palm.

“Jesus christ, baby,” he sputters, “you’re my fucking dream girl.” 

You fall in sync, Rafe rubbing tight, firm circles over your clit, while you slide your hand up and down his shaft, pausing at the tip with each stroke to swirl your thumb in the precum he’s leaking. His knuckles flex in response to each flick of your thumb, pads of his fingers holding and releasing your neck in steady pulses. 

You squeeze his cock as he squeezes your throat, so perfectly aligned in your drunken pleasure that you both chuckle at how unbelievable it feels. But if you’re laughing, then surely he’s not doing a good enough job.  

He draws your clit between his fingers, rolling over and over, not pinching too hard, but just hard enough to set every nerve ending in your body on fire. You draw your knees up, your hand slowing involuntarily on his cock as you feel the familiar coil tighten in your tummy, seconds from snapping.

“I can’t believe you’re real, you’re so perfect,” Rafe whispers into your shoulder, kissing you over and over.

“Gonna make me come talking like that, baby,” you warn him.

“You want that? You want me to make you come in my hand?”

“Not yet,” you choke out, so close that you’re already dreading coming down from your high. It’s too soon, it’s not enough. No amount of him will ever be enough, but you at least need him closer. “Want you inside, need you in me.”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he swears as he pulls his hand from your core to rip your panties down your legs. You pull them off over your feet and toss them away as he removes his pants and boxers behind you. 

The fabric finally out of the way, his dick spears into your back, somehow always so much bigger and more powerful than you remember. You pray he doesn’t make you wait any longer, wriggling back onto your side so your soaked pussy is perfectly exposed to him. 

In the soft morning light, he finally gets a good view of your slick folds, nearly busting all over your back at the sight. He’s filled this new condo with the most expensive art he could find, but nothing comes close to the masterpiece in front of him. To him, you’re fucking priceless.

He wastes no more time, tucking a hand under your knee to angle your leg up. You take his cue, understanding each other without words as always, and brace your foot flat against his calf, propping yourself open for him.

A combination of the angle and his picture perfect memory of your walls has his tip hitting your g-spot on the very first thrust. He stretches you so sweetly, the tight fit making your brain go foggy and your mouth fall open, gasping helplessly.

“Like this?” He asks, not taunting but not really asking either, already knowing the answer to “this how you want it?”

“Not quite,” you whisper. 

He freezes with confusion before you reach behind you to find the hand he has braced on your hip, pulling it up and placing it back around your neck.

“There,” you say, “now it’s perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Rafe stammers, hips jerking forward, slamming into you a little too hard, lost in his infatuation with you. 

At first he worries it’s too hard, but a dreamy moan rises from your throat and you encourage, “yes, yes, like that, please.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at his pure fucking luck in finding you, he obeys your plea, pulling back slow before thrusting in hard again. The hand that’s not on your throat pushes into the mattress beneath your head, lifting himself up for leverage. He continues to fuck into you hard, pausing after each stroke to hit as deep as he can possibly get. You’re a mess, crying out with each slap of his hips against your ass, blabbering incoherently as you clench around him.

“Ohhh my god you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth. “‘I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that. You gonna let me come inside?”

Your eyes fly open as an invisible light bulb goes off above your head, you twist to meet his eyes, his lids low and irises completely blown out with lust.

“If I do, will you stay home?” you proposition him.

He scoffs, shaking his head in pure amusement and adoration, tongue digging into the side of his cheek in the cocky way you love. From this angle, the sharp features of his perfect face hover just inches from yours. The sheer attraction you feel makes your walls flutter around his cock, a tease of his reward if he promises to stay.

Rafe screws his eyes shut, his head falling back as you pulse around him repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes, I promise, I promise,” he cries out as he continues thrusting into you sloppily, “I’ll do anything. I’ll sell my house, I’ll change my fucking name. Just ask me and I’ll do it.”

His theatrics delight you, bubbly giggles rising from your stomach as he loses himself in you. You can’t remember ever loving anyone as much as you love him at this moment.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, completely enamored with the man inside you.

Without a thought, he slips the hand on your throat to the back of your neck, kneading your skin as he pulls your mouth to his. It’s not gentle, like his typical good morning kisses, it’s messy and wet and hard and completely mind numbing. You bite on his bottom lip, almost accidentally, losing your mind at the taste of him.

“B-baby,” he stutters, his hips doing the same, “can’t - fuck -  can’t wait any longer. Tell me where you want it.”

“Mmmph, inside, please! Please fill me up, Rafe.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he buries himself deeper than he’s ever been. 

“Come with me?” he pleads.

You’re so close, you can’t even find words, nodding rapidly. He hits your g-spot one final time and you slip off the edge of the earth into uncut ecstasy.

Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Both trembling, his arm gives out and he slumps down, curled around you. Sweaty and satisfied, you catch your breath together, Rafe still buried deep. 

He plants wet kisses on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and blowing gently to cool you down. You see only bright white behind your closed eyes, floating in a perfect pleasure you didn’t know was possible until you met this man.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, he starts to pull out. Your hips chase his defiantly, refusing to lose his warmth again.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, reaching back to grab his hip and hold him in place. “You promised.”

“I also promised to change my name, you gonna make me do that, too?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna call me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “How about daddy?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, Rafe twitching inside you, already hardening again. He knows you’re just playing with him, but his mind spirals out of control at the pet name. He’s so in love he thinks it might kill him.

Settling back into you, he reaches around the bed until his hand finds his discarded cell phone.

Your lips twist into a smirk as you hear him dial, still buried in your heat.

The dial tone rings a few times and he says, “yeah, gonna need you to clear my whole day. Something came up.”

He thanks the voice on the other line, hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere in the mountain of blankets on the floor.

“A whole day?” You ask, nestling back into his chest. “Aren’t you gonna lose the money from those investors?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, laying more slow kisses on your shoulder. “Worth every fucking cent.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

[cherrygirlfriend]

office visitations pairing: wife!reader x ceo!rafe synopsis: wife!reader goes to visit rafe at work for lunch warnings: smut, breeding kink, praise, soft rafe, talk of pregnancy, fluffy ending MDNI - wc: 2k IT'S MY BIRTHDAY which means this is the last day of my birthday celebration! i had so much fun writing these fics and i hope you enjoyed them as well!

everyone on kildare island wondered how rafe cameron of all men had managed to land you; sure, he was rich and good looking, but in figure 8, that was nothing. but somehow he had, and only after six months of being your boyfriend, he had asked you to marry him; no one knew that he had been looking at rings after your very first date.

you were basically his opposite; the sweet, girl-next-door pogue who no one ever had anything bad to say about, while he was known to lash out at whoever was in the wrong place in the wrong time, but after meeting you, he was obsessed.

rafe was sitting in his office, just having finished up a board meeting, those always stressing him out, paperwork piling on his desk, his cup of coffee having gone cold already.

there was a soft knock on rafe's door, and he rubbed his forehead, letting out a small scoff; he had told his secretary to not let absolutely anyone to come bother him. he looked up at the door, letting out a cold and detached, "come in." knowing that his secretary would be looking for a new job.

but as soon as he saw the familiar pair of eyes playfully peek into his office, it was like all the tension slowly rolled off his shoulders. "hi." you said with a smile that was so bright and sunny rafe was sure it could've melted down an icecap. "can i come in?"

rafe cleared his throat, standing up from his chair, "yeah, of course." the man smiled, running a hand through his mussed-up blonde hair as you stepped into his office. you were wearing a long, flowy sundress, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of something, "what's this?" your husband asked amusedly, his head nodding toward the bag.

"i brought you some coffee and croissants." you said, placing the things on his desk and turning to him, "i knew you're always stressed after board meetings. i would be too, if i had to sit around with a bunch of old guys for an hour straight listening to their issues with you or whatever you do." you chuckled, straightening the collar of his button-up.

"you know just what i need." he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, tilting his head down so he could nuzzle it into your neck, breathing in the floral scent of your perfume while you let out a small chuckle, your eyes closing as you held him, stroking his back.

he pulled back, looking down at your dress with a small grin, "did you wear this for me?" he asked, feeling the fabric inbetween his fingers, "it looks great."

"thank you. my husband got it for me." you said playfully, giving him your left hand. rafe took hold of it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before looking at your engagement ring.

"he has great taste. in women, in clothing, and in jewelry."

you laugh softly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, until rafe took your chin inbetween his pointer finger and his thumb, forcing you to look up at him, the man admiring the way your eyes twinkled, moving his hands to rest on your waist again. "you look so gorgeous."

"and you look very handsome." you said, tugging him down into a kiss, your lips on his immediately causing rafe's head to buzz. rafe's hands slowly slid down to your ass, grabbing at the flesh through your summer dress, pulling you closer while one of your hands was on his chest, and one of your hands was on the back of his neck, short blond hair meeting your soft palms.

you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, keeping your forehead and nose pressed to his, your breaths mingling together while your eyes were closed.

"i missed you..."

"you saw me this morning." rafe mumbled, one of his hands traveling to your cheek, cupping it in his hand while his thumb stroked your soft cheek.

"does that mean i can't miss you?" your brows raised with a chuckle, the hand that had been resting on his chest was now tugging his button-up out of the trousers they were tucked in, rafe letting out a small groan when he felt your warm hand slowly trail up the line of his abs, "you know, i realized something…" you practically purred into his ear.

"yeah? what'd you realize, sweetie?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, pressing small kisses on your warm skin, causing shivers to run down your spine, goosebumps starting to form all over your body.

"i'm ovulating." you whispered with a grin, before pulling back to see his reaction. rafe lifted his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a small grin, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of your ass.

"mmhm, 's that the case?" he asked, he shamelessly looking down at your tits, rafe's adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, your fingers starting to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more of his tanned chest, shivers running down his spine when he felt your manicured nails on the skin that you were slowly baring. "i guess we should take advantage of that, then."

you let out a small squeal when your husband lifted you into his arms without any difficulty, carrying you to the other side of his desk. rafe sat down on his chair, positioning you so that you were straddling him, his calming cerulean eyes gazing up into yours.

your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers gently playing with the short tendrils of hair there as you gaze down at him, the hint of a smile playing at your lips. rafe brought his hand closer to your face, his fingers curling under your chin, bringing your face to meet his, the sides of your noses pressed against one another, breaths mingling together before his lips brushed against yours.

and soon, rafe's shirt hung unbuttoned on his broad shoulders, your panties discarded on his desk, your body still mostly covered by your dress, his slacks and boxers at his ankles. the thumb of his left hand brushed against your hardened nipple over the fabric of your dress, a small gasp escaping your lips as your soaked entrance hovered over the tip of his cock, practically aching to sink itself down on him.

"you ready?" rafe whispered under you, pressing a featherlight kiss on your clothed nipple, and somehow even that was enough to make you dizzy; you couldn't speak, simply nodding, his hands slowly crawling up from the sides of your thighs up your dress until they were on your hips, rafe's touch so hot you thought he might leave burn marks. slowly, he started bringing your hips lower, a long drawn-out whimper leaving your lips when you finally felt rafe stretch you out; you'd been together for a long time but every time his cock entered you it felt like the first time.

even though you were the one straddling him, rafe was the one doing all the work. slowly, he lifted you up, before bringing you back down, your head thrown back, lost in all the bliss you were feeling, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, pressing soft kisses on your pulse point as you let out small, soft laughs when you felt his stubble on your skin.

although his lips moved away from your neck, rafe continued moving you on top of him by your hips, briefly bringing one of his hands to cup your cheek, making you look down at him, your eyes hazy and glossed over from the pleasure he was giving you.

"you look so gorgeous like this..." rafe whispered, letting out a grunt as he felt you deliberately clench yourself around him, the corners of your mouth quirking up into an adorable, almost shy smile, your cheeks feeling warmer due to his sweet words.

he moved his hand back to your hips, continuing to guide you up and down on his cock, slightly picking up his pace, whimpers leaving your lips whenever he bottomed out in you, hitting that one spot like it was nothing, when for you, it felt like everything.

"so damn gorgeous..." he mumbled against your skin, and as one of rafe's hands traveled down to your pussy, his thumb starting to draw languid circles on your clit, you started moving your hips just slightly faster, every part of you screaming that you needed more of him, needed to feel every part of him.

"please..." you whined, the tone of your voice making something in rafe's chest ache while also making the heat in his abdomen nearly double.

as his thumb picked up its pace, your head felt so beautifully blank; all you could focus on were the sensations running through your body, the fire he'd lit inside of you, and the orgasm you were already starting to feel approaching.

"please, i'm so close..." you whined, your words getting muddled with your moans.

your eyes were closed, unable to see the way your husband was admiring you, looking up at you with pupils blown so wide his blue eyes might as well have turned into the shape of a heart, and he continued bucking his hips up into you, both of you chasing your orgasms, the sound of squelching and moaning filling his office.

suddenly, he felt your walls spasming around his cock, your orgasm washing over you as you held on tight to his shoulders, your body shuddering with pleasure, moans leaving your lips without you even realizing it was happening.

rafe watched as you came undone, continuing to move inside of you even though your walls felt snug around him, the man starting to feel a familiar tightening in his abdomen.

"'m so close..." rafe mumbled, not even sure if you could hear him through the bubble of bliss you seemed to be encased in. "gonna come in you... gonna put a baby in you... you're gonna look so gorgeous with my baby in you..."

when you let out a soft whimper, trying to move yourself on his cock even though you were still riding out his orgasm, rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck, loud whines leaving your lips when he fucked into you at a faster pace, rafe almost losing himself in you and the way you felt around him, knowing he'd never get enough of you, never get enough of having you like this.

it didn't take long until he let out a loud groan, and you felt ropes of his cum filling you, moving your hips slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of you as possible, the closeness feeling almost intoxicating.

neither one of you spoke for a while, and the only noise that could be heard in his office were the pants that slowly turned into regular breathing, and finally when it had settled, you pressed your forehead against rafe's, taking a deep breath.

you felt rafe's hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there, and it was like he was reading your thoughts; sometimes the way he knew you intimidated you, just because the thought of ever losing that scared the hell out of you.

"it's gonna happen." he said comfortingly, opening his eyes to look into yours, and you pulled your forehead away from his to do the same. you brought your hand to your abdomen, looking down at it while letting out a small sniffle, your tone laced with insecurity, "you think so?"

rafe pressed his hand over yours, and you wondered how someone could know exactly everything you thought and needed, his large, ringed hand somehow managing to soothe every single thought running through your mind.

"i know so, and i'm never wrong, am i?" he grinned smugly, making you roll your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

[josephandrewstarkey]

beach fight - part 1

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, cussing, topper, fighting, mentions of cheating, Ruthie

disclaimer: this is so satisfying to read — requests are open!!

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

The Pogues were lounging on the beach, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Y/N tried to relax, but the air felt tense, like something was about to go down. She couldn’t help but notice the Kooks pulling up in their flashy cars, parking way too close. Rafe, Topper and the rest of their stupid crew stepped out, making sure everyone saw them.

The last thing Y/N needed was to see Rafe. After everything he did— cheating on her with Sofia. it still stung. they had a thing going on for a while, he changed when they were together— but that all went away when Sofia happened. And now, here they were, together, acting like nothing had happened

Topper and JJ had made a quick agreement not to start anything. Both knew things could get messy fast, so they decided to keep it chill for the day.

Everyone settled back into their spots, but Y/N could feel the tension in her muscles. She couldn’t help glancing over at Rafe, who looked too comfortable around Sofia, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder. Her stomach twisted with a mix of anger and hurt.

Suddenly, Kiara gasped. “Guys, look!”

The Pogues’ attention snapped to the tiny turtle hatch making its way to the ocean.

Everyone gathered around, watching as the turtle moved slowly through the sand. It was a rare moment of quiet wonder, the kind that reminded them why they loved this place.

But then the loud roar of an engine shattered the peace. Ruthie’s truck tore through the sand, heading right for the turtle, swerving dangerously close to the Pogues.

“Watch out!” JJ yelled, grabbing Kiara and pulling her out of the way.

The truck barely missed them, the tires kicking up sand. Ruthie laughed from inside, clearly amused at the chaos she was causing.

“She almost killed them!” Kiara said, horrified, looking back at the little turtles still struggling through the sand.

Y/N clenched her fists, biting her tongue. Her heart raced with anger, but she tried to hold it in. Not yet, don’t explode yet.

But Ruthie wasn’t done. She spun the truck around, her laughter echoing through the air. As she drove past them again, she leaned out the window, holding a drink. Without warning, she tossed it right on Kiara, drenching her in sticky liquid and ice.

Kiara stood there, frozen, dripping wet. “Are you kidding me?”

Y/N felt the last thread of control snap. “Don’t” John B muttered, trying to keep the peace.

But Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She stormed toward Ruthie, eyes blazing with fury, not caring what anyone said.

“Y/N, don’t!” John B called after her, but it was too late. The anger that had been building for months—Rafe’s betrayal, seeing Sofia here, Ruthie’s blatant disrespect—had reached its breaking point.

Y/N marched right up to Ruthie, who was standing by her truck now, smirking at the mess she’d caused.

“What’s your problem, you bitch?” Y/N spat, her voice shaking with rage.

Ruthie sneered, completely unfazed. “What’s yours, Pogue? Go cry about it with your dirty friends.”

That did it. Without a second thought, Y/N grabbed Ruthie by the shirt and shoved her back, hard. Ruthie stumbled, caught off guard, but before she could react, Y/N swung her fist, landing a solid punch to Ruthie’s face.

Ruthie shrieked in pain, clutching her nose as blood started to drip. “You psycho!”

The Kooks looked on in shock, unsure of what to do. Sofia’s eyes widened as she watched Y/N completely lose it. But she noticed something else—Rafe wasn’t running to Ruthie’s defense. Instead, his eyes were glued to Y/N, a mix of anger and concern flashing across his face.

Ruthie tried to fight back, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She grabbed Ruthie’s hair, yanking her down toward the sand as Ruthie let out another scream. Y/N’s fists flew, fueled by months of pent-up rage.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s voice finally broke through, but she didn’t stop. He rushed over and grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her off Ruthie. “That’s enough!”

Y/N struggled against his grip, still fuming. “Let go of me!”

Ruthie lay on the ground, crying and holding her bloody nose. Y/N had done enough damage, but the fire inside her wasn’t out.

Rafe held her tight, his breath warm against her neck as he tried to calm her down. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me, Rafe,” Y/N snapped, finally breaking free of his grip. She spun around to face him, her chest heaving. “What am I doing? I’m doing what you should’ve done—keeping your bitchass friends in check.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes, but Y/N didn’t give him a chance to respond. “You’ve been running around with these Kooks, pretending like nothing matters, while you’re just as bad as them. You cheated on me with her!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she pointed at Sofia, who was standing frozen, watching the whole scene unfold.

Rafe clenched his jaw, but there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “That’s not—”

“Don’t even try to defend yourself,” Y/N cut him off. “You lost that right the second you chose Sofia.”

Sofia, who had been silent this whole time, shifted uncomfortably as Rafe’s attention stayed focused on Y/N. She could see how much Y/N still affected him, how his whole demeanor changed around her. His concern, his frustration—it was all for Y/N, and that realization stung.

Y/N turned her back on Rafe and marched back toward Ruthie, who was still sitting in the sand, clutching her bleeding nose. Before anyone could stop her, Y/N grabbed Sofia’s drink from the hood of the truck and dumped it right over Ruthie’s head.

Ruthie gasped, soaked and defeated, blood and soda dripping down her face.

“Don’t ever mess with my friends again,” Y/N hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Rafe watched in shock, still standing frozen in place, as Y/N walked back toward the Pogues. He barely noticed Sofia next to him, her face twisted in jealousy and confusion as she realized how much control Y/N still had over him.

The Pogues erupted in cheers as Y/N rejoined them. JJ slapped her on the back, laughing. “Hell yeah, Y/N! That was awesome!”

Kiara, still wiping the drink off her, grinned. “You really know how to handle things.”

But as the Pogues celebrated, Rafe stayed behind, his eyes locked on Y/N, conflicted emotions swirling inside him. Sofia glanced between them, noticing the way Rafe’s attention was fixed on Y/N, and it was clear: no matter what had happened between him and Sofia, Y/N still had a hold on him that Sofia could never break.

part 2 here

[lolxdswag123]

Bed Chem series pt 6

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Y/n was away at college in New England all year, but now she’s returning for the first time for the Summer. When she reunites with her friends… it gets… complicated. What happens when her secret ex-fling who also happens to be her best friend’s brother takes notice to her return?

author's note: let me know if you want me to add you to my tag list :)

Tag list: @fandomhopped @percysley @frankoceanluvr11 @hockeybabe87 @whoreyzontal @deepeststarlightmoon @rrosiitas @smootbrainchicken @faephoria @especially-obsessed @0bsesedwithmen @purplerose291 @loveu-always @redhead1180 @enthusiastms

part 7

[tinythebunni]

rafe had his eyes on you for a while. you were new to the island and everyone wanted to be by you. you seemed to have this energy that attracted everyone, like a fucking magnet.

rafe couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. you were everything he could want in a girl. tall, slim, curvy, shiny skin, beautiful hair, and most of all you were so feminine. he loved a girl he could take care of, provide for even.

he first saw you at the country club. you were clad in skimpy pink bikini with white polka dots, a white bow in the side of your hair, and white flats on. you read some magazine he couldn’t be bothered to even pay attention to. for right now, you were his main object of his attention. you could feel his eyes on you, you usually did.

you’d been here only two weeks and you knew all about the infamous rafe cameron. there were rumors he killed some cop and he had a drug problem.

people said he was one of the most fun people in the world but he would blow up in the quarter of a second. no girl could hold him down and he always got what he wanted. everyone wanted to be him or fuck him.

he’d made slight advances in the short amount of time you’ve been in the outer banks. holding a door open for you, paying for your drink, offering to apply your sunscreen while you tanned at the beach, the whole shabang.

you didn’t give him the slightest ounce of your attention. you wanted him to work for it. obviously you wanted him but you can’t let him know that! if rafe always got what he wanted then he wouldn’t mind a challenge.

you liked this game of cat and mouse you guys played. you didn’t know how much longer you could take it though. your friend daphne had invited you to some kook party at her stupid chad bfs house.

you went of course because rafe would be there. and you wanted him to see you, especially in this outfit. a lacy pink halter neck and pink mini skirt with ties on the sides. it showed just enough of skin to make him crazy. you wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

who knows? maybe tonight you’ll let him have a taste.

after a while of being at the party you started to get a bit bored. there were people making out in the corners, the alcohol tasted shit, and rafe still wasn’t here.

you were slightly buzzed and contemplating walking out when you saw him. he wore only a white wife beater and some denim jeans. what really caught your attention was the way his eyes were immediately on you when he came in.

he looked you over, greeting a few people, but not once did his eyes stray off you.

“top, i gotta go handle something. i’ll catch ya later.” and with that he strides over to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a room upstairs.

you had butterflies in your stomach. after a month he couldn’t take it anymore. you were excited to see what he would do now.

he swiftly locked the door and turned towards you with an almost primal look in his eyes. you giggle as he rubs the back of his neck and glares.

“do you think this shit is fuckin funny? been wanting you for months and you think it’s game. do you know how hard you make me? those skimpy fucking skirts and that coy smile.“

you were positive you looked like a fish out of water right now. you could feel a heat rising in your belly and a blush flushing your checks and neck.

“i didn’t know i affected you that much” you whispered.

“bullshit. i see you close your thighs each time i fucking look at you. can barely focus on anything when you’re near by.”

rafe is stalking towards you now, and you back up more and more until your knees finally hit the bed. he pushes you back until your lying on your back, with only your elbows and forearms holding you up.

he pulls your skirt over your tummy, glancing up at you as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“tell me this is okay. i needa know what you taste like. i can’t fucking stand it. so close to your pussy i can practically feel you on my tongue already.”

you give a shaky nod but that’s not enough.

he pinches the inside of your thigh and shakes his head with disapproval.

“no. baby i need words. use your voice, ain’t even touched you yet so i know you’re not fucked out already.”

“yes, yes rafe this is okay! please i need it” you whine while your lips pout slightly.

he was being so mean right now! is this what it felt like for him all this time?

he places a kiss on your clit over your panties and thumbs at your entrance. he smoothes your arousal over your lips and curses under his breath.

rafe takes his time making you whimper and whine. you push your hips up for some kind of friction, something more than he’s giving you. he uses his left hand to hold you down while his right pushes down on your clit, the pressure making your eyes roll back.

“calm down sweet thing. s’okay. m jus getting you ready. been dreaming bout this and i wanna take my time”

the cameron boy takes off your underwear and pauses. you can’t tell if he’s in awe or disgusted.

“so fucking pretty baby. is this all for me?” he questions as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“rafe of course it is, do you see anybody else in this fucking room?” you’re mad now, you’re so fucking horny and he’s being a tease!

“alright alright” he laughs, placing a kiss to your thigh and looking up at you one last time.

“not letting you go after this is done. you’re mine.”

[drewsephrry]

thank you chase for feeding us!!

[lovemomhatepolice]

i'll make it fit - rafe cameron

navigation taglist requests

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: sexual overtones, established relationship, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), this damn tiny polo!!, English is my second language!, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut (this is the first time i've written something like this, which has practically no plot at all, just sex itself. keep my fingers crossed that it didn't turn out badly!!!), small plot but really small

word count: 1,8k

summary: rafe cameron likes things too small for him.

more content: obx masterlist, rafe cameron masterlist

Mornings in Tannyhill were mostly quiet. Since Ward Cameron was dead and his entire family had moved to a house in the Bahamas, it was quiet there. Hearing of Sarah had disappeared - she was probably somewhere with her friends, again putting her life at risk, nothing new. And the only one who lived there was Rafe, who had taken over the company from his father and decided to return to the “old garbage.” Well, and you lived there too, by the side of your beloved. You couldn't have dreamed of a better life.

You were awakened by the bright rays of the sun, which rudely crept through the slightly parted curtains into your shared bedroom. You dragged yourself lightly and glanced at the clock, which was on the bedside table and, as usual, was making that unbearable sound.

After muttered under your breath, you slipped out from under the warm quilt, which, to say the least, wasn't all that necessary - after all, it was summer. But by the fact that you were in just a lace petticoat, it definitely enveloped you with a warmth that was missing.

You didn't know what time it was, but by the fact that Rafe wasn't next to you, you knew it was probably after nine o'clock. You didn't have to look for him for long, because as soon as you stepped out into the hallway from your bedroom, you heard his voice. You looked out the balcony door, which was gently open, and smiled at the sight. Rafe, in a freshly stitched buzzcut, was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. In front of him on the coffee table he had papers spread out and a laptop in which he was busily tapping something. As soon as he noticed you he sent you a slight smile, but he was so engaged in the conversation that he did nothing more. And you couldn't be passive, after all, he was wearing a beautiful blue and damn tight polo that exposed his perfectly shaped biceps. You laughed quietly, seeing him nervously tweak them as they rolled up higher and higher each time, not covering as much of his arm as they should.

Despite his serious tone on the call, his eyes would flicker toward you every few moments, his smile softening just enough to let you know he was glad you were there.

Not one to resist temptation, you decided to have a little fun. You strolled over to him, moving slowly, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch as you circled around to where he was sitting. Rafe’s eyes darted up, narrowing slightly in a silent warning.

You didn’t make it easy for him. With a mischievous smile, you leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That polo looks a little tight, don’t you think? You might need help taking it off later."

“Uh, yeah… sure,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “Send it to the office, they'll take care of it,” he muttered, hanging up.

You moved your hands over his shoulders, gently massaging them. Rafe put the phone down on the table, closed the laptop and leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking at you.

“You know what you're doing, huh?” he parroted under his breath.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Just trying to make sure my man relaxes after handling all that business.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, covering yours with his hands. “Whatever you want,” you muttered, going down with your palms on his chest. “Oh, but this polo is really too small for you.” Rafe laughed under his breath and gracefully helped you past the couch so that you were now standing in front of him, between his legs. You were in just a white lace slip that didn't cover much underneath, so Rafe could immediately see your hardening nipples.

You let out a soft laugh as Rafe’s strong hands gripped your thighs, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. You straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushions of the couch on either side of his hips. The way he looked up at you—like you were the only thing in the world that could hold his attention—sent a warm rush through your veins.

"So needy" He muttered, stroking your hair and putting it behind your ears. “Who would have thought that you would beg for my attentions so much?”

“I'm not begging,” you muttered, swallowing your saliva loudly.

You could have sworn that in that moment Rafe heard your loud heartbeat. And even though you had been together for more than a year, he continued to trigger the same feelings in you. “No?” he asked ironically, his hand touching your pussy, which was covered only by a thong. “I would say something else.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, gently pushing your hips out to meet him as his nimble fingers pressed your clit harder. “So wet,” he mumbled, moving your panties aside and nimbly sliding his ring and middle finger into you.

You brought your face closer to his and grabbed his jaw, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. It was still quiet around you, the only things you could hear were the birds and your moans, drowned out by your boyfriend's mouth.

His thumb moved to your clit, the touch was light, teasing, his fingers tracing slow circles that sent tingles up your spine. And his fingers didn't stop moving up and down, each time hitting the exact same spot. Rafe knew what the fuck he was doing, he always knew how to make you in heaven in a moment by his precise movements. He knew your body like no one else, just like you knew his.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, moving his lips to your naked neck. You felt you were close - Rafe did the same, following the feeling as you pulsed on his fingers. You didn't have to wait long until your body shook with pleasant and familiar reflexes, and you came on his fingers, burying your head in his neck.

Rafe took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, sucking on them. Oh this sight and Rafe in his damn tight blue polo, was something too strong for you to go through. You moved against his lap, letting him know that this was not what you wanted. “Still eager, huh?” he laughed throatily, but you didn't have to wait long. Rafe always knew what you needed and you got it right away. "You taste so good, baby"

“Rafe please,” you muttered, clasping your small hand over his large cock, which was getting harder and harder under you. “Anything for you,” he muttered, quickly getting rid of his pants.

Without much warning, he entered you. Slowly at first, because you knew very well that he was big. And even after so many times together, you continued to feel a slight discomfort at first. But Rafe always made it fit. He couldn't resist your tight pussy, which was even screaming for his attention. “Fuck, tight as ever,” he whispered, correcting himself on the couch so that you were more comfortable. “But don't worry, I'll make it fit.”

And as he said, so he did. With agility, he began to move inside you, making both of you nothing but moaning messes.

“Wait, I want,” you said, putting your hand on his chest. On that damn sexy polo. “Oh, a princess wants to take control?” he laughed under his breath, catching you under the thighs, but as if on cue he stopped moving inside you, making you feel again how big he was inside you. You groaned involuntarily, but didn't give in. You moved nimbly on top of him, practically taking him out of your pussy every now and then, and then lowering yourself all the way down again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted as he watched you, completely entranced by the way you were moving, the way you were making him feel.

You could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to let you set the pace, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin told you just how badly he wanted to take control.

“Not yet, Rafey,” you muttered, moving even closer to him. “You deserve the best. Especially, when you're in that slutty polo"

You increased your pace, but Rafe couldn't stand it anymore either, and came against you, entering your pussy from below. At that moment your bodies were merging at the perfect moments and places, so you were already not far from orgasm. And with that, he captured your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more urgent. There was no more teasing now-just the raw, unfiltered need that always simmered between you both, threatening to spill over the edges.

“I'm so close,” you whispered into his mouth, clamping your pussy against him every so often. “I know, baby, I can feel it,” he muttered into your mouth, gently biting your lip to reach inside again. "Mmm, so good for me"

Rafe grabbed your buttocks and with even more force began to pound his cock into you. Your tongues fought for dominance, and your hands couldn't find room on his body, clamping down on the collars of his shirt.

"Shit" he murmured into your lips, feeling as his cum shot into your pussy, making quite a mess.

Not much later you too reach climax, clenching around his dick. Exhausted, you leaned on his shoulder kissing his neck. Rafe stroked your back, still calming down after the orgasm that hit you surprisingly hard this time. You felt him smiling over your shoulder, so you shared his happiness, smiling too. You moved your head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes now. He was still inside you, so every movement, made quiet sighs come out of your throats.

“What's so funny?” you asked, stroking his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“Maybe I should wear that tight polo more often, just to find yourself in your tight cunt again?” he laughed lightly, returning your kiss.

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you muttered, lowering yourself on top of him once more until he groaned and settled his head on the back of the couch, pulling you against him.

A/N: I know there's a lot of Rafe or Drew here lately, but I swear, when I see this man, I feel so ungodly that oh jesus, i hope you enjoyed this

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[rafesapologist]

this one hurt