#rafe fic

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

18+ mdni!

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, older!rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta & being v suggestive, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation & use of daddy

wc: 2k

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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.  

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.  

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts. 

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.  

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.  

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.  

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless.

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting. 

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.  

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you something,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites. 

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment. 

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end. 

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.  

“That I was mad at you?”  

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes. 

He lets out a sigh. 

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought something happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.  

“I know, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”  

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”  

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval. 

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.  

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her.

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.  

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table. 

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.  

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anything with me. Let daddy do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.  

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.  

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.  

“Shit, this is amazing,” he praises around the mouthful.  

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.  

“Did you eat yet?” 

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible.

He stops chewing.  

“Waiting for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.  

She looks up at him, puzzled.  

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.  

“Good, right?” 

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.  

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.  

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.  

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.  

She swallows.  

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.   

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.   

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again. 

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home. 

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact. 

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.  

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.  

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response. 

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.  

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”  

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.  

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blows on her sensitive cunt.  

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface. 

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping. 

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.   

“Nah, you’re good. You forgot daddy does the thinking for you now, hm? And he wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.

“I don’t know if I can—” 

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.

“No, I do, I do…”  

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic…

[itneverendshere]

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

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, abortion, alcohol, drug consumption.

MASTERLIST

You never spent much time on The Cut, unless you were being dragged by duty, mostly charity events for the local populations, fundraisers for their schools usually.

You always showed up in something tasteful but subtly expensive—pearls, understated Louboutin heels, and a blazer that whispered wealth without screaming it. 

Your mother taught you that.

Now, you sat in Poguelandia, doing god knows what.

The name alone sounded like some bad beach-themed party game. But you kept the snark to yourself—mostly. Sarah swore to you this was her new "thing," her big redemption arc, and who were you to judge? It wasn’t where you pictured spending any afternoon, yet there you were.

Pregnant. On The Cut. Drinking—well, holding—a very flat ginger ale out of a plastic cup.

You smoothed your dress for the hundredth time, light linen in a neutral tone that looked effortless but cost more than most people’s rent, while pretending not to notice Pope and Cleo staring like you were a rare bird that had wandered into the wrong habitat. 

Were they always this... intense? Did people on this side of the island not know how to look away when someone made eye contact? Your mother’s voice echoed in your head. They’re not staring at you, dear; they’re staring at themselves in relation to you. 

Whatever that meant. 

To their credit, they weren’t mean about it. Just... curious, as if you’d wandered in from a wildlife documentary called Kooks in the Wild.

You moved your weight around in your seat, hyper-aware of every grain of sand sticking to your hérmes sandals. Every time you shifted, you felt the grains grinding between the straps and your skin.

Should’ve worn the espadrilles, you thought ruefully, but even then, this wasn’t the world’s most glamorous venue. Sarah had begged you to stop by, though, and you owed her. It was also good for you to leave the house instead of being cupped up inside all alone.

“Okay, seriously, what’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face? Is my makeup smudged? Be honest.”

Cleo snorted. “No, you’re fine, princess. We’re just surprised to see you.”

You were still holding your sad little plastic cup. “Just thought I’d participate in—whatever this is.” You gestured vaguely at the mismatched chairs and string lights that looked like they’d been stolen from someone’s backyard wedding. “Community service?”

It was supposed to come off as witty. You weren’t sure it did.

Pope choked on his drink—sweet tea? soda?—and Cleo chuckled outright. “You’re funny,” she said, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she meant it.

“Thanks?” It came out like a question, and you wanted to die just a little bit inside.

Pope grinned, leaning forward with a chip in his hand. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who hangs out in The Cut, that’s all.”

You blinked, feigning shock. “You don’t think I spend my weekends in—what is this, a glorified surf shack? I’m crushed.”

Cleo laughed again, which—fine—made you feel a little better.

“Nah, it’s just... you’re different up close. Not like, scary kook different. Just human. Y’know?”

“Great. That’s exactly what I was going for today.”

Pope gestured to the bar. “You want a snack? Chips? Cookies? We have...three options.”

You straightened, eyes narrowing like a hawk zeroing in on prey.

Food. Your stomach growled loudly, as if it had been cued by a stage director. “What kind of cookies?”

He blinked, not expecting you to care. “Uh... chocolate chip? Maybe oatmeal raisin?”

“And the chips?” You pressed, leaning forward now.

“Salt and vinegar,” Cleo piped up, eyeing you curiously. “Barbecue too, I think. Why?”

“Okay, shit, great.” You clapped your hands together decisively. “I’ll have all of it. All the chips, both kinds of cookies. Do you have anything else? Pretzels? Popcorn? Random condiments? I’m not picky.”

Cleo stared at you, her mouth slightly open. “Everything?”

“Yes, everything. Is that a problem?”

She blinked, her eyes darting to Pope like he had an explanation. He shrugged helplessly.

“Woman” she muttered under her breath. “Did you not eat for a week, or...?”

The salt and vinegar chips were divine, borderline transcendent, as you shoved another handful into your mouth. The truth was, you weren’t just hungry—you were still terrified. Every bite, every easy conversation with other people that weren’t Sarah, was a game of jenga to you. One wrong move, one offhand comment, and your secret could be out in the open.

Six more days until this would all be... over. Until the secret growing inside you—the one you’d barely admitted to yourself most mornings—would be gone.

The past three days had been the best you’d felt in ages, cravings and all, thanks to Sarah. She’d slept over, stayed up late talking with you, making you laugh, distracting you from the endless pit what-ifs and why-mes.

It was the longest you’d gone without crying in three months. The longest you’d lived without feeling like you could suffocate at any given moment. With her help, it had been easier to forget—to pretend that things were still okay.

But Sarah wasn’t there, she’d left earlier with John B, something about helping him with a tour.

“You good, princess?” Cleo’s voice cut through your thoughts.

You blinked at her, realizing you’d been crushing the chip bag in your hands like a stress ball. “What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to fight that bag of chips,” Pope said, grinning.

You forced a laugh, leaning back and tossing the bag onto the table. “No fighting. Just... intense snacking."

You reached for the chocolate chip cookies he had offered earlier, focusing on the sweetness, the comfort of food that tasted good for once. Sweet, crumbly, safe. If only the rest of you life felt like that.

Pope and Cleo knew something was up, they all did, probably.

Sarah had been glued to your side, and it wasn’t exactly subtle.

Her sudden move to “stay over” at your place had obviously raised eyebrows, especially since you two hadn’t had a proper conversation in months before all this. And there was the beach clean-up, Kie and JJ had been there when you felt ill, and while you’d been too disoriented to keep up with the cover story once Rafe drove you away, Sarah had stepped in later to handle it.

Heat exhaustion. Overworked. Totally fine.

Still, to your relief, neither Pope nor Cleo seemed inclined to pry, perhaps it was pity, or maybe they were just decent enough to let you keep the little shred of privacy you had left. Either way, you were grateful.

“So,” Pope said, leaning back on his elbows and flashing you an easy grin, “How are you finding our place? I mean, other than our fine selection of snacks.”

You swallowed a bite of cookie, forcing a smile. “It’s...charming. Rustic. A real je ne sais quoi vibe.” You waved your hand vaguely, trying to mimic the way your mother used to describe terrible restaurants we’d never go back to.

Cleo snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

“It’s cute,” You offered, looking around, “I can tell you guys put your heart into it.”

Pope smirked, lifting a brow. "That's nice of you to say."

You gave a small shrug, feigning nonchalance, but you meant it.

For all the mismatched chairs and questionable decoration, there was something undeniably warm about the place. You weren't used to that—spaces filled with love instead of decorators and florists, it wasn’t bad. Just different.

“I mean it,” you said, brushing crumbs from your lap. “It’s very authentic. ‘Pogue Chic’ or something.”

Cleo laughed, loud and genuine, her grin lighting up her face. “Pogue Chic?"

Pope chimed in, “Hey, don’t knock it. We’re trendsetters. Ahead of its time.”

You smiled, but your mind was already falling back to the sand clinging to your dress and the ginger ale that tasted like disappointment. You’d never say it out loud, but you admired them, that ability to make joy out of scraps. It was something you didn’t quite know how to do. Not yet, anyway.

Cleo leaned forward, her elbows resting on the makeshift table. “So, are we going to see you around more? Or is this just a one-time royal visit?”

You hesitated, twirling the rim of your cup between your fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe. If Sarah keeps dragging me here, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it, the tone he used, or just your hormones fucking you up, but suddenly there were tears in your eye sockets. You blinked rapidly, tilting your head back slightly and praying that the tears stayed put.

These kids, all of them, sitting here like they hadn’t spent their lives scraping by, like they hadn’t been hurt or abandoned or let down a hundred times over by people they loved and trusted. Yet somehow, they were still full of hope, full of life.

You envied that.

You wished you could bottle it, whatever it was that kept them laughing and fighting and welcoming someone like you—a result of privilege and mistakes and heartbreak—into their home. It was humbling in a way that made your chest hurt.

“Does that mean I can choose to order better snacks next time? Maybe some sparkling water? Flat ginger ale is a crime against humanity.”

Cleo snorted, still not fooled by your deflection, but she let it slide.

“Good luck with that, princess. Our snack budget’s about three bucks and whatever we can steal from Kie’s pantry.”

Pope chuckled, tossing a chip in his mouth. “And you’re welcome to contribute if you’re so concerned about the menu.”

It surprised you, how easy it was to talk to them.

On paper, you had nothing in common. They were younger, grew up in a completely different world, and you were used to the polished conversations of country club luncheons and charity galas. 

Here, things were different.

They didn’t seem to care if you stumbled over your words, if your jokes were awkward or if you occasionally sounded like a walking trust fund catalog. They didn’t care about your last name, your family’s money, or any other things that had weighed you down for years.

That was disarming.

You’d spent your entire life around people who mirrored your upbringing—kids who summered in the Hamptons or Barbados, adults who measured their worth in stock portfolios and vacation homes. Now, you were here, in this cobbled-together haven with salt-stained cushions, sitting with people who’d grown up struggling for things you took for granted.

You thought it would feel more awkward or forced, but it didn’t.

It was easy.

Pope sat on the counter, gesturing with a half-eaten chip. “Serious question. How do you even survive on Figure Eight? Do they hand you iced lattes and designer handbags when you’re born, or do you have to work your way up to that?”

You raised a brow, smirking. “Oh, absolutely. The moment you’re born, they issue you a monogrammed diaper bag and a gold-plated pacifier. It’s very exclusive.”

Cleo nearly choked on her drink. “See, this is why we can’t take you seriously.”

Your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with your cousins name, interrupting the fun. You sighed, rolling your eyes before picking it up. “Yes, Top?”

Topper’s slightly whiny tone spilled into your ear. “Can you believe Mom’s threatening to rent out the beach house for the summer? Actual strangers, staying there. What’s next? Turning it into a hostel?”

“Tragic,” you deadpanned, resting your chin in your hand. “Truly, a devastating blow for humanity.”

Pope fake-coughed, mumbling “white rich privilege problems,” while Cleo mouthed, “Hostel!” and shook her head, laughing silently.

“I know. Anyway, I’m coming over later.”

“Where’s your invitation?”

You heard him scoffing, “I’m family, I don’t need one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Top, you can’t just announce you’re coming over. I might have plans.”

“Yeah, and I’m your family, so those plans now include me,” Topper said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Besides, I’ll bring food.”

Across from you, Pope was already gagging dramatically, holding his stomach as if the mere sound of Topper’s voice made him physically ill. 

“I don’t know if—”

“See you at noon,” he interrupted. “Later!”

The call ended before you could even argue, and you set your phone down with a resigned sigh. 

“Looks like I’m hosting a one-man Topper pity party,” you said, crossing your arms and slumping back in your chair.

Pope clutched his chest. “Will you survive?”

You only left once the sun dipped lower into the horizon, you gathered your things promising Sarah you’d drive safely and talk to her tomorrow.

Cleo, Pope and John B were mid-argument about the best way to fix something in the shack. You felt lighter than you had in weeks.

With a few more quips exchanged and goodbyes said, you walked back to your car. That night, the ache in your chest wasn’t completly unbearable. You weren’t okay, but you weren’t drowning, either.

You’d been terrified of this afternoon all day, worried you’d stick out like a sore thumb or say the wrong thing.

But the Pogues hadn’t cared about your awkwardness, your polished self, or even the giant invisible cloud you carried everywhere these days. They let you just be.

The drive home was quiet, but this time you even hummed along to a song on the radio, which was strange because you couldn’t remember the last time you cared about music or even turning on that thing. When you pulled into the driveway and stepped into your house, it didn’t feel as cold and empty as it did last week.

You set your bag down on the entryway table and kick off your sandals, the floors cool beneath your feet. Heading to the kitchen, you decided to see if there was anything decent for tonight’s impromptu early dinner with Topper. The fridge greeted you with a sad bag of lettuce, half a bottle of sparkling water, and a single container of leftover pasta you weren’t sure was still edible.

“Great,” you muttered, closing the door and moving to the pantry.

The situation there wasn’t much better. Sarah’s latest health-kick contributions—a bag of chia seeds and some organic trail mix—laughed at you from the top shelf. You frowned, pushing them aside to reveal a dusty box of crackers and a jar of Nutella.

“Guess we’re going shopping tomorrow,” you murmured, grabbing the crackers and Nutella to snack on now.

You placed them on the counter and glanced around. The sink held a few dishes from earlier —a couple of coffee mugs, a bowl, a plate.

You sighed, rolling up your sleeves, might as well get this out of the way.

Normally, you’d have had someone else to take care of this—stocking the pantry, cleaning the dishes, even deciding on the menu for your lunches. But lately, you’d been scaling back. You hadn’t let anyone go, of course. You could never do that; the staff had been with your family for years, and many of them felt more like extended family than employees. Still, you’d quietly rearranged their schedules, giving them more time off.

They didn’t question it—probably thought it was some new phase, another eccentricity of a bored, privileged young woman.

Truth was, you liked doing these things.

Focusing on something small, tangible, gave your brain a break from drilling itself into a million dark corners. Folding laundry, washing dishes, even the routine of chopping vegetables—it kept your hands busy and your thoughts manageable enough. It wasn’t that you’d suddenly become a domestic goddess or anything. Most of the time, you’d forget to pick up groceries or burn whatever you tried to cook.

It wasn’t about being good at it. It was about doing something.

You looked around the kitchen, noting the little imperfections you wouldn’t have noticed before. A small water stain on the counter from where your glass had sat too long, the scuff marks on the cabinets where your chair scraped when you leaned back. They weren’t problems to be fixed—they were just signs of life.

And right now at that very moment, life felt…okay.

The house didn’t seem as cold or empty when you were doing things for yourself, even if it was mundane work. You finish up wiping down the counters, glance at the time—definitely cutting it close—and head toward the dining room to tidy up a bit.

Topper was not the type to notice if the place is spotless, but you always liked things to look... presentable, yourself included.

You heard the doorbell ring in the distance, he was early as usual, probably checking his watch just to make sure he wasn't a second late.

"Of course he’s early," you muttered to yourself, a little smirk pulling at your lips.

You walked towards the front door, ready to greet him, but when you opened it, your eyes immediately locked onto the large takeout bag in his hand. It smelled... amazing.

Topper grinned at you, an exaggerated flourish as he held up the bag.

“Guess what I brought?”

“You brought... Korean chicken wings? Really?”

“Hell yeah, I did!” He stepped inside, completely ignoring any formalities and heading straight toward the kitchen, “They just opened.”

He placed the bag on the counter with the confidence of a man who knew he’s just won “Best Dinner Host” without even trying. You peeked inside, the crispy wings drenched in a glossy, sweet-spicy sauce that looked downright delicious.

Topper laughed and took a seat, pulling out the wings, not even bothering with plates. “You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes but sat next to him, picking up a wing, the heat of it still making your fingers tingle. The crispy exterior cracked open with a satisfying crunch as you bit into it. It was everything you'd hoped for—tangy, spicy, perfectly cooked. You nearly moaned in pleasure, not even caring that your cousin was watching you with that cocky grin on his face.

“You look like you’ve seen the light,” He teased, leaning back in his chair as he grabbed a wing of his own.

“I mean,” you said, savoring another bite, “this might make up for you barging in uninvited.”

“Barging?” He clutched his chest dramatically, mock offense radiating from every inch of him. “I'm saving you from a night of sad dinners, and this is the thanks I get?”

You gave him a pointed look, but the corner of your mouth tugged upward despite yourself.

“Fine. Thank you, Topper. You’re the hero of the day. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, grinning as he reached for another wing. “What’s new? Still slumming it with my ex and the Pogues?”

“First of all,” you said, wiping your fingers on a napkin, “slumming it implies I’m suffering, which I’m not. And second, Sarah’s not a pogue. She’s pogue-adjacent.”

“Pogue-adjacent?” He snorted. “You’ve been spending too much time over there.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you shot back. “You basically live at Kildare Brewing these days. That’s like, one pogue away from full assimilation.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then stopped, realizing you had a point. “Okay, fair. But only because they have good beer."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should even bring it up, but curiosity got the better of you. You hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you knew by experience, that was never a good thing.

“So... Ruthie,” you started, watching him over the rim of your glass as you took a sip.

Topper paused mid-chew, looking up at you like he wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation. “What about her?”

“I mean, you two are still together, aren’t you?”

He wiped his hands on a napkin. “We’re… not talking right now.”

You tried not to look pleased, but a rush of vindication bloomed in your chest. You'd grown to hate her, plain and simple. Her recent proximity to your cousin had always baffled you. He wasn’t perfect, but surely, he could do better. 

“I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, reaching for another wing. But then he stopped, like whatever he was thinking was messing with his head.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to sound more curious, concerned, than nosy.

You weren’t sure if he’d tell you, but the look on his face made it clear something big had gone down.

He hesitated, debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed. “She... started a rumor about you.”

Your head jerked back in surprise. “About me?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced like he’d swallowed something sour. “She said you passed out at the beach cleanup and decided to spread some bullshit about you doing drugs.”

You just stared at him. “She what?”

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised.

You knew what she was capable better than anyone, especially when she was bored out of her mind.

“I didn’t believe it,” he added quickly, his tone defensive, as if that made it better. “I told her to shut the fuck up about it, but you know how she is. She thought it was funny.”

“Funny?” Your voice was sharp now, “She thought it was funny to spread lies about me? About drugs? What the fuck?”

“Yeah, it’s so messed up. That’s why I’m not talking to her. I told her if she couldn’t act like a fucking decent human being, we were done.”

You blinked, stunned.

You weren’t sure what shocked you more—the fact that Ruthie had stooped so low or that Topper had finally stood up to her. You shook your head, biting back another nasty comment about how awful she was. You’d been saying it for months, and he hadn’t listened.

No point in beating a dead horse now.

“It’s about time you saw what she’s really like. She’s really bad fuckin’ news, Top. Always has been.”

He gave a low grunt, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “Yeah. Took me long enough, huh?”

You didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow and sipped your water.

“She’s always been weird about Sarah,” Topper muttered, almost to himself. “Even when we were together, she’d find these ways to dig at her. Like that one time at Midsummers—”

“—When she ‘accidentally’ spilled her drink on Sarah’s dress,” you finished, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I remember. She’s always had this thing about trying to one-up her. Honestly, it’s so pathetic. But you never listen to me, so.”

“Okay, ouch.” He threw a crumpled napkin at you, which you easily dodged. “I listen to you sometimes.”

“Do you, though?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah, I do!” Topper protested, though the whine in his voice made him sound more like the teenager he used to be, back when he’d follow you around during family holidays like a puppy. “Just… selectively.”

“Selective listening isn’t listening, dumbass. You’re just proving my point.”

He narrowed his eyes at you but didn’t answer, reaching for another wing instead. He took a bite, chewing dramatically, as if the exaggerated crunch would somehow end the conversation.

“Look, I’ve been saying for months that Ruthie’s bad news. Since she showed up at last year’s Christmas party wearing a dress identical to Sarah’s, just in a different color. You thought that was a coincidence?”

Topper groaned, dropping the wing. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Are you happy now? Can you stop rubbing it in?”

You grinned, propping your chin on your hand.

“Oh, I could. But what kind of older cousin would I be if I didn’t remind you how often you’re wrong?”

“You’re not that much older than me.”

You shrugged. “Old enough to know better than to date someone that awful.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. I get it.” He looked over at you again, his gaze softer, this time, “But seriously, you’ve been off lately. If there’s something going on, you can tell me, y’know? We’re family, even if I don’t listen to you half the time,” he added with a small smile, though his eyes were searching, hoping you’d let him in.

It would be so easy to tell him the truth—that you were pregnant, scheduled for an abortion in six days, and drowning in uncertainty and dread.

But he was still Rafe’s best friend, and the risk of this ever reaching him was too high. Instead, you forced a lightness into your voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle. And right now, I desperately need the bathroom.”

He looked at you skeptically, not fooled for a second.

“You’re really okay?” he pressed, his voice dropping to a level that told you he wasn’t going to let this go easily, "I texted and called before, you didn't answer. Thought you were resting from the scare."

You’d been having such a calm, easy time with Sarah, you almost forgot about everything else. The thought of picking up the phone, letting all that anxiety and worry back in, just wasn’t appealing—so you’d ignored his calls, but not on purpose. You were doing him a favor.

You plastered on a smile and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as you passed. “I promise, I’m fine. Just felt a little light-headed and needed some peace."

His eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced. “That’s all?”

You forced a giggle, hoping it would sound more genuine than it felt. “Yes, Dr. Thornton. Just needed to eat more or drink water or whatever the fuck it is you’re always telling me to do.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, crossing his arms, watching you closely. “Because you’ve never just fainted before.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything. Besides, don’t you think I’d tell you if something serious was wrong?”

It took everything to maintain eye contact, your stomach twisting at the lie. He was family, and you wanted to trust him, to let him help you. But you couldn’t. He hadn’t even told you about Rafe and Sofia until you found out by yourself. 

Topper tilted his head, considering you, then sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Alright, fine.”

“Okay, if you’re done being weird,” You pushed back from the counter, grabbing your glass. “I gotta pee,” you announced casually, as if this was the most normal interjection in the world. The wings were good, but running away was tempting. And also, the pregnancy had made your bladder a ticking time bomb, and you really didn’t want to risk any accidents. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You offered him one last smile, hoping it was convincing enough. He whined some sarcastic comment about your water consumption as you hurried away, but you barely heard him.

All you thought about was the blessed relief that awaited on the other side of that door.

You didn’t usually spend this much time with Top nowadays—your own tendency to avoid “close” family drama—but tonight had been oddly… nice.

Even if you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck half the time. Even if you hated lying to him. If he’d just pushed a little harder, maybe you would’ve folded, let it all spill right there in the kitchen.

Every time you thought you’d come to a decision, another doubt would take over you, leaving you back at square one. You knew what you wanted, so why was this so hard? 

Topper had looked at you with such genuine concern back there. The “if you need me, I’m here” sentiment was the same one you’d grown up with, the kind of care only a cousin, practically a sibling, could have.

This was hard.

When you came back into the kitchen after taking your sweet time in the bathroom you immediately noticed something was off.

Topper was by the counter, staring at the half-eaten pile of wings by the table like they’d personally offended him. He looked paler, too—almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“Uh…” You stopped mid-step, furrowing your brow. “What’s with the stupid face? Did the wings betray you or something?”

He jolted slightly, as if he hadn’t even heard you come in. “What? No. No, the wings are fine. Great. Amazing, even.”

“Okay…” You gave him a skeptical look, setting your glass down and crossing your arms. 

Topper laughed, but it was this oddly nervous, stilted sound. He glanced at his phone, tapping the screen for no real reason, then shoved it into his pocket.

“You know what, though? I totally forgot—I have something planned. Like, super important. In about… ten minutes.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “You forgot you had plans? Sounds fake, but okay.”

“So unlike me!” He got up from his chair with such sudden energy that it made you take a step back. “Anyway, I should really get going. Don’t want to be late. Uh, thanks for… hanging out. And for, uh, letting me use your wings as a form of therapy. Yeah. Later!”

And with that, he was sprinting for the door.

“Topper!” you called after him, confused and mildly annoyed. “What the hell is going on? You’re acting fuckin’ weird!”

“Nope, not weird! Just busy!” he shot back over his shoulder, not even looking at you as he opened the door.

You didn’t have time to yell at him before he disappeared out the door, the sound of his Jeep starting up echoing from the driveway a moment later. You stood there bewildered, staring at the now-empty doorway.

Something was definitely up. He was many things—dramatic, stubborn, occasionally insufferable—but shifty wasn’t usually one of them.

You went back to the kitchen, glancing at the counter, ready to brush off his weird exit as just another of his dramatics, when your eyes landed on a random envelope— the one you’d been using to scribble down everything lately. 

Extra small grocery lists, reminders, and, unfortunately, the number for the abortion clinic.

Rafe’s fingers curled loosely around the tumbler of bourbon, eyes set on nothing in particular. The lunch rush was winding down, country club regulars filing out.

He’d been there for over an hour—first, the meeting, listening to those finance guys ramble on about numbers, projections, all that bullshit he usually liked to hear. 

He’d faked his interest well enough, but his mind had been miles away. Mostly thinking about you. And the company, of course, because that was his priority right now. Or, it should be.

The whole thing with you, three days ago, it was a slow-mind-burning headache he couldn’t ignore, even if he wanted to. And he had wanted to, tried to, in fact.

He took another slow sip, hardly tasting the bourbon. Across the room, Sofia was working between tables, balancing trays and forcing her best country club smile.

All he saw when he looked at her was you, it only made him force down another swallow, running his thumb over the rim of the glass, mind somewhere between the company projections and the mess he’d made of things with you. 

It was ridiculous that you were still in his head. He should be thinking about that deal, about locking down his place in the Cameron empire. 

Rafe pushed the glass aside, signaling for the check when something caught his ear—a conversation from a nearby table.

“Yeah, she actually passed out the other day. Pathetic.” The voice was loud, sneering.

A dude’s voice followed, fake sympathy dripping from his tone. “I heard she was a fuckin’ mess after the whole breakup.”

“Oh, totally.” A different girl laughed, high-pitched and cruel. “She’s probably on something. Can you blame her? I’d be desperate too if he dumped me.”

It didn’t take a fucking genius to know who they were talking about. Small town and all, of course, things got around, mostly turning into half-truths and petty rumors.

He stopped all his movements, jaw clenching. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table, the only thing keeping him from breaking something, preferably bones.

They were talking about you. 

About some made-up version of you, the fact that these spoiled, airheaded brats thought they could shit talk about you like that, rip you apart for fun just because you weren’t there to defend yourself made him sick.

He pushed his chair back and stood, crossing the room with long strides. He didn’t care about the eyes following him as he walked up to their table, the laughter stopping the moment they looked up and saw the look on his face.

“What did you just say?”

The girl who’d been laughing, a petite brunette with too much makeup and a self-satisfied smirk, blinked up at him, her smile faltering.

“Oh, Rafe! We didn’t see you there. We were just…joking around,” she stammered, trying to backpedal.

“Joking?” He laughed, the sound making them flinch. “That what you call it? Spreading some bullshit rumor because it’s all your pathetic little lives have to offer?”

The brunette’s face went red. “I mean, we all heard about it. I’m just saying what everyone’s already thinking—”

His fists clenched and his patience, already thin, snapped the second he heard the guy—one of those trust fund preps with an overdone tan and a too-tight polo—chime in.

“Oh, come on, dude,” the guy smirked, leaning back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not like she’s worth all that trouble, is she?”

His entire body went rigid, and before he registered it, he was leaning down, letting them feel the weight of his glare.

“Say that shit again,” Rafe taunted him, something almost amused twisting at the edge of his mouth, daring him to keep talking. “I’d love to hear you repeat yourself.”

“Relax, man—”

He didn’t even let him finish, eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, more dangerous than shouting ever could be.

“You think it’s funny? Talking about someone who’s not even here to defend herself?”

The guy’s face paled, and Rafe swore he was seconds away from landing a punch, from wiping that smug grin off his face. Just as he prepared his fist, ready to make good on his threat, he felt a hand on his arm, a small, insistent tug. 

“Rafe,” a soft voice hissed. Sofia. He barely glanced at her, shrugging off her grip.

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice sharp, dismissive.

He kept his eyes on the guy, who looked more uncomfortable by the second, squirming in his seat.

Sofia’s hand still hovering near his arm, cautious now. “Rafe, come on, this isn’t worth it. You’re better than this.”

She looked scared. Scared of him, scared of the situation. He wasn’t better than this.

He’d never been, and he’d been good enough at lying and pretending for her even to think that.

You would’ve known better.

Fuck, you wouldn’t have wasted time talking.

You would’ve yanked him back by his collar, shoved yourself between him and the guy, shot him that warning glare, daring him to keep pushing you so you’d have to drag him out by force. You always knew when he’d get like this, that edge in his voice, that look in his eye that told you he was seconds away from snapping. You knew better than anyone how to pull him back when he hit that switch.

But you’d never bothered with gentle.

Sofia’s eyes darted around the room, clearly embarrassed, maybe even afraid of drawing attention. He knew this wasn’t fair to her, that she hadn’t signed up for this part of him—the anger, the unpredictability. It wasn’t in his nature to stay silent, to ignore things and walk away. 

He could almost see it—feel it, like a familiar bruise under his skin. You’d shove him hard enough that he’d stumble back, half-pissed and half-shocked. You’d get in his face, not even close to scared, cutting through his spiral. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe? You wanna end up in jail over some loser? Grow up.”

If you’d been here, you wouldn’t have given him a choice. You’d have grabbed his arm and dragged him away, kept a grip on him until he’d snapped out of whatever dark place he’d dropped into. You’d push him until he finally let go, forced him to come down from that blinding fury and face the mess he’d just caused. It was the only way he’d ever been able to listen—when you pushed him to wake up, forced him to look at himself and see just how reckless, just how stupid he was about to be.

But Sofia? She had no idea. 

She thought saying “you’re better than this” was going to do anything, that with a light touch and some empty words, he’d suddenly be calm, reasonable, soft. 

But he’d never been that way, never with you, never with anyone.

She hadn’t done anything wrong; she’d just seen the version of him he’d wanted her to see. The version he’d put together, patched up and polished, all so he could convince himself he was something he wasn’t.

With her, it was easy to pretend. He could smooth his sharp edges, show her just enough of himself to keep her interested without letting her close enough to see the mess underneath.

He’d let her believe he was the kind of guy who could just calm down, let things slide. The kind of guy who’d listen. He’d wanted her to believe he was controlled, calm. Sofia’s softness had appealed to him, but now, it only highlighted the differences between them.

With you, he’d never had the luxury of pretending.

You’d seen through him from the start, never let him get away with putting on some act.

You hadn’t let him pretend to be better than he was, hadn’t let him off easy when he’d tried to brush things off or shut down. You knew every side of him, even the ones he’d rather ignore. You’d always known exactly who he was, who he wasn’t, and you’d never been afraid to remind him.

He didn’t want to let it go, didn’t want to give the guy an inch of leeway to think he’d won this. Rafe sighed and released his grip, his hand falling from the table as he finally stepped back. Sofia relaxed, giving him a relieved smile, but it only made him feel emptier. 

“You talk about her again and I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?” 

The guy sputtered, looking down, embarrassed and shaken. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, but Rafe didn’t care enough to hear it.

Sofia’s hand was still on his tail when he left, and as soon as he walked out of earshot of the table, she followed him, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrowed with an expression he’d never seen from her —disbelief. 

“What was that?”

Everything.

Rafe didn’t speak. He was staring past her, back at the group, mind far from the confrontation and miles away with thoughts of you. She seemed to notice, her lips pressing together.

“I can’t believe you did that. You threatened to kill him, Rafe. Over what, a stupid rumor?”

A stupid rumor? She was making him feel like he was out of control, irrational—even though he couldn’t explain why this mattered so much.

“You wouldn’t get it. It’s not your problem.”

She flinched a little, her face falling, but to her credit, she didn’t look away. “You’re right. I don’t get it. Tell me.”

He wanted to believe that it could work with Sofia.

Nice girl, pretty too. She laughed at his jokes, and she didn’t call him out on his bullshit, because she didn’t even know that side of him existed. On paper, she was perfect. But she wasn't you.

He looked back at her, her worried eyes scanning his face.

It was frustrating—seeing the fear, feeling her judgment when she didn’t even know what she was judging.

To her, this was just some meaningless outburst, something he could turn on and off at will. This wasn’t her fault. He knew that. He hated how this wasn’t something he couldn't put into words, not in any way that would make sense to her.

“Forget it, alright?” his tone was harsher than he meant.

Sofia shook her head, clearly not willing to let it drop this time.

“Why would you get so worked up over something like this?"

To her, that’s all this was—just noise, harmless, inconsequential. 

She looked up at him expectantly, her brows furrowed in confusion, waiting for some reasonable answer.

And it pissed him off, how she kept waiting, expecting him to offer some calm, measured response when he didn’t even understand it himself.

Sofia’s eyes softened, but it only irritated him further.

“She’s nice,” Her words drifted out casually like she didn’t know she’d just cracked him open. “She defended me, last week, when I was serving brunch.”

He couldn’t stop the self-loathing.

You had always been that way—ready to defend anyone, even when you were the one hurting. Rafe winced, hating himself for it, hating that you could still be so good even after everything. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression blank.

“Did she?” he muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

“Yeah,” Sofia replied, watching his reaction with mild curiosity. “Guess I wouldn’t have expected that.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, that familiar hurt in his chest.

His mind was already conjuring all the times you’d jumped in, backed people up, and called out anyone who crossed a line. Even when it came to people you barely knew.

It made him feel like the worst person in the world, knowing that you’d been there for Sofia of all people, that you’d shown her that same loyalty. It made him hate himself even more.

His phone buzzed, saving him from the inevitable conversation, his hand brushed the side of his face as he glanced down at the unknown number flashing across the screen. He didn’t hesitate, before swiping the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Cameron, this is Dr. Harris from the hospital,” the voice on the other end said. “We’ve been trying to reach Miss Thornton about the blood work results from her visit three days ago. Unfortunately, there’s been an issue with our system and a few patient’s data has been deleted, except for the emergency contact information.”

Rafe’s stomach dropped.

He was still your emergency contact, not by choice probably. The hospital was calling about your blood work.

Was something wrong?

His blood ran cold. “Is she okay? Did something happen?” The urgency in his tone made Sofia’s eyes widen again, her confusion growing.

“We’re concerned about a possible infection. We need to run more tests to rule it out, but the symptoms suggest it could be more complicated. We must check thoroughly to be sure.”

“An infection?”

“Yes, but it could be nothing serious. We just need her to come in as soon as possible for a follow-up,” Dr. Harris explained.

There was a pause as if he expected Rafe to say something reassuring or offer to pass on the message. 

Sofia’s brows knitted together as she watched him. “Rafe?” 

“I’ll tell her,” he said, the words cracked in his throat. The doctor thanked him and hung up.

He stared at the phone waiting for it to ring again with more news, a reassurance that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. 

You probably hadn’t changed your emergency contact because it slipped your mind.

He couldn’t stand the idea that something could be wrong, and he was not the one you called when you needed someone. All he’d ever done was mess things up between you.

“What’s going on?”

How the fuck was he going to tell you when you'd blocked him everywhere?

He couldn’t call, couldn’t text, couldn’t even show up unannounced without risking the usual argument that would end with you screaming at him to get out, or worse, you looking at him with that unforgiving stare.

He knew you’d locked every door, bolted every window to keep him out, and he deserved it. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, the lie slipping out automatically. He could feel her studying him, waiting for another explanation he also didn’t have the patience to give.

Maybe Topper could help.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—he’d given your cousin the mission of checking in on you, playing the careful messenger while Rafe kept his distance. That was supposed to be him.

But the reality was you hated him now, hated him enough that Topper was a safer option and yet, the private information still landed on his lap. As if he still had the right to be in your orbit, let alone the person trusted with this kind of news.

It felt wrong.

He knew you were going to hate him even more for still having access to your private details. It wasn’t really his fault—the hospital called him. He should have hung up the moment the hospital mentioned your name, told them they had the wrong guy. But he didn’t. He listened. 

“If you need to go—” she started, trailing off when he didn’t answer. Her voice softened, tentative. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, and he looked away, out at the horizon where the sun was setting.  “Yeah,” he muttered, not bothering to lie this time.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He typed something out, then deleted it, then typed again.

Finally, he just went with the simplest thing he could think of and hit send.

Can we meet up? Tannyhill in 30. I think I know what’s wrong.

He half-expected some lame excuse or joke from Topper. Instead, the text he got made the deep lines across his forehead make an appearance.

Shit, you do???

Did the fucker already know?

Did he suspect? Or was this just the kind of baited question someone asked when they thought they were the last to know something big?

He frowned, gripping the phone tighter.

If Topper did know, why hadn’t he said anything?

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[littlelamy]

rafe’s panty obsession

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. rafe cameron didn’t do infatuation—not like this, not this utterly consumed way where the line between obsession and desire blurred until it was just... madness. he had meant to just grab one pair of your panties, a stupid, reckless thrill to satisfy the darker corners of his mind. just one, and he’d be done.

that was five trips ago.

now here he was, sneaking back into your house again, his chest tight and pulse racing. it was the fifth time this week, and rafe couldn’t stop himself. not even a stern talk in the mirror about how insane this was had deterred him. it wasn’t like you didn’t like having him over; you practically glowed whenever he swung by, which only made it worse. you thought he just enjoyed hanging out at your place, enamored by your sweet personality or the way your laugh lit up the room.

and okay, yeah, rafe did like those things. but they weren’t the reason he kept coming back. no, the reason was tucked away in your hamper and drawers, lacy and delicate, scented faintly with your arousal. he was utterly hooked on the thought of you wearing them, of the intimate glimpse they gave into your world. and it wasn’t just about the panties—though, god, they made him lose his mind. it was you, the sweet innocence you exuded, that made his obsession spiral.

if only he knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed.

you had noticed rafe’s peculiar behavior weeks ago. at first, you brushed it off as just him being rafe—arrogant, charming, always lingering too long in your personal space. but then, you’d caught him red-handed, fumbling with your drawer when he thought you were in the shower. he hadn’t seen you peek around the corner, hadn’t noticed the way your jaw had dropped when he slipped a pair of your panties into his pocket and left like nothing had happened.

it wasn’t disgust you felt, surprisingly. it was pure lust.

instead of confronting him, you decided to watch. you started paying closer attention to his movements when he was over, strategically leaving him alone in your room just to see if he’d do it again. he did. every single time. and you, instead of stopping him, started taking pictures. at first, they were innocent enough—just snapshots of him rummaging around like a guilty little boy. but then, the photos became something else. you began capturing the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his jaw clenched when he held your panties to his nose and inhaled like a man starved.

you couldn’t explain why it turned you on, but it did.

now, weeks later, you had a collection of photos hidden in your phone, and the sight of rafe in your room no longer shocked you. tonight, he was particularly bold. you had invited him over for dinner, and he had made some excuse about needing to use the bathroom. you knew better. quietly, you followed him up the stairs, camera ready, as he slipped into your bedroom.

rafe’s hands shook as he opened your drawer. he hated how addicted he had become to this. it was like his brain short-circuited every time he got close to your stuff. he grabbed a pale pink pair this time, the fabric soft and delicate between his fingers. his imagination ran wild—thinking about you wearing them, thinking about peeling them off you.

“you really can’t help yourself, huh?”

rafe froze. his blood ran cold, the pink panties still clutched in his hand as your voice broke the silence. slowly, he turned around, his face flushing a deep crimson when he saw you standing in the doorway, phone in hand, a knowing smirk on your lips.

“y/n,” he stammered, his voice thick with panic. “i—this isn’t—”

“oh, don’t even bother lying,” you interrupted, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind you. “i’ve known for weeks, rafe. you’re not exactly subtle.”

his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. you held up your phone, showing him a picture you’d taken just days ago of him with your lacy panties in his hand, taking a deep inhale of the seat.

“i have a whole collection,” you teased, your smirk growing wider. “you’re not the only one with a little... obsession.”

rafe’s eyes darkened at your words. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

you shrugged, moving closer. “i’ve been watching you. taking pictures. at first, i thought it was just funny, you sneaking around like a kid caught stealing candy. but then...” you trailed off, tilting your head as you met his gaze. “then i realized i kind of liked it.”

his breath hitched. “you... like it?”

“maybe,” you said coyly. “but i also like idea of you pleasuring yourself to my panties.”

rafe swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. he felt trapped, exposed, but the way you were looking at him—with a mix of amusement and something far darker—made his blood heat. “so, what now?” he asked, his voice thick with tension. “you gonna tell me to get out? call the cops?”

you laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his stomach flip. “no, rafe. i’m not gonna kick you out. but i think it’s time we stop pretending.”

“pretending?”

“that i’m this innocent little thing you’ve built up in your head,” you said, stepping closer until you were just inches away. “i know what you’ve been doing, and i let you. hell, i wanted you to. but now, i think it’s time you earn what you’ve been sneaking around for.”

rafe’s mouth went dry. “what does that mean?”

you smiled, reaching out to pluck the pink panties from his hand. “it means,” you said, your voice dropping to a whisper, “you don’t have to steal anymore.”

his heart was a drum in his chest, loud and erratic, drowning out the world around him. your words hung in the air, daring him to cross the line he’d been skirting for weeks. your lips curved into a teasing smile, your gaze unwavering as you stepped even closer, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off you.

“y/n,” he murmured, your name barely audible over the pounding in his ears. his hands clenched at his sides, torn between pulling you closer and keeping some semblance of control.

“what’s wrong, rafe?” you asked softly, your voice dripping with challenge. “you were bold enough to sneak into my room. now you’re scared to touch me?”

his restraint snapped. in a swift motion, his hands cupped your face, and his lips crashed against yours. the kiss was messy, heated, and filled with weeks of pent-up frustration. your hands flew to his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as you kissed him back just as fervently. his tongue slid against yours, claiming, searching, as if trying to drink in every bit of you he could.

you moaned softly into his mouth, and rafe swore he saw stars. his hands roamed down, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. the pink panties you’d taken from him fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

when you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the small space between you. your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes sparkled with something that made rafe’s knees weak.

“guess you’re not as shy as i thought,” you teased, your voice breathless.

“you drive me insane, y’know that?” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours. his thumb traced your cheek, softer now, though the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“good,” you said, smirking as your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. “because i’m not done with you yet.”

rafe’s grin mirrored yours, all sharp edges and wicked intent. “oh, trust me, neither am i.”

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

[zyafics]

HEARTBREAK: LIVE | 35

All | MASTERLIST (SMAU)

Pairing — Ex-BF!Rafe x Radio Host!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe were the perfect couple. But after a mysterious breakup, you went off the grid. When your best friends pulls you back into the spotlight to host a on-campus radio show, you find yourself opening up to the world about your experience. This time, with everyone listening—including Rafe. And him? He wants you back.

Content — college au, football player!rafe au, pregnancy (mentions of abortions, fears, etc.)

Navigation — Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR HB:L: @ghostofwriting @mimibaby01 @itneverendshere @platinumblondeedition @inthelibrarybtw @psychocitylights @carrerascameron @theeternaloptimistt @frankoceanluvr11 @lilithblackkk @he6rtshaker @promiscuousg1rl @whytheylosttheirminds @harrys-housewife @maybankslover @starkeydolly @a-lovers-card @rafesgiirl @psychicnatural @rrosiitas @enthusiastms @doll-face222 @ilovefiction4lmen @goldsainz @starkeygirls @maybankiara @yootvi @4ria790 @rafegf-real @rafeslovergirl @yuckblushin @xoxosblogsblog @logansblackgf @watchmerora @lou-la-lou @astroniii @vonhoe @congratsloserr @ilyrafe @rafesdrew @marooningmirrorball @drwstarkeys @xdeadlybansheex @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut @fandom-addict-aesthetics @jeongintwt @evelynrayne

[l6ndry]

summer sun forever, rafe cameron

band au!rafe x fan!reader (SMAU)

IN WHICH . . . one of the biggest warnings among celebrities is to avoid falling for a fan. rafe clearly does not consider this when he first notices his self proclaimed number one fan, you.

navigation: part 04 | part 05 | part 06

viewed best on mobile + dark mode.

amora speaks: heello ,, this is a 3 day timeskip btw from the last chapter!!!!! also me naming their tour the sundare tour is so creative ikik 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

also i mentioned yn being in the us as sundare is from the us, but u can literally js close one eye and imagine it as someplace else cs i dont live in the us either !!!!

AND THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO GAVE ME THE BAND NAME!!! eternally grateful for u angel ily if ur reading this

taglist ७౿ @nepttunesoop @lilithblackkk @kolsmikaelson @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafescvmdumpster @wearemadeofstardust0 @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @maybankslover @rafestify @dayyzlol @namelesslosers @mjsvinyl @nellyboosworld @osamanyc @bradleyroosterbradshawfr @urmotherlvr @rafeslittlevixen @p0gue420 @hoelesslyt @aariahnaa @kay133sposts @hadids-world @vivian-555 @unclecrunkle @eitaababe @he6rtshaker @hiiiiiiii-111111 @fmit37cass @aoiiana @rosiitas @shirley2626 @hereforchifuyu @rafesfavouritegirl @benwadsworthsgf @glxsyymads @starkeydolly @loveu-always @obx-potc-marvel-hp-ep @glitterybombshell @b3bybunny @nina-or-anna-or-nora @drewsdirtyslut @idgasb @inthelibrarybtw @whorelaud @lexilovespepsi @drwstarkeys @ilovefiction4lmen @kaiparkerwifes @shincidios @mrsstarkeyy @solaceinwritings @xoxo-ada @emmaaas-posts @joshuafatubaee @urfavoriteangel @enthusiastms @linoscrly @iheartjdmx @dr3wstarkey @rlalliehayes @xoxotaylynn

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so small it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(to be continued)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

please note, i've closed the taglist for this story. to be first to know when i post please follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifications 💘

[cherrygirlfriend]

black widow pairing: wife!reader x husband!rafe synopsis: rafe gets a call from reader screaming about a spider, only to realize it really is that serious. warnings: fluff, spiders - wc: 1k i thought it'd be an interesting premise if it was an actually venomous spider!! i also decided to write this about husband!rafe, hope that's alright! thank you for requesting!

rafe was sitting in his chair, listening to yet another old man nitpick his way of doing business and giving his two cents where it really wasn't wanted, a small part of the man just wishing there was a sniper on top of some roof, getting ready to finish the job so he wouldn't have to listen to this crap.

he felt a soft vibration in the pocket of his trousers, digging out his phone and looking at the screen, your name lighting it up with an incoming call, the entire board of directors turning their attention to him, and he was conflicted about what to do; sure, this meeting was the last thing he wanted to be at, but he couldn't just ignore it. rafe sighed, pressing the red button and muttering a quiet apology, the meeting continuing like nothing happened.

but only a few seconds later, he felt his pocket start vibrating again, and he knew something was off; you never called him again after he declined your call, especially while he's at work.

"excuse me, i have to take this." rafe muttered, standing up and ignoring the judgemental looks the men were throwing his way, as he made his way out of the glass-walled meeting room, smoothing a hand over his short hair as he presses the green button with urgency, bringing his phone to his ear, "baby? what's wrong?"

the last thing he expected was to hear you scream.

"baby?" he asked, already starting to make his way to the elevator, knowing that whatever it was, he'd deal with it immediately, "baby, talk to me, what's happening? are you in danger?!"

"rafe!" you exclaimed on the other line, sounding breathless, "you gotta come home, you gotta come home right now."

"what is it? what's happening?" every single alarm bell was ringing inside rafe's head and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears; what if someone hurt you? what if you were getting robbed? what if you were in danger?

"there's a- eeeeek!" you exclaim, "there's a spider!"

rafe's hand drops from the elevator button, a dumbfounded look on his face as he held the phone to his ear; he couldn't believe he'd just rushed out of a meeting only for you to be calling him because of... a spider? he let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"baby, you're a big girl. i'm sure you can handle one damn spider. you know, i can't just ditch an important meeting because you're too sweet to kill a damn spider, it's-"

"no, rafe!" you groaned into the phone, "it's not just a damn spider, i'm pretty sure it's a venomous spider!"

"what? how do you know?"

"you know, it's that one redhead from the avengers! it has- it has a black body and a red hourglass on it's stomach, and i searched it up, and it's a venomous spider!"

"fuck..." rafe sighed, getting into the elevator and pressing the button for the bottom floor, "alright, baby, i'm coming but it's gonna take me a bit, i'll get someone to come take care of it right now."

luckily, rafe knew that a guy who lived a few houses away from you was a pretty prominent zoologist, having gotten stuck listening to him talk about snakes for almost an hour at a party his wife had held, and for once, he was thankful for weird-ass neighbors.

after thirty minutes of driving through red lights and ignoring stop signs, rafe slams the driver side's door closed, immediately spotting you sitting on the steps in front of your shared home, your head in your hands, gazing down at the ground. he made a beeline towards you, kneeling down in front of you.

"baby?" he asked, his hand on your shoulder, coaxing you to look at him. even though you'd grown up on the cut where they were practically everywhere, you'd never been too fond of bugs, and whenever they invaded your home, it was rafe who got the job of getting rid of them. he gently placed his hand under your chin, lifting your face up so you were looking up at him, your pretty lips turned down into a pout that would've looked annoying on anyone else, but on you, it was strangely endearing. anything you did was like that. "everything alright?"

you nodded, letting out a small sigh, "yeah, christa's husband came to help me with it and took it away."

"alright, so why do you look so sour?" rafe practically cooed, "c'mon. let's go inside." you let out a small sniffle, reluctantly letting rafe pull you up and lead you inside. honestly, you really didn't know why it seemed like such a big deal to you in that moment; the spider was gone now, and it wasn't like it got anywhere near you. yet, somehow it felt like the end of the world.

soon, you two were tangled on the couch, your head in the crook of his warm neck, rafe's hand carding through your hair. "everything alright?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "the spider's gone now, sweets."

"yeah..." you fiddled with your hands, deep in thought as you listened to rafe's steady heartbeat underneath you. "i don't know why i got so... fussy over it. i just haven't been sleeping properly, so i guess i'm more emotional."

"oh, i've noticed your little mood swings." rafe guffawed, "i still remember last week when your package hadn't arrived so you gave me the silent treatment like i was the damn mail man."

"to be fair, you managed to get it to me the very next day."

"anything for my grumpy cat." he pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, "but i wasn't the one who made it late in the first place."

suddenly, the sentence he'd just spoken started ringing in your head, one word especially seeming to stick with you like glue.

late.

[lovelookspretty]

did you see the scene in obx4 where rafe was locked into this cabin by the pogues? i can’t stop thinking about this idea..

would you write this scene, with him locked up in there & secret!fwb!reader sneaks in there to have hoooootttttt sweeeeeaaaaatyyyy sexxxxx with rafe?! that’s so hot!! he’s still tied up & frustrated & angry & she just rides him cause he can’t stand up. and they have to be quiet cause no one knows that they occasionally hook up!😩🎀

his gaze lingers on you the moment you slip between the crack of the door. he’s silent, leaning back against the wall, chest heaving with every labored breath. “what are you . . . what are you doin’ here, y/n?” he’s frustrated with you now too, for coming in there when you’re not supposed to, but it’s clear you don’t care.

and now you’re here, saddled across rafe’s lap with your lips against his. it’s obvious that he’s struggling between the knots that secure his wrists together, his hands wrestling with one another between your bodies.

you know that he’d do anything just to touch you.

rafe groans into your mouth, his struggles growing more frantic as you settle against him. he can’t fucking move, can’t even wrap his arms around you properly. all he can do is hold himself still and hope that you don't notice how fucking desperate he is.

“y/n,” he breathes, though you turn deaf to his whispers. you catch his jaw and force it to the right as you kiss along his neck, slowly trailing down to his collarbone and below.

rafe tilts his head back, baring his neck to you as he growls. “c’mon, fucking . . . just let me go, baby.” his breathing hitches as you continue to kiss down his chest, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, “you know i can’t touch you back.”

“shut up,” you murmur against his skin, rocking back into a crouch. he almost thinks you’re about to leave until you get back on your knees and start working on his belt, before it comes undone for you and you can reach for his cock trapped underneath his boxers.

your hand finds the bulge with mercy, and you maintain rafe’s gaze as you palm him in just the right place that he—

there’s a quick gasp, almost like he doesn’t mean it to happen but it slips out anyway, and he subsides with a chuckle. his hips jerk up involuntarily as your hand finds him. his eyes, dark with lust, bore into yours. “fuck, y/n, don’t fucking—” rafe grits out, voice strained, “i swear to god, if you . . .”

you hum as he bites back a groan, your palm sliding up and down his bulge until you actually decide to take it out carefully. “fuck, baby,” he murmurs, his cock throbbing under your touch, already hard and aching.

his eyes roll back when he feels you eventually sink down on him, his head thudding against the wall as his hips twitch up to meet you. “you’re kidding,” he whispers, his hands fisting uselessly in the ropes that are binding him, desperate to touch you. “please, just untie me for now. you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. please.”

you’re enjoying yourself, not having to worry about being thrown around like usual. moments like these get you excited—it isn’t often rafe willingly lets you be in control.

his hands tighten into fists between you two, fingers curling and uncurling as he fights the urge to reach for you, somehow grope you. instead, he pushes his hips up harder, burying himself deeper inside you and earning a moan in response.

“c’mon, rafe . . .” you’re warm around his cock, enveloping him fully. “just let me do all the work,” you mumble, fluttering back and forth on his lap as you keep your open hand on his chest, your fingers instinctively grasping the material of his shirt that it rises up on his torso, exposing his bare waist.

his abs tighten with each roll of your hips. he’s panting now, the wet sounds of your coupling filling the small space. he hisses through his teeth as you ride him, his chest heaving with each breath. his waist is bared to your touch, and he’s so fucking tempted to reach out and grab your hand, to feel your touch on his skin. but he can’t. and it drives him fucking insane.

he arches into your touch, craving more contact even as he’s forced to remain still. “you’re killin’ me, y/n,” he grunts, his hips rolling to meet your movements. “i’ll be good, just let me go.”

you hum a childish ‘mm-mm’ to deny him, earning a soft groan from under you. he’s desperate, he doesn’t even know what he’ll do if he needs to cum.

usually he’ll just thrust senselessly until he has to pull out, just a risky second or two before he’s releasing, but now? he’s just smiling through the pleas. you’re such a sadist, he sees that now.

you’re not just enjoying yourself on his cock, you’re enjoying that he can’t do anything about it.

rafe chuckles hoarsely, “oh, i see how it is. you wanna watch me suffer, huh?” he rocks his hips upward into your heat. “fine,” he pants, like it’s no problem, “fine, fine, fine.”

he’s never felt more out of control, and it’s both infuriating and exhilarating at the same time.

you bite down on your lip to silence your moans, figuring that if any of the pogues outside that door hear either one of you, you’re done for. but it feels too good to stop, at some point to even stay quiet—a part of you would wail freely if you could.

rafe throws his head back with a strangled laugh, his body shuddering as you continue to ride him. “fuck, you’re so pretty when you’re makin’ a mess on me, baby. just wait ‘til i get outta these ropes and we get to essaouira.”

you grin and clamp your hand over his mouth to shut him up finally before you’re caught.

god, he needs to let this happen more often.

a/n: i had to keep stopping n continuing writing this for the last few days bc i kept getting writers block omg i forgot how to fuck 💔

[shrimpybbq]

season 4 pt2 with rafe, his wife and their kids

sarah who comes over to see rafe, only to be met at the door by high school gf-turned wifey, little charlie tangled between her legs as he peeks up at the unexpected guest

charlie’s eyes brighten as he lets out a squeal of “Aunty Sarah!” before suddenly throwing himself against her, giggling as sarah picks him up and cuddles him. she missed her nephew so much, and she had only managed to meet emmy once, so she’s pleased to see the kids even if it’s alongside another less pleasant task

high school gf had been walking down the main road in kildare when she stumbled across sarah and john b a few months back, charlie holding his mother’s hand as she carried a smaller emmy in a chest wrap. the estranged family had sat together at a cafe as she took a sleeping emmy out of the wrap, allowing sarah to hold her niece for the first time.

“She’s so little - so perfect,” Sarah had whispered, eyes fixated on the little human before her, “I can’t believe she came from my brother.”

The older girl laughed at Sarah, before looking at her sadly. “He wants to reconnect with you, Sar. He’s just scared.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for that. To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will,” Sarah admitted. She had watched as her sister-in-law sighed, before wrapping her in a side hug.

“I know, and I don’t blame you. What he did wasn’t right. But he regrets it, and you should at least know that. He feels bad about it every single day,” high school gf stated.

high school gf brings sarah out to the balcony, only for them to see emmy resting on rafe’s lap as he works. she knows rafe needs to be alone when he talks to his sister so she gently takes her from him, but not before placing a quick kiss on his lips,

“You can do this, baby. Just be calm.”

when sarah waves to the baby at the property hearing, it’s 100% high school gf and emmy. rafe had no interest in attending the hearing, but his wife wanted to go and support his sister so she attended

when sarah finds out she’s pregnant, she feels like she truly understands high school gf more. sarah was so scared to be pregnant and to be a mom, and yet high school gf was even younger when she got pregnant (and she had a drugged up rafe as a boyfriend). she thinks about how alone her sister-in-law must have felt and her heart hurts for her

high school gf gets a text from sarah one evening and the next day, the younger girl is secretly around at the cameron house again. rafe was out on business but the two women talk, with sarah getting advice on what to do and how to tell john b. she ends up crying into her sister-in-law’s chest, scared but knowing she wouldn’t be alone (she gets the best, most rational advice ever too, something she knows is a skill developed from living with rafe)

rafe’s already proposed, so before he leaves he’s having a heartfelt goodbye with his wife

“I’m just gonna be gone for a little while, ok baby? Groff screwed me and we need that money to set us up, set the kids up. A few weeks tops. And I’m gonna call as much as I can once I get to Morocco, so make sure you keep your phone on you, ok?”

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

“You know it. I ain’t gon’ do shit that could keep me away from you, you know that. And look, if you really need help while I’m gone, you know you can call Barry,” Rafe said.

“Barry is the absolute last resort,” she mumbled back, “but ok.”

Rafe leaned in and placed a heady kiss against her lips before wrapping her in his embrace. He inhaled deeply, committing to memory the scent of her perfume and the shampoo she used.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

when rafe is locked in the room on the ship just stewing over the events that led to his temporary imprisonment, he’s so angry. he grows angrier when he thinks about leaving his family to try and do something nice only to end up this way

he totally says to sarah that high school gf wouldn’t approve of the way she’s treating him, trying to guilt her to letting him go (she just rolls her eyes and walks out)

when he finds out about sarah’s pregnancy, he’s thinking of his family. the one he lost and the one he built. he wants his sister back in his life, and he wants to know his niece or nephew, the same way she got to know charlie - he’s just so hurt and misguided still

oh you know he’s trying to be helpful and bond with sarah again by giving pregnancy tips - everyone is shocked until they remember that he has a family

“You need to drink some ginger or peppermint tea. It’ll help balance out the acids in your stomach. Chuck a cracker or two in there as well.”

The pogues turned to look at Rafe curiously. He froze as all eyes landed on him.

“I’ve got kids, alright? I’ve dealt with this shit before - you think you’re the first pregnant woman to feel sick?”

he’s in essaouira when he first calls home, his wife so relieved to hear from him. he doesn’t have a lot of time so he promises to speak to his kids later, but for now he needs help finding groff. rafe doesn’t end the call without saying i love you though, no matter how rushed he is

sarah casually tells rafe that his wife knows of her pregnancy, and he just huffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course she does,” he grumbles

groff taunts rafe with his family when he’s stuck in the well - she hasn’t betrayed him yet, he mocks. the way he speaks about high school gf is vile, insinuating she’s a gold digger and only wants him for his name. he even resorts to suggesting she will run away with their children, leaving him alone (which is actually a deep seated fear of rafe’s, though it’s lessened). unfortunately for groff, he failed to do any research on rafe and his wife, so his words don’t reach him in the intended way, rolling off of his shoulders. he knows his wife and he knows their past, now more comfortable in his relationship than ever before

during the rafe and sarah reunion, he’s so emotional and confused. even though he’s comfortable in his marriage, to him, sarah is the one person he thinks could turn his wife against him

“No, you’re just gonna screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will- I- I know you will. I’ve only got one person left in this world who cares about me, and what- are you going to try take her too, huh?”

Sarah pleaded, “No, no- because I’m all you’ve got! And you’re the only real family I have left - you built your family and so did I, but we’re the only ones left from our old lives. I want us to be happy, and you know that she wants that too. I want us all to be together.”

rafe doesn’t manage to call home again until after the death of jj, but when he does, he’s so desperate to hear their voices - all of them. he’s just watched someone he thought was invincible die, and he just wants to know his family is safe. he uses up almost half of his phone battery on the call, but it’s worth it to him

rafe doesn’t know what the pogues are planning, but he’s adamant that he will support them. his only condition is that he will do so from kildare, refusing to be away from his family for any longer

honestly not a lot to work with for s4 part 2 but I’ve done my best so please enjoy a lot of rafe introspection

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

[greengoblinswifey]

Redemption— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— you’re taken by Groff’s accomplices and you’re ex Rafe Cameron appears to save you unexpectedly. your past is full of pain but he’s determined to make things right.

warnings— ex to lovers, kidnapping, arguing, slight manipulation and coercion, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, choking, ass slapping, degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Rafe hadn’t planned on being part of the treasure hunt again, but when he heard about the Groff connection and Sarah dragging you into it, he couldn’t stay away. It wasn’t about the money this time—though he wouldn’t say no to a cut or possibly stealing it for himself—it was about you. Despite everything, he still cared deeply, even if he didn’t show it the way you deserved.

Your relationship had ended months ago, crumbling under the weight of his issues and the way he treated your friends. You’d made it clear you didn’t want to see him again even during the trip. But when he found out you’d been kidnapped by Groff’s men, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t think straight until he had you back.

When he first showed up to give his help, your cold glare hit harder than any insult. “You shouldn’t be here, Rafe,” you’d said flatly, refusing to meet his eyes.

He tried to explain himself, but you cut him off. “I don’t trust you, not after everything. You treated my friends like garbage, and you don’t get to come in now and play the hero.”

“I’m not here to play the hero,” he’d said, voice low, almost pleading. “I’m here for you.”

But there was no time to dwell on old wounds. Chaos erupted, and by the time the dust settled, he’d saved you from Groff’s accomplices and now you were both hiding out in a grimy motel room.

“You didn’t have to come after me, Rafe,” you snapped, pacing the cramped space. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor. Especially not from someone who ditched us when we needed him.”

His jaw clenched as he leaned against the door. “You’re seriously saying that to me? You all left me to almost get arrested! Like I was nothing.”

“You were nothing when you couldn’t pick a side!” you fired back, glaring at him.

“I did pick a side,” he shot back, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “I picked you. That’s why I’m here.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them undeniable. You scoffed, looking away, but your resolve wavered as he moved closer.

“You think I don’t care?” His tone softened, a crack in his armor. “You think I didn’t lose my mind when I heard they took you? I couldn’t—I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Your breath hitched, but you shook your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe’s hand caught your wrist gently, turning you to face him. His gaze burned, the anger and pain in his eyes mirrored in your own. “I’m here now,” he murmured. “Let me prove it.”

You didn’t have time to argue before his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was desperate, heated, and filled with all the unspoken emotions you’d both buried. Your fingers curled into his shirt as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. The frustration and anger melted into something you couldn’t name, something that felt like it could destroy you both if you let it.

Rafe’s hands were everywhere, his lips trailing from your mouth to your neck with a desperation you hadn’t felt in months. You wanted to lose yourself in him, but the anger resurfaced, and you pushed him away, chest heaving.

“I can’t do this, Rafe. Not after how you’ve treated us—how you’ve treated me.”

His jaw clenched, but his voice was soft. “I got a ship for all of you. I stayed civil even after you tied me up. I’m here, trying to prove myself to you. I still want you. I can’t do this without you—I can’t be better without you.”

Your emotions threatened to spill over, but instead of crying or screaming, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. The kiss was fiery, tangled in resentment and longing, as his hands roamed your body again. His lips found your neck, and a moan escaped before you could stop it.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” you muttered, your voice shaky.

“Yeah?” His hand slid lower, brushing under the fabric of your outfit and finding your pussy. “Well, you’re wet for this piece of shit.” His voice was low, teasing, as his fingers found their way inside.

You gasped, torn between shame and pleasure. “You’re disgusting, Rafe. I can’t stand you.”

“And yet here you are, you’re a slut for liking this,” he whispered against your neck. “Hear how wet you are.”

The heat built unbearably, and you couldn’t stop yourself. As your body betrayed you, the orgasm was laced with mortification. You turned away, unable to meet his gaze, but he just smirked softly. “You can hate me all you want,” he said, his voice a murmur. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He slipped his fingers coated in your arousal in your mouth and your tongue swirled over them.

“Good girl,” he chuckled.

“You never know when to shut up, do you?” you snapped, rolling your eyes as Rafe smirked. His hands rested confidently on your waist, pulling you closer.

“I could say the same about you,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing. Before you could retort, he dropped to his knees, silencing you with his actions.

“Don’t,” you started, but the heat of his touch made your words falter.

“Stop pretending you don’t like it,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours, as he licked your pussy. Despite yourself, a soft moan escaped you.

“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly, and you could only glare as he gave a satisfied grin.

Rafe’s grip on your hips was firm, his strength keeping you in place despite your squirming. Your fingers tangled in his buzzed hair, tugging as whimpers slipped from your lips. His focus didn’t waver, and you felt yourself trembling under his relentless attention.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice breaking with a mix of defiance and surrender. But he didn’t stop until your entire body tensed, a soft moan escaping as you reached your peak. He looked up at you afterward, his expression smug and victorious.

Rafe leaned back, a smug grin on his face as he palmed his cock through his pants, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Look how hard you got me, baby,” he said, his voice low and confident. His hand moved slowly, emphasizing his words. “You used to always help me out with this, come on, suck daddy’s cock.”

The nickname made you wince, memories stirring. He saw the hesitation but leaned in closer, voice softer but insistent. “You know you want to,” he murmured, his gaze challenging, daring you to resist.

Rafe pulled his hard cock out, his size drawing a breathless reaction from you, it looked like he’d gotten bigger, if that was even possible. He chuckled, the sound dripping with arrogance. “Come on, baby. Help daddy out,” he coaxed, his tone a mix of command and temptation. Despite your resolve, you felt yourself falter, unable to resist the magnetic pull he always had on you.

Arching your back, your ass high in the air, you leaned down, taking him into your mouth. His groan was instant, his hand finding your waist before he smacked your ass. “That’s my good girl,” he muttered. You rolled your eyes and took him into your warm mouth, bobbing your head at the right pace to have him moaning. You used your hand to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth as his balls tightened and his breathing grew ragged. Just as he was about to release, you pulled away.

His laugh was one of disbelief. “You’re such a brat,” he muttered, shaking his head, though the amusement never left his eyes.

Rafe’s warm hands moved to your bare thighs, rubbing it slowly as he looked up at you with those blue eyes. He knew it was your weakness. You were already soaked but having him caress you like that practically turned you into a fountain. He had you right where he wanted you.

“My cock really misses that tight, wet pussy,” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

“Yeah? Well if you want to fuck me, you’re gonna have to beg,” you retorted.

Rafe let out a mocking chuckle, as if he couldn’t believe those words left your lips. His little baby wasn’t such a baby anymore.

“Seems like we’ve been apart for so long that you’ve forgotten, Rafe Cameron doesn’t fucking beg.”

He snaked his hand around your neck, pulling you into a heated, rough kiss. Your tongues slipped into each other’s mouth, the feeling one that made you melt. He pushed you onto the bed by your neck and took his position above you.

“You’ve also forgotten that this is my pussy and I saved you, I’ve fucking earned it,” he said, with that cocky smirk plastered on his face.

Everyone had their weakness, for Sarah it was John B, for Pope it was Cleo and for you— well, it was Rafe Cameron.

You spread your legs and he smirked, resisting to make a snarky comment as he dragged the head of his cock up and down your wet folds. He placed it on your clit, teasing you as you squirmed underneath him.

“Please,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to have him plunge his cock inside you,

“Look who’s begging now,” he said, darkly.

He lifted your legs around his waist and you locked them as he sank into your pussy. His hips bucked and his pace faltered as he had to slowly push in and wait for you to adjust to his size.

“So tight f’me, glad no one’s been inside this pussy since we broke up.”

You gave him a slight push on the chest but your attack was halted as he thrusted into you all the way. Your jaw fell slack as you gasped for air feeling him fill you to the brim.

“S’okay baby, just breathe, daddy’s here,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your lips.

He began rutting steadily inside you, whispering little praises that made your stomach flip. You wouldn’t admit it but a part of you missed having him above you like this. By now he had taken off his shirt, revealing the muscle underneath and the sweat glistening on his body. You ground against him, your clit getting the stimulation you desperately craved and sending pleasure through you.

“Oh God, daddy,” you moaned, meeting his thrusts faster.

“You gonna cum baby? That’s it, cum for me,” he murmured.

Rafe’s pace sped up, hitting the sweet spot inside you as your release hit you like a truck. He continued fucking you through your orgasm, your legs shaking as he did, the pleasure almost too much.

“Good girl, there she is,” he cooed, “I knew you wanted this too.”

“M-more,” you managed to croak out.

“Oh my baby wants more? You want daddy to fuck you even more? What a dirty little slut.”

He complied with your request, flipping you swiftly onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to him. You arched your back the way you knew he liked it and he kissed your ass before rubbing his cock along your folds.

“God baby, did I mention how much I missed this wet pussy?”

He slammed into you from behind, gripping your waist as he brought you back onto his cock, hard. Your ass clapped against him and he watched mesmerized as his cock disappeared inside you and came out covered in your cream and juices.

“Daddy,” you moaned, shamelessly as he rolled his hips into you. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t see his face but you knew he had on that smug look and you gasped as he pressed your face into the pillow, pounding into you at a deeper angle.

“You really like that huh, fuck, your pussy is just gripping my cock so well baby, cum for daddy, cream all over my cock.”

He slapped your ass, basically giving you the go ahead as you shuddered under his touch, his name leaving your lips continuously as you creamed all over his cock. Unable to stop himself, he stilled inside you, his load spurting as he moaned your name and you felt his dick throb against your walls.

He rolled over, pulling out of you but not before spreading your ass to watch his cum drip out.

You stared up at the ceiling, wondering what you were doing with your life. You were in a random motel in Morocco and you hooked up with your ex after he saved you from kidnappers, meanwhile your friends were probably out looking for you, worried sick.

“Uh, we should go, they’re probably looking for me,” you sighed, getting up. He took a piece of cloth and wiped between your legs. Silence fell between you but oddly, it was a comfortable silence. You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but care and sincerity. He really did come for you and was actually trying to change and do right by you all.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

only you, always

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you would never admit it out loud to anyone, but a twisted part of you likes when rafe cheats on you. its a dark truth, one you wrestle with every time it happens.

it's always when he's blackout drunk or high at a party, usually a combination of both. it's often when you're fighting or on a “break”. like last week, when your blowout argument ended with rafe slamming the door behind him and stomping out into the night. you were quick to hear that he made out with some girl at kelce's party. the pain lasted until the next day when he showed up back home, disheveled and tear-streaked, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“i fucked up.” he croaked. 

you just stared at him until he fell to his knees, blue eyes rimmed with red as he pressed his forehead against your stomach. “please don’t leave me. i can’t lose you.”

the cheating hurts you every time, but rafe coming back crawling and crying, begging your forgiveness and worshiping you for the next few weeks always makes up for it.

“hi beautiful.” rafe kisses at your cheeks, a week having passed from your fight and his infidelity, the tension replaced with the warmth of his lips against your skin. 

“hey.” you smile, running your fingers over his face, stubble gracing his cheeks as he hasn't shaved for the last couple days, preferring to spend every waking moment with you instead as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i love you so much.” rafe leans in and kisses the tip of your nose this time, then your forehead, before dropping down to your lips.

“i don't deserve you.” rafe whispers before kissing you again.

“you probably don't.” you giggle, rolling on the bed so you're fully on top, pinning him beneath you. 

“i said i was sorry.” rafe pouts.

“and i forgave you.” you shake your head, your voice gentle but firm, realizing you probably shouldn't make fun of the situation, but humor feels safer than vulnerability.

“it won't happen again.” rafe says. it always does, yet he always promises it won't. maybe as you both grow older and more mature, both stop drinking and fighting so much, it will really be over, breaking the cycle. at least this time it was just kissing some random girl instead of sleeping with her.

you knew what you were getting into when you began dating rafe. he came with a wild reputation and an even wilder past. practically everyone in your friend group had a one night stand with rafe, but you didn't mind, because he chose to come back to you, not anyone else.

“what are you thinking about baby?” rafe asks, watching the emotions flicker over your face.

“just how good of a boyfriend you can be.” you answer with a small smile. 

“yeah?” rafe smirks, his head tilting to the side as a mischievous look flashes over his eyes. “do you want me to show you just how good of a boyfriend or do you want breakfast first?”

“you first.” you say quickly. “and then bacon and eggs.”

“scrambled or sunny side up?”

“scrambled of course.”

rafe grin grows, hands moving against your bare skin. “just like im about to scramble your-”

“allllright.” you cut him off before he can finish his joke, laughing as you roll off of him.

“no come back.” he pouts, pulling you back against his body, molding his chest to your back as he spoons you.

“you're so ridiculous.” you chuff, though your voice betrays the affection simmering beneath the surface.

“ridiculously in love with you.” rafe counters, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. he just had you last night, but he's already craving you again, missing the feeling of your bodies pressed together in the most intimate way.

“you're extra corny this morning.” you hum out.

“sorry.” rafe chuckles. you love that he's only like this around you, and only when he's just cheated. he turns into a dopey lovesick puppy until the need for your forgiveness and guilt wears off and he's back to his normal self.

rafe places his hand on your stomach, circling around your soft skin, each movement sweeping lower every time, deliberate and teasing.

“rafe.” you whine, eyes shutting as he begins to dip into your underwear with every gesture. 

“mhm.” rafe hums. as much as he likes to tease you, he wants to pleasure you more. his hand dips all the way into your underwear, fingertips coming to your clit.

he knows your body so well, exactly what to do to drive you crazy, every touch sending electricity through your body. his strokes over your clit are gentle, occasionally purposely missing to rub lower towards your entrance, like he's teasing where he's going to be later. it’s a dance you’ve done a hundred times before, but it never gets old.

“that feels so good.” you moan out, not even realizing that your eyes had fallen closed. rafe moves his other hand so it's under your body, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he sculpts himself around you, other hand cupping your chest.

“mmm.” you hum, feeling rafes hardness pressing against your bum as his fingers stop teasing your clit, rubbing intensely now with the purpose of getting you wet and open.

“oh, baby.” rafe moans as you reach behind your back, hand cupping over his underwear, squeezing at his length through the fabric.

“fuck me. please.” you begin to move your hips, grinding yourself against his hand.

“be patient.” he tsks, fingers pinching at your nipple before going back to cupping your breast.

“unfair.” you pout, but decide two can play at that game, bringing your hand underneath his waistband to stroke up and down his cock.

you can't see rafes face, but you're sure his expression just shifted to one of pleasure.

his hand delves further between your legs, finger circling around your entrance only once before pushing into your cunt, making you moan loudly.

“fuck yes.” you rock your hips again, this time back against rafes crotch, your hand still moving up and down his cock.

“god, i can barely wait.” rafe groans, finger moving faster inside of you, building you up as quickly as he can.

“stop waiting then.” you move your hand, turning onto your back, rafes hand maneuvering to still fuck into you. “come on, rafey.”

you know once he sees your pout he can't resist, not when he's still making things up to you.

“god, that face kills me.” he presses a quick kiss against your lips before moving, pulling your underwear down and flinging them off the bed before disrobing himself.

you grin as rafe doesn't even bother to ask how you want him, instantly lying himself over top of you and lining up his cock with your entrance.

“i love you.” you press a kiss against rafes cheek as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“i love you.” rafe echos back, connecting your lips that quickly develop into moans as he pushes inside of you, engulfing his cock in your heat.

rafe knows he doesn’t need to give you time, already used to his cock being sheathed inside of you. he begins to swing his hips in an even rhythm.

your fingertips dig into his shoulders, pressing into his tanned skin.

“nobody even gets close to you.” rafe groans as you tighten your cunt around him every time he pulls out to thrust back in.

“its only you.” rafe continues as he drops one hand between your bodies, placing his thumb against your clit as he rubs to the rhythm of his thrusts. “only you.”

you can't help that smile that stretches across your face. you don't give a shit if it's only you, as long as he continues to fuck you like this and treat you like a queen.

“faster, rafe.” you pull his chest tighter against yours, your nipples pressing against his skin, stimulating them with his every movement as he speeds up.

“c-close.” you whine.

“me too.” rafe grunts in agreement. “gonna cum in you, yeah?”

“yes.” you nod rapidly. “yes, please, please, please, rafe.”

your head is swirling with the overwhelming pleasure as rafes thumb presses against your clit just as his cock is thrust deep inside of you. it's enough to throw you over the edge, back arching up into rafe as you moan loudly, legs shaking as you feel him lose it to, his moans loud in your ear as he pumps into you.

“fuck, b-baby, y/n.” rafe groans as he finishes, making sure you get every last drop inside of you.

rafe drops himself to the side of you, the mattress bouncing as you both become slack against the sheets, hearts beating fast and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“i really do love you baby.” rafe says, his voice soft and slightly hoarse. “im sorry i always fuck things up.”

“you don't, though.” you move so you're resting against rafes chest, snuggled against his side. “you make mistakes but you always come back and make it right, that's all i ask for.”

you hear rafe sniffle and you know he's holding back tears, always extra emotional after a reconciliation, as if hes purging himself from the guilt.

“ill go make you some breakfast now if you wanna get dressed.” rafe slides quickly off the bed, keeping his back to you as he pulls his underwear back on.

“why would i get dressed if i want you to fuck me again after breakfast?” you tease, your lip quirking up.

you see rafes hand raise to his face, and you know he's wiping at his cheeks, but you give him time to collect himself, secretly happy only you can make him act like this.

“alright.” rafe turns around, his eyes still glossy but filled with adoration as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “bacon and scrambled eggs and then ill fuck you on the table, then in the shower, then ill take you shopping and fuck you in the dressing room.”

“perfect.” you grin.

[rafesgiirl]

I kinda love him a lot

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

penalty box

warnings: fighting, major penalty, mentions of wounds… suggestive !

MASTERLIST

Rafe glanced down at the puck he had on his stick, looking up to his teammate, Marchand, making sure he was open before passing it to him. Brad began to skate over to the goal, before he was shoved into the dasher board by the opposite team.

Rafe had already been pissed off at some of the dirty plays the other team had made, and today was not his day. He had already gotten eaten up by the coach earlier, and this game was not helping.

Rafe clenched his jaw, seeing the person skate away with the puck, following after him quickly. Rafe was hot on his tail, before someone else slammed into him, knocking him off his skates, causing him to fall on his ass. You winced at the sight, your face twisting up, silently hoping that he was okay.

But, Rafe stood up quickly, beginning to shove the man, shouting at him. The man shoved his back, before the both of them started to throw punches, the crowd erupting into cheers and shouts. Rafe threw his own helmet off, the other man doing the same. Both sticks were forgotten about on the ice.

You stood up quickly, watching as Rafe pinned the guy to the ground, punching him in the face multiple times, the other man trying to retaliate. The refs and the other players attempting to get Rafe off of the man.

You shouted Rafes name, despite knowing he couldn’t hear over all the noise. Rafe stood up, heaving and grabbing his helmet, stick and gloves, shoving his teammates hand off his shoulder, before skating to the penalty box.

Rafe knew where you were sitting, being directly in the first row, he glanced at you, seeing you look back at him worriedly. You weren’t too far from the penalty box, so it was easy to talk. You threw him a thumbs up with a furrowed eyebrow, as if asking him is he was okay. He looked back at you, nodding and giving you a small smile, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head to himself, glancing back at you every once in a while.

“Hey, tough guy,” you whispered teasingly, your breath warm against his lips as he stepped out of the locker room. The door swung open, revealing him with a small smile, the thrill of the game still evident in his eyes.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, the anger and frustration of the game disappearing, and instead, a spark of joy lighting up his features, replacing it.

“You did good today.” You told him when he wrapped his arms around you, him shrugging his shoulders.

“I did okay.” He murmured, turning his face away, giving you a view to the damage done.

You grabbed his face, examining the wounds and bruises forming on his face.

You frowned, seeing you look at him, and grabbing your hand, putting his rough palms on your skin.

“I’m fine, baby. I told you, you can’t worry about this shit.“ he told you quietly, pressing his lips against your hand, kissing it softly.

"Rafe.."

“Shh.” He told you, pressing his lips against yours suddenly, his hands traveling to your back before moving down to your ass. Your worries dissipated, him pulling away for a moment.

“How ‘bout we go home, yeah?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, you nodding in agreement.

“Hey, Cameron!”

He turned around at the sound of his teammates voice. “What’s up, man?” He asked, turning around and stopping in his tracks.

“You coming to the bar later?”

Damn post game celebrations. You thought, looking up to Rafe, who glanced back down at you.

“Nah, not today, sorry. I got plans of my own.” He said with a small smirk, his teammates laughing and nodding, one of them whistling as you both walked away, laughing with each other.

[zyafics]

HEARTBREAK: LIVE | 33

All | MASTERLIST (SMAU)

Pairing — Ex-BF!Rafe x Radio Host!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe were the perfect couple. But after a mysterious breakup, you went off the grid. When your best friends pulls you back into the spotlight to host a on-campus radio show, you find yourself opening up to the world about your experience. This time, with everyone listening—including Rafe. And him? He wants you back.

Content — college au, football player!rafe au

Navigation — Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34

Song — Sure Thing by Miguel

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TAGLIST FOR HB:L: @ghostofwriting @mimibaby01 @itneverendshere @platinumblondeedition @inthelibrarybtw @psychocitylights @carrerascameron @theeternaloptimistt @frankoceanluvr11 @lilithblackkk @he6rtshaker @promiscuousg1rl @whytheylosttheirminds @harrys-housewife @maybankslover @starkeydolly @a-lovers-card @rafesgiirl @psychicnatural @rrosiitas @enthusiastms @doll-face222 @ilovefiction4lmen @goldsainz @starkeygirls @maybankiara @yootvi @4ria790 @rafegf-real @rafeslovergirl @yuckblushin @xoxosblogsblog @logansblackgf @watchmerora @lou-la-lou @astroniii @vonhoe @congratsloserr @ilyrafe @rafesdrew @marooningmirrorball @drwstarkeys @xdeadlybansheex @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut @fandom-addict-aesthetics @jeongintwt @evelynrayne

[softspokendove]

Sit on my lap

parings: innocent!reader x rafe cameron

summary: you’ve always had a thing for Rafes thighs, but you can’t control it anymore.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, hickeys, reader is super horny, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, pretty girl), and a lot of wetness.

a/n: this is my first time writing anything like this so hopefully you enjoy!

“Hey baby.” You feel Rafes arms wrap around your waist and pull you towards him, the rest of his body spread out and sitting down on your white couch. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbles his words into your tummy as he presses his face into your shirt, inhaling your smell.

You’ve been out all day running your errands, which Rafe had practically begged you to allow him to come. you just responded with it being a girls day and you wanted some time alone with your girls. He reluctantly agreed and has been waiting alone at your house all day. To say he was excited when he heard your key turning in the keyhole was an understatement. He felt like a dog.

You run your fingers through his hair feeling him sigh against you, “I’ve missed you too. I got a new dress.” He lifts his head slightly so his blue eyes can meet yours. A small smile appears on his face, “really? let me see it baby, go try it on.”

You happily agree and run into the bathroom to step out of your shirt and shorts, into the newly bought clothing. You look into the mirror at the white dress with colorful designs splattered onto it. The dress ends right before your mid thigh and has an open back. The straps being very thin.

You walk back into your living room and see Rafe comfortably leaning back into the couch with his legs spread apart, causing your eyes to stare at his thighs for a little too long. His face lights up at the scene of you in a pretty dress all for his view.

“You look so pretty.” He gestures with his finger to do twirl, you listen and move swiftly around in a circle giving him everything to see. When you stand still again straight in front of him his eyes wander everywhere before they land back on your face.

“My pretty girl, come here.” He pats his right thigh and opens his arms, welcoming you onto his body. You put one leg on either side of his, now straddling his thigh. He rests his right hand on your hip to keep you steady and his left hand comes up to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Do you like it?” You could tell from his face as soon as you walked in the room that he loved it, but there’s nothing you love more than hearing your boyfriend approve of you and praise you.

“It’s beautiful, you have good taste.” His hand drops from your face and fiddles with the material of the dress. Moving his pointing finger and thumb in a circle motion around it.

Your gaze drops down again and onto his thighs that are strained against the confinements of his jeans. There’s always been something with you and your boyfriend’s thighs. Your tummy would get twisted every time Rafe would ask you to sit on his lap. Whenever he wore shorts you couldn’t help but stare, especially when he’d sit down and they would expand. You’ve never told him about the attraction, too embarrassed of it.

You move to adjust your spot on his lap to get more comfortable, but feel your panties cling to your cunt. Your folds and panties already being covered in your slick. You feel your face get hot at the thought of Rafe finding out about your little secret, but he picks up on your behavior.

“hey sweetheart, look at me.”

You hear him and you do want to listen, but your eyes can’t pull away from his thigh being trapped between yours. You know that if you look him in the eye he’ll know something’s up. He knows you too well.

You feel his hand cup your chin and tilt your face up himself. You look away for a moment but give in to the need to look at him. His eyes are already piercing into yours. He sees the state that you’re in. Your rosy cheeks, dilated eyes, lips open a gap as your breathing is uneven.

“Rafe.”

The need in your stomach starting to become too much to handle, you rock yourself slightly upward and let out a sigh at the friction. Rafe moves the bottom of your dress away from where your pussy meets his thigh, getting a perfect view of your drenched pink underwear.

“Fuck baby you’ve ruined your underwear.” His voice is now a tone deeper and that mixed with his words make you let out a small moan. “Here let’s get you out of these.” Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your undies and starts to pull them down, you lift your body off of his to help.

“There we go.” He tosses the pink clothing to the floor and try’s to place you higher up near his waist but you whine and push against his strength, moving back to his right thigh when he loosens up. The feeling of his jeans touching your bare cunt gives you a rush of euphoria. Rafe gives you a confused look until you start subtly rocking back and forth on his thigh. Trying to keep it as unnoticeable as possible but having no luck when Rafe starts to feel the dampness moving on his leg.

A smirk then plays on his face, “do you like rubbing yourself on my thigh?” A whine escapes your throat at his dirty words.

“Please.” You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, all you know is that you need him. You need to feel his thigh harder against your pussy. You need to cum.

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

You huff out, “you. I need you, Rafe. Please.”

You feel his hand that’s on your waist move down to your hip and tighten, he then starts helping you move yourself back and forth. You moan at the new feeling. Your clit being rubbed back and forth by the material of his pants. “Hold your dress up for me sweetheart, I wanna see the mess you’re making.” You oblige and hold up the bottom of your dress, giving your boyfriend the show that he wanted.

Rafe wets his lips at the sight of your pussy leaving a dark stain on his pants, starting to feel it go through the jeans and onto his skin. He brings up his other hand to the other side of your hip and pushes you further down onto his thigh. This causes you to squeal and put a hand on his bicep to stabilize you, the other hand still holding up your dress.

“God you look so good.” He increases the speed, dragging you from the top of his thigh to the bottom then back to the top. You feel your eyes roll back into your head as your moans become more and more desperate. You crane your neck back towards the ceiling and Rafe takes this to his advantage and brings his lips to your neck. He gives you a few light kisses before applying more pressure and then sucking slightly before moving on to the next spot.

He goes further down to the neck of your dress, pulling down the material with his teeth, still keeping you moving on his thigh. Your tits fall freely and he takes one nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirly his tongue around. You moan in response to the abuse he applies to one nipple and then moves to the next doing the same thing. “R-Rafe, ‘feels so good.”

He moans against your boob as a reply before moving back up and marking your neck. When he feels you have enough hickeys he sits back in his spot and feels his dick pulse rapidly by seeing the look of bliss on your face. Your eyes are dark, cheeks even more red than earlier, and you’re biting your lip trying to reduce how loud you are. “Baby what did I say about doing that?” He pulls your lip down and out of your reach to bite down on it, “I want to hear all the noises you make. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your mouth drops open as you hit your clit just right and let moans slip past your lips. “Faster, please.” Rafe follows your command and helps guide you faster on his body. The couch creaking with each move. His whole thigh now covered in your slick. “Look at that, you like this baby?” You nod your head rapidly. Your mind turning blank all you can think about is your boyfriend’s thigh and how good it’s making you feel.

“I love it. I’ve always wanted to do this. feels so good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at your honesty. “You’ve been wanting to ride my thigh like this? Do you like my thighs?” You whine loudly and nod your head again. Unable to respond with words at the increasing feeling in your lower stomach.

“Such a needy girl.”

Rafe can tell you’re getting close, he starts shaking his thigh up and down to match your movement. “Please, please, I’m gonna cum.” Your grip tightens on Rafes bicep and your eyes drop down onto the mess you’re making on your boyfriend. “Cum on my thigh pretty girl, I wanna feel your cum drip all over me.” The sight alone pushes you closer to the edge but that mixed with Rafes deep voice and the constant pleasure being applied to your clit sends you falling off of it hard. You scream out in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you, making your body tremble as you ride out the high.

The room gets quiet the only noise to be heard is your heaving breathing as you come down. Rafe lifts you up and sees strings of your release clinging to his pants and your cunt. His pants are horribly ruined but he doesn’t even care, “holy shit. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“More.”

He furrows his eyebrows, “what baby?”

“I want more of you.” You bend down and start to undo his jeans.

He sighs in satisfaction of his cock not being restrained anymore. Fuck is he thankful that he waited for you to come home.

[livbedum]

ohhh LORDDDDDDY YEAHHHHHH

Don't Call Me Kid - prologue

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Your mom called you a late bloomer, and even though you always hated the way she said it, so full of pity and condescension, you couldn’t argue that she was wrong. You were a late bloomer, physically and socially. Your whole childhood and into your teen years, you were painfully insecure, so you tended to hide and shy away from situations that would stretch your comfort zone. You had a good childhood growing up on the ritzy side of the island. But nothing ever felt…complete. You always had this nagging feeling that something was missing, or rather, that you were missing something.

Your older sister, Carter, was the exact opposite of you. She knew who she was from the day she could walk. She developed physically years before you did, even though she was only 18-months your senior. In school, Carter was one grade ahead of you. Everyone knew her, and everyone loved her. She played sports, won class president four years in a row, and was the obsession of every boy in every grade. She was the best known girl on the island, and you were best known as Carter’s sister.

All of these things should’ve been reasons for you to resent her, for the two of you to compete and grow a bitter rivalry, but you were best friends from the start. Carter never made you feel left out or left behind, folding you into her friend group from the time you were kids.

Your mom didn’t have to force Carter to invite you to hang out with her friends, it was always Carter’s idea, dragging you to parties and begging you to keep her company, even though you knew she didn’t need it. She would encourage you to put yourself out there, to leave your books at home and jump in on the fun, assuring you that everyone wanted you around just as much as she did. Carter always saw something in you that you didn’t see in yourself.

From middle school on, Carter casually dated just about every guy in your friend group - Topper, Kelce, several others. She never committed, and they were all fine with having her for just a little bit. There was only one boy she never gave the time of day. The one that she knew was off limits, without you ever really having to tell her, it was just understood.

You had been in love with Rafe Cameron since the moment you first saw him. He was a year above you, in Carter’s grade, and his family lived down the road from yours. You met him on the school bus your first day of kindergarten. 

You were so nervous, your mouth going dry as all the kids on the bus looked at you with judging eyes, but Carter just grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her, plopping you into a vinyl seat a few rows from the back. As soon as you sat down, a pair of blue eyes covered by floppy blond bangs popped up over the seat in front of you.

You noticed him right away, eyes wide as his sudden presence startled you, and your cheeks burned bright red for reasons that you didn’t understand yet. The boy didn’t notice your blushing, his attention fully focused on Carter as he reached his hand over the seat and pulled at her braid.

“Quit it, Rafe!” Carter swatted his hand away. 

The boy, Rafe, smiled, a small dimple creasing his cheek. You weren’t sure why, but you wished more than anything that he was smiling at you instead. After bugging Carter a little longer, his gaze finally shifted over to you and your eyes shot down nervously to your lap.

“Who is that?” Rafe blurted out, talking about but not to you.

You looked at Carter in panic, tongue-tied as you tried to stammer out your name, which you were struggling to remember. Carter noticed your look of desperation, you were so shy and she had gotten used to speaking for you.

“That’s my sister,” Carter said with pride. “She goes to school with us now.”

“Oh, hi,” Rafe said, polite but unimpressed.

“H-hi,” you managed to squeak out, tucking your hair behind your ears, which were burning red.

Rafe disappeared back into his seat. Carter looked at you, noticing how you were nervously biting your lip, your go to tick when you were nervous. She folded her hand protectively in yours and didn’t let go until she dropped you off at your kindergarten classroom.

This is how your interactions with Rafe would go for the rest of elementary school, and middle school, too. He’d ignore you most of the time, tossing you a word or a look here or there, and you’d melt into an absolute puddle everytime. Your tendency to blush at everything he did never went away, meaning everyone knew you loved him.

Your crush was common knowledge among your sister’s friends, hell among the whole school, but no one dared mention it or tease you about it, lest they tempt Carter’s wrath. But they knew, and you knew they knew, and you knew he knew. 

As a freshman, you quickly became first in your class, taking sophomore math and science courses. You ended up in the same first and last period as Rafe, who always struggled in school. After a few weeks of chatting during labs and lending Rafe your notes, you actually started to feel like he had become your friend. He played every sport, and you were right there in the bleachers for every game. Sometimes, when he’d make a great play, he’d look at you in the stands and wink, making your whole body blush, feeling like the most special girl in the world. But then, on his next play, he’d wink at another girl or playfully bow to the cheer squad and it’d make you want to die, suddenly invisible again.

“He’s such a douche,” Carter would nudge you with her elbow, trying to downplay the moment because she knew you were crushed.

You dreaded the day Carter would graduate and leave you at this school alone. You weren’t friends with anyone in your own grade, it seemed the year you were born produced more mean girls and fuck boys than the one before it. Carter would tell you the girls in your grade were just jealous that you got to hang out with her class, but you always thought it was more that they didn’t understand you, and people tend to attack what they don’t understand.

Cassie Bryant was the worst of them. She was the Kook princess of your year, as pretty and popular as anyone could be. From early on, she mastered the art of being mean to you in a way that crushed your spirit but looked totally friendly to everyone else. She’d make backhanded comments like “the way you dress is so…interesting” or “you’re lucky you have so much free time to study, I’m way too busy.” 

She was even worse when Rafe was around. It was like Cassie had a radar for when he was finally giving you some attention, and the second you felt comfortable, she’d be there playfully stealing his baseball hat or pouting at him and saying “Rafey, do you have a J?” Then as she pulled him away, she’d laugh at you and say “it’s okay, we know you’re too cool to smoke with us.” No one saw the smug look she’d shoot you as she hung on his arm. You’d try to explain to Rafe why her words hurt you, but he never understood. He’d just shrug and say “that’s just Cassie, she has no filter.” 

At least Carter believed you. 

“Pick-me bitch,” she’d spit as she watched you watch Cassie steal Rafe away yet again.

You and Rafe saw each other every day. You’d tutor him for tests and help with his homework, you were in advanced classes and he had to retake most of his credits. He’d call you “Einstein” and “smarty pants,” always finding a way to address you without actually using your name. You never thought much of it, convincing yourself that his nicknames were coming from a place of affection. When he wasn’t copying your homework or convincing you to stay up after all of your work was done to help him with his, you found other ways to feel needed. You’d bring him lunch from his favorite spot when he got in-school suspension, bake him brownies before his big games, and give him rides to all his practices since his dad took away his truck so often. 

Every afternoon at 4:45, you’d stop by the gas station across from your school and get a Redbull and protein bar for him, and a bag of your favorite candy for yourself. You’d park by the field house, waiting in your car with his snacks for sometimes a half-an-hour before he decided to stop messing around with his friends and head out. When you’d give him his snack, he’d kiss your cheek and say, “thanks, kid.” Even though it wasn’t really meant to be romantic, you lived for those moments when you could pretend you were his girlfriend, smiling at the way the cheerleaders eyed your car judgmentally when you pulled out of the lot with the Rafe Cameron in your passenger seat.

“He’s just using you,” Carter would say when you got home.

“No he’s not,” you’d shrug, “we’re friends.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. 

Even if Rafe broke your heart everyday, you were fine with it as long as he put it back together the next with some small gesture that made you hope…maybe someday.

Then, in the spring semester of your junior year, his senior year, you were parked outside the field house like usual after one of his baseball practices. You saw his figure emerge from the brick building, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead. You smiled wildly, your heart fluttering every time you saw him, even after all these years. You got his snacks out and set them on the seat for him, ready for your daily thank you.

But he didn’t head for your car like usual, instead he veered toward the group of cheerleaders gathered on the other side of the lot. You frowned, eyes furrowed as you watched him approach the gaggle of girls. When he reached them, he grabbed one of their hands and pulled her out of the huddle. Your heart sank when you realized who it was.

Cassie giggled as Rafe pulled her toward him, the other girls in the circle laughing and catcalling toward them. Clearly everyone in this parking lot knew something you didn’t.

And then he kissed her. 

Rafe pulled away from the kiss, hands still on Cassie’s waist, and watched with confusion as your car peeled out of the parking lot without him.

You didn’t speak to him the whole next week, but he was completely oblivious to your heartbreak, still texting you as if nothing ever happened. 

Thursday, March 23rd

Hey kid, u coming to my game tomorrow? u know I need my good luck charm Read 11:03 pm

Sunday, March 26th

Babyyyyy in drvnk at top’s pick me upppp? :(  Read 2:17 am

 

Tuesday, March 28th

yo dude u got the hw packet done for precal? I’m screwed for tomorrow Read 9:56 pm

You’d stare at the messages for a long time before shoving your phone in your desk drawer or turning it off all together, but always made sure to open the message so he’d know you read it. 

Then you’d cry yourself to sleep. 

Carter would sit in your bed each night, rubbing your back comfortingly, pissed that she couldn’t do more to save you from this hurt, muttering under her breath about how she was gonna kick his ass.

After only a week of unreturned texts and trying to get your attention at school with no luck, Rafe went silent. You thought you’d make him sweat for a few weeks before forgiving him, enough time to show you he cared that you weren’t speaking, but then he did the exact opposite.

“It’s for the best,” Carter tried to convince you. 

Maybe she was right. After you no longer had Rafe in your life, you threw yourself into your schoolwork. You had always been smart, but now that you were more focused on yourself and not him, you were acing every class, top of the honor roll. 

The gang all went their separate ways after graduation. Rafe to UNC Chapel Hill, Carter to Duke, Topper and Kelce to U of Florida. With your sister and her friends gone, you spent senior year alone, but opened acceptance letter after acceptance letter. Rafe faded slowly from your mind as you dreamt out your future. 

Eventually you got the letter you were waiting for, your dream school. The day before you left the island, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss out on the college experience the way you missed out in high school. 

Then, hundreds of miles away from home, something miraculous happened. Far from the memories of your lonely childhood and Rafe Cameron, you bloomed. You made friends early on, feeling like you may have finally found your people in academia. You picked up intramural sports, now you were the one scoring goals and spiking balls and waving smugly to all your friends in the stands. You dated, and you dated. Never settling on one guy too long, having too much fun to tie yourself down.

Things just clicked so much easier, no longer living in your sister’s shadow, far enough away from all the shy girl stereotypes to explore and figure out who you were on your own terms. And slowly, all thoughts of Rafe Cameron faded from your mind. You only thought of him when he made cameos in your dreams, the high school nightmare variety - late to class, showing up naked on accident, a test you forgot to study for, and Rafe in the parking lot kissing Cassie Bryant. You’d wake up cursing your subconscious and feel off for about half a day, before your fast paced routine in your new city erased his face from your mind again.

You changed physically, too. Though you didn’t really feel any different, Carter would make comments every time you came home for a holiday or event.

“Damn, bitch,” she’d say, looking you up and down and wolf-whistling. 

“Shut up,” you’d roll your eyes, feigning annoyance when it really made your confidence soar. 

She’s just being a supportive sister, you’d tell yourself, clinging to the same insecurity you’d had your whole life. But she wasn’t the only one, boys noticed you now a way they never used to. You hooked up with enough guys to start to feel comfortable with the attention, but whenever you’d draw eyes at college parties or lecture halls, your cheeks would still go bright red, never quite figuring out how to turn off that particular mannerism.

You were almost done with your third year, a plane ticket to head back to North Carolina for Carter’s graduation already purchased. One night, as she showed you options for her graduation outfit on Facetime, she casually threw out, “some of us from Kildare are going to Miami to celebrate graduation.”

“Oh?” You said, not really listening, going over a term paper with a red pen for the fifth time.

“You should come…” she was nervous, trying to say it casually enough that maybe you might not overthink it and just say yes.

“Wait sorry, come where?” You put down your pen and actually looked at the screen, knowing she hated when you were listening without really listening like this.

“Miami,” she repeated. “A few of us are getting an Airbnb on the beach for a week after finals.”

“Who’s us?” You asked. 

“Oh y’know,” she started listing names of her old friends, a lot more people than you expected, your throat tightening with a social anxiety you hadn’t felt in years at thought of being in a room with that many people from high school. “...Jack, Maddie, Sabrina. Topper and Kelce obviously,” she continued, at least ten names deep, going quiet for a moment before adding “...and Rafe.”

“No.” you said simply, propping the phone back up and returning to your paper.

“Oh, come onnnn,” she whined, not at all surprised by your response. “It’s been four years, and you’re thriving now! You can just pretend he’s not there.”

“Yes, exactly,” you snarked at her. “Just as I’m finally thriving, you want me to spend a week stuck in a house with Rafe Cameron. That makes sense.”

“You and I will hang out on the beach the whole time, we don’t even have to talk to him,” she reasoned. “And he can just sit in the corner and look at your hot body and feel like shit for being such a dick to you in high school.”

You laughed a little despite yourself. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that wished he could see you now. Even though you stayed away from Kildare as much as possible and barely went out when you were home, terrified of running into him, you also dreamt of a time you would see him again. New look, new confidence, new you. 

“Hah! You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Carter said smugly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you said, turning back to your schoolwork.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she cheered victoriously.

“Or you can take it as a maybe, which is what it is,” you corrected her.

“Pleaseeee?” She begged. “It’s my graduation trip! And I don’t want to be there without you.”

You sighed deeply, weighing all of the pros and cons as you bit your lip. Carter had always been there for you, and if it was so important to her that you make this trip, it was really the least you could do. Plus, she was going abroad for grad school in just a few weeks, and you knew it would be your last chance to spend time with her for a while.

“Fine…I’ll come,” you finally conceded. 

“Yay!” Carter yelped. “Best trip ever!”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Best trip ever.”

(Chapter 1)

a/n: hi, i'm nat and i've struggled with body image and anxiety my whole life and I have been the victim of countless unrequited loves, particularly in my teen years, though the sting never really goes away. writing this series has been really personal to me so far, and i'm having a great time. I hope you like it. ♡