#rafe x pogue

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Positive • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- There are three things you know for certain right now:

You're pregnant.

The father currently has his hands all over some blonde at The Wreck.

According to Topper, you're Rafe Cameron's favorite topic during locker room talk.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, unplanned pregnancy, cursing, angst no happy ending, readers a pouge, fuckboy!rafe (?) toppers a dickhead frl, mention of abortions (once)

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 2.2k

"Fuck." You stare at the positive pregnancy test between your trembling fingers.

"Fuck," you curse again, realizing you're alone in your apartment with this life-changing news.

Of course this would happen.

After months of sneaking around, of heated encounters and promises to keep things casual, one reckless night was all it took. One moment where passion overrode common sense, where neither of you cared about consequences.

A hushed "I want to feel you, all of you," slipped from Rafe's lips as he paused, the condom still on, but his desire for you raw, uninhibited, consuming him. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, silently asking if you trusted him enough to let go..

How naive you'd been, thinking you could trust Rafe Cameron with something so intimate. The golden boy of the OBX, known for his volatile temper and reckless abandon. The type of man who treats both relationships and speed limits as mere suggestions.

And you'd fallen for those dark cerulean eyes and heated whispers like every other girl before you. Only difference was, you were now staring at the consequences of that trust, watching it turn into two pink lines that would complicate everything.

Your secret hookup.

The trust fund bad boy of the OBX. The same Rafe Cameron who's probably at some country club event right now, charming his way through a crowd of socialites, completely unaware that he's about to become a father.

You can already hear the whispers at the yacht club – the Camerons' golden boy and his latest pouge conquest.

As if sleeping with Rafe Cameron wasn't scandalous enough, now you're carrying the next heir to his family's empire.

"Have you seen Rafe?" you shout at Topper over the pulsing bass of The Wreck's speakers. Your hand instinctively rests on your still-flat stomach – a new nervous habit you've developed since seeing those two pink lines.

Topper takes a swig of his whiskey, looking entirely too amused--and drunk, "Lost track of your boyfriend already?"

"He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah." He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Just his favorite little Pogue to fuck behind closed doors, right? You know, he tells us everything in the locker room." He leaned closer, whiskey breath hot against your ear. "About how eager you are, how you beg for it. Though I gotta say, for someone from the cut, you've got quite the reputation among the trust fund crowd now."

Your cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. Of course Rafe would brag about all the girls he's had to his Kook friends. Of course you were just another story for their country club gossip.

"Go fuck yourself, Topper. Where's Rafe?"

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We all know you've got a thing for rich boys. Though usually we don't keep Pogues around this long – Rafe must really like something about you." His eyes raked over you suggestively. "Or some things."

The way he says it makes your skin crawl – it's pure Rafe Cameron coming out of Topper's mouth. That same calculated charm, that practiced way of making someone feel simultaneously special and worthless.

You wonder how many hours he spent watching Rafe work his magic at bars, memorizing the exact tone needed to make "sweetheart" sound like an insult. Rich boys and their fucked-up everything.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your discount panties in a twist." He gestures toward the bar with his glass.

"Last I saw him, he was chatting up some blonde by the bar." Topper continued, "Though, something tells me you've got more on your mind than just another quick fuck in the coat closet."

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" you snap at him, hands clenching into fists.

Your head whips around, scanning the crowded bar area, but there's no sign of Rafe's familiar frame among the sea of drunk socialites.

"He's not there," you mutter, frustration building in your chest.

"What's wrong? Don't have your Kook King on a leash?" Topper calls after you as you push past him toward the exit. "Better hurry – you know how fast Rafe moves on to the next thing!"

You storm out of The Wreck, the humid night air doing nothing to cool your rising anger.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Here you are, pregnant with his kid, and Rafe Cameron can't even stay in one place long enough to hear the news.

Slumping into your car, you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his contact. Three rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. Your frustration builds with each failed attempt.

hey, we need to talk

rafe, answer your fucking phone

where are you?

this is important

You watch the messages turn from "delivered" to "read" with no response. Of course he's seeing them. He's probably looking at his phone right now, some blonde draped over his shoulder, both of them laughing at your desperate attempts to reach him.

seriously rafe, this isn't about us. something happened

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You could just text it. Three simple words: I'm pregnant, asshole. But somehow, dropping that bomb over text feels wrong, even for whatever this is between you.

After the tenth unanswered call, you throw your phone onto the passenger seat, fighting back angry tears.

You should have known better than to expect anything different from Rafe Cameron, who treats Pogues like they're as disposable as his designer clothes.

To him, girls from the Cut are just temporary entertainment – something to play with until a more suitable option from his tax bracket comes along.

Your phone buzzes. For a moment, your heart leaps – but it's just another notification that he's read your messages.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you mutter, starting your car with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life, matching your mood.

You consider driving to his place – you know he'll end up there eventually, probably with tonight's blonde in tow. But the thought of waiting outside his house like some desperate ex makes bile rise in your throat.

Your phone buzzes again. This time it's a text:

busy rn. talk tomorrow?

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow. Busy. Of course he's busy. He's always busy when it doesn't involve getting into your pants. Your fingers fly across the keyboard before you can stop yourself:

hope she's worth it. btw, might want to start setting aside some trust fund money for child support

You hit send before you can think better of it, immediately regretting it. Your phone explodes with incoming calls – now he wants to talk. But you're already pulling out of the parking lot, vision blurry with unshed tears.

Let him panic for a while. Let him feel a fraction of the anxiety that's been eating at you since you saw those two pink lines.

Besides, if he can't be bothered to give you five minutes when you need him, he can wait until tomorrow to hear how he managed to knock up his favorite Pogue.

You wake up to the sound of coffee brewing – which is impossible because you live alone and definitely didn't set the timer last night. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you freeze in the doorway.

There's Rafe Cameron, looking unfairly good for someone who should be hungover, sitting on your beaten-up futon. His expensive clothes are a stark contrast to your shabby apartment furniture, but somehow he looks like he belongs there.

Between his fingers, he's holding the pregnancy test you'd forgotten to hide in your emotional spiral last night.

"Breaking and entering now?" Your voice comes out shakier than you'd like. "That's low, even for you."

He doesn't look up from the test, but you catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's not breaking in when I have a key." He finally meets your eyes, holding up the small silver key you'd given him three months ago after that night he'd brought you soup when you were sick. "You know, the one you said was 'just for emergencies'?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. This thing between you had stopped being just hookups somewhere between the late-night conversations and the drawer of his clothes in your dresser. Between him knowing how you take your coffee and you knowing which side of the bed he prefers.

"That's not—" you start, but he cuts you off.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to text it and disappear like you did last night?"

"Oh, like how you disappeared with that blonde? Or should we talk about how you disappear every time after you're done with me, just to go brag to Topper about your latest fuck?"

His face darkens. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Rafe. Your locker room talk is apparently quite entertaining. 'Eager.' 'Begging for it.' Ring any bells?" You wrap your arms around yourself, hating how your voice shakes. "Tell me, do all your Kook friends know how I sound in bed, or is that a special story just for Topper?"

"That's not—"

"Not what? Not what you meant? Not what happened? Because Topper seemed pretty clear about exactly what kind of reputation I have among your trust fund crowd now."

"You really think that's what this is?" He gestures between you. "That I could think of you as just another hookup?"

"Isn't it? I mean, god forbid the Kook King actually care about the Pogue he's fucking—"

"Jesus Christ," he runs his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. "If this was just about sex, would I have a key? Would I know your coffee order or—"

"You can't use that as some kind of proof you care! Having a key doesn't mean shit when you're out there treating me like your dirty little secret!"

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with months of unspoken hurt. When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is low, controlled: "Is it mine?"

The question hits you like a slap. "Are you seriously—"

"Just answer the question." His eyes are intense, searching yours. "Is it mine?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. He already knows the answer – can read it in the way you can't quite meet his eyes, in how your hand unconsciously drifts to your stomach.

That night without protection wasn't your first together, but it was the first time he'd looked at you like you were something more than just a good time.

Like maybe you could be everything. Now that look is back, mixed with something like fear as the reality of what you're not saying sinks in.

"Those tests—" he starts pacing, running his hands through his hair. "They're not always accurate, you know? Maybe you should take another one. Or three. Fuck, how do you even know for sure?" His voice takes on a desperate edge. "There are… options. I know a clinic in Chapel Hill. Discrete. I could make some calls—"

"You know what?" Your voice comes out quiet, defeated. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe this is exactly what I need to finally stop pretending this—" you gesture between you, "—could ever be anything real."

"I'm just saying we need to think about this logically—"

"No," you snap, your voice rising until it bounces off the walls of your tiny apartment. "You're trying to make this disappear, just like everything else that threatens your perfect Figure Eight lifestyle!"

You watch something crack in his expression, that carefully maintained Kook King facade finally showing a glimpse of real emotion. His hand reaches for you, then drops. "Don't—"

"I think you should go." You turn away, unable to look at him anymore. "Use that key one last time to lock up behind you."

You don't need to see his face to know he's struggling with what to say. The perfect Rafe Cameron, for once at a loss for words. It would be funny if it wasn't breaking your heart.

You don't turn around to watch him leave, but you hear the way he hesitates at the door. The silence stretches, filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say. Finally, the door clicks shut, and you're alone again.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, and you let out a bitter laugh. You can do this alone.

You'll move out of the OBX, maybe up to Wilmington where no one knows your name or that you're carrying a Cameron heir. You'll work extra shifts at the restaurant, save every penny.

Your kid won't need trust fund money or a father who treats relationships like they're disposable. Your child won't grow up feeling like some dirty secret.

Somewhere across town, Topper's probably already hearing about how the Pogue girl tried to trap Rafe Cameron with a baby. You can almost hear the yacht club whispers starting. But let them talk – you've survived worse than country club gossip.

(What no one would ever know: how your hands shook as you slid his key under his door later that night, or how he sat in his car outside your apartment for hours, staring at a small velvet box he'd been carrying in his pocket since before you ever said the word "pregnant."

Some love stories aren't meant to have happy endings, and some babies are meant to have just one parent who actually wants them.)

a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt

[yinemw]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐔: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫

context: waking up alone in Rafe’s bed after hooking up the night before (female pogue reader)

warnings: a little nsfw so minors dni

character: Rafe Cameron from outer banks

m.list

taglist: @evelynffics

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Series Masterlist

Currently in the works.

Pairing: Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

Warnings: there are many, including, fluff, smut, pregnancy, anger, loss of life, etc.

Each part with have their own.

Moodboard

𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 ⟢ 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ❀ 𝚊����𝚐𝚜𝚝 ☾

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 1:

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 ⟢

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2 ❀ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 3 ⟢ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 4 ⟢

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 5 ❀

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 6 ⟢ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 7𝙰 ⟢ ☾

Part 7𝙱 ⟢ ☾

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 2:

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟾 ⟢☾

𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜:

𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 - 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 4𝚢𝚘 𝚅𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎 ❀

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚈𝚘𝚞 - 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ❀

𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝙹

[whor3ing]

𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒔 & 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 | 𝑹.𝑪

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut with a plot, build-up, mentions of gun! fucking you with a gun!,consent, alcohol, lots of dirty talk, "who did this to you?", thigh riding, spitting, oral (m receiving/f receiving), fingering, creampie, missionary, usage of "slut"

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

IN WHICH.. you, a pouge and JJ Maybank's sister; find yourself caught up in the dangerous world of Rafe Cameron. A world where tattoos, guns, and shady deals intertwine with magnetic, reckless attraction. With a gun in his hand and a taunting smirk on his face, Rafe pushes you to your limits, causing you to question if you've just made the biggest mistake of your life or if you've found something worth all of the danger.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

word count : 8.5k ♡ (plot heavy)

The music was loud, the lights too bright, and the smell of expensive liquor intertwined with the salty scent of the ocean breeze had lingered through the air the second JJ’s beat up Bronco had pulled up to the mansion.

You stared up at the towering estate, its golden glow spilling out onto the cliff side like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. It was the kind of house that wasn’t just meant to be lived in but meant to be seen, meant to remind people exactly who was in charge.

Suddenly, Kie let out a scoff from the passenger seat, her arms crossed as she stared up at the massive structure. “I swear, these Kooks build their houses as high as their egos.”

JJ grinned, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before throwing the car into park. “That’s the whole point, Kie. It’s a giant middle finger to the rest of us.” He twisted around to look at you, his grin widening. “And yet, here we are. About to walk right in like we own the place.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, and if we’re not careful, we’ll be thrown out just as fast," you murmured, tugging at the hem of your dress.

It was shorter than you would’ve liked, a sleek black number Kie had practically forced you into, claiming it had been "made" for you. The fabric clung to you in a way that felt foreign, the deep neckline and thin straps leaving little to the imagination.

You weren’t used to dressing like this—like them. But tonight, the whole point was to simply to blend.

JJ waved off your concern, already climbing out of the car. “Nah, we’ll be fine. Besides, I got a good feeling about tonight.”

Kie sighed, shaking her head as she pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. Her fingers combed through her hair, fluffing it up before smoothing it down again as she responded, “That’s exactly what you said the last time, and we barely made it out without getting our asses handed to us.”

JJ smirked, leaning against the car as he waited for the two of you. “Yeah, but we did make it out, didn’t we?”

You pushed open the truck door with a groan, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. The air outside felt cooler than it should for a night like this, the salty breeze carrying the faint echoes of laughter and music from the mansion perched above you.

The Kook mansion had been a spectacle of itself for decades, a proud testament to wealth and success. It stood on a tall cliff above the water, amidst the lush greenery that surrounded it, higher than almost any other point on the rest of the strip.

To anyone other than a Kook, it was ridiculous that a house could hold so much power. That those inside of it could consider themselves elite for receiving an invitation, while those without one were made to feel as though they were less than human.

Like everything in the Outer Banks, it wasn’t just a mansion, it was a symbol. A symbol of immense wealth, a symbol of everything you and your friends could never reach. The kind of wealth that didn’t just buy things, but dictated the rules of the game. The kind of power that made sure you stayed on the outside looking in.

Though, that couldn't stop you from playing pretend.

Kie adjusted her dress, giving you a sideways look. “Ready or not, we’re here. Let’s just get inside before anyone notices we don’t have an invite."

You gave her a dry look. “You really think that’s going to stop them from noticing?”

JJ laughed, flicking a glance at the front doors, through the metal gate where the golden light spilled out into the driveway. Expensive cars lined up like trophies scattered in the front yard, their sleek, polished frames reflecting the shine of the house. “It’s not about whether they notice. It’s about whether they care.” He raised an eyebrow. “And they won’t, not if we play the game right.”

Kie rolled her eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, sure. And if not, we’ll just pretend we’re lost tourists who wandered in.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Right. No one will notice the three of us sticking out like a sore thumb.”

You stepped through the gates, the sound of your heels clicking sharply against the cobbled driveway as the front doors loomed ahead. The laughter and music grew louder, wrapping around you like a thick, inescapable blanket.

As you stepped inside, the shift was immediate, like you were crossing into a world that felt too polished, too perfect. The heat hit you first—the heavy warmth from the bodies packed into every corner, the mingling of perfume and expensive cologne, of freshly popped champagne and the faint scent of something floral mixed with the underlying tang of sea salt. The scent of luxury was almost suffocating, coating the air like a fine mist.

The music played louder here, thumping in your chest as you navigated through the crowd. A thousand sounds hitting you all at once, all in sync. As voices collided, they rose above the murmurs of low conversations, muddling the chatter together. It was as if every sound was immediately amplified, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of blaring cheers. It felt like being in the middle of a painting—everyone moving with the same rhythm, all polished smiles and flawless appearances.

The crowd was absolutely suffocating, the music blaring so loud it felt like your entire body was vibrating. You tried to follow Kie and JJ, but somehow, they slipped away, swallowed by the sea of bodies dancing and laughing around you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself alone, weaving through people who were too caught up in their own worlds to notice you.

You moved through the house, the laughter from the party slowly becoming more and more distant until finally the voices were muffled by the thick walls of the mansion.

Turning a corner, you hope to catch a glimpse of JJ and Kie , but instead, you find yourself in a small, dimly lit room. The air heavy, thick with smoke and the high-end liquor.

The room was dark and open, lit only by a few dim lamps casting shadows on the faces around you. The space felt increasingly lavish and almost vintage, like the room had come out of something from the 1950's. A rich, dark wallpaper lined the walls, patterned with deep shades of gold and burgundy adding to the luxurious fever dream that surrounded you.

In the corner of the room rested a grand piano, the lighting reflecting off of it's keys and a couple sitting on top of the worn bench, their lips intertwined as his hands wandered down her body.

You turned your attention to the far side of the room, where a group of people were huddled together in a tight circle. At first, it looked like any other gathering, casual chatter, some laughter. But there was something about the way they were all so fixated on the center of the group, their eyes wide with awe. And there, at the heart of it, was Rafe fucking Cameron.

JJ had warned you about him more times than you cared to count. His warnings had a way of sticking with you, of hanging in the air even when you wished you could forget them. "Rafe's a loose cannon," he’d said, his tone more serious than you were used to hearing. "Stay the hell away from him, okay?" JJ's face had twisted in frustration, like there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. It wasn’t hard to imagine why.

Rafe had done things to make JJ's life a living hell—a complicated mess of history, unspoken grudges, and bad blood that ran too deep for anyone to fully understand.

But even with JJ’s warnings, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

He was leaning back against the wall, his arm draped casually over the shoulder of one of his friends, a smirk playing on his lips as he spoke. The low lighting of the room cast shadows across his sharp features, accentuating the hardened lines of his jaw, the slight curve of his lip that twisted with a quiet confidence. His messy, sun-bleached hair fell just above his brows, his blue eyes on full display.

But what caught your attention wasn’t the casual conversation, or the curve of his lip, it was the gun. The gleam of metal in his hand, held loosely, as if it was just another part of the game.

His presence was magnetic, you could feel it the moment you had walked in, and you could feel it even now as you quietly pushed yourself to the further corner from all of them, leaning against the wall. You couldn't help but notice how he looked almost bored as he casually twirled a gun between his fingers, showing it off, his smirk never wavering.

The way he handled it made it clear this wasn’t just some toy, it was a statement.

“Don’t worry, man,” one of his friends slurred to someone else, clearly in shock of Rafe's casual demeanor, barely able to keep his eyes open. “It’s just a gun.”

Rafe’s smirk only widened, his gaze flicking over to the crowd around him. “It’s all about who’s holding it,” he said, the words low and smooth, almost like a warning. “Don’t forget that.”

His friends laughed, but it wasn't their laughter that made your stomach twist. It was the way Rafe held the entire room, the way everyone seemed to move around him, like they knew better than to get too close, to make too much noise. He was dangerous, and everybody in this room knew it.

You stood there, frozen,something about the weight of his presence made your heart race. He was dressed casually, but the clothes he wore somehow added to the danger he radiated. A black leather jacket hugged his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the few tattoos that snaked down his forearms.

His hands were bare, the tattoos sharp and stark against his pale skin, and with every movement he made, every subtle gesture, only drew more attention to them.

His jeans were dark, fitted, and the kind that looked effortlessly expensive. His boots were black, worn, and scuffed at the toes; and you couldn’t help but notice the way his tattoos peeked out from under his jacket every time he would move, his black shirt sliding up just to reveal the skin of his lower stomach, hidden tattoos snaking down from his stomach to his v-line, the ink like a map of his past.

From your spot against the wall, someone brushed past you, maybe too close, their hand grazing your hip in what could only be described as an attempt to get your attention. You instinctively took a step to the side, further away from the advance, the unwanted touch sending a jolt of discomfort through your body.

But before you could even process the movement, Rafe’s voice cut through the air, low and controlled but still managing to fill the entire room. His eyes glanced up, for once, to look directly at you and then back to the man who had touched you, the gun in his grasp as he pointed it up at the man's head.

“You touch her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The room fell silent.

Everyone froze, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Rafe didn’t need to say anything more. His eyes, dark and unwavering, flickered to the gun in his hand, the metal gleaming in the dim light.

The guy who had brushed past you seemed to hesitate, the realization of just how serious Rafe was slowly sinking in. Rafe gave him a look, one so cold, so lethal, that the guy stumbled back a step, his face draining of color as he backed away from you.

Rafe didn’t even acknowledge the guy’s retreat, his eyes never leaving you as he shifted his weight, walking over to you, sliding the gun into the front pocket of his jeans. His smirk curled at the edges as he reached you, dark and knowing.

The party around you continued, Rafe's friends continuing to drink and laugh about what had just happened, a few men in the room leaning in to snort a line of some crushed up drug.

“You think you're a fucking kook now, huh?” he asked, the words sliding out with a smoothness that made your stomach churn.

You took a half-step back, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, his words wrapping around you. “What?”

Rafe’s grin widened, though there was no humor in it. “You’re a Pogue. Don’t even pretend you belong here,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, but somehow carrying over the buzz of the party.

His gaze flickered over your outfit, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your skin feel too tight. “But here you are, trying to blend in like one of us.”.

He spoke again, his voice low but sharp. “What’s the plan, huh? You think you’re gonna fool anyone in here?”

You swallowed, heart racing. “I’m not trying to fool anyone,” you snapped.

Rafe took a slow step toward you, his posture relaxed but everything about him screamed danger. “Then why the fuck are you here?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

His question hung in the air, weighty and unsettling. Your chest tightened, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.

“I’m here because I wanted to be."

Rafe tilted his head, his lips curling into that same devilish smirk that made you infuriated. “You think you’re gonna get away with this? The whole pretending game?” he asked, his voice low and taunting.

The tension between you was thick, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking what had been eating at you. You stepped closer, more out of instinct than anything else, and shot him a sharp look, your eyes on his.

“Why did you protect me then?” you asked, your voice coming out a little rougher than you intended. “What’s the point of that if i'm a everything you despise?”

“I might not know what the hell you’re doing here, but I'm not gonna sit here and watch an fucking assault happen. It doesn't make you special, would've done it for anyone in that situation."

His words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, the harshness of his usual demeanor seemed to soften, leaving you caught somewhere between confusion and relief. Before you could respond, you heard the familiar voices of JJ and Kie calling out through the crowd, growing louder as they approached.

“Where the hell did you go?” JJ’s voice was sharp, his tone laced with annoyance. His eyes darted around the room before landing on you, and the moment they did, his expression darkened.

He was already walking toward you, his shoulders stiff with frustration. “What the hell are you doing with him?” he snapped, eyes narrowing at Rafe, his eyes finding the gun in his pocket and staying trained on it.

“I’m fine, JJ,” you said quickly, holding up a hand to stop him before he could say anything more. You didn’t need him to make a scene right now, but JJ wasn't having it.

You’re fine?” JJ shot you a glare. “You’re fine with this asshole?”

Rafe stood there, not saying a word, his posture relaxed as if he didn’t care about the fight brewing right in front of him. But you could feel the silent tension building between the two of them, like a storm ready to break.

Kie sighed, her voice softer as she stepped forward to rest her hand on JJ's shoulders. “Come on, let’s just get out of here."

JJ’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching tight as he took a step forward, his voice rising as he began to speak, “You think you can just walk in here and mess with my sister, Rafe? You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he spat.

Rafe didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem to care. His eyes remained cold, calculating as they locked onto JJ. The smirk that usually accompanied Rafe’s demeanor was gone, replaced by an icy calmness that only made the tension worse.

“You’re gonna try and lecture me now, JJ?” Rafe asked, his voice smooth, almost mocking. “You’ve got no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s it,” JJ growled, taking another step closer. His anger was boiling over now, and you could see the muscles in his arms tense as if he was ready to throw a punch at any moment. “You don’t get to fuck with me, my sister, or anyone I care about. Not anymore, I'm gonna put you and your fucking family in the hospital."

Before you could even react, JJ launched himself forward, fists flying. The first punch landed square on Rafe’s jaw with a sickening thud, causing the entire room to momentarily quiet down, every conversation sputtering to a halt.

Rafe didn’t stagger, didn’t even seem fazed by the hit. He stood there for a second, the look in his eyes calculating, before his hand shot out, grabbing JJ by the shirt collar and shoving him back against the wall with an insane force.

JJ’s chest heaved, struggling to break free, his hands scrabbling at Rafe’s arm, but Rafe’s hold was like iron, “Get the fuck off me, Cameron."

With a vicious twist of his body, he slammed his knee into Rafe’s stomach, the blow landing with a sickening crunch.

In one smooth movement, he broke free of Rafe’s hold, launching a swift uppercut into Rafe’s chin. The punch landed with bone-shaking force, knocking Rafe back a couple steps, and knocking the gun from his pocket, causing it to spin in circles on the wooden floor. Rafe was met with a punch to the lip as JJ turned him around with his force, pinning Rafe against the wall in the same way he just had done to JJ.

“Damn, Maybank,” Rafe muttered, his voice tight with pain but laced with something almost grudgingly respectful.

JJ’s hands were shaking as he grabbed the gun from the floor, his fingers trembling around the cold metal.

One of Rafe’s friends, a tall guy with messy hair, was the first to make a move. He lunged at JJ, shouting at him to drop the gun, his voice filled with panic and anger. Another guy stepped forward, his fists clenched, his gaze hard and dangerous, eyes locked on the weapon in JJ’s trembling hands.

"Stay the fuck back," JJ growled, his voice low and strained.

He yanked the weapon back, barely managing to avoid the man's grasp. The group was closing in on him now, surrounding him in a tightening circle, but JJ refused to back down.

"JJ, give me the gun," you said softly, "You don’t need to do this."

Kie's voice broke the silence. She glanced at JJ, her voice steady as she spoke, “JJ, listen to her. You don’t have to do this. None of us want this.”

“You think they’ll just let us walk away from this, Kie?” JJ’s voice cracked, filled with frustration and a hint of defeat. “They’re not gonna stop. Not after everything… after what he—”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and gently, you pried the gun from his grip. His hands lingered on it for a second longer, the metal still warm from his touch, but then, with a heavy sigh, he let go.

Within an instant, you drop it back on the floor beneath you, moving it away from everyone.

Kie moved closer to JJ, her hand resting on his arm as she smiled at him, "Come on, JJ,” she said, her voice calm yet firm. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

You watched as she guided him out, her hand holding his as they walked down the hall. Kie turns back to you, her eyes glinting, "Do you wanna stay?"

You glanced back at Kie, who was already halfway down the hall with JJ. She had given you the choice, and it felt like you could either walk away or take a deeper dive into the mess that was Rafe Cameron.

You made your choice. You straightened your shoulders, meeting Kie’s eyes before giving a nod. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Kie didn’t say anything more, just shot you a quick, understanding glance before disappearing down the hallway with JJ.

Rafe's presence felt heavier now, more intense. He hadn’t moved, still leaning casually against the wall, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. He watched you approach, his eyes still sharp.

“Not leaving?” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, his gaze flicking to the door where Kie and JJ had just vanished.

“No,” you replied, your tone steady. “But I think you’re gonna need some help.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, stepping past him toward the back hallway. You motioned for him to follow, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on you, calculating. He pushed himself off the wall and trailed behind, his footsteps quiet.

You led him to a small, secluded room at the back of the mansion. The door clicked shut behind you, and the noise from the party seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your breaths in the silence.

The room was dark, with only a small lamp casting faint light on the walls. There was an old couch in the corner and a low coffee table cluttered with liquor bottles, glasses, and half-empty cigarette butts.

Rafe stood by the door for a moment, watching you as you grabbed a first aid kit from a shelf nearby. You could feel his gaze on you, intense as he stood against the frame of the door.

“Sit down,” you ordered, your voice sharper than you intended. “I’m not going to patch you up if you’re standing.”

He raised an eyebrow, but did as you said, sinking down onto the couch with a grunt. You moved around him, gathering supplies and perching yourself on the couch next to him, his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh, whether he noticed he did that or not.

When you turned back toward him, his voice sliced through the silence, smooth but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Why didn’t you just let him shoot me?” Rafe asked, his voice low, almost curious, but the intensity in his eyes was undeniable. “You knew what he was about to do. You could’ve let him. Hell, you probably should’ve let him.”

“I wasn’t gonna let JJ go that far,” you said, voice tight. “He may be pissed, but he’s still my brother. He doesn’t need that on his conscience.”

His wounds weren’t too bad—at least, not the ones you’d seen before. His lip was split, blood still crusted at the edges, and the faint bruising on his cheek was already starting to darken. His knuckles were scraped and raw from the fight with JJ, and a few small cuts dotted his arms.

He leaned forward, pulling his jacket off and his shirt to let you tend to his wounds. You couldn't help but notice his abs were sharply defined, each muscle cutting through his skin with precision, like they had been carved, as if he were a sculpture come to life.

The light reflected off his skin in a way that made the muscles look so fucking good, creating shadows and highlights along his chest and stomach. His face and his body was a completely lethal combo, and there was no way to describe him other than perfection.

However, there was something else, there were fresh cuts on his torso, long and shallow, a few looking as if they’d been done recently, barely healed, and they weren’t from the fight with JJ.

“Where did those come from?” you asked quietly, your eyes meeting his. “Those weren’t from JJ. Who did this to you?”

"Does it really matter?" he muttered, his voice thick with something you couldn't quite place.

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment, wincing as you bandage up his cuts. Your eyes lingering a little too long at the ink on his skin, dark tattoos that sprawled across his lower stomach, intricate designs that dipped dangerously close to his V-line, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. You couldn’t help but stare, your fingers hesitating over the fresh scrapes on his ribs.

Rafe noticed. Of course, he did.

“See something you like?” His voice was pure arrogance, laced with amusement, his smirk deepening as he caught the way your eyes lingered.

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the first-aid kit instead of the way your body reacted to him. “I see someone who needs to shut up and let me do this.”

Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you don’t really hate me.”

Your eyes flickered down, at his hand, resting casually on your thigh as you placed a bandage on his torso, close to his rib. But his hand rested on you like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t something completely inappropriate given the situation.

Your breath caught, but Rafe didn’t seem to care. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched like he was enjoying this. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re really making this about me right now?” His voice was thick with amusement as he saw your expression the moment you looked down at his hand,“Kinda cute, though. You worried about me?”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading where his hand touched you. “I just asked a question.”

“And I just gave an answer.” He smirked, fingers flexing ever so slightly, like he was testing how much you’d let him get away with. “Not my fault you’re sitting so close, princess.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, dabbing at the cut on his ribs a little harder than necessary. He barely flinched, his smirk only growing.

“And yet,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’re still here.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his other hand lifted, tracing lightly along your arm, his touch featherlight, teasing.

It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you, like he already knew what you were thinking before you could say it. His blue eyes flickered down to your lips.

“You gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

You hated that he was right. Hated that your pulse spiked when his fingers trailed higher, his grasp interlocking around your throat gently, his hands gliding against the skin there, rubbing at the sides of your neck.

“Still pretending?” Rafe murmured, his voice dark with amusement.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You couldn’t answer, not when his grip flexed slightly, just enough to make your pulse hammer beneath his palm. He watched you carefully, his eyes flickering between yours, reading every reaction, soaking in every shaky breath.

“I should hate you,” you finally managed, though it sounded weak, unconvincing.

“Maybe,” he hummed, tilting his head, his lips a hair’s breadth from yours. “But you don’t.”

And then he kissed you, slow at first, teasing, his lips brushing against yours just enough to make you chase him. But when you did, he pulled you in completely, deepening the kiss with a quiet groan, his other hand gripping your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. His tongue slid against yours, the taste of whiskey lingering between you both.

Every inch of him felt so consuming; his warmth, his strength, the way he made you feel like you were both on the edge of something thrilling and dangerous.

Your breath hitched as his hand slid up your side, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your thigh, and it felt like every touch of his was electrifying you, burning you from the inside out.

Rafe’s lips pulled away from yours for a fraction of a second, enough to breathe out a low chuckle. “You’re not even pretending anymore, are you?”

Before you could respond, he guided you to straddle his lap, your thighs pressed around his right leg as his left hand found your neck, grasping it once again. His other hand grasping your hip, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“C’mon, princess. I know you wanna move.”

You swallowed hard, the heat between you almost unbearable, but you didn’t move, not yet. His smirk deepened at your hesitation, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“What? You need me to tell you what to do?” His voice was pure arrogance, dripping with amusement as he presses his thigh up between your legs, the pressure making you whimper. “Go ahead. Ride my thigh, baby. Make a mess on my jeans."

The rough denim of his jeans presses against your already throbbing pussy and his hands guide your hips, forcing you to grind against him.

“There you go,” he groans, watching you with dark, hooded eyes. “Fuck, you feel good. Look at you—so needy and you haven’t even gotten my cock yet.”

"Keep going,” Rafe murmurs as his lips find yours again, his voice low and dangerous. He smiles into the kiss, his voice raspy as he encourages you even more, “Take what you need, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

"Rafe," you gasp, looking into his eyes.

"Look at you, fucking slut. Can't get enough can you?" He looks you in the eyes, his mouth open smiling as he hears you moan for him. "Yeah? You like rubbing that dripping pussy all over my thigh?"

You nod eagerly, unable to form words as he continues to tease you. Your heart races with anticipation, your body aching for his touch.

Without warning, he slides his hand between your legs, rubbing against your soaking wet pussy through your panties. You gasp, arching your back as a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine.

He holds you still, his fingers rubbing against your folds as he places soft kisses on your neck and your jaw. When he speaks again, his voice is velvety and hoarse, "Oh fuck... god.. you're so fuckin' wet I can feel it through your panties."

His fingers slide inside your panties, finding your clit and circling it gently, he pauses tapping his fingers against your clit as he talks, "I can't wait to be inside of there baby."

You moan softly as he presses harder, your hips bucking into his hand. "Mmm fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his other hand tugging at the waistband of your panties.

He stops touching you instantly, his hands letting go of your body completely. "Let me see that pretty pussy baby," he coos, a smile playing at his lips, "C'mere, get on the couch for me slut."

Your heart races as you climb onto the couch, spreading your legs wide for him. He takes his time, running his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you with his touch before he reaches behind you, unzipping your dress and sliding it off of you, throwing it onto the floor.

Rafe moves from his spot next to you, facing you and instead climbs down onto the floor in front of your spread legs.

He kneels between your legs, his eyes locked on your panties. Within an instant he begins to kiss your thighs, his tongue running along the skin of your thighs up to your cunt. He presses a small kiss to your covered pussy, his hands reaching up to hold your thighs apart, and his eyes trained on your facial expressions as he teases you.

Smiling through his teeth, he slowly bites at your underwear, pulling it from your core before snapping it back, again and again.

"Want me to take these off? hmmm.. love?"

You nod eagerly, unable to hide your anticipation as he slowly slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

His breathing becomes ragged as he slowly runs his fingers through your folds, teasing you with his touch. You gasp, arching your back as he finds your clit and starts to tease it gently, as he licks his lips.

"My god look at this fuckin' pussy.."

He smiles rubbing at your clit and looking up at you, his hands reach up leaving your legs to rub at your tits, finding them and toying with your nipples.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. He pushes two fingers into your wetness, finding your G-spot and massaging it gently as he sucks on your clit.

His other hand continues to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his eyes stay on yours.

" You fucking dirty girl, you like it when I eat your cunt and look at you like this?" You moan louder at his words, your hips bucking against his hand and his tongue as he works your pussy. His tongue sliding against your clit, flicking against it while his fingers fuck up into you.

"Please," you whimper, your hands gripping the couch as you try to hold yourself back. "Please, I need more." He grins against your skin, pulling back slightly to look at you with lust-filled eyes.

Rafe chuckles, his lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the heat radiating from his gaze. "You want more?" His voice is thick with amusement, and there's an undeniable edge to it. But there's something else there, too, something dangerous. His hand moves to the back of his waistband, and for a brief second, your eyes catch the gleam of cold metal.

He notices your shift in focus and raises an eyebrow, leaning in again, his lips brushing over your ear. "You see it, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a whisper.

His hand rests casually on the gun hidden beneath his jacket, and the simple gesture makes your breath catch in your throat.

He smiles at you, bringing the gun up and resting the barrel against your thigh as he continues to speak, "You like this, don't you?" he murmurs, his lips curling into a grin.

"You know how this game works," he murmurs, his lips curling into a devilish grin. His free hand brushes your cheek, his fingers warm against your skin despite the cold of the handgun.

You swallow, speaking carefully. “I want this. But I need you to hear me—only if you're sure. I need to feel safe, Rafe.”

His smirk falters for a split second, and he studies you closely, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. The gun never leaves your thigh, but there’s a shift, a subtle understanding.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice quieter now. "It's not loaded."

With slow, deliberate movements, he lowers the barrel of the gun from your thigh. Your heart skips a beat, unsure of what he’s about to do next, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you watch as he opens the chamber.

He holds it up for you to see, the empty slot glaring back at you. "It's not loaded," he says again, his tone absolute.

The cold metal of the gun presses against your skin, its icy chill sending a shiver all the way up your spine. It feels heavier than you expected, the solid weight of it a stark contrast to the warmth of your own body.

As Rafe moves the barrel ever so slightly, you feel it shift, teasing your thigh with its frigid surface as it skims along your skin. He smiles, licking his lips as he keeps his eyes on yours and his hands on your thighs, holding them still.

Rafe groans, "tell me you want me to fuck you like this..please baby.."

"Please.. I want to feel it, fuck me with it." As soon as the words fall from your lips he lets out a moan, the barrel presses against your entrance and slowly he guides it inside.

He smile as the cold metal of the gun enters you, your pussy tingling with sensations of the coldness and also of the newfound excitement.

Slowly, Rafe begins to move it inside of you, fucking you.

"God fuck.. that's so hot," He whines, his other hand that was rubbing your thigh moves to your cunt, his fingers toying with your clit.

You feel your body tense up as he starts to rub your clit in a circular motion, his fingers finding just the right spot. "Fuck yeah, baby," he moans, his voice deep and husky.

"mm.. you're safe baby, don't worry just enjoy it for me slut."

Your head falls back against the couch and your breathing hitches, your moaning becoming erratic. "Fuck, yes," he groans, his fingers never stopping their rhythmic motion.

You feel your body shuddering as the pleasure builds up inside you. You moan loudly, arching your back as you feel your orgasm approaching.

"I'm gonna come," you pant, your voice sounding strained.

Rafe chuckles, his fingers leaving your clit to rub at your thighs again. He smiles, "play with those tits for me baby, rub them when you come for me on this gun."

You reach up and start massaging your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as Rafe continues, making your cunt feel so good.

"Fuck, that's it baby, clench around it," Rafe moans, his fingers rubbing your thighs as he speeds up the movement of the gun inside of you.

"Come on it for me, do it," He groans, watching as your thighs begin to shake, your eyes rolling back as you moan and pant heavily, coming for him all over his weapon.

"Fuck, you're squeezing it so tight.. oh god..baby"

He smiles as you come, his hands leaving your thighs as you finish. Without a word he slides the barrel out of your cunt, his mouth practically drooling as he drops the gun onto the floor beside you both.

"God, you're so fucking good."

You pant, moaning and smiling. "I want more, please Rafe," you murmur.

"You want my cock, don't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, instead he moves his mouth away, pushing two fingers into your tight heat, curling them against your G-spot as he uses his thumb to rub tight circles around your clit.

"If you want my cock you have to get it as wet as this pussy is."

Without warning, he stands up, pulling his fingers out of you as he goes to sit back down on the couch. You let out a small moan of disappointment, but he silences it with a quick kiss on your lips.

He looks at you, his eyes filled with desire. "Now it's my turn," he says, his voice low and husky.

"Take my pants off for me, baby."

You nod, your heart racing as you reach for his belt, climbing down on the floor in between his thighs.

He helps you by lifting his hips, making it easier for you to slide his pants and boxers down his muscular thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and ready for you. You gasp at the sight of it, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight before you.

He smirks, knowing he has your full attention now. "Now what do you think, baby? Do you like what you see?"

Your fingertips graze over his warm skin, tracing the outline of his erect cock. You can feel how big he is as you trace it with your fingertips, and you can feel your heart racing as you wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking up and down.

He lets out a low moan, his eyes closing as he leans back against the couch, giving you better access to his throbbing cock. You continue to stroke him, moving your hand faster and faster.

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping your motion. He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours.

"I want you to suck my cock, baby," he says, his voice low and demanding. He smiles at you, his eyes burning into yours.

"Do you think you can be a good girl and do that for me? Suck my cock baby, mm.. let me stuff my cock deep down your throat."

Your hands stroke the base of his cock, your mouth moving to kiss his tip softly, all of his precum falling onto your lips, as if it is a perfect lipgloss.

Rafe moans, his voice raspy as he bites his lip. "Oh god, yeah.." He smiles, chuckling down at you, "wait wait wait.."

He smiles, his hand reaching to push you back a little further. "Stick out your tongue, angel."

Instinctively, you stick out your tongue, it glistening with your own saliva. He smiles leaning forward as he urges your face upward, towards him.

Rafe maneuvers the tip of his cock at your tongue, slapping it on your wet mouth, one, two, three, times.

Precum leaks onto your tongue as he slaps it on their, groaning as you close your mouth around his tip the second he stops hitting it against it.

You feel the head of his cock pushing against the back of your throat, and you gag slightly. Rafe's hand grips your hair tighter, pulling your head back and forth along his shaft.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You're such a good little cocksucker."

You moan around his cock, unable to form words as he continues to thrust deeper into your throat. Your nose presses against his lower abdomen, as his cock flows into your throat.

He pulls your head back further, pushing his cock deeper, stretching your throat around his thick shaft. He grunts with pleasure, enjoying the tight feeling of your throat as you choke on his cock.

Rafe pulls you off of his cock, his hands grab your face on both sides as he looks into your eyes.

"You're so beautiful, open your mouth up."

Obeying, you open up your mouth, sticking your tongue out again. You watch as Rafe bends forward, urging your chin up and then slowly he spits, it dripping down onto your tongue.

"Now you're gonna take that and you're gonna rub it all on that cunt for me, got it?"

You smile, spitting onto your own hand as he lets go of your face for just a second. Instantly, you move your hand down to your cunt, your fingers sliding the sticky saliva onto your folds.

"good slut," Rafe smiles, praising you as he watches you rub your clit for him from his position on the couch.

Rafe reaches out as soon as you begin rubbing and grabs onto your hair, moving it out of the way so you can suck him off, "God.. you're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?" he growls, his hot breath hitting your face.

You nod eagerly, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting his cock. As you take him deeper into your mouth, he lets out a low moan of pleasure. You can feel his erection throbbing against your tongue, and you begin to bob your head up and down, taking more of him into your mouth.

Rafe's hands find their way to your head, gripping tightly as he guides your movements. "Oh fuck... stay right fucking there, don't you move.." He groans.

Rafe thrusts into your mouth, your saliva sliding all over his dick as he fucks into your throat, causing you to moan against his shaft. As you continue to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat, Rafe's hips start to buck wildly, his moans becoming more intense. You can feel his cock twitching, pulsing with every thrust, filling your mouth with his length.

"god.. get up lay on this couch for me sweetheart."

You listen, smiling as you stand up from the floor, laying on the couch on your back. Instantly, Rafe is in front of you his cock resting against your thigh as he positions himself at your entrance.

Rafe's hips press closer to you, his tip teasing your entrance, resting right on top of your pussy.

"God, look at how deep I'm gonna be in there.."

You look down, propping a pillow behind your head as you see his length against you. Rafe's cock is so big that fully inside of you, he'll be inside of your stomach.

The thought makes you shudder with need. "Please Rafe, I want you to slide it deep inside of me," You moan, your pussy clenching, "I can't wait to feel you inside me."

Without further hesitation, he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your wet entrance. Leaning down, his lips find yours in a passionate kiss as Rafe slowly pushes all the way inside of you.

You gasp at the sensation of his thick shaft filling you up, feeling every inch of him stretch your tight walls. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal force. The couch nearly creaks under your weight as you grind against each other, lost in the moment.

"You like it rough, don't you.. yeah?" Rafe chuckles, his lips against yours as he speaks, fucking you so good all at the same time. "You know why you like it rough.. You're a fucking.." He groans, cutting himself off, "Jesus... oh , fuckin' slut."

You're eyes close as you moan, feeling Rafe fucking Cameron so deep in your stomach. Something you had never expected to happen.

"I want to look at your face while I fuck you," he moans, "Keep your eyes on me baby."

You open your eyes, your gaze finding his as he pounds into your cunt, so deep. "Look down baby.. look at it go in there.."

You look down at his cock, the space between you just big enough for you to see his dick disappear into your cunt and reappear.

"God, you feel amazing... fuck.." One of his hands reaches up to squeeze at your tits, his fingertip circling on your nipples.

"Oh god, I'm gonna come, Rafe" you moan, your voice shaking with anticipation. You cling onto him tighter, your nails digging into his back as he thrusts deeper into you, leaving marks, leaving him new injuries.

"Come for me again, come all over my cock.. god.." Rafe moans, feeling you spasm around his dick, but he doesn't stop fucking you. "I can feel you trembling on my cock, so close… don't hold back, just come on my cock."

"I'm gonna fuck you through it, baby.." He smiles, groaning as he feels your pussy clench around him, your cum coating his cock inside of you.

Rafe's thrusts become even more forceful, driving his cock deeper into your wet, tight pussy. His hand moves to your chin, lifting your head up to look into his eyes. "God, you're so beautiful when you come like that," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

Rafe notices your body tensing and grins, his hand moving from your chin to your throat, caressing your skin softly. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. You nod, unable to form words, your mind consumed by the pleasure he's giving you.

He thrusts harder, deeper, feeling your pussy clench around his cock. The sound of your moans fill the room, mixing with the wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby... god yes I'm gonna come in that pussy."

He leans down, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting you. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling with pleasure. The tension builds up inside of you, your pussy clenching around Rafe's cock, milking him dry.

You moan as you feel his hot come enter you, painting your insides white. You can feel his seed flow into you, dripping everywhere. "God.. fuck yes.."

Sighing, Rafe pulls out of you. His cock soaked with your come and wetness and your pussy soaked in his. Instinctively, Rafe reaches out to slide his fingers into you.

His fingers gently toy with your g-spot as you moan, whimpering because your cunt is too sensitive. "mmm.. look at all of my come in you.."

He smiles, plunging his fingers in and out of you before he pulls them out completely, bringing them up to your clit where he rubs his come that was inside you onto your clit.

"God you're so good.." He chuckles, stopping his rubbing as he leans forward to kiss you. He places a gentle peck on your lips before bringing his fingers that were just inside of you up to your mouth.

"Stick your tongue out for me, one more time angel.."

You listen, poking your tongue out from your mouth. Rafe slides his fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking around them and tasting his come mixed with yours.

"So beautiful, god you took it so good.."

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, still feeling the electricity between you both. He motions for you to stand and he lays on the couch, patting his chest where you immediately come lay, his arms wrapping around you. A small, amused smile tugged at your lips as you glanced up at him.

JJ is going to kill me if he finds out,” you muttered.

Rafe's lips curled into that cocky grin of his. “Just don’t tell him,” he said casually, as if it was the simplest solution. “I’m sure he won’t notice.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “Right. Because JJ’s just going to… not notice?”

Rafe chuckles softly, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Just don’t tell him," he murmurs with a wink. "What happens here, stays here."

"Would've helped if we locked the door," you murmur, sighing as you see the door cracked open.

Rafe laughs, his voice low and teasing. “I thought you liked a little risk,” he says, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he looks over at the door. "Besides, no one's here but us. And if they were, well…" He pauses, his lips curling into that signature cocky grin, "they're too high to remember any of it."

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Did you forget I’m a Pogue?” you ask, teasingly, your voice laced with amusement. “Pretty sure Kooks don’t exactly mix with us, especially not like this.”

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly, his grin never fading. “You sure? ‘Cause, if I remember correctly, you seem to be enjoying this just fine." He leans in a bit, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Maybe you’re just my exception."

thank you so much for reading! sorry for any writing mistakes as always ♡

𖧧 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

i had to add in the who did this to you trope, i just had to

[beaucate]

🍊🏄🏽🎇FLIPPED !

pairing. pogue!reader x bsf brother!rafe cameron. cw. angst (like so much of it), hurt/comfort, yearning men, exceeding fluff, grovelling, mean!reaf, ooc!rafe, redemption for both!! suggestive / smut. this is not just a series, it’s hc’s blurbs etc :)

series summary. — completely inspired by the movie flipped & how to disappear by lana.

rafe cameron was always just out of your reach — your best friend’s older brother. a kook prince with a streak mean enough to make you all teary eyed, and a heavy chip taunting him on his shoulder.

he’d never looked twice your way when you were kids. you were just sarah’s poor pogue best friend, a delusional girl with an even more ridiculous crush.

so you’d told yourself you were over it. over him and his contempt towards you. but months have passed, and things aren’t so simple around the both of you anymore. because rafe is no longer looking at you with indifference or hatred behind the blue’s of his eyes — he’s watching, waiting; like he’s searching for something in you, like he’s hoping you’ll see it too. and the scariest part? it feels like he’s the one chasing you now.

. part one.

a/n. im so so excited for this omg!! just wanted to get the idea out of my head, but I’ve literally been thinking about this since early 2024 😭. i don’t have much rafe followers yet but im v. willing to make a taglist !!

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[rafesangelita]

i feel like rafe has a major housewife kink

warnings: mentions of traditional stuff (just for the sake of the kink, please don’t stone me ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১), rafe is kinda misogynistic, fingering, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, headlock, reader is too fucked out to think about anything else, degradation, slapping, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, baby tapping threats

“i can’t— oh my, god. rafe!” your eyes fluttered shut for what felt like the hundredth time already, your thighs trembling as both pleasure and pain wracked through your body. rafe had no regard, nor did he care about this being your fourth orgasm as he rubbed your clit into overstimulation like his life depended on it. “yes, you fucking can,” he grunted, forcing your thighs open as they threatened to shut around his hand, “m’gonna keep you cumming until i see tears running down those cheeks.” you cried out at his words, your back arching into his chest at the overwhelming sensation.

rafe hadn’t even fucked you yet, and you were already on the verge of tapping out. flipping you over, rafe snaked an arm underneath your tummy before pulling you up, wasting no time in pressing your face into his pillows. stroking the small of your back, rafe groaned at the sight. he could see the body glitter on your skin, the little specs glinting underneath the dim lighting of his room. “fuck, i wish you would just let me have you already.. i’d make sure to slut you out every single day.” you whimpered when he delivered a harsh smack to the globe of your ass. “you just don’t know,” his aching tip prodded at your entrance, “i’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger ever again.”

wrapping your hair around his fist, rafe slid into you without warning, drawing a shriek to leave your lips. “you shouldn’t be working in that fucking club,” he said through gritted teeth, “you should be here with me, letting me take care of you. i’ll come home and you’ll be waiting for me with a hot plate,” leaning down, rafe yanked your head back so his mouth was next to your ear, “you’ll keep this place spotless and i’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want,” just then, he wrapped a bicep around your neck, your chin tucked between the crease of his elbow and his forearm, “fuck you however you want.”

rafe’s words were punctuated by his thrusts, your acrylics scratching at his skin as you held onto him for dear life. “just picture that; me using you for all that you’re good for.” maybe it was because everyone who knew you, especially your girlfriends at the club, knew you wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon, or at all for that matter, but the idea of locking you away in tanneyhill and never going anywhere without you hanging off of his arm, making you fully reliant on him, financially and emotionally, it turned him on beyond words could describe. “you don’t even know what i’m saying,” he laughed, “you’re too cock drunk to understand.”

you whimpered pathetically, tears running down your face as he planted a slap to your cheek. “gonna fill up this cunt and trap you, maybe then you’ll understand what i’m saying when i put my baby inside of you.”

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞!𝐠𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— rich boyfriend rafe and his whole heartedly pogue girlfriend

rating: sfw — cw: none

— boyfriend!rafe who… actually gets annoyed when you spend your money instead of his: “look, baby, i know you can but why when i’m literally throwing my card at you?” he questioned. “i’m not taking it, rafe,” you rebutted. “yeah? okay, don’t,” he mumbled, casually dropping a banded stack of cash onto your lap.

— boyfriend!rafe who… absolutely judged a book by it’s cover when you first met, knowing you were from a side of town he didn’t favor, but your beauty was something he couldn’t ignore. though, his outlook barely shifted; technically, not all pogues were trash, but he considered you to be the one and only exception.

— boyfriend!rafe who… is used to getting what he wants, so he was highly taken aback when you declined his first offer to go out. it was new and completely foreign, but it only made him want you even more — he’s always had a desire to obtain the ‘unobtainable’

— boyfriend!rafe who… caught so much shit from topper and kelce when they found out about his relationship with a pogue; so much so that rafe almost fought them over it, telling them to ‘get the fuck over it’ and to never speak on you again.

— boyfriend!rafe who… on occasion would reluctantly let your pogue friends go out on his yacht with the two of you for the day, which ultimately would end with him dropping them off an hour (or four) early. he wants them miles away from his pristine boat but loves how happy you look when you were all together.

— boyfriend!rafe who… hears you mention liking something once and makes sure it’s in your hands before the following day ends. they were always simple things like a cute t-shirt or sunglasses, which, to him, were so cheap and mundane that he found it rather adorable when you’d cherish them like literal gold.

— boyfriend!rafe who… isn’t too fond of where you live — your house being small, somewhat falling apart, and overall something far below rafe’s standards. he wishes you’d take him up on his offer to simply get you an apartment on his side of town: “okay, but it’d be so much better for you… and you’d be closer to me,” he mumbled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips.

— boyfriend!rafe who… takes you riding on his dirt bike to go sightseeing across figure eight, often taking the long way home just to feel your arms wrapped around his waist for just a little longer. you once asked if you could drive it, which would have been your first time, to which he immediately said, “fuck no, what — you tryin’ to break your neck? no.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… tried his first ever boxed mac and cheese with you, as random as it was, after you insisted it’s the greatest inexpensive food on earth; him beforehand saying, “what? y/n, that’s fucking powder…” but after he tried a bite of yours, he reluctantly said, “it’s not that bad… i might see the appeal.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… gives you ‘ultimatums’ when buying you clothes (although, you always insist you don’t need them), saying he’ll get you whatever you want as long as you try on some of his picks first. he would have gotten whatever you wanted regardless, he just liked seeing you model for him, which, secretly, you knew.

— boyfriend!rafe who… buys you extremely expensive jewelry and lies about the price, saying it’s a hundred times cheaper than it is to avoid you trying to give it back. he enjoys watching the dainty bracelet on your wrist or gold studs in your ears glint in the sunlight, knowing that you’re clueless on that fact that they’re the nicest money could buy — he needs only the best for his girl.

— boyfriend!rafe who… truly hated physical touch until you showed him it could be gentle — that it could be sweet, and warm, and kind, and didn’t have to leave him bloody or sore. he loves when you run your nails gingerly across his scalp or hold his hand in your lap, twisting absentmindedly at the rings adorning his long fingers; a type of touch (and love) he’d never felt before

— boyfriend!rafe who… craves your validation, no matter how big or small. he just needs to hear that he did something right, something good, something you’re proud of. he wants to hear you tell him he did a great job at making you dinner or picking out a dress for your spontaneous outings — your approval means so much more to him than you’d ever know.

— boyfriend!rafe who… uses his high status to (begrudgingly) help your pogue friends get out of whatever trouble they land themselves into, knowing it means alot to you and takes a weight off your shoulders: “m’doing this for you, alright? not them, you.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… is pretty heavy on pda. he doesn’t care whose watching when he lazily drapes a possessive arm around your shoulders, or when he kisses you messily with full force; whether it be a kook or pogue witnessing his shameless affections, he didn’t care — who’d dare to say something about it?

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[maybanksprincess]

trouble sleeping? // j.m

warnings: fluff, cuddling, kissing, pet names.

summary: jjs girlfriend is having trouble sleeping <3

small blurb for my baby @jjblunts requested by this ask, i hope you like it!

for a couple days now, you've been having sleeping problems. when you lay in bed, you toss and turn for hours until you fall asleep, waking up with a sore back and grouchy from the lack of sleep.

however, jj has been noticing the slight changes in appearance and mood from you. he's been noticing dark circles starting to form, and the way you've been super quiet all day, and drinking multiple cups of coffee to stay awake.

he didnt know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to help. so tonight, instead of laying on the couch, he comes in to sleep with you instead.

you had been laying on your back, desperately trying to get just an ounce of sleep, but there was no use. you let out a huff of frustration and turn onto your side, hugging the pillows close to you.

as your fighting to fall asleep, you hear the door creaking, meaning someone has entered the room. you open you eyes to see the blonde standing above you.

he reaches down to carress your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb across it. "hey babydoll. you cant sleep?" he asks softly.

you smile softly up at him, a tired and weak smile on your face. "no..." you shake your head.

he sighs, sliding into bed next to you gently moving you over by your waist to make room for him. "why didn't you tell me baby? you know i would've came to sleep with you." he says, running his fingers through your hair gently.

you lean into his touch, resting your head on his pec. "i dunno, didn't wanna bother you..."

he chuckles softly "baby your never bothering me. jus' go to sleep, hm?" he says, and moves your hair away from your face to kiss your forehead.

within minutes, your softly snoring in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

he smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. "sweet dreams, sweetheart." he says before falling asleep, holding your body against his protectively.

[pencil-n-pen]

YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

EDIT: PLEASE stop asking for a part two. i’m in the hospital. writing is not my priority right now. i appreciate and am grateful that you liked the fic, but please stop commenting and sending asks for a part two.

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

. ݁₊ ⚜️ . ݁˖

He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

[amandabbbbb]

summary: rafe who protects maybank!reader from luke bc jj is too busy finding gold to protect his sister

tw: parental abuse, mention of drugs, rafes sweet but kinda demanding

word count: 526

you covered a shift working at the wreck because kie could never be bothered to take a shift at her dad’s restaurant, too busy running around the island trying to find whatever gold bullshit that john b has got your brother’s friends and him hung up on. you call jj, overwhelmed from the morning of dealing with your father luke’s fit of rage.

“are you gonna be home tonight? dad just bought a bunch of drugs from barry’s and i don’t want to be alone. i’m scared.”

“sis, you know i love ya, but do you want our lives to get better or not? i’m tryna get us out of this hell, alright? so just stay in your room and don’t come out. love ya, bye.”

he hung up before you could squeeze in another cry for help. just as your salty tears fall, rafe cameron motions you over to give him his bill. you wipe your tears away and give him the fakest smile. he orders you to sit in the opposite empty chair.

“are you alright, sweetheart? i heard that. you know, i know your dad’s a druggie dick. i’ve seen him at barry’s. I gotta get you out of that house. i see your bruises. you know all that makeup doesn’t cover it.” he grabs your arm and rolls up your sleeve, showing your bruise from your father. you, flustered, pull away as his tone was demanding.

before you could even respond, kie’s words ring in your ears: “rafe cameron wouldn’t be caught dead eating here, especially alone. he usually spends his time at the country club. to a kook like him, the wreck is a dump. but ever since you started working there, he always sits at the same table almost every day, staring at you your whole shift, and if you aren’t his waitress, he makes a huge fuss. he’s so sweet to you, always.”

“rafe, really, i’m alright. don’t worry about me.”

“stay at mine tonight, y/n. i’ll take care of you.” he sets 1000 dollars down on the table. he usually gives you a 100 or 200 dollar tip but never this much. you barely know rafe.

“rafe, no. i can’t take this. i don’t even know… uh, uh, rafe, i can’t.”

“stop mumbling and take it. your dad spends all his money on drugs and your brother’s too goddamn worried about god knows what to even be home to take care of you. so i’m going to man up and protect you, okay? so shut up.”

that night after your shift, you stay at rafe’s house. he lets you stay in sarah’s room since the camerons are away. for the first time in ages, you finally relax, safe from your abusive father. you fall asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the stress. rafe makes sure you’re comfortable, checking on you throughout the night. when you wake up in the morning, you find a note and breakfast waiting for you. the note reads:

“good morning, sweetheart. had to run some errands. i know we’re very different but i know what you’re going through. stay as long as you need. you’re safe here. - rafe.”

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

[nemesyaaa]

sweet creature // truck driver!rafe x housewife!reader

summary : just a few mixed headcanons.

warnings : +18 content. minors dni. strong age gap. sweetheart x old man trope. smut. p in v. teasing. smoking. size difference. full nelson position bc big men lovers club here. hand fetish(sorry.). sleazy!rafe. squirting. loss of virginity. please, be aware of the warnings before reading.

author's note : muchas gracias a mi dulce @rafesangelita for giving me the idea bc i really loved to work on the concept of truck driver!rafe. shout out to crush by ethel cain too for give me the inspo of the story. <333

can't stop thinking about truck driver!rafe who's a proud working man. he's soooo bulky from charging alone some weighty goods on his eight wheelers everyday to deliveries driving for weeks and days. he's massive without forcing just because he's doing so hard with his hands on daily.

speaking of this, he's got such big sized hands. apparent thick veins on the back and calloused on the palms. large fingers with too much strength. easier for him to manhandle you or lift you up. they're very manly and rough. fat and round biceps with a strong size. he's tall and big, literally showing you without speaking who’s the man of the house, and who you belong to. you feel so secure every time he's around because you can be sure no one is touching you, no one is looking down at you, no one just dare to even glance at you. he doesn’t like to fight because he doesn't want you to think he's gonna hurt you one day, but if it's for you, he can do anything.

even if you don't like it, he's always smoking a bunch of cigarettes while he's driving and listening to some kind of old music. john denver or johnny cash are his favs.

he's always buying some new marlboro reds at the gas station with some gum when he's taking a break. if he's not smoking, he's chewing some gums until there is no flavor. he's just needs to get something in his mouth. just a bad habit.

he’s a loyal man that doesn't care about women hitting on him at the gas station. but sometimes, he's nostalgic because years ago , you were one of them. you were that pretty rebelious girl who's acting like she has no dad, no family and proudly flirting with him, doesn't give a fuck about getting away with a stranger. at first, you called him old man to joke. at contrary, he directly called you sweetheart, thinking that you're such a sweet thing.

both of you ended up in the motel. “ im curious of what you’ve got in your pants, old man. ” “ you're too young for that shit. ” “ huh, huh…don't you think it's more like you're too old for that shit, sir ? ” the smirk on his face at the moment was really something else. that fucking attitude of yours making him bite his lips.

the minute after, you were pinned down on the mattress, his whole body size over yours. “ repeat it. ” “ i said, you're too old to fuck, sir. ” “ isn’t a fucking virgin thing who doesn't even know anything about the word she's saying who's talking right now ? ” “ I'm not a virgin. ” you lied, rolling your eyes at the sight. “ i swear, I'm not ! ” he laughed softly. “ why are you lying, so eager to be a little slut ? that's why you ran away with strangers like me ?” it was the first time a man like that, and you were speechless. not in a bad way. it was just surprising. “ i think you're forgetting your manners. ” he said carefully, his blue gaze burning over yours.

“ if you want it, i will fuck you. but i need you to say it. clear and ‘oud. ” you turned your head away because there's no way you're gonna say such a thing to him. “ i will find someone else then. that receptionist girl was pre…” “ fuck me. ” you quickly said before repeating it slower and clearly. “ i want you to fuck me…” “ alright. spread those fucking legs for me, sweetheart…huh, look at you, being so wet for me…you really need me.” “ ugh, just touch me ! stop talking, old man. ” you gasped. “ remember that you asked for it. ”

“ yea, yea. ” he started to unbuckle his belt before taking off his pants. your mouth was gagging at his fat cock hanging between his heavy thighs. “ it’s not gonna suck itself. ” you gasped loudly, swallowing hard. “ i j-just don't know how to do it…show me please. ” “ fine. after all, it's my job as your eldest. ”

and that's how you consumed your first night with rafe.

truck driver!rafe who’s got such a pretty polaroid of you that stays and never leaves his truck. there is your lipstick stains on it and a sweet “ good luck ” written on the white space.

as a good housewife, you always prepare him some delicious meals to keep him fed even if he's away. you're always checking on your man' and loves when he's gaining more weight.

he's starting to get old, hitting his forties soon. he doesn't really care about his physic anymore but you still find him so attractive. when you met him, he was already a grown man so it didn't really change anything. he loves to wear a cap on his messy mullet, thinking that it makes him look cool. biggest tees with long sleeves lover. the fabric is not good enough to hide his muscular frame because his big size is so obvious. and he's wearing those blue jeans that fit his muddy boots.

he's not very hairy, but he's not the type to shave often like he used to when he was younger. he's fine with the apparent thick hair of his happy trail and mustache that makes him look like an 80's pornstar. when he's come home, shirtless and sweating, he's just serving you the best look to fuck.

you're obsessed with his scent after a long shift work. you don't care how strong he smells, you just want to hug him and never leave. while he's holding you tight, he's getting you locked on his hug, your face buried against his heavy and glistening chest. and you can't help but kiss his wet sweating tee.

even if he's tired, just knows this man gonna fuck you very hard, especially when you're so clingy to him. you can forget vanilla with truck driver!rafe, there's no way he's gonna be sweet on your fucking pussy, especially after you've been teasing him with dirty pictures of yourself while he was away and driving. also, he does need some stress relief so prepare to be dumb for at least one fucking day raw.

he's excited the moment he sees you. there is no more teasing. he's now in charge of everything and you better take everything he's gonna give you. this is not like he gives you other choices. at this moment, his favorite position to fuck you will be full nelson because you're trapped on his tight muscular hold, forced to bounce on the thickness of his dick. he's dicking you down so hard that you could hear the famous flap flap flap of his heavy balls slapping your skin.

“ don't fucking move. ” he treaths you with the raspy sound of his voice, while your body is bouncing at every of his thrusts. you're shaking loudly on his rocked abs, lips filled with drool and tears running down your heated cheeks. ” you're so fucking tight..! gonna give your pussy a big stretch…fuck ! ”

every back and forth is powerful enough to make your pussy throbs. the way his fleshy cock is moving and bruising your hole — going further and further to the point your stomach is filled with every inch of his shaft, the veiny lines of his dick pulsating inside your cunt and growing harder on your belly. all your whines and cries are nothing for the truck driver, nothing more than a sign to fuck you even faster and stronger. he still holding your twitching body against his toned chest, feeling every squirms of yours on his sweaty skin, and his hands grips at your back legs, while giving you the craziest thrusts. his hands feel so warm and huge on your lower tummy, fingers bruising at your belly while his length is striking to your spot each time. “ you're d-deep…fuck, rafe !! ah…it feels so good…” you cry out of emotions, tears bursting on your face again. “ yea, right ? fucking deep’. you really feel it inside you baby. ”

he's stretching your cunt so well that you can't stop screaming and quivering, feeling his sweat sticking to your body. his breathing is hard and heavy on the side of your cheeks, his jaw slacks but he keeps his mouth wide open loudly panting and getting deeper and stronger, lips tugging at your ears.

he's such a bully. i mean, his dick is. hitting and hitting your g-spot with any fucking breaks, always striking at it like a weapon. getting no mercy and pity on the way he's making you cry. he loves to see your face turning dumb, eyes wide shut, mouth leaking too much saliva, stupid babbles coming from your trembling lips. he's just pushing himself so deep inside your swollen core, breathy moans filling his lips as his cock hardly twitch between your walls, making your throbs even more. you can't even breathe without choking on yourself.

it's like he knows how to take all your energy with his thrusts. his cock won't leave your pussy alone, the veins still hard and bulged with pumping blood, and balls full even after your first orgasm. but not only he wanted you to come but to squirt too.

“ r-rafe, i feel it coming…nghh! ah stop. i c-ca…” “ just let it go, baby. can you do that for me ? ” and it happens just two seconds after, your stretched pussy opening bigger to splash a strong liquid over your folds and making a pool everywhere on yourself. you can't even process the situation that his dick is back into your walls again, merciless pounding your wetted hole. with the same fucked pace. you're such a shivering mess you can't feel anything except the length that's driving hard in your soaked insides. now that you're squirted, it's such a big wet place on your cunt. and he leads him to make you squirt another time. the sound of your pussy pumping his dick is so squishy and loud.

when he comes inside you, you can be sure it's gonna leak a lot from your slick. he's gonna fuck until his balls are empty, and your pussy gonna coats with so much of his sperm.

to be sure of his cock being dry, he's softly slapping at your lips with the tip, and making you clean it. he loves how sloppy you're sucking when you're tired, but he's a hard sucker for the look you give him when his dick weakly falls out of your mouth, and a stream of his sperm sticks at your lower lips.

and you're just off, laying your body back to the sheets.

you can't believe this man was soon forties. you simply can't believe it.

[greengoblinswifey]

Trust— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based on season 4 episode 9, slight spoilers. rafe is convinced he can help you relax, take your mind off the drama on the ship and make you trust him.

warnings— manipulation, oral, praise kink, degrading kink, bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

Rafe looked up as you entered the small, cramped bathroom, his blue eyes narrowing before softening a bit as he registered your expression. “Come to check on me again?” he drawled, his voice low and rough after days of confinement. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of something else in his tone, something that felt almost, relieved.

“Yeah,” you replied, sighing as you slid down to sit on the floor next to him, finally giving yourself a break from the chaos upstairs. “I needed to get away from everything. JJ's out of control, everyone’s on edge, and it’s just—it's all a lot.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, shifting a bit to get more comfortable despite his tied-up position. “Sounds like a mess,” he said, a glint in his eyes. “But not surprising. I’d be losing it, too, if I were up there. Though, you don’t seem the type to lose it.”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I don’t know, sometimes I think I'm just about at my limit. It feels like I’m the only one who, I don’t know, tries to keep it all together by being civil.”

Rafe smirked slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to, you know. Keep it together all the time,” he murmured, his voice taking on an edge. “Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam.” His voice dropped, a bit huskier. “Maybe even relax a little.” His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your pulse quicken.

You frowned, glancing at his wrists, still bound. “Rafe…”

“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone almost too smooth. “Untie me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He held your gaze with an intensity that made you falter. “Let me help you relax.”

Hesitating, you chewed on your lip. There was something, different about him right now, and you couldn’t quite pin point it. But, against your better judgment, you reached forward and undid the ropes around his wrists, slowly freeing him.

Before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, and he pulled you in close, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was both rough and gentle, catching you completely off-guard. You melted into it, the tension you’d been carrying washing away under his touch. Your mind went blank, and you felt yourself leaning in closer, craving the connection.

“You’re so needy,” he murmured against your lips, “So naughty for letting me loose like this.”

Flustered, you pulled back slightly, breathless. “Rafe…”

He only smirked, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “It’s alright,” he whispered, holding your gaze with a soft, challenging glint. “Now that I’m out, maybe I can return the favor and help you feel a little better.”

You slowly nodded. You couldn’t deny the way he was making you feel.

Rafe’s hands moved slowly over your bare stomach, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So responsive,” he murmured, watching your breath hitch as his hands continued their slow exploration.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, feeling vulnerable but completely unable to pull away. Rafe’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your skirt, and with a quiet confidence, he slipped it and your thong off, leaving you feeling even more exposed. He let out a quiet chuckle, his hands never leaving your skin.

When he pulled off his own shirt, his eyes never left yours, and then he moved closer, his presence between your legs grounding you in the moment. “Trust me,” he whispered, voice low as he leaned in, and before you could fully process the warmth of his breath, he began to press soft, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from you.

“You’re so—” you managed, words slipping away as he looked up at you with that familiar smirk, his gaze unrelenting.

“So what?” he teased, “I haven’t even started.”

Your breath grew shallow, anticipation building as his hands traced along your hips, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

His mouth attached to your clit and it sent a spark through you, his touch patient yet undeniably intent, and you couldn’t help but give in to the sensation, letting yourself relax under his steady hands. His tongue was precise, lapping up every part of your pussy that was soaked with your juices.

“Don’t hold back now,” he murmured. His constant sucking and flicking over your clit made your orgasm wash over you, leaving you completely captivated, and all you could do was let yourself melt into the moment, trusting him entirely.

“I’d say you were my good girl and you are but fuck, you’re such a slut just letting me make you cum like this, I thought you and your friends didn’t trust me?” he chuckled, sitting up til he was beside you. You buried your face into his chest, embarrassed that he was right.

“Oh that’s okay baby, don’t be embarrassed,” he laughed, “you know what would make it all better? Me doing to you what they did to me.”

Your head shot up, confusion etched across your face.

“Not like that baby, you’d be willing wouldn’t you? Would you let me tie you up and use you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked huskily.

Slowly, you nodded. You couldn’t deny his words made you throb. You’d let this man do anything to you. He smirked at your obedience and took up the rope, beginning to tie you in the same position he was before. The rope was tied firmly, but not firm enough to hurt or bruise you.

“Is that okay baby? You like being all tied up for me?”

“Y-yes Rafe,” you muttered, eyes big and full of need.

He slipped down his boxers and your eyes went wider, gasping at the size of him. He was so thick and leaking for you. You needed a taste.

“Open up that whore mouth,” he growled.

Immediately, you did what was told and he shoved his cock straight to the back of your throat making you gag.

“Breathe baby, breathe, I know you can take it, you seem like you’d be such a good cock sucker.”

You wanted to prove him right, you wanted to be exactly what he thought of you. As he slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue went to work, swirling over the base and the tip, getting it as sloppy as you could. He moaned deeply above you, as his thrusts grew faster, your lips suctioned around him, making the sweetest little sounds.

You would’ve played with his balls if your hands weren’t tied and so, you leaned your head down, slurping and sucking on his balls as he threw his head back and shivered.

“Fuck, I knew you could do it, I knew you were a little whore, what a fucking mouth.” He slipped back into your mouth, his hands now going to your curls as he held you down on his cock, but before he could shoot his load down your throat, he pulled out.

“I know you’d swallow every last drop of my cum like the whore you are but I’d rather your pussy swallow it,” he chucked.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought about him filling you up. You weren’t on any form of birth control and you knew for a fact him or anyone on the ship did not have a condom in their possession. He’d definitely get you pregnant, just like his sister was at the moment. Ironic.

“Now, I have an idea.” You looked up at him curiously then gasped as he lifted your lower body, your hands in a slight awkward position as he held you up to fuck you mid air.

“Think you can take it— oh who am I kidding, you’re going to fucking take it,” he muttered, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock up and down your pussy lips.

“Your pussy is so wet and pretty, so happy you just gave it up to me.” You both moaned in unison as his cock slowly penetrated you. In that moment you partially wished your hands weren’t tied so you could’ve placed it on his abdomen, halting him from any further movements.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began pounding into you, your tits spilling out of the skimpy top you had on. His cock was deep inside you due to the angle, the feeling making your pussy quiver.

“Who’s making you feel this good huh?” he asked, his hands squeezing your hips harshly.

“You are Rafe, you,” you cried out. Your friends had definitely heard your screams.

“Good girl, trust me now?” he chuckled, breathlessly.

“Yes Rafe, I trust you. Faster, please,” you pleaded.

His rough thrusts sped up and the sound of your sloppy pussy and your loud moans filled the bathroom, possibly alerting your friends above.

“I need to feel you cum on my cock baby, you can do it,” he urged.

He went faster and deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you to draw the orgasm out. Before long, you screamed his name, your pussy squirting all over the bathroom walls as he continued fucking you through your high, pulling everything out of you.

“You’re so fucking hot, good girl,” he cooed.

He began chasing his own orgasm, his hand wrapping around your neck and his other skillfully holding under you as his thrusts grew more sloppy.

“Clench around me baby, I’m gonna pump this sweet pussy full of my cum. Gonna get you fucking pregnant, have you carry my babies inside this sexy body.”

You couldn’t protest even if you wanted to and your walls clamped around him, milking him of every ounce of his cum as he slammed into you. His thrusts grew slower and slower and he held you with one hand, the other unbinding your hands and when he did, he held you close to him, his cock still deep inside your pussy.

You both shivered under each other’s touch, panting slowly subsiding.

You shifted off him, the feeling of his big cock slipping out of you making you wince and whimper at the loss and you sat beside him.

“You look so beautiful and relaxed,” he smirked, pushing your curls behind your ear.

“Well you were right, you could help me relax,” you giggled.

“I’m always right. I meant what I said by the way, you’re gonna carry my babies inside that sexy fucking body,” he smirked, rubbing your stomach.

Before you could respond, there was a pounding on the door, it was your best friend.

“Y/N, what’s all that noise? What’s going on in there?” Cleo called out.

[dixonsfawn]

𖥔 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𖥔

⊹ being absolutely cock hungry and finally getting filled up

⊹ boyfriend!rafe spoiling you in every way

⊹ breaking in your new apartment with boyfriend!rafe

⊹ dom!rafe masturbating for you

⊹ fwb!rafe using you however way he wants

⊹ he loves to appreciate your tits

⊹ he texts you for a late night fuck

⊹ letting him fuck your mouth after a stressful day

⊹ mean!rafe ignores you all day so you make him apologise

⊹ knowing he has to ease you into it because he so big

⊹ rafe eating you out

⊹ rafe fucking you after you were being a brat

⊹ rafe teasing you until you're a whimpering mess

⊹ rafe using your pretty little holes however he wants

⊹ sending a ‘thank you’ vid with the present he got you while away

⊹ thanking rafe mid-sex because he feels too good

⊹ trying to be quiet as rafe fucks you early in the morning

⊹ when he needs you so bad he has to pull the car over

[rafesangelita]

pogue!sweetheart!reader meeting rafe for the first time? 🍰

warnings: jealousy, topper calls you ‘doll’, a lil bit of flirting, slight fluff

“girl scout, two o’clock.” kelce cleared his throat, topper and rafe following his gaze. you stood at the receptionist desk, chatting with the director about your plans for the week. “is she really a girl scout?” rafe’s eyes trailed down the soft curls of your hair, stopping just above the neckline of your top.

“nah, we just call her that because she sells cookies and shit. ‘really good by the way, highly recommend.” kelce leaned back in his seat, forgetting all about the cards in his hands as you started making your way towards the three of them. rafe would be lying if he said the way his friends ogled you didn’t bother him.

“hey! what game are you guys playing?” you sat your basket down on the hardwood table, eyes flickering over to rafe. “just some solitaire.” topper shrugged, removing the cloth that covered your treats. “what do you got for us this week, doll?” if rafe was bothered earlier, he was even more so now.

you smiled, tilting the basket so they can all steal a peek. “shortbread and chocolate chip.” rafe didn’t care to look at anything else other than your face, his gaze sweeping over your features. “i’ve never seen you before.” he finally spoke up, his voice immediately drawing your attention.

“uhm, i don’t think i’ve seen you either..” you extended a hand, “what’s your name?” rafe didn’t hesitate to return your gesture, taking your hand in his. “rafe, and yours?” your heart skipped a beat when you felt his thumb stroke your skin. “y/-” kelce chimed in before you could answer his question.

“i’ll take two of each. and one of you.” rafe’s head shot in his friends direction, his grip on your wrist tightening. laughing nervously, you brushed off kelce’s remark. “actually, he’s not taking anything. i, however, would like the whole basket.” shaking your head, you waited for rafe to say he was kidding.

“oh! you’re serious-” rafe got up, taking the basket in his free hand as he led you two outside and away from his obnoxious buddies. “what the hell!” topper shouted. without protesting, you allowed rafe to take you to a more secluded space, your dainty heels clicking against the pavement.

“is everything okay? i-” rafe stopped in front of the country club’s garden. “do you have a boyfriend?” he blurted, making you stumble over your next few words. “uhm, well! no, but..” taking his wallet out of his pocket, rafe took a couple hundred dollar bills before cutting you off.. again.

“not that it matters if you do, cause i’ll just take his place.” the certainty in his voice made your face flush with a new profound sense of shyness. he placed the folded bills in your palm, a smile forming on his lips at your smitten expression. “how are you so sure that you’ll be my boyfriend?” you asked.

“because i always get what i want.”