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20s! i ♡ rafe cameron. especially season one rafe! pink. summer roberts. alexa demie. music & movies. i speak english & spanish. ♡ ̆̈
i reblog more than i write so please don’t expect much from me! a lot of nsfw & occasionally dark content. please don’t interact if that makes you uncomfy!
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pretty divider credits (i & ii)
sigh…. rafe, baby come home… the kids miss you </3
DREW STARKEY as rafe cameron in outer banks ↳ 04x04 – the swell
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𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐭!
The faint sound of waves filled your ears, mixed with the wet sound of Rafe's lips on your neck.
He was on top of you, pressing you slightly against the white pillows of the kingsized bed which had been untouched for months.
He rarely slept in his yacht, he invited girls there even less often.
However you were an exception, he'd do anything for you. And when you asked him to spend the weekend away alone in his yacht? How could he possibly say no.
The window was slightly ajar, enough for the sound of the waves to sneak in, but not enough for the sound of your moans to slip out. You thought so atleast.
Didn’t bother closing it.
– "I love you so much" he murmured against your mouth, hand tracing your thighs with slow, steady movements. "Fuck baby you looked so pretty today, you always do"
You smiled, deepening the kiss, it was slower now, more intimate and Rafe's hands slid beneath the hem of your blouse. His fingers brushing your bare skin in a way that made you shiver.
He groaned, – "You're wearing too many clothes baby" he kissed your collarbone. "Take them off before I go insane."
You giggled but let out a soft moan when his hands moved to the waistband of your skirt, pulling it off with practiced ease.
Your blouse followed, leaving you only in your lace underwear which you specifically wore for him and him only.
He took off his own shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor beneath the bed. Your hands roamed his chest, your manicured nails travelling over his muscle.
He grinned, – "You like that don't you?"
You sighed, kissing him again for an answer. Your fingers curled around the hem of his underwear. Earning a low groan and some soft muttering from him.
Your panties landed on the floor, his boxers followed seconds after.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, arching into him with a moan as he finally pressed into you. He groaned, forehead pressing into yours as your hips rolled up to meet his, creating a beautiful rhythm between the two of you.
Your hands traced down his back, nails scratching slightly drawing sighs and moans from his lips as he moved inside you with precision, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.
His mouth found yours, tongue slipping inside, earning a soft moan from you as the tension grew tighter and tighter in your stomach.
– "You close yet?" He murmured against your mouth, hips moving just slightly faster.
You nodded, too caught up in the moment to be able to speak. His hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit and you came with a cry, hips bucking as he kept moving through your climax, searching for his own release.
When he came he kissed your neck, sucking gently on the skin as his hips still moved. – "Oh fuck you feel so good baby" he groaned.
– "Mmph I love you" you murmured, finally being able to form a whole sentence again.
Oh he got you so good whenever he was inside.
© ＬＯＶＥＬＹＤＯＬＬＺＺ - Please do not use or copy my work without permission. Love y'all and thank you for reading!
✎ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: What do we think of this then? I can't decide if it's good or bad or something in between like wtf? Once again THANK YOU for all the love i've gotten on my recent posts it means the world to me !!
𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻:
@wh0re4-alexademi @sexychickenmagnet @sex-the1975 @raf3cam3r0n @aluallured
cuddles and comfort
summary: cozy!reader gets overwhelmed at a beach party and rafe takes you home to cuddle in his bed.
a/n: hi !! only my second ever fic, but first for this reader. i know this is nothing crazy, but i just wanted to write something cute for cozy!reader ! let me know if you have any suggestions, tips, or requests! not proofread ! ୨୧
wc: 664
summer in the outer banks was hot and filled with tourists covering the beach. beach days are a staple, with pogues and kooks alike lining the strips of sand along the shoreline. everyone in the obx thrived in summer. well, almost everyone.
for as long as you could remember, summer was too much for you. too many tourons. too hot. too many bugs. autumn was when you came alive. crisper air, colder temperatures, changing leaves, pumpkin spice everything.
so, when rafe suggested bringing you—his introverted, autumn-loving girlfriend—to a beach party at the boneyard one night, you reluctantly agreed to make him happy.
now, you’re sitting across rafe’s lap while he sits upon a log in front of the fire. he talks to topper and kelce while nursing a red solo cup filled with beer, but you’re not quite listening to the conversation—too focused on hands as you gently pick at the skin around your nails, examining the chipped black nail polish upon the surface of them.
picking up on your silence and obvious discomfort, rafe gently taps your thigh, muttering a soft, “hey. you good?”
snapping out of your intense focus on your nails at the sound of his voice, you look up at his face, noticing the quiet concern there. you nod a bit, murmuring, “..’s just kind of a lot. too many people.”
his expression softens and then he speaks. “you wanna get outta here? go watch a movie or somethin’?”
you quickly shake your head, “no- no, ‘m okay. ‘s just a little warm ‘nd there’s a lotta people here,” you murmur, the small lie tasting wrong on your tongue. truthfully, that’s all you want. to go home, cuddle up to him, and watch a movie. however, you don’t want to make him leave and ruin his fun, so you lie.
unfortunately for your guilt’s sake, rafe knows you better than that—knows you’d rather be at home where it’s quiet and cozy. he exhales through his nose. “baby, if you wanna leave, we can leave. know you hate shit like this.”
“..feel bad for makin’ you leave though,” you mutter, voice soft and hardly audible.
“you’re not makin’ me do anything. if you’re uncomfortable that’s all that matters to me, alright? you’re my girl.” he says, his free hand now rubbing gentle circles on your thigh.
still a bit hesitant to agree, you meet his gaze with doe eyes, muttering, “..won’t be mad?”
“mad? why the hell would i be mad, baby? it’s one party, not gonna kill me to leave early.” he says, face twisting in confusion as if he couldn’t fathom getting mad at you for something so simple.
“dunno..” you whisper, looking down at your hands once more, cheeks suddenly pink.
“hey- hey, look at me.” he begins, lifting your chin with gentle hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “do you wanna leave? don’t- don’t think about what i want. do you want to leave?” he asks softly, looking into your eyes.
after a short pause, you nod.
“alright, c’mon. up,” he says, lightly tapping your thigh for you to stand. tossing his red solo cup into a nearby trash can, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style toward his truck parked just ahead with determination.
“let’s get you home, yeah?” he says, carefully placing you in the passenger seat as if you’re something fragile. he rounds the front of the truck after closing your door, climbing into the driver’s seat and backing out of his parking spot, determined to get you home and comfortable—the beach party entirely forgotten.
the rest of the night is spent with you cuddled up to rafe’s chest in his king-sized bed, one of your comfort films playing on his tv as you begin to slowly drift off feeling safe and content.
“go to sleep, baby. i gotcha,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple just as you finally doze off, entering a state of peace and tranquility.
— 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 —
pov. you ask if you can be on top tonight and once he finally agrees, under one circumstance…he gets to record you taking all of it.
notes. thank you guys sooo much for almost 100 followers, i appreciate it so much! i’ve gained all of you guys from only this month, i’m so so grateful to see people being as interested in my writing as i am! my requests are always open.
content warnings. ⸝⸝ fem reader, recording during sex, taunting, reader riding rafe, rafe can’t touch reader, kinda dom reader, no proof read, finger sucking, mentions of reader being a bad girl, toxic rafe, really long smut, arguing during sex, edging
no, no, no, no. thats all you hear when you ask rafe if you can be on top tonight, he’s not bad at fucking you, he’s amazing. but you want to see how it’s like to see him struggle to keep up with you. a part of you thinks that’s exactly what it is, weakness.
he doesn’t wanna show it.
he’ll fuck you till you cry, embarrass you, laugh in your face but when it comes to him being done that way? or there is even being a small possibility of that happening, he doesn’t want it.
you’re sat across from him on the couch and figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and ask again. “rafe?” you say, his attention stayed glued to his phone as he hummed in response to you. “yeah?”
when he didn’t receive a response, he looked over at you, lifting his brow. his confusion in his brows. “what?” he repeats. you smile, crawling over to him and placing a leg over his lap to get comfort. his hands lay lightly on your calf, rubbing your legs.
“can i please be on top?” you beg. he didn’t reply, just staring at you and eventually rolling his eyes, lifting his phone up and going back on it. “please rafe.” you plead, getting up and straddling his lap, while you grabbed ahold of his phone and tossed it somewhere on the couch.
now he couldn’t ignore you. he huffs a sigh out his nostrils. “why?” he questioned, his irritation biting at his patience with you. “i want to try it,” you start, his eyes scan your face to see if you’re trying to fuck with him.
his jaw tightened before he adjusted under you. “fine,” he said, as you get excited a knowing smirk grows on his face. “but you got to let me record it.” he whispered, you roll your eyes and get off his lap. “okay, fine. but all it’s gonna show is you struggling to keep up.” you teased which he didn’t find funny.
you’re already naked, straddling rafe’s hips on the bed, his thick cock buried deep inside you as you settle your weight down. the camera on the nightstand lamp is rolling, its little red light steady, catching the full view; your tits heavy and bouncing slightly with every shift, your curves on full display, the soft dip of your waist, the way your ass spreads against his thighs.
you can see just the top of his buzzed hair and the sharp cut of his abs and chest muscles flexing beneath you. he’s on his back, hands slightly fisted in the sheets like he’s fighting the urge already.
“you sure about this?” rafe mutters, voice low and rough, eyes locked on you. “you’re wasting your fucking time, baby. you’re not gonna cum like this. me just laying here doing nothing while you do all the work? that’s cute and all, but we both know you need me moving.” he said, his bitterness showing.
you roll your eyes, palms planted on his chest for balance. “shut up, rafe.” you bark out. he smirks, that cocky tilt to his mouth. “i’m serious. you’re gonna get tired and frustrated and—”
you grab his wrist, bringing his hand up to your face. without breaking eye contact you wrap your lips around two of his fingers, sucking them slow and wet into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digits as you start to move.
you lift your hips and sink back down hard, bouncing on his dick with a slick, filthy sound that fills the room. the camera catches everything, your tits jiggling with every rise and fall, the way your body curves and arches as you ride him.
rafe’s breath catches, his abs tightening under your hands. “fuck… you little—” he groans out. you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, still bouncing steadily, grinding down deep on every drop so his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. “i said shut up. you don’t get to touch me. you don’t get to move. only i do.” you squeeze your walls around him on purpose, rolling your hips in tight circles that make his jaw clench.
he groans, head tipping back against the pillow, but his hands stay down even as his fingers twitch like he wants to grab your ass or your waist. “you’re gonna regret this when you can’t finish,” he grits out, voice strained.
you lean forward, tits brushing his chest, and bounce faster, the wet slap of skin on skin getting louder. “then stop talking and let me prove you wrong, asshole.” you suck his fingers back into your mouth again, moaning around them as you fuck yourself on his cock, taking every inch over and over while the camera records it all. your body moves like you own him, curves rolling, hips working, completely in control.
your pussy clenching tight around his thick cock with every drop. the camera’s still catching it all. your tits swinging heavy, your curves glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his abs flexing hard underneath you.
rafe’s breathing gets rougher, jaw tight. “why do you even wanna do this?” he growls, voice low and pissed. “huh? my dick not good enough for you anymore? you like me helpless like this or some shit? just laying here while you use me like a fucking toy?” he questions.
you don’t answer. instead you grab his hand again, guiding it straight to your tits. his palm immediately squeezes, rough and greedy, fingers digging into the soft flesh as you ride him harder. you suck two of his fingers back into your mouth, moaning around them, tongue swirling wet and sloppy while your hips keep working.
“answer me,” he snaps, thrusting up once on instinct before catching himself and forcing his hips back down. “you get off on this? controlling me? bet you’re soaked just ’cause i can’t fuck you the way you need.” he continues.
you pop his fingers out just long enough to glare down at him, still bouncing, pussy dripping down his shaft. “shut the fuck up, rafe. you’re not in charge tonight.” you bark out at him.
he squeezes your tit harder, thumb brushing your nipple, voice getting meaner. “yeah? then why the fuck are you dragging this out? we both know you’re gonna get tired and start begging me to flip you over and ruin that pussy like you always do.” he comments.
you lean forward, tits pressing into his hand, and start fucking him faster, the wet slap of your ass hitting his thighs echoing. he’s arguing but his cock is twitching like crazy inside you.
you finally pull off his fingers with a wet sound and look him dead in the eyes, voice breathy and teasing. “i’ve been a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad girl haven’t i?” you teased, which made his jaw almost drop.
the second the words leave your mouth you feel him throb violently inside you, getting even harder, thicker, stretching you fuller. rafe groans deep, his grip on your tit turning almost bruising as his other hand fists the sheets tighter.
“fuck… you’re such a little brat,” he hisses, eyes lit with need. “talking like that while you’re creaming all over my dick. you really think you’re gonna cum before i lose it and grab you?” he asked.
you just smile, rolling your hips slow and deep, letting him feel every inch while you suck his fingers back into your mouth again, moaning loud around them for the camera. the argument keeps spilling out between his gritted teeth, but his body is betraying him more with every bounce.
you lift yourself off his cock with a wet pop, your pussy already aching from how full he felt. rafe’s eyes narrow as you turn around, swinging one leg over so your back is to him. you plant your hands on his thighs for balance, ass right in his face, and sink back down onto his dick reverse, taking every thick inch in one smooth glide.
the camera on the nightstand catches the new angle perfectly, your full ass bouncing, your arched back, the side profile of your tits swinging heavy, and the way your pussy stretches around him.
you look back over your shoulder at him, lips parted, and start riding again, rolling your hips in deep, filthy circles before bouncing harder.
“jesus christ,” rafe murmurs, voice rough. “what the fuck is this now? you really just gonna keep playing these games? turning around like i’m not even worth looking at while you use my dick?” he bitches.
you bite your lip and keep bouncing, ass jiggling with every drop, pushing back so he gets the perfect view. “i know baby… i’m so bad to you,” you purr, voice sweet and teasing.
he scoffs but his hands twitch hard at his sides. “yeah, you are. acting like you own me tonight. you like this shit? making me lay here like a fucking loser while you put on a show for the camera?”
“mmhm, i know,” you moan, looking back at him again as you fuck yourself faster on his cock. your ass claps against his abs with every bounce. “i don’t deserve this dick at all, do i? i’m such a bad, bad girl for treating you like this.”
rafe’s breathing gets heavier. he’s trying to look pissed, jaw clenched tight, but you can feel how much harder he is inside you, throbbing with every teasing word. “keep talking like that and i’m gonna lose it. you think this is funny? huh? acting all bratty just ’cause you get to be on top for five minutes.” he asks.
you reach back for his hand, lacing your fingers with his and guiding it forward. you place his big palm right on the front of your throat, pressing his fingers there lightly like you want him to choke you. the second he grips, you lean back into it, using the leverage to pull him up.
rafe sits up without thinking, chest pressed to your back, his cock driving even deeper from the new angle. the pressure is insane, your walls squeezing tighter around him, your ass grinding down harder as you keep riding. you feel him groan against your shoulder, his hand staying on your throat like he can’t help it.
“fuck… you little tease,” he mutters, voice strained, clearly pretending he hates it even as his hips twitch up to meet you. “you’re really gonna make me sit here and take this shit?” he asks, his voice slightly breaking.
“i know baby,” you whisper back over your shoulder, still bouncing, voice dripping with fake innocence. “i’m so bad… i don’t deserve this dick, but i’m taking it anyway.” you taunt. his grip on your throat tightens just a little, and you can feel how much he’s fighting not to lose control completely.
you keep riding him like that, ass grinding back against his abs in deep, rolling bounces, your pussy taking every inch while his chest presses hot against your back. rafe’s breath is ragged in your ear now, heavy and uneven, his hand still wrapped around the front of your throat.
“fuck… shit,” he mutters under his breath, right against your skin, voice breaking a little. you feel him rub his free palm roughly over his face, like he’s trying to pull himself together, but his cock is pulsing hard inside you, betraying how much he’s struggling. “goddamn it… you’re fucking killing me.” he moans softly.
you hear every filthy curse and smile, looking back over your shoulder at him while you bounce slower but deeper, clenching around him on purpose. “what, you can’t take it baby?” you tease, voice sweet and breathy. “can’t handle me riding you like this? poor rafe… getting all worked up just from laying there and letting me use his dick.” you tease, a whiny moan being let out.
“shut up,” he growls, breath hot and shaky against your ear. his hand tightens slightly on your throat before he suddenly slides it up, clamping his palm firmly over your mouth.
you moan against his hand, the sound muffled, but you gently wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull it away from your lips. you turn your head just enough to keep eye contact, still riding him steady, your ass pressing back against him with every roll of your hips.
“it feels so good rafe,” you whisper, voice dripping with satisfaction. “your cock’s so deep like this… stretching me so fucking full. i love it. i love being bad for you.” you moan out for him.
he lets out a strained groan, forehead dropping against your shoulder as his breath fans hot and heavy across your skin. his other hand grips your hip hard for a second before he forces it back down to the sheets, fighting the rule.
you can feel how tense he is, muscles coiled tight, every inch of him struggling not to flip you over and fuck you his way.
“you’re such a fucking brat,” he hisses in your ear, voice rough and low. “keep talking and i swear to god—” you cut him off with another slow grind, moaning softly. “but it really does feel so good… you can’t even handle hearing how wet i am for you, can you?” you ask and he groans.
rafe curses again under his breath, palm rubbing over his face once more as he tries to steady himself, clearly losing the fight with every bounce of your ass on his cock. the camera keeps rolling, catching every second of his struggle and your teasing control.
you keep riding him deep, ass bouncing against his abs, when rafe’s breath suddenly stutters hard in your ear. “fuck— i’m about to cum,” he growls, voice strained and desperate.
you stop instantly, lifting your hips and sliding all the way off his cock with a slick sound. you look back over your shoulder at him, lips curled in a smug little smile. “you’re gonna cum baby? oh that’s sucks.” you taunt. rafe’s eyes flash with pure annoyance, jaw clenched tight. “are you fucking kidding me right now?”
you turn around fully, pushing his chest until he falls back against the pillows, his muscular body laid out for you again. the camera catches everything, your curves moving over him, tits swaying as you crawl up his body. you hold his gaze the whole time, eyes locked on his as you drag your tongue slowly down the center of his abs, tracing every hard line and ridge, tasting the salt on his skin.
“poor rafe,” you tease softly, licking lower, brushing just above his throbbing cock. “can’t even last with me on top, huh?” you laugh. “you’re such a fucking tease,” he snaps, voice rough with frustration. “you’re really gonna edge me like this? after acting like you own my dick all night? this is bullshit.” he barks out.
you just smile and crawl higher, straddling his lap again. your mouth finds his neck, sucking hard on the skin right below his jaw, pulling a dark hickey to the surface while he keeps arguing.
“you think this is funny?” he hisses, even as his cock twitches hard against your thigh. “stop playing games and fuck me right or i’m taking over—”
you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close as you sink down onto his cock again slowly, letting every thick inch stretch you open. you moan softly against his neck, sucking another hickey right next to the first one, then another, marking him up while you start riding him in lazy, deep rolls.
“keep arguing, baby,” you whisper, stretching your body down against his, chest pressed to his, hips still working as you ride. your mouth stays on his neck, sucking and licking, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys while your pussy squeezes around him. “tell me how mad you are… i love when you get all pissed like this.”
rafe groans, hands fisting the sheets again as he fights not to grab you, his body tense and trembling underneath yours. the camera on the nightstand keeps recording every second, your ass moving, your mouth claiming his neck, his abs flexing with every slow grind of your hips.
you keep riding him slow and deep, mouth latched onto his neck, sucking fresh hickeys into his skin while your hips roll in filthy circles.
rafe’s breathing is wrecked, chest heaving under you. suddenly he sits up straighter, back leaving the pillows, muscles flexing hard as he tries to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, jaw locked tight like he’s fighting not to blow his load too soon.
“fuck… wait—” he mutters, voice strained.
you don’t let him escape. you lift one leg up and put it where he bends his arm, his arm naturally hooking your leg over his arm, spreading yourself open even more. the new angle forces his cock impossibly deeper, hitting that perfect spot with every grind. it tricks him instantly, his hips buck up hard, fucking into you just right despite trying to stay still.
you moan loud right in his ear, lips brushing his skin as you cling to him, arms still wrapped around his neck. “mmh, rafe… your dick is so fucking big like this,” you whimper, voice breathy and teasing. “stretching me so full… i’m such a bad girl for making you hold back, aren’t i?” you say in his ear and he groans, grip tightening on your raised thigh even as he tries to stay in control.
you keep bouncing on him, pussy squeezing around every thick inch while you moan hotter in his ear. “don’t stop, baby,” you gasp, pretending like he’s the one driving into you. “fuck me just like that… don’t stop, rafe, please—”
“you’re not even letting me stop, you little shit,” he growls against your shoulder, breath hot and ragged, but his hips keep snapping up to meet yours, chasing the feeling even while he’s pissed about it.
you smile against his neck, sucking another dark hickey as you ride him harder in that spread-open position, leg held high by his strong arm. “your cock feels too good. don’t stop fucking me, rafe.” every moan, every teasing word pours right into his ear while the camera on the nightstand catches the whole thing. your bodies locked tight, his muscles straining, your curves bouncing as you use him exactly how you want.
you keep riding him hard in that twisted position, leg held high by his strong arm, his cock slamming deep with every bounce while your mouths hover close. your moans are filthy and constant in his ear, body stretched and pressed against him.
“you wanna cum, baby?” you whisper, voice dripping with mock sweetness as you clench around him. “tell me… you wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” you taunt. rafe’s grip on your thigh tightens, breath ragged and hot against your neck. “yes— fuck yes, let me cum.”
you smile against his skin and finally give in, riding him faster, hips slamming down as you chase it. the pressure builds fast and sharp inside you until you snap, you cum hard first, pussy pulsing and gushing around his thick cock.
warm liquid streams down his dick in messy spurts, soaking his abs and balls with wet, obscene noises that fill the room. the sound is filthy, slick and loud as you keep bouncing through it, creaming all over him.
“fuck— that’s it,” rafe groans, his voice breaking.
the second he feels you falling apart and soaking him, he loses it completely. his cock throbs violently inside you and he cums hard, thick ropes pumping deep into your pussy while you milk him through both your orgasms. his whole body tenses under you, muscles straining as he fills you up, the wet mess between you only getting worse with every twitch.
you stay wrapped around him, leg still held high, panting softly as the aftershocks roll through both of you. the camera on the nightstand keeps rolling, catching every second of the messy, dripping finish — your curves trembling, his abs glistening with your cum, the way you’re still slowly grinding on his spent cock like you can’t help yourself.
rafe rafe rafeeee.. season one rafe!! (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭
that (🔝) scene where jj spits on him at midsummers and he laughs.. sighh. imagine being friends with the pogues and inserting yourself in the fight when you hear all the commotion happening.. you don’t really get to do or say anything because the security arrives just as you’re getting ready to hurl insults at him and his buddies but rafe makes a snide comment just as you (but mostly jj) and jj are being escorted out. you impulsively turn around, spitting on his face—for a second you think he’s genuinely gonna snap at you but instead he does that all while keeping eye contact with you.. #yummyyy
— the eye game.
summary: a secret situationship turns into a public mind game when rafe uses a country club brunch to quietly claim control over her in front of everyone.
warnings: possessive behavior, power imbalance, toxic situationship, sexual tension, implied control.
an: wow almost a week later & i did not realize i accidentally posted this instead of drafting it..
she’d slipped out of tannyhill while the sun was still a pale, buttery smear across the sound. her matching white alo set felt crisp and clean against her skin, a stark contrast to the faint, phantom memory of rafe’s sheets tangled around her legs an hour ago. now, nestled between brittany and chloe at a round table on the country club patio, she was the picture of sorority sunday brunch. sunglasses perched on her nose, a weak mimic of a smile playing on her glossed lips as she listened to some story about a date gone wrong from a date function last night.
“…and he literally had the nerve to ask if i was going to finish my fries,” chloe was saying, her voice a conspiratorial whisper over the clinking of silverware. “like, hello? buy your own.”
she nodded along, humming a vague, “so rude,” but her focus was a million miles away, catching on the distant glitter of the water. her body was here, present and perfect, but her head was still back in that dark room, the scent of rafe’s cologne a ghost in her hair, the low rumble of his morning voice a phantom vibration in her ear.
it was their unspoken rule: what happened in the sprawling, intimidating house on the north side of the island stayed there. no labels, no public acknowledgment, no texts unless it was a logistical question about a time or a place. rafe hated labels. he’d told her so, flat and uninterested, the first and only time she’d dared to press. it was a known fact, a warning whispered through the halls of kildare academy long after he’d graduated. she was supposed to be a smart girl, but around him, her intelligence seemed to melt into a puddle of want, and she agreed to every word of his without a fight. so they played the game. she’d become an expert at blank stares in the halls of the country club, at subtle detours in the grocery store, at pretending her phone didn’t buzz with his name.
but then the patio doors slid open and a familiar energy bled into the sun drenched space. she didn’t have to look to know who it was. a ripple went through the room, a subtle shift in volume and posture. rafe cameron, flanked by topper and ward, a couple of older guys in tow. her breath caught, a tiny, insignificant hitch in her chest that she prayed her sunglasses hid. she didn’t turn her head. she kept her eyes on her half eaten eggs benedict, suddenly tasting like cardboard in her mouth.
“yo, top, you see that? they actually put real lobster in the omelette bar now. ‘bout time,” he nudged topper. rafe’s voice carried, louder than it needed to be, dripping with that easy, arrogant confidence he wore like a second skin. he wasn't talking to topper, not really. he was performing for the room. she could feel his set of eyes, and she knew they had just landed square on her table.
she risked a glance, tilting her head just enough to peer over the rim of her sunglasses. he was laughing at something topper said, throwing his head back, the column of his throat long and tan. but even as he laughed, his gaze slid sideways, a laser focus beam that found her instantly. it connected, a spark across the fifty feet of manicured lawn and expensive patio furniture. a smirk played on his lips, subtle and sharp, before he looked away, back to his friends, as if nothing had happened.
her stomach flipped. this was new. this was not in the script.
“god, he’s so loud,” brittany complained, stirring her bellini with a tiny straw. “thinks he owns the place.”
“he practically does, plus he’s hot so what does it really matter.” chloe shrugged, not entirely unimpressed.
she stayed silent, picking at a piece of toast, hyper aware of the space he occupied. he moved, all loose limbs and coiled energy. he and his group settled at a large table near the railing, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of her. of course.
the game continued. he’d gesture wildly while telling a story, making the older men laugh, making topper slap the table. but every few seconds, his eyes would find hers. a quick, deliberate glance. a testing look. she felt it like a physical touch. she’d look away first, always. down at her plate, out at the water, anywhere but at him. each time she did, she could feel the phantom of his smirk burning into the side of her head.
a waiter approached their table, a young guy who looked flustered. “excuse me, ladies,” he said, his gaze darting between them. “this is from the gentleman at the bar.”
he placed a vibrant pink cocktail on the table, complete with a sugared rim and a lime. it was ostentatious and feminine and so obviously for her.
“omg, who is that from?” brittany gasped, already craning her neck.
“no idea,” the waiter mumbled, “he just said to bring it to the prettiest girl at the table.” with that, he scurried away.
her friends dissolved into giggles and speculation, debating which sad, old guy at the bar was trying his luck.
but she knew. she didn’t have to look.
she could feel rafe’s eyes on her, waiting. the pink liquid was a dare. a public claim. he was marking his territory without saying a word. she took a slow, deliberate sip, the sugary sweetness cloying on her tongue. she kept her expression neutral, letting her friends think she was just playing along with a harmless mystery.
she met his gaze across the patio then, held it for a beat longer this time. she let a small, almost imperceptible smile touch her lips before turning back to her friends. a check. her move.
the tension on the patio started to shift. what had begun as rafe’s private amusement, a cocky game to see her squirm, was starting to feel different. more intentional. he was leaning forward in his chair now, ignoring something ward was saying to him, his entire being focused on their silent, ridiculous standoff. he sent another glance, this one slower, heavier. it wasn't just cocky anymore. it was a challenge. it was him asking a question without words: how far can i push? how much of you can i have right here, in front of everyone, with you pretending you don’t even know my name?
she was starting to sweat under the pristine fabric of her top. the game was fun, a thrilling secret. but this, this felt dangerous. felt like a line she wasn't sure she was ready to cross, a line that led directly to labels and consequences and the one thing rafe cameron hated more than anything. she took another sip of the pink drink, the ice clinking against the glass, the only sound in the suddenly roaring silence of her own head. she could feel his stare, hot and unwavering. waiting.
the ice in her glass felt like the only solid thing in a world tilting on its axis. chloe was still going on about the mystery sender, but the words were just noise, a meaningless buzz against the thrumming in her ears. rafe hadn’t looked away. it was a stare that held weight, that pressed down on her shoulders and made it hard to breathe. he was no longer performing for his friends or the room; the audience had shrunk to just her. the game was still silent, but the stakes had just been raised.
her phone, face down on the table beside her half eaten eggs, buzzed once. a single, sharp vibration that made her entire body flinch. her friends didn't notice. she knew, with a certainty that settled like a stone in her stomach, who it was.
with a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she picked it up, angling her body slightly away from the table as if she were just checking a notification from her mom. the screen lit up with a message from an unsaved number. just two words.
her thumb hovered over the screen. a command disguised as a suggestion. finish the pink, sugary drink he’d sent her. a public performance of her obedience. her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. she could set it down. she could leave it half finished and pretend she hadn't seen the text. that was her out. the safe move.
instead, she lifted the glass again, tilting it back. she took a long, slow swallow, letting the cloying sweetness coat her throat, her eyes locked on her own distorted reflection in the patio window. then, she set the empty glass down on the table with a soft, definitive click.
when she looked back up, she met his gaze across the space. and she saw it. a flicker of something raw and triumphant in his eyes before he masked it with a slow, deliberate smirk. he had won this round. and they both knew this was no longer a game. this was a preview. a test run for how much he could own her in a room full of people who thought she didn't even know him. he gave a small, almost invisible nod, as if to say, ‘good girl.’
her composure was cracking. her perfect alo set felt like a costume, her sunglasses a flimsy shield against a storm she had invited. she needed air. she needed to get away from the weight of his stare, from the silent, suffocating power he was so effortlessly wielding over her.
“excuse me, guys,” she said, her voice coming out thinner than she intended. “i’m just gonna run to the girls’ room.”
she pushed her chair back, the legs scraping softly against the stone patio. she didn't look at rafe as she stood, but she could feel his eyes on her, tracking her every movement. she walked with as much steadiness as she could muster, her path taking her directly past his table. the air grew thick, electric. she kept her head forward, her chin held high.
as she drew level with him, a low murmur cut through the noise of the brunch crowd. it was his voice, aimed at topper but pitched just for her. “see something you like, top? they’re really pulling out all the stops today.”
it was crude. it was public. it was a knife twisted in the pretense they had so carefully built. her cheeks burned, a hot, betraying flush she hoped her sunglasses would hide. she didn’t break her stride, but her steps faltered for half a second. a tiny stumble that only he would notice.
she pushed through the heavy doors into the cool, dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms, leaning against the wall as soon as she was out of sight. her breath came in short, shallow bursts. her reflection in a gilded mirror looked like a stranger’s. a girl in a perfectly coordinated sleek outfit, her eyes wide and bright behind the dark lenses. she felt the phantom weight of his stare, the ghost of his command. finish it. and she had.
the silence of the hallway was shattered by the heavy thud of the door swinging open again. she didn't have to turn. the scent of him, fresh, clean laundry and something expensive and woody, filled the space, wrapping around her.
he didn’t say anything at first. just moved to stand behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his chest, inches from her back. she could see both of them in the mirror, a dark, looming figure crowding her smaller, brighter one. the image was terrifying and intoxicating all at once. she was trapped.
“that was a good look on you,” he finally said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “‘ya know, listening.” he raised a hand, not to touch her, but to trail a finger in the air just beside her arm, a ghost of a touch that made her shiver. “what’s wrong?” he taunted as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “thought you were good at pretending we don’t know each other.”
“rafe,” she breathed, a warning and a plea. it was the first word she’d spoken to him since he’d gotten here, and it came out broken.
he chuckled, a soft, dark sound. “you were a perfect little actress out there. so surprised by that ‘mystery’ drink.” his eyes met hers in the mirror, and they were hard, glittering with something that looked a lot like ownership. “but you knew, didn’t you? you knew it was from me. you always know.”
he reached past her, placing both hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. her own hands were gripping the edge of the marble so tightly her knuckles were white. she was cornered. the game was over.
“i wonder,” he mused, his gaze dropping to her lips in the reflection. “i wonder what your little friends would say if i came back there with you. if i kissed you right here. if i—”
he was cut off by the click of another door opening down the hall. an older woman with a helmet of white hair emerged, giving them a curious, disapproving look. for a split second, he didn't move. he just held her there, forcing her to be seen with him, forcing her to be a part of this.
then, as casually as if he’d just been asking for directions, he pushed off the counter and took a step back. a smirk played on his lips. “have a good rest of your day,” he said, his voice loud and clear, a performance for their new audience. then he turned and walked away, leaving her trembling against the counter, the faint scent of his cologne the only proof he’d ever been there.
she stayed there for a full minute, trying to piece her composure back together like a shattered vase. when she finally walked back out onto the patio, her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. rafe’s table was empty. he was gone. he’d gotten what he wanted and left.
her friends were still giggling, still oblivious. “everything okay?” brittany asked. “you look a little out of it.”
“just fine,” she said, the word barely a whisper. she sat down, her body feeling hollow. she looked at the empty pink glass on the table, a trophy from a battle she hadn’t realized she was losing.
he wasn't just testing her. he was changing the rules of their entire secret game, and she had a sinking feeling she was the only one who didn't know what the new rules were.
SEX ON THE BEACH
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ When you enter the Love Island villa as a bombshell, you spark an instant, high-stakes connection with the intense and complicated Rafe Cameron. As you navigate each others web of secrets, messy betrayals, and jealous rivals, you must decide if your undeniable chemistry is a genuine match or just a casualty of the game...
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, smut, mentions of past relationships, suggestive content, mentions of addiction, circumstantial cheating/infidelity, general LI drama, arguments, mentions of mental health, drinking, more detailed warnings for each individual chapter
SERIES TAG NAV‧₊˚ #fic analysis☀️ | #sotb | #mailbox:sotb
some quick (kinda important) notes
EPISODES
The Deep End (Day 1+2)
Muggy Mornings and Moonlit Pasts (Day 3+4)
Receipts and Recouplings (Day 5+6)
Do For Love (Day 7+8)
Va Va Voom (Day 9+10)
more to come...
EXTRAS
The (OG) Girls
LET THE LIGHT IN . ⊹ RAFE CAMERON content. fwb!rafe & avoidant!reader. you always make it habit to sneak off every morning before he wakes up, but this time he finally catches you. a/n. this was supposed to be smut but i genuinely hate how i write smut sooo here’s more fluff for u! this was inspired by dean & allie ♡ i love this dynamic sm, probably makin part two
rafe loves cuddling after sex. it always becomes a problem the next morning when you wake up with your limbs tangled together and find yourself trying to sneak out of his bed.
sunlight pours through the gaps in his curtains, bright enough to sting behind your eyelids. ever since the two of you established whatever this arrangement is, your body clock has learned the right time to wake up. it doesn't even matter how late you fall asleep or how sore you feel the following morning.
plushie protocol ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
rafe cameron x bunny!reader
content warnings: suggestive tension, naive!reader, fluff, light teasing
authors note: divider by @cursed-carmine
you always forgot about the plushies.
it wasn’t until rafe was halfway through kissing down your neck, one heavy hand planted beside your head while the other rested warm against your waist, that your eyes would suddenly flutter open wide.
“wait.”
rafe freeze immediately, lifting his head just enough to squint down at you. his hair is messy from your fingers, his expression already edged with irritation.
“what now, bunny?”
your cheeks burn as you glanced over his shoulder toward the headboard.
all of them were sitting there.
your stuffed bunnies, your little bears, the pink strawberry plush your grandma got you when you were seven, all lined up neatly against your pillows with their stitched little smiles pointed directly at the bed.
you press your lips together, mortified.
“they can’t look.”
rafe stares at you for a second, dead silent.
then he’d let out a slow breath through his nose.
“you’re kidding.”
“i’m serious,” you whisper, squirming under him. “it’s embarrassing.”
his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh, but your already be nudging at his shoulder, wide eyes pleading.
“please?”
and because rafe could never say no when you looked at him like that, he pushes himself up with a groan.
“unbelievable.”
you sit up quickly, smoothing down your pink pajama top as you carefully turned each plushie around one by one, making sure none of them were facing the bed.
“there,” you murmur, satisfied. “now they won’t feel awkward.”
“they’re stuffed animals.”
you glance back at him with that little pout he secretly hated because it always made him cave.
“they have feelings.”
rafe dragged a hand down his face. “right. sure they do.”
sometimes, though, if he was already feeling impatient, he wouldn’t bother waiting.
he’d just grab a whole armful of them and toss them dramatically onto the floor.
that was always his mistake.
because the second the soft thumps hit the carpet, your whole face would crumple.
your glossy eyes would dart down to where they’d landed, horrified.
“rafe.”
the way you said his name would make his stomach drop instantly.
“oh, come on.”
you’d already be scrambling off the bed, dropping to your knees to gather them into your arms.
“mr. berry landed face down,” you’d whisper, sounding genuinely devastated. “he could’ve gotten squished.”
“bunny, it’s a damn pillow with a face stitched on it.”
you’d look up at him, lower lip trembling.
“help me pick them up.”
and just like that, he’d lose. every single time.
with a muttered curse, he’d climb off the bed and crouch beside you, helping collect every last plushie while you directed him on where they belonged.
“daisy goes by the lamp.”
“which one’s daisy?”
“the one with the bow.”
“they all got bows.”
you’d let out a tiny offended gasp, clutching mr. berry protectively to your chest.
“you don’t know them at all!”
“didn’t realize i was expected to memorize your stuffed animal roster.”
still, he’d put them back exactly where you wanted.
and once every plushie was safe and properly arranged, you’d crawl right into his lap, all soft and warm and smelling faintly like strawberries from the lotion you always used.
your arms would loop around his neck, and you’d press a sweet little kiss to his cheek.
“thank you,” you’d murmur. “they’re not upset anymore.”
rafe rolls his eyes, but his hands would settle on your waist, holding you there.
“good. was real worried about what the damn strawberry thought of me.”
you smile, completely missing the sarcasm, and nuzzle closer.
“i knew you’d help. you’re nicer than you pretend to be.”
DREW STARKEY as RAFE CAMERON frat boy rafe come home to me
HE'S AN EATER! ─ r.c.
warnings ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა : oral ( f rec. ) , bluecollar!rafe ( dada mannn )
you loved to watch bluecollar!rafe eat . . .
yes, i know that sounds weird, because why would you like watching your husband eat? but here's the thing about him, he always ate like the food was gonna run away from him.
you noticed—well, it was hard not to—on your first date. he was quite literally scarfing down the plate within milliseconds of the food being served.
and no, you were not taking your food home because once you placed your fork down, you practically read his mind. "you want the rest?" you didn't mind, simply because you found his big appetite endearing.
to be honest, you found it hot too . . .
like just imagine rafe being exhausted after being out in the summer heat from sunrise to sunset. his skin was slightly flushed from sunburn, probably in an airy white tee and shorts.
but then he begins eating like he's been starved, despite the plethora of food you packed in his huge lunchbox before he left.
large, rugged hands gripping the spoon handle like a vice, completely dwarfing the utensil. both elbows are planted on the table as he hunches over his plate. he doesn't let any exaggerated sounds escape as he inhales his meal like a vacuum cleaner.
so just having this beefy man at your dinner table had you wondering one thing: if he eats like that, imagine how he eats cat. & boy did he eat it well . . .
everything was wet. your pussy, inner thighs, rafe’s face, and even the sheets below you. yet that only spurred your husband on because he could and would make you wetter.
“rafey, m’sensitve now,” you’d mewl, digging your head deeper into your pillow.
when rafe was between your thighs, he was a man of few words, only grunting or letting out raspy moans to your taste. continuing to slurp down your pussy juices like his day starved him from being saturated in your slick.
he’d suckle on your clit in a way that had your thighs tensing around his head and your toes pointing into the air. sometimes he’d even have his teeth lightly graze your nub when you’d get too rowdy. “let me eat,” he murmured, circling your dripping entrance before dipping his tongue into your heat to receive more of that sugary sap you flooded his mouth with.
and when he felt your velvety insides get warmer, he immediately tilted his head and flattened his tongue against your pussy, ready for your cunt to splatter that sticky cream of yours onto his taste buds.
& cream you did. once you felt that muffled “cum for me,” vibrate against your throbbing pussy, your thighs trembled around his head. your cunny pulsing rhythmically around his tongue, because of course, he wasn’t moving until he licked up every drop you gave him.
when rafe finally let up, you’d watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his arm, mirroring his actions from dinner . . .
so yeah, having a husband with a big appetite meant he had an even bigger appetite when it came to you :3
xo, blissedbunni
@rafecameron , @virgintoodrugsreader
cw : forced intoxication , drool , condescending , slight misogyny , uhhh public slightly. hit the fucking joint baby. . .
not proofread :3
Two months, two months is how long rafe was able to be normal about you, be calm and sweet like a boyfriend should, taking you out and opening doors. it was bullshit, he thought it was bullshit. the formality of it all was far to much for him but this... this was his pace. it was ideal. him inviting you too some shitty bonfire topper made him go too, putting you comfy on his lap like a prize, brushing your cheek and cupping your face. you almost had a good night...almost.
"here baby, just a puff, won't fucking kill you jesus angel." you were looking at the lit joint he was waving in your face like it would bite, snarl maybe. this was out of your ballpark, a glass of wine, maybe a beer was the most you'd allowed, and even then your friend had to escort you home that night. your brow knitted, he clenched his jaw. god you were so pretty, but so so stubborn. "god-fuck would you loosen up. your making us look like losers baby." cupping your cheeks harder then needed as he adjusted your seating in the sand, your back resting against the broadness of his own. "atta-girl, right there. now look." taking a drag of his own with a hum as you mewled and whined when he pushed the tip of the joint against your lips. "don't wanna!- it stinks!" but your lips where already forced and pursed. giving in agaisnt his cooes you take a drag, the kind that burnt. that stung behind walls of throat. a cough, a wince into him as his hands cradled your head, a thumb brushed tear from under eyes. "it's alright baby, i'm right here."
A few hits, all it took before you were ditzy against rafes chest. pliant and soft and honestly beyond thought. you couldn't feel much. nothing at all except your own heartbeat, and his hands. under your shirt, squeezing at soft tummy, the inner of your thighs, kissing that spot behind your ears. "there she is, knew the drugs would make you stupid." thankful his freinds where lost in conversation, they would be beyond jacked out at how his fingers where finding solace in how drooly your mouth had gotten, and yes. he would abuse that later.
DREW STARKEY as RAFE CAMERON best rafe cameron looks 12/?
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN - C. RAFE
summary: where a heated game of chase with rafe turns real.
tags: cussing, chasing kink (?), kidnapping, insinuating of sexual activity, drugging.

it was weird.
how being with rafe made you realize weird things about yourself.
like how you loved being babied, or how you loved being held like a baby in his arms. or how you liked being chased.
it started as a joke, you were in his room, watching tiktoks while he ran his hands up and down your hip, occasionally ticking you. it was one of those days where the house was alone, just you and rafe in the cameron's house.
you had already asked rafe to stop tickling you. you considered it a form of torture. especially since he never stopped when you said no! so to get back at him, you suddenly bolted away from him. stumbling a bit on the stairs. you thought you had the head start, that he was going to have to chase you.
but in less than a minute you felt strong arms wrapping around your torso and picking you up. did he fuck you after that? yes...was it the best sex you had yet? absolutely.
it happened again at a party. you wanted to stay longer, to drink till you blacked out! but he was a partypooper and decided to head home. but with you. naturally, you whined, pouted and even stomped your feet like a little girl. and when he threatened to pick you up and take you to his truck, you did it again; you ran.
obviously you didnt last even a second before he picked you up again. and ofcourse, you did get fucked in the back of his truck. and again when you both got home. and again and again and again.
you assumed it was the adrenaline, the rush of running from a big man like rafe. getting chased and thrown and manhandled weirdly turned you on.
it turned into a little game between you too.
“im going to give you 30 seconds to get back here before i-” and before he could finish his sentence you had blasted past him, out of the house and into the woods. the sun was about to set, you were in a sundress and kitten heels yet still, you were pretty fast.
recognizing this little antic of yours, rafe gave you about 30 seconds before he was running after you. because even if rafe denies it, this little game of cat and mouse helped him. not only did it intensify an already very active sex life between you two, but it was also an outlet to release all his pent up rage that he had accumulated from his dad and the outside world.
you were so cute, thinking you could easily get away from him. you were oblivious of the fact that rafe was already near, your body flinched when your heel accidentally snapped a branch. ”shi-”
“boo.” he deadpanned behind you, big, bulging and arms wrapping around the back of your thighs to haul you up like a sack of potatoes. you didnt argue, just a small pout adorned your lips. it did make you feel better how he was out of breath though. it showed that you were getting better at the game.
fast forward to now.
today it was different, things were more serious, more tense. you knew rafe was...not exactly okay. he was broken, a little bit demented. you realized that when he killed a cop, when he drowned sarah, but it's all hitting you more when he's pushing you down the stairs against your will.
he's been repeating something about a boat, a cross, about a better life.
“let me go!” you cried into his palm, clawing at his forearm as he adjusted his grip to make your screams more muffled. “shut up. shut up shut up shut up.” he let you go abruptly, causing you to fall to your knees. a loud sob ripped through your lips. chest heaving as your hurriedly pulled yourself up and ran out of the house.
this time it wasnt a game, it was real. you could hear sarah scream in one of the closets, paired with rose telling her that it'll be okay. you needed to get out of here, fast. you dont know how long you ran, you just know your bare feet are bleeding.
it was futile, you knew that. rafe was probably behind you, probably beraly getting out of the house because he knows no matter what, he would find you.
“mm..” you let out a whimper,looking around, hoping to see any lights. but all you saw was dark, then you felt him behind you. a napkin being pressed against your nose, your nails dug harshly into his arm again as you kicked the air. “you'll understand. this is for us, baby. for us.” he whispered into your hair, his chest heaving erratically as your slowly went limp in his arms.
as he walked back to the house, rose was already placing sarah's unconscious body in the backseat. “everything okay?” he asked tightly, watching as he cradled you in his arms. slightly wincing at your cut up feet. “she'll be okay.” he whispered, sitting down next to sarah, your body still cocooned in his arms as he pressed delicate pecks against your cheek.
“ready?” rose mumbled as she sat in the driver's seat, giving a very scared wheezie a small smile before she looked back to check on rafe.
“just drive.” he mumbled roughly, his lips pressed against your hairline.
“she'll be okay.” rose echoes his previous statement, “she'll understand once she sees what we have on store for us.”
rafe smiles a bit for the first time that day. you'll understand, you'll learn to forgive him and he'll learn to give you the life you deserve outside of the outerbanks.
