summary: he's never needed peace. He required you. And you never wanted calm. You wanted to be ruined. Again and again. The party? That was just an excuse. The real tradition was what happened after.
The first time he saw you in that navy dress, he knew you were doing it on purpose.
And Rafe Cameron doesn't beg. He takes.
Every time you were with him, it felt like nothing else mattered.
No family, no friends, no Outer Banks.
Just you and him.
Just this.
Rafe found in you the only kind of peace he never believed in—
Not softness, not stillness.
But submission.
Yours.
He'd come home and throw himself into your lap like a man who just survived war. Head in your thighs, your fingers in his hair, his tension melting under your voice. You'd talk about anything—grocery list, people fighting at the club, what Topper's girlfriend wore. Didn't matter. Rafe listened.
He never gave anyone that kind of silence.
Only you.
So when you convinced him to take time off, it felt like you'd stolen time from God.
Lazy mornings.
Midday fucks.
Moonlit walks.
And of course—parties.
You always loved traditions.
And fucking at a party? That was one of your oldest.
You wore that dress. The navy satin one.
The one with the open back.
The one that barely needed panties—so you didn't wear any.
You didn't tell him.
You didn't need to.
He watched you from across the room, half-lit by strobe lights and half-lost in a haze of booze and sex and sweat.
You were dancing.
You weren't even drunk yet—just bad.
Winding your hips to the music, brushing up on your friends, pressing tour hands all over your own body like you didn't know he was watching.
But you did.
You always did.
Rafe was across the room with a drink in his hands and murder in his eyes.
You could practically feel his stare crawling up your thighs.
And then: breath on your neck.
“You trying to make a fucking scene, baby?”
He didn't wait for you to answer.
Your back hit the wall behind the stairwell.
Cold. Hard. Public.
His hand wrapped around your throat as his mouth devoured your jawline, your collarbone, your lips.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed, cheek against the wall.
Dress hiked up.
Panties tugged aside.
And the—his cock, thick and hot, sliding inside you with no warning.
You breath caught.
Your knees buckled.
“You're so fucking wet,” he muttered into your neck. “Already?”
You nodded, moaning, pushing back against him.
“God, yes—”
He didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Just pounded into you like he owned you.
And he did.
You cried out. Your voice echoed in the stairwell, vulgar and real and so close to the edge.
“Rafe, I—fuck, I'm gonna—”
But before you came, he pulled out.
“Not here,” he growled, dragging you down the hall. “I want you screaming.”
You barely made it into the room before he bent you over a desk, face down, legs spread.
He slid back into you with a grunt.
Hard. Deep. Brutal.
Your moans turned into sobs. You couldn't hold anything back—not your voice, not your orgasm, not the wet mess dipping between your thighs.
He fucked you like a man obsessed.
“You like when I fuck you dumb, huh?”
You couldn't even nod. Just shake under him, helpless.
His fingers found your clit—rubbing fast, desperate, relentless.
And you broke.
Your climax hit so hard you nearly screamed his name.
But you weren't alone.
The door had opened.
A gasp.
A broken glass.
Then silence.
You blinked through your haze and saw Topper.
Jaw on the floor. Eyes wide.
You screamed.
Your legs gave out.
Rafe turned, towering in front of you like a demon in a suit.
He didn't flinch.
“Get the fuck out,” he said, deadly calm.
Topper didn't move.
“NOW.”
You pulled your dress down and stumbled forward.
“Let's go, Rafey.”
He didn't look back at Topper until you were halfway down the hall.
And when he did?
He smiled. The kind of smile that meant danger.
“You dream about her again, I'll rip your eyes out. Don't forget who she belongs to.”
He slammed the door.
Topper just stood there, breathless, flushed, shaking.
hii can you please do one where y/n does a TikTok trend on rafe’ the think fast I’m another girl’ and she like pounces on him
✮⋆˙ reader forcing rafe to participate in the 'think fast, i'm a random girl' trend on tiktok
warnings — none, really! fluff, & rafe being forced to make his girlfriend happy by partaking in one of her favourite silly tiktok trends (oh, the horror!).
cherie's note — thank u for the request anon<3 this trend is too cute
"what are we supposed to be doing, again?" rafe sighs gently, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, eyes flicking between you and the flashing red light on the camera. you adjusted your cellphone on the dresser, making sure the angle was just right, the lighting was good, the background wasn't too cluttered, and most importantly, that rafe hadn't caught on yet.
"you'll see," you grinned, far too pleased with yourself. "promise it's nothing bad."
rafe's jaw tensed like he wasn't entirely convinced. he hated being on camera — said it felt stupid, like people were just waiting for you to mess up. but you? you loved dragging him into stuff like this. the more ridiculous, the better. and there was nothing better than seeing his reaction.
"so you're not gonna tell me?" he tried once more, though he already knew the answer.
"nope. just trust me, ray." you laugh, stepping closer to grab his hands and pull him to his feet. "and smile. people love you."
he scoffed but didn't pull away, the warmth of his palms lingering against yours.
"yeah, okay," he muttered, cracking a half-hearted grin. the camera reflects the pair of you — your poor boyfriend standing by your side without a second thought. "but if this goes viral, i'm blaming you.:
"oh, it's definitely going viral."
you tapped the screen to start recording, and for a moment, rafe stood stiffly, like the mere presence of the camera made his skin crawl. his hands shoved into the pockets of his khakis, eyes darting between you and the phone.
"what do i do?" he mumbled, clearly uneased.
"just stand there." you tried to hold back your laughter, suppressing the rising giggle trying to force its way out of your chest, but the anticipation was beginning to bubble over. "and think fast."
rafe blinked. "think fast? what are you—"
before he could finish, you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping snugly around his neck.
"think fast! i'm a random girl!"
he stumbled back a step, his hands catching your waist out of instinct. his face twisted in confusion, blue eyes darting over your face.
"what the hell?" he mumbled, his grip on your skin tightening.
but instead of letting go, rafe held you there, brows screwed in disbelief at the fact you had just pounced him.
"was that supposed to scare me?" he asked, a sly grin threatening below the surface.
"you weren't supposed to catch me!" you laughed, pushing lightly against his chest. "i'm a stranger, rafe! you're not supposed to — catch me like it's no big deal."
"baby," rafe's hands stayed firm on your waist, thumbs tracing absent circles on the sensitive skin, "maybe it would help if you weren't wearing my hoodie? kind of hard to miss that..."
"you ruined it." you teased, feigning a pout.
he snorted, pulling you closer.
"yeah? well, you make a pretty cute stranger," he murmured, his voice low. "maybe i should take my chances more often."
you rolled your eyes, though the warmth of his breath against your skin sent a flutter through your chest.
"too bad you'll never know," you teased, scrunching your nose up at him. "this stranger’s officially retired."
"good," rafe smirked. "because i’m not interested in random girls. just you."
his words earned a soft laugh, your fingers curling at the fabric of his hoodie. "smooth, cameron. i'll let it slide — for now."
"uh huh," he grinned, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. he places a soft kiss against your hairline, inhaling the smell of your coconut shampoo. "whatever you say, princess."
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