𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ darlingstarkey .ᐟ

[darlingstarkey]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

j. latina. gemini moon. she/her.

lover of; strawberry matcha lattes. romantacy books. romance films. the colors green and pink. taylor swift. gracie abrams. chappell roan. clairo. role model. drew starkey. the woods. vanilla perfumes.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

masterlist

currently working on: some protector

now playing: free now by gracie abrams

[darlingstarkey]

iii. do i miss you at the party?

content includes: heavy angst, infidelity mentions, female & male yearning, mentions of external fictional characters, parents mention, drugs, tension, alcohol, anger, sadness.

masterlist

wc: 4.9k

you and rafe barely spoke when he showed up at your apartment that night. 

you being you, you took him in without a word. you sat him down on your toilet as he threw himself at you and hugged you. he sobbed into the crook of your neck, embracing your scent and warmth. trembling and choking on his own sobs, you couldn’t help but rub his drenched back.

“i’m-i’m sorry..” he choked out over and over again, clinging onto you as tightly as possible. “please just take me back, i won’t do it again i promise..i promise..” he sobbed harder as you stared at the wall in front of you. 

“shh..” you cooed as you pulled away slightly. “give me a moment, alright?” you said calmly as you cupped his cheek ever so gently. his bottom lip trembled as he leaned into your hand, desperate for your touch. you stood up from your crouch and rafe whimpered slightly at the sudden shock of coldness. you backed away and turned on your towel warmer and threw a few of your clean ones in there.

leaving rafe in the bathroom, you sighed as you walked out and into your bedroom that was only a few feet away. closing the door behind you, you let out a shaky breath as you slid down against your door. you’ve spent these last few months from winter to now trying to rebuild what he broke. the insecurities that he had built up in you since then. the anger that you were holding in your heart and soul. your heart beat started to pick up as you realized that he was here, in your apartment, trying so hard to get back into your life as if he wasn’t the one who ruined it. this was all his fault. 

shaking, you stood back up and attempted to compose yourself as your body trembled in anger. you walked over to your closet and grabbed your oversized hoodie that you knew would barely fit him as well as some basketball shorts that your brother ended up leaving here one night. taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to enter the bathroom once again. 

rafe was still in the same position as how you left him. blankly staring at a wall, shaking violently from how cold and wet he was. 

“come, stand up.” you said softly. he obeyed as he rose from the seat. your hands grazed the buttons of his shirt as you plucked away at the buttons, careful not to make eye contact with him. but you could feel his eyes burning into your skull, watching you strip him. you pulled the sloshy shirt from his arms, revealing his toned body. tossing the shirt to the side, you looked up at him. 

“you can get your pants.” you said, intending a stern voice when all that came out was a shy whisper. still staring at you, rafe unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off. you refused to break eye contact now, letting your eyes speak a thousand words that you couldn’t speak out loud. he stared intensely into yours as he tried to discover just what you were trying to speak to him. just as his mouth was about to open, the timer to the towel warmer beeped loudly. 

taking out the towels, you pushed his shoulder down, signaling him to take a seat once more as you wrapped him in the warm plushy material. 

“i’m going to put these to dry, you can stay in here while they do that. but i think you should leave after your clothes are ready.” you said, collecting his clothing from the ground. you walked out of the bathroom with nothing to say to him.

he left 30 minutes later with dry clothes, an umbrella of yours, and no exchange of words. 

-

the sun could not be any stronger on kildare island, the summer bringing everyone out to the island. it was almost too hot to even be at work, but there you were behind the counter of the downtown boutique that was marketed towards the youthful tween tourists that used their parents money to pay for the overpriced items.

 out of the blue, a much older girl rushed into the store. it took you a second to register that it was your dearest friend, mattie, who had the largest grin on her face as she spotted you at the cash register. 

“y/n!” she sang as she moved past the group of girls that were crowding over a table full of overpriced pink purses & clutches. when she reached you, you could tell by the look on her face that she was planning something almost too devious. 

“don’t tell me. no, i am not going on a date.” you gave her a stern response before she could even approach you with an idea. your eyebrows raised as her smile turned into a frown. 

“well hello to you too.” mattie said. “and no, not a date this time. even though parker was heartbroken when i told him that you said no. he really wanted to take you out, you know. and i’m sure if you changed your mind he would be more than willing!” mattie continued. 

“well, no. but i’m honored. matt, you know how i feel about meeting new people right now.” you smiled softly at the girl. you knew that all she wanted was the best for you and to see you happy. you appreciated her efforts more than anything, but it just wasn’t time for you to experience anything even close to an interest in another man at the moment. not when rafe and the memories of him were still on your mind constantly. 

it was like that almost every day and night. the differences in your life still haunted you while you were awake and while you were asleep. it was like his ghost was there, but it was better than nothing to you. everything about your mornings never felt the same after rafe had been out of your life. 

it was a simple task. waking up. but to you it was impossible to do without him. it started off with the alarm that went off every morning to try to wake you up while you were ingulfed in darkness. you made sure to get blackout curtains to not let an inch of light bother you.  because that would mean that you would wake up and he wouldn’t be there to watch the sunrise with you. you both were once in a king sized bed that faced the window to a gorgeous view of the sun no matter what season it was through sheer curtains. something you both did every single morning since the day you both started dating. it was a sacred ritual between the two of you. 

“god i can’t believe you’re my boyfriend” you fake groaned as you leaned into rafe’s side. the waves were crashing near your feet as your bottoms were planted next to each other on the moist sand. high tide had just been pulled in by the moon, you two were getting wet but couldn’t move from the spots where you had chatted all night.

it was after a party, 10 months after you and rafe had met. you guys fought all night before he finally, down here at the beach had let you know that he’s loved you for all those months. how could he have hid something like that from you when you felt the exact same? you watched him deny his feelings for so long, making everything so damned complicated. till you got him to finally confess. it was a long night of bickering, laughing, reminiscing. something that helped you both grow. 

“took me long enough huh.” he smirked as he looked down at you. his lips pressed to your head, hair draping forward and tickling your cheek. it gave you this weird feeling in your stomach, comparable to butterflies. rafe. once hook-up to awkward friend to almost a relationship. your boyfriend. 

the water continued to tickle your feet as the sky reflected a pink and orange hue across the water. 

“i fucking love sunrises.” he admitted. you pulled away and looked at him like he just admitted the biggest secret ever. 

“you like sunrises?” you almost choked out laughing. this was rafe cameron, drug dealer & coke addict. so aggressive that most people wouldn’t even make eye contact. that was before he went to rehab then came back almost a year ago. later that day, mattie had introduced herself to you as she scolded you for speaking to rafe. he was the bad boy in town. you should not speak to him. you liked that challenge.

“yeah. i do like sunrises. is that surprising?” he said while pushing his hair back. you stood up and opened your hands towards him to pull him up. he grabbed onto your hands and helped himself up. he stood by your side and grabbed onto your hips and leaned down.

“jump.” he said softly with his forehead pressed against yours. you listened as you jumped into his arms as he grabbed your upper thighs and held you close. you grasped onto his shoulders as he started walking slowly deeper into the freezing water. you squealed as he revealed his master plan of dunking you both into the ocean. 

you laughed as you threw yourself backwards, still holding onto him as you both plunged into the water. he brought you both up as the water shocked him. drenched, he laughed and set you down. you sprinted deeper into the ocean as you turned to splash him right behind you.

you both continued to talk in the water, pounce on one another, all while hysterically laughing as the sun beamed higher into the sky. the disappearing sunrise occurring right before you. finally, you both found yourselves walking up towards the shore together. rafe leaned over to pick up his phone to see 8:49 a.m. and 10 missed calls from ward. 

‘not tonight.’ he thought as he shoved his phone into his pocket. 

“they remind me of starting something new.” rafe said as you were coming up behind him with pink sea glass you had found on the ground. 

“hm?” you questioned and snapped out of your trance, looking up at him staring down at you with a wide grin on his face. 

“let’s do this everyday. you know. watch the sunrises. start new, but by each others side. everything may change and be new when the sun rises but i know you’ll be there for me through it all. you keep me grounded. you make me whole. y/n. you’re it for me. i mean it.” rafe said while looking at you intensely. 

“sounds like a plan, cameron.” you smiled up at him as he reached down to plant his lips on yours for what seemed to be the 100th time that night. 

you looked up to look at your best friend while she had a sympathetic look in her eye. “yeah, y/n. i know. but its always worth a shot. i just want the best for you” she said while shrugging. “anyways. i came here to bug you about a party that’s happening tonight down by the beach. apparently everyone is back in town for the weekend for some reason.” mattie said, trying to come off nonchalantly.

“why would i care about the people we met and drank around when we were 20? we’re a little too old for that don’t you think?” you sighed as you started to eye the lineup of girls that were marching towards check out. mattie rushed over to the side of the counter to give you space to handle your work. 

“don’t you remember how fun those days used to be? come on y/n. you haven’t been out with me for a little. let’s go back to the olden days and do something besides watch star wars on your couch with a glass of wine.” she said with a tone at the end of her voice that implied how bored she was of your developed introvertedness. 

“hey! anakin skywalker is everything to me, okay?” you looked at her while scanning items and folding them neatly into a pretty packaged bag. 

“anakin skywalker isn’t real, y/n. it’s time to socially interact with some real people, besides me and your mom.” she said as she got closer to crossing behind the counter. she was right. it was time to talk to people and get back out there. mattie was an amazing friend to you, constantly coming over with takeout and wine when the days without rafe became too lonely. it was like she had a radar. she just knew. 

you saw her pleading eyes lose hope with every second that ticked. you could do this for her. it’s just one party. 

“okay. i’ll go.” you admitted in defeat. suddenly all the life went back into her as she squealed and almost bolted towards you. “amazing! i’ll do your hair and makeup and it will be the best night! just like old times!” mattie jumped up and down. 

“i’m gonna go get everything ready, text me what kind of drink you want to pregame with! come to my place immediately after you’re off y/n. oh this is perfect!” she said, texting whoever she decided to tell immediately following your rsvp acceptance. with that, she ran out of the store leaving you with giggling 12 year olds and obnoxious clothing. 

-

“how does it look?” rafe asked his sister who stood before him. his hair was buzzed off, bringing a mature look to his features. 

“oh! uh. it’s different.” she said as she opened her eyes to reveal a whole new version of her brother. unsure how to feel, she smiled at his attempt to positively change something about his life since you had left him. just 45 minutes prior, he had grabbed the trimmer after the shower and cut off his hair, the one thing that you had always complimented on him. with the humming from the electric razor halting as he skimmed against his scalp, it was like all of those words you spoke disappeared from his mind.

with his hair gone, left you and your voice. it was a sense of temporary relief that he felt for the first time in months.

“it’s that bad?” he asked as he turned to look at himself in the mirror. sarah got a ding on her phone just as he turned around. with wide eyes she put her phone away with an attempt to look calm. “no no. it’s not bad. i’m sure a lot of people will be surprised tonight after they see you with your hair gone after god knows how long.” she admitted sheepishly. 

“man, maybe tonight wasn’t the night to do this then huh. we should probably get going soon though huh? it’s getting late.” he admitted. “are john b and the guys there?” rafe asks sarah as she pulls out her phone once more to stare at it. 

“sarah?” rafe asked as he turned toward a rather dismissive sarah. 

“yeah. yeah! they’re there. we should get going.” she said, frantically reaching for her purse as she headed out towards the door. rafe followed behind her as he got into the passengers seat of his own car, something that he let sarah drive when they attended parties together. she backed out of the driveway with shaky hands and pulled out into the street and down the road. 

“dude what is the matter with you?” rafe asked curiously as she looked like she had seen a ghost. “rafe. god don’t get mad please.” sarah said. “what? you’re scaring me. is everything okay?” he asked. 

“y/n is there at the party. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you rafe. john b told me when you were still kind of getting ready. i didn’t want to ruin your night and tell you that and have you not come. you seemed so excited to see everyone.” sarah looked over at her brother as she drove to see some kind of reaction from him. 

the color had drained from his face as his heart started pounding. the anxiety of seeing you again had him feeling just as nervous as he was hanging out with you for the first time. 

he knocked on your front door with a bouquet of tulips and a nervous grin. he was wearing a plaid button up and khakis with a backwards hat, a lazy attempt at being versatile no matter what you guys had planned on doing. 

 a ‘lets hang out’ text led to what you now both consider to be your first date. you walked out in a satin mini dress and it was like his whole world stopped spinning. he watched your figure close the door awkwardly behind you as you stepped next to him, finally looking up to see his facial expression. 

“too much?” you asked as you noticed the snapback resting on his head. the casual accessory making you giggle.

he quickly reached up with one hand as he snatched it off his head to reveal his messy hair flopping over his forehead. he turned a bright pink at your words as he shook his head. “no. not at all. um, have you decided what you wanted to do?” he asked.

“bowling and ice cream.” you said matter of factly, walking down your tiny steps and the pathway to his car. you walked alone as you pulled your purse up your shoulder and turned to look at the starstruck man behind you.

“well, i’m not gonna drive myself.” you smiled at him softly as he stood there. “let’s go, plus i liked the hat! you should keep it on. even though your hair is way too cute to be hidden like that.” 

the silence in the car was deafening as sarah continued to drive towards the party. “i’m sorry rafe. i should’ve told you when we were back at home to give you the option. do you wanna go back?” sarah asked kindly. for a second after, rafe sat there regulating his breath and trembles. 

“sorry, didn’t mean to go silent on you sarah. it’s okay. thanks for telling me. we can still go.” he said bluntly. sure, he made a mistake. but he needs to get himself back out there, he told himself. you hadn’t reached out since that night, so he took that seriously as a sign that he should move on. so this was him trying to. he was also doing it for sarah, who hadn’t gone to parties in god knows how long just to be up and make sure her brother is okay.

sarah looked worried as her brother wasn’t telling the full truth. regardless, she had pulled up to the mansion that was once owned by toppers parents and then passed down to him. raving with music, rafe gulped as he realized that you would be in there. unexpectedly seeing him with this damned haircut. feeling insecure, rafe looked down at his lap before going to open the door. 

before his hand could pull at the clutch to open, sarah grabbed onto his arm. “hey.” she said reassuringly. “you got this rafe. you look great.” she assured him. of course she did. sweet sarah was always looking out for others. 

with that quick boost of confidence, rafe pulled himself out of the car and into the party that awaited in front of him.

it was so uncomfortably loud in the room where you stood next to mattie while she chatted up luke, a guy she had been seeing who was visiting his aunt for the summer. you were listening in and out of the conversation when all of a sudden a guy had come up and approached you all. smiling a big wide grin like he had just won the lottery. 

“y/n! this is parker! remember the guy i was telling you about!” mattie gushed as a 6 foot man stood above you and smiled down at you. sure. he was handsome. he had wavy light brown hair and earthy green eyes. his jawline was sharp and his nose looked like it was a sculpture cutout. any girl would flush at the sight of parker looking at them, but to you he was just a guy. 

“hi. nice to meet you.” you said politely but looked over to mattie with a ‘what the fuck’ face. “i’ve really been looking forward to meeting you y/n, mattie has said so many nice things about you.” he said just as politely with a southern accent. god he was actually nice. that made him a little cuter, you thought. maybe mattie wasn’t trying to set you up for failure. maybe you were meant to meet someone like parker and be with him. you smiled softly at him as he stuck his arm out to link it with yours as mattie smiled at the sight of her best friend opening up to a stranger, something she hadn’t seen you do since you met rafe. 

it was like the weight of tens of thousands of bullets had pierced him through the heart. seeing you from afar, arms interlocked with a man who was ten times the one that rafe was. he had heard of the guy. parker johnston. his family owns all the casinos that were on the mainland, richest scums on earth. what the fuck was he doing with you? it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except that here rafe was, standing and staring at the girl he loved most looking as beautiful as ever, and you looked different. happy. 

you didn’t have the same complexion. rafe noticed. you were glowing with radiance and tan from the beaming summer sun. your eyes had that same glimmer in it like you were talking to rafe himself. your smile was genuine and soft, the way you would at rafe. these looks were too fucking familiar to him as he watched intensely from across the room. 

people would come up to rafe, say hello and give their condolences about his father and then ask him meaningless questions or ask for some advice, but he would just stare at you talking to him the whole time. 

it played in slow motion, you looking okay. you looking like your old self. his heart clenched within his chest as he heard your laugh for what seemed like the first time in forever. he couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t watch. it fucking hurt. that should be him with you right now, making fun of this stupid party then running away to find something better to do with one another. 

rafe looked around to the people that seemed to be ever changing, excused himself and walked out of the back door and down the pathway that lead to the beach. 

parker seemed to be his 24th forced joke in before you had decided that your fake laugh was sounding way to fake at this point. sure, he seemed funny. but you could tell he was just trying to impress you. it wasn’t natural like it was with rafe. your throat closed up slightly as you choked out your last laugh before you would excuse yourself.

you needed to get out of here.just to breathe. just for a second. it was too much, talking to someone who wasn’t him. the immediate comparisons you had felt to rafe. you just needed a second to collect yourself then you could go back to normal.

you turned towards the first door that you noticed and ended up stumbling onto a pathway that lead down to the beach outside of toppers house.

your breath was shaky as you clenched onto your chest. you  tried to stiffen a sob as you shuffled into the sand. rafe confusingly turned around to see who had joined him and felt the pit in his gut deepen into him. his throat went dry as he noticed your trembling hands. he rushed over to your side when he saw you swaying and sniffling. 

“hey, hey. what’s wrong?” rafe asked you carefully as he held onto you, settling you down into the sand to kneel facing him. he calmly placed his arms around you as he engulfed you, something that made you feel safe, and he knew that. 

“s’okay. you can talk to me.” he whispered as he held you close and started to rub your back as you fully were letting out soft cries. 

“this is your fault.” you mumbled in his arms. angrily you pulled away to see a stunned rafe staring down at you.

“you did this to me! you made me feel like this. this was all your fault, rafe. all your fault because you decided to cheat on me. you made me feel not fucking normal! i wake up everyday and struggle! do you know how that feels for me?” you admitted out loud, intoxicated with both anger and alcohol. normally you’d be caught dead before you told this to anyone let alone rafe himself. 

your eyes met a different expression on rafe’s face as he studied your outburst. a mix of shocked, determined & sympathy written across his face. “keep going.” he said. 

“what?” you said confused. 

“keep going y/n. tell me how you really feel. tell me everything i made you feel. i need to hear you. i don’t care that you might hate me right now, or you might hate me forever. but i can’t live without you. even when you’re mad at me. i need to hear you. i need to let you be angry at me, until ou forgive me. i miss you.” rafe choked out, eyes watering as he looked at you desperately trying to find other answers. 

your eyes reflected his as you stared at him, confused. why does he have to act this way now? he fucking cheated. you didn’t forget that. you reminded yourself as you looked at him. he spent months burying himself into another woman while he shut you out except to have sex with you on the occasion. he would throw money at you like it would fix everything. his emotions weren’t there on the last few months. that’s what made you angry. what made her better than you? what made him better than you? you never would have thought that the rafe cameron you knew would cheat on you. . 

now here you were, red in the face as you stood before the man who had embarrassed you and broke your heart into thousands of pieces all at once. 

“you fucking ruined my life, rafe.” you said out of anger. “you’re a fucking asshole and a piece of shit.” you spat out at him. your tears flowed down your cheeks as you stood up and looked down at him. him still on his knees he looked up at you with pleading eyes. 

“let’s talk about it. please. i will listen to anything you have to say, y/n. please let’s just talk.” he asked. 

and so you did. you sat there with rafe and talked through the night as you both shot back questions about the ending months of your relationship. you didn’t talk about the cheating for some reason, but everything else that built up before it. how the spark died and how he wanted to feel something other than numbness. you talked about how you felt now, and how impossible it was for either of you to look at other people at the moment. you talked about what you both did on a day to day basis. he talked about how much he missed you and you listened. you talked about what it was like to live alone for the first time. 

you and rafe sat there exchanging words like friends who hadn’t seen each other in a millennium, expressing raw deep and sensitive emotions. the party had simmered, you two had heard people calling for you, laughter as people left with old flings and friends. drunken people that neither of you had seen had rushed past you on the beach.

you shared some laughs and felt a sense of comfortability with the man that once broke you. 

“i like your haircut, by the way.” you complimented him. he chuckled as he ran his fingers through a phantom length shyly. 

“yeah, it’s different. i know.” he admitted, comparing sarah’s reaction to what he had thought was crossing your mind. “no, rafe. i really like it. i knew you’d fit that look.” you smiled at him.

“well i’m glad someone does. but i know you’re gonna miss my longer hair.” rafe teased you as he playfully nudged you, the touch making you jolt. he looked at you sympathetically as if he had made you uncomfortable, when it was exactly the opposite. 

“i miss you. i really do.” rafe admits out loud. you looked up at him in silence and stared into his eyes, not sure what to say back to him right now. 

much like your anniversary and based off the tradition you two had built, you both sat there on the beach and watched the sunrise. 

the orange and blue was calming, while the waves contrasted something heavier and at a quicker pace. it was beautiful and tragic all at the same time, similar to you and rafe at that moment in time. 

-

taglist: @rafesbuzzcutseason @immyowndefender @pillowprincess4him @clar2aa @vdotcom @maybankslover @psychocitylights @frankoceanluvr11 @bluethperson @dreamygirli3 @cinnamqnnlatte @chillgal135

[darlingstarkey]

shall this make a comeback?

[mooooved0404]

"clark kent who loves to have you in . . ." | nsfw headcannons

warnings — [minors dni!!] detailed sex positions and descriptions, clark and his huge dick, me just being really horny but what else is new 🤒

clark who loves to have you in missionary because he needs to be close. the kind of close where your breath mingles, where he can see every twitch of your face, every tear that wells up when he fucks you too deep, too good. he’s slow at first—so slow, dragging his cock in and out, watching it disappear into you while your legs tremble on his shoulders. his massive hands cradle your thighs or pin your wrists to the mattress, depending on his mood.

“you look so fucking beautiful like this,” he groans, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt with a hard thrust that makes you scream. “can you feel how deep I am, sweetheart? i love feeling you so deep like this”

the kiss is messy, wet, his tongue almost violating your mouth as his pace turns punishing. his skin slaps against yours, sweat slick between you, his pelvis grinding just right to make you clench and whimper. when he’s close, he holds your face, panting, whispering filth so softly into your ear.

“gonna fill you up, baby—fuck, i’m gonna fill this pussy so deep you’ll feel me tomorrow.”

clark who loves to have you in cowgirl because he loses his mind when you’re on top. his hands rest on your hips, but only because you let him touch. his muscles are trembling, jaw clenched, trying not to grab you and flip you over, but watching you take control? watching you grind on him, tits bouncing, face twisted in pleasure? it drives him insane.

“fuck, just like that—god, look at you, so pretty” he pants, eyes glued to where you’re bouncing on his cock, loud and wet. “y’so tight, baby, you’re milking me, please ride me faster.”

sometimes he just can’t help himself so pins your hips down, holding you in place while he thrusts up, hard and fast, letting you feel how strong he is, how deep he can get when he really tries.

“all mine,” he growls, sweat dripping down his temple. “youre all mine—you hear me, sweetheart? say it.”

clark who loves to have you in prone bone for when he just has the urge to ruin you sweetly, clark flips you on your stomach and fucks you deep, slow, unrelenting. his weight pins you down, one big hand gripping the back of your neck, the other tangled in your hair. you’re panting—drooling, with your cheek pressed to the sheets, back arched as his cock grinds into you, stretching you so good you can barely even think to breathe.

“taking me so well, baby,” he groans into your ear, lips brushing your skin. “you love this, don’t you? love being good f’me, while i’m in you deep and slow.”

you whimper, and his hand slides under you, fingers rubbing your clit in slow, lazy circles. his cock drags inside you, thick and hot, your slick making it so messy, your thighs soaked, his balls slapping your pussy with every thrust. he keeps whispering—filthy praise, soft groans, desperate moans when you clench around him.

“god—i’m gonna come so deep inside you, sweetheart. don’t run. stay right here. lemme feel you.”

clark who loves to have you in standing doggy just for days when he wants to grab you, bend you over the kitchen counter, the dresser, whatever’s closest, and take you hard. his hands are bruising on your hips, slamming you back against him with every deep thrust. your knees shake, your breath comes out in moans, and he’s groaning behind you, eyes locked on the way your ass bounces.

“god—you’re just s-so perfect,” he growls, landing a sharp slap that makes you yelp. “wish you could see how I’m splitting you open, baby.”

you grip the counter, desperate to stay upright, but he’s relentless, pounding into you so hard you feel him in your stomach. his hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

“you gonna come for me like this? ‘can feel it getting closer, just let go baby.”

you come with a scream, and he fucks you through it, grunting as he spills inside you, his cock twitching deep, filling you up, your legs giving out as he holds you against him, shaking. “so so good f’me”

clark who loves to have you in spooning for those mornings that are lazy and soft. clark pulls you close, wraps around you, and slides in from behind, thick and slow and perfect. his arm curls under your head, the other gripping your thigh, keeping you spread for him. his cock drags in deep, slow thrusts, and you’re gasping, boneless in his arms.

“still sleepy, baby?” he teases, kissing your neck. “m’sorry im just so needy this morning….”

and he just loves the intimacy—the way your bodies fit, the way you whimper when he grinds into you, slow and deep. his hand sneaks between your legs, rubbing your clit, making you moan, squirm, beg.

“gonna keep you here all day,” he groans, his thrusts getting rougher, messier. “fill you up, over again, and over again, until you’re dripping on the sheets, baby. can you feel how much I love you?”

a/n: love u guys sm please send requests for me to get back to and write for!! i write for remmick and clark kent rn <3

tags: [reply or dm to be added] @jimmys-tiara @dolleciita @budgiefeatherboa @flixpii @redhairedgardenfairy @faestunna

dividers | @cursed-carmine

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[herweirdass]

front page feelings 3 | clark kent

synopsis: an “accidental” sleepover where clark stays over but can’t stop touching you. [part one] [part two]

you didn’t mean to keep him that long.

really, it was just supposed to be a quick drop-off. you’d left your charger at work, and clark being, well, clark—he offered to swing by on his way home. you opened the door in a satin robe, and he nearly walked right back out.

“i, uh—brought your charger,” he stammered, trying very hard not to look at your body.

you leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “so are you coming in or no?”

he did. slowly. cautiously. like being alone in your apartment might actually kill him.

you made tea. he picked the movie. you teased him for choosing something PG-13, and he flushed red, sipping too quickly from your floral mug.

an hour passed. then two.

outside, it started raining.

inside, you were curled up next to him under the world’s smallest throw blanket. he was warm. unfairly so. the kind of warm that made you lean closer without realizing, your knee resting against his thigh, your bare foot brushing his ankle.

he didn’t move.

you didn’t either.

“you’re gonna fall asleep,” you murmured, somewhere past midnight, eyes on his soft, tired smile.

“not yet,” he said, voice low. “like being here too much.”

you looked up at him.

his glasses were fogged slightly from the heat of your body next to his. his curls were messy. his shirt stretched tight over his chest, rising and falling slow.

you could’ve kissed him right then.

you didn’t.

but you did say, “you’re not going home in that rain.”

his brows lifted slightly. “you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

you stood, walked to your linen closet, and tossed him a blanket. “guest rights, farm boy. couch is yours.”

he smiled down at the pillow like it was the kindest gift he’d ever received. like sleeping on your couch was the greatest honor in the world.

you stood there for a second.

watching him.

watching how his body didn’t quite fit. how his feet dangled off the edge. how he folded his hands over his chest like he didn’t know what to do with them.

and you caved.

“clark?”

he looked up.

you tilted your head toward your bedroom.

“bed’s big enough for two.”

he swallowed. hard. “are you—are you sure?”

you smiled. “i wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t.”

he nodded, slow. stood up carefully like he was worried the couch might explode. and he followed you.

in the dim light of your room, he climbed into bed like a man scared to take up too much space. he lay on his side, back straight, hands tucked under his head, facing away.

you rolled your eyes. scooted over. slid a hand up his bare arm. “goodnight clark.”

he turned over now facing you and flashed a smile, “goodnight.”

you felt it before you saw him.

the slow, thick press of his length against your backside—tenting the sheets, hot and unmistakable. his chest was flush against your back, one arm slung heavy across your waist. his other hand was curled gently beneath your breasts like he’d fallen asleep trying to memorize you.

he was still sleeping. barely.

his breath tickled your shoulder. his fingers twitched. his hips shifted, just once, and—

you bit your lip.

god, he was big. hard. pressed against your ass like he didn’t even realize what he was doing to you

or maybe he did.

“clark,” you whispered.

he stirred. low, slow. a groan vibrated through his chest.

“baby…”

you turned in his arms—barely. just enough to see the way his lashes fluttered, the crease between his brows. the look of restraint on his face.

his eyes finally opened, he kissed you.

not soft. not shy. not the careful, considerate kind of kiss he usually gave you.

this was full, aching need. tongue hot and impatient in your mouth. his hand gripping your thigh, dragging it up around his waist as he pressed you flat against the bed.

your breath hitched.

“you’ve been teasing me,” he murmured against your jaw. “since the day i met you.”

his hips rolled forward.

you gasped.

“always walking around in those little skirts,” he growled, mouth trailing hot down your neck. “bossing me around like you don’t know what you do to me.”

his hand slid under your shorts.

you were soaked.

he cursed under his breath. “jesus.”

you smirked, tugging gently at his curls. “so what’re you gonna do about it?”

his head snapped up.

and just like that—he flipped you.

you landed on your back with a thud, legs spread, your shorts halfway down your thighs. he settled between them, big hands pinning your wrists above your head.

“you’re gonna let me take my time,” he whispered, voice low and serious.

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

he kissed the inside of your thigh.

then again. and again. slower each time.

your hips bucked.

“patience,” he warned.

his mouth was everywhere.

wet, open kisses down your stomach. the slow drag of his tongue along your inner thigh. the feel of his breath between your legs before he even touched you.

you tried to squirm, to shift your hips and give him a hint.

he didn’t budge.

in fact—he looked up at you with that stupidly pretty face and gave you a warning look.

“clark—”

“you keep rushing me, and i’ll take longer,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “you’ve waited this long, haven’t you? what’s a few more minutes?”

you groaned. “you’re evil.”

he chuckled, kissed just above where you needed him, then finally—finally—flattened his tongue against your clit.

your back arched instantly.

his grip on your thighs tightened.

you couldn’t think. couldn’t speak.

his tongue worked slow, purposeful circles—each one drawing out a ragged breath, a soft whimper. he moaned low when your hips rolled against his mouth, and the vibration made you nearly cry out.

his mouth was so good.

his hands held you completely still. strong and unmovable, even as your legs started to shake.

“clark—baby—please—”

he sucked. licked. fucked you with his tongue like he wanted you to fall apart. one hand gripped your hip, the other drifted up your chest—palming one breast before teasing your nipple with lazy, confident fingers.

and when you finally came—hard—you swore the bed shook.

he licked you through it, slow and steady, like he wasn’t done yet. like he could go all morning.

and maybe he could.

you barely caught your breath before he was kissing up your body, nosing at your neck, voice low in your ear:

“think you can handle me now?”

you blinked. “handle you?”

he pushed inside you in one, deep stroke—so thick, so slow, it took your breath away.

your mouth flew open and your nails dug into his shoulders.

he groaned at the stretch, forehead resting against yours.

“baby,” he whispered, “i’ve been holding back for months.”

you didn’t even recognize the sound that left your mouth when he pushed all the way in.

deep.

full.

stretching you open in a way that left your whole body trembling.

“god,” you gasped, grabbing his arms for balance. “clark…”

“shh, i got you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “just breathe.”

but you couldn’t.

not when he was moving like that—long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in again. each thrust angled perfectly. each snap of his hips making the bed creak beneath you.

and then he grabbed your leg.

hooked it high over his shoulder and thrust deeper.

you choked on his name.

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice ragged. “take it.”

his rhythm changed—harder now, rougher.

his hands were gripping your hips so tight you were sure they’d leave marks. his curls were damp with sweat. and the look in his eyes?

feral.

“you’ve been driving me crazy since i met you,” he growled, panting. “you think i didn’t notice the way you bossed me around on purpose?”

your nails scraped down his back. he didn’t flinch.

“wearing those little dresses. always telling me what to do like you didn’t know what it did to me.”

he slammed into you.

you cried out.

he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed above your head, his whole body pressing down on yours—so much weight, but still careful.

you whimpered beneath him, feeling your orgasm creeping up fast.

he felt it too.

“you gonna come for me?” he whispered, his lips at your ear. he breathed, rutting into you harder. “let go, sweetheart. i’ve got you.”

and you did.

your body seized under him, legs trembling, stars exploding behind your eyes.

and he followed you—groaning your name as he buried himself one last time, warmth flooding deep inside you. he didn’t pull out. didn’t move.

just held you, chest to chest, his forehead pressed to yours while you both came down.

you laid there for a long, quiet minute—both of you catching your breath, skin hot and damp, limbs tangled.

“oh em gee,” you whispered.

he chuckled, low and sheepish now. “yeah.”

“that was…”

“a long time coming?”

you smirked. “understatement of the century.”

[herweirdass]

watch the headboard, baby | clark kent

synopsis: clark loses control and accidentally breaks the headboard during sex, but you stay on top—literally. i just love sub clark omg.

you had him under you again — where he belonged.

his big body sprawled across your bed, muscles loose, mouth parted, already breathless like you hadn’t even really started. the man could bench buildings, but you so much as breathed heavy against his throat and he was whining.

the best part? he loved it.

“hands where i can see them,” you murmured, running your palms slowly down his chest. “and don’t get cute.”

clark smirked. “yes, ma’am.”

he obeyed, resting his wrists by his head, fingers fisting the pillow. you knew he could lift you with one pinky, but he was always so careful. always so still when you told him to be. and tonight? he looked wrecked already — cheeks flushed, chest rising fast, thighs trembling under your knees.

you rolled your hips against him slowly, just to tease.

his breath caught. “fuck—”

“mm. already?” you smiled, dragging your nails gently down his stomach. “and here i thought superman had stamina.”

“i do,” he said, voice tight. “just… not when it’s you.”

you bit your lip, amused. “don’t fall apart too fast, baby. we’re not even close to done.”

he whimpered, actual whimpered, when you sank down on him fully. your head tipped back, breath catching in your throat, because no matter how many times you did this, it never stopped being good — the stretch, the burn, the weight of him inside you. every inch made to fill you up just right.

you leaned forward, palms flat on his chest, and started riding him slow. deliberate. taking your time.

he was falling apart already — eyes half-lidded, lips slack, those strong hands clutching the pillow like it was his only lifeline.

“you look pretty like this,” you said, breath brushing over his jaw. “all big and helpless. you like it when i make the rules?”

his hips bucked a little before he caught himself. “yes,” he whispered. “you feel so good. can’t think.”

you tilted your head, riding him deeper, harder now. “don’t think baby.”

he moaned — loud and desperate.

and then—

CRACK.

everything stopped.

you blinked. slowly looked over your shoulder.

a chunk of the headboard had snapped clean off — splinters in the wall, cracks down the frame. it looked like someone had driven a sledgehammer through the top panel.

you turned back to clark, who was staring up at you like a kicked puppy.

“…clark.”

"i got excited," he mumbled.

"you broke the damn bed."

he winced. "i can fix it?"

you arched an eyebrow. "with what, laser vision?"

“i didn’t even notice i was holding on that tight…”

you sat back on his thighs, crossed your arms, and stared at the busted headboard.

“…that’s the third bed this year.”

“i can buy you another one—”

“you’re damn right you can.”

you leaned back over him, hands pressed to either side of his head, and kissed him hard — all tongue, heat, and a low warning hum in your throat. when you pulled back, his lips were red and kiss-swollen, eyes dazed.

you smirked, then leaned down, mouth brushing his ear.

"and if you ever break a headboard again, the only thing you'll be allowed to hold onto next time is your damn knees."

he choked on air. "wait, what—?"

but you were already rolling your hips again, slow and steady, like nothing had happened. except this time, you pressed your palm to his chest and pinned him there.

“no questions, pretty boy. hands back. mouth shut.”

he obeyed without hesitation — arms back, fists gripping the pillow like his life depended on it.

and this time, you rode him slow, cruel, intentional — listening to every gasp and tremble, watching his knuckles turn white. the only sound in the room was his ragged breathing, your name under his breath like prayer, and the slow creak of the half-broken bed beneath you.

[ggclarissa]

kiddo | clark kent

fandom: dcu

pairing: corenswet!clark kent x fem!reader

content: reader is in her early 20’s, clark is older and unfortunately hot about it, mild age gap, mutual pining, oblivious clark, insecure reader, lois lane mention, angst if you squint, fluff if you don’t.

summary: in which you convince yourself that clark kent’s habit of calling you “kiddo” signifies you have no chance — until he unexpectedly proves otherwise.

author’s note: i don’t know if clark has an official age in the new movie? i read somewhere that he might be in his early 30’s, so for the sake of this oneshot, let’s just say he’s 30.

You’d heard the nickname before — at family reunions, crooned by aunts with lipstick-smudged teeth and tossed around by uncles who still ruffled your hair like you were five, never mind the fact that you were old enough to drive. Back then, ‘kiddo’ had been sweet. Familiar. Even a little endearing.

But from him?

It stung.

“Nice work on that LuthorCorp zoning piece, kiddo.”

You’d poured your entire weekend into that article — combing through public records at City Hall, chasing down a contractor who insisted on meeting in a dimly lit parking garage, and revising quotes until your fingers cramped. It was the kind of piece you were genuinely proud of.

And yet — kiddo.

He might as well have called you ‘sport.’ Or ‘champ.’ Or ‘slugger.’

You were twenty-one. A fully functioning adult. Old enough to vote, pay rent, and catastrophically destroy your credit score if you pleased. And certainly old enough to recognize a dismissive pet name when you heard one.

Clark Kent had said it with a smile — polite, mild-mannered, not unkind. He adjusted his glasses and offered you a nod like a proud teacher, then strolled back to his desk with the easy, unhurried gait of someone completely unaware he’d just ruined your entire day in a single breath.

A month had passed since then, and you’d been trying — quietly, relentlessly — to be seen as more than just a kid.

You arrived early. Pitched stories with deeper research, sharper angles, stronger sources. Your outfits had shifted towards sleek and deliberate — less intern, more young up-and-coming professional. You swapped the communal Keurig for your own overpriced cold brew in a stainless-steel tumbler, a quiet declaration: you weren’t some wide-eyed rookie anymore. You even started carrying a pocket-sized Moleskine in your blazer — because Clark did.

And yet, every time he passed your desk, he left behind the same three-syllable sting:

“Hey, kiddo.”

And you’d smile. Like it didn’t land soft and patronizing. Like it didn’t shrink you in all the quiet, aching ways you could never admit.

Because of course he didn’t see you that way. Clark was older — only thirty but carried himself with a calm certainty that made him seem decades ahead. There were no plaques on his walls, no flashy accolades, but he didn’t need them — not when he was the only reporter Superman would grant an interview. His credibility didn’t shout; it simply existed. Unshakable. Undeniable.

And you were…well, you.

Fresh out of college, you were still learning how to wear a press badge without feeling like an imposter. Trying — often failing — not to beam like an overeager puppy whenever he passed your desk.

Lois Lane noticed, of course. Over time, she’d taken on the role of the reluctant older sister, guiding you through the chaos of the Daily Planet since your very first days as an intern.

“You look like someone spiked your coffee with battery acid,” She remarked one afternoon, barely looking up from her monitor.

“He called me ‘kiddo’ again,” You muttered, slumping into your swivel chair. You gave yourself a slow push and drifted towards her desk like a defeated Roomba.

Lois didn’t blink. “Maybe it’s his love language.”

“It’s condescending.”

“Or maybe,” She said, typing another sentence, “he just doesn’t know what to do with himself around you.”

You shot her a skeptical look. “He’s Clark Kent.”

At that, Lois finally glanced up, one brow lifting higher than your own. “And?”

“I’m twenty-one. Barely. I use the word ‘slay’ unironically and sometimes sleep in my mascara.”

She offered a slow, knowing smile. “And yet, here you are — working alongside the only reporter Superman actually talks to. Do you honestly believe Perry would’ve kept you around if you were just some clueless kid?”

You wanted to take Lois at her word.

You longed even more to dismiss the way your heart clenched every time Clark said the word — kiddo — as if it were merely a nickname, not an insurmountable barrier between you. You tried not to dwell on the subtle shift in his expression when you spoke up in meetings. You struggled to resist what was clearly beyond your reach.

You tried — and, as always, came up short.

It was a late Wednesday night.

The newsroom had settled into an unnatural quiet — only the clack of keys and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights breaking the stillness. Most desks were empty, long since abandoned. Only the copy editor remained, fast asleep over page twelve, his gentle snores blending with the white noise.

And then there was you — alone, staring down a half-finished Word document and a blinking cursor that refused to yield. The only source of light came from your desk lamp, casting a slightly-too-yellow glow across your notes.

You were halfway through revising your lede when a familiar voice sliced through the silence.

“You always work this late, kiddo?”

You flinched — less from the word itself, more from how softly it landed. This time, it didn’t sting. Not quite.

It settled instead. Lingered in the quiet between you.

You didn’t meet his gaze right away. Your tone was even, almost detached. “Do you really have to call me that?”

A pause followed. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

“Call you what?” Clark asked.

When you finally lifted your gaze, he was leaning against the wall — sleeves rolled to the forearms, tie loosened, glasses slightly askew as if he’d been tugging at them in thought. He looked worn down, but somehow still managed to make disheveled seem deliberate.

“Kiddo,” You said. “You always call me that.”

His expression shifted — barely, but noticeably. As though it hadn’t once crossed his mind that the nickname might carry weight.

“You don’t like it?”

You gave a small shrug, eyes drifting back to your keyboard. “It just…makes me feel like you don’t take me seriously.”

You braced for a laugh. A quick deflection. Something light to dismiss the weight of your confession.

Instead, he closed the distance. “You think I don’t take you seriously?”

You raised your head to meet his unwavering gaze. “You call me ‘kiddo.’ You pat my shoulder. You treat me like I’m…harmless.”

His lips twitched — barely — but he withheld a smile. He circled to your side of the desk, leaning against the edge, regarding you as one might before posing a challenging question in an interview.

“I called you that,” Clark said slowly, “because I didn’t know what else to call you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re smart. Sharp. You care about justice — enough to pursue it when no one else will. You ask better questions than half the newsroom, and you fight for your stories even when Perry barks.” He tilted his head. “You remind me what this job is supposed to be about.”

You stared in silence.

“I didn’t call you ‘kiddo’ to minimize you,” He continued, voice softening. “I called you that because…anything else felt too real.”

You swallowed hard. “Too real?”

“You’re young,” He admitted. “And I’m not. That’s a line I was afraid to cross. But you’ve never been a kid to me. I knew that the day you yelled at Perry for burying the migrant housing story behind WayneTech stocks.”

You had no words. You hadn’t realized he even remembered that moment.

“You said the city deserved better,” He murmured. “That people weren’t headlines — they were human beings. That stayed with me.”

Something caught in your chest. You’d thought no one had listened that day. You cried in the bathroom after that meeting, convinced your voice had dissolved into the noise.

“I only called you ‘kiddo’ because your name…” He paused. “Because it felt dangerous. Because every time I said it, it stayed with me longer than it should have.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I thought I didn’t have a chance,” You whispered.

The faintest smile touched his eyes — tired, tender, and achingly sincere.

“You’ve always had a chance,” He said softly. “I just didn’t know if I was allowed to take it.”

A silence unfolded between you — slow, charged, almost unbearable in its honesty.

Then he reached for your hand.

And you let him.

Clark’s hand was warm, steady — large enough to completely enclose yours, yet careful in the way it held you. As if this moment meant something. As if he knew he’d waited too long to risk breaking it.

“I’ll stop calling you that,” He said quietly.

“Good,” You breathed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Or I’ll start calling you ‘grandpa.’”

His laugh was quiet and unguarded, something deep and real.

Then, without pretense or hesitation, he said your name — your real name — not as a tease, not as a placeholder, but with intention. Like it meant something. Like he meant it.

And it was better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You leaned in, uncertain — but open — and he met you halfway. The kiss was soft, assured, unhurried. Like the first line of a story you already knew by heart.

When you parted, his forehead rested rested gently against yours.

No words passed between you.

None were needed.

The next morning, the newsroom buzzed with a quiet, perceptible energy.

You hadn’t exactly been discreet in the way you smiled at Clark from across your desk. By midday, you’d caught his gaze lingering more than once — twice before noon, and again as he stood by the communal Keurig. And each time, his gaze dropped the moment you noticed, a faint flush rising to his cheeks.

You nearly stumbled over a cable when he called your name across the bullpen — simple, warm, and laced with something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

Lois cornered you by the vending machine, mug in hand and that familiar, knowing glint in her eyes.

“So,” She said, sipping her coffee with deliberate nonchalance. “You and Clark.”

You stilled. “What about us?”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “You think I didn’t notice how he said your name like a prayer this morning? Or how he didn’t call you ‘kiddo’ for once?”

Heat crept up the nape of your neck.

“Relax,” She added, her voice softening. “Frankly, I think it’s long overdue.”

Your eyes drifted back to Clark. He was hunched over his desk, deep in concentration, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. Something about the sight made you smile.

“Yeah,” You murmured. “Me too.”

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 13 - halloween part 2

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

the party was in full swing, the house covered head to toe in decorations and people all out in costumes.

you and the girls walked in arms linked, but your eyes scanned the room casually. as if you weren't immediately looking for rafe.

you spotted topper first, wearing a half arsed firefighter costume and a beer in hand. kelce was nearby, laughing with some zeta girls, dressed in a vampire outfit.

and then, by the kitchen, rafe.

wearing a ghostface costume, you almost couldn't contain yourself. he looked good. too good.

your stomach twisted.

he hadn’t seen you yet. maybe it was better that way.

you turned back toward your friends, trying to melt into the crowd, but then-

"y/n?"

his voice, behind you.

you froze, then turned slowly.

and there he was, standing a few feet away from the dance floor, tongue wetting his lips as his eyes swept over you.

"holy shit," rafe muttered. "you look…"

you raised an eyebrow, "careful. your wife might get jealous."

he didn’t laugh. not really. just took a slow step closer.

"she’s not my-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "you look amazing."

"and you're ghostface. how original." you teased him.

"what, you don't like it?" he clutched his chest in fake offence, but you only rolled your eyes.

a relaxed silence fell between you two, in which you noticed the rest of the girls had left you alone with rafe. bitches you thought to yourself.

"can i get you a drink?" he asked sincerely.

"depends what you're going to get me."

"whatever you want sunshine."

"a rum and coke please mr ghostface." you replied, a small blush rising on your cheeks.

"coming right up.' he gave your shoulder a small squeeze as if to say 'stay right here' and disappeared further into the kitchen to make your drink.

as you pulled out a bar stall, a topless policeman came up behind you.

"looking good y/n."

you turned to face him, "jj?" you blinked, doing a double take.

he grinned, running a hand through his messy blond hair, fake badge glittering under the led lights. "what do you think? hot cop or not enough commitment?"

you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. "you’re missing literally every part of the uniform except the handcuffs."

he smirked. "they're in my back pocket. you know, just in case."

"why am i not surprised." you laughed with him.

"you waiting on someone?" he asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

before you could answer, rafe came back into the room holding your drink and one for himself.

"ah, i see." jj spoke, slowly standing to leave you two it.

"can i help you jj?" rafe spoke with a possessive tone.

"nah bro i was just leaving. talk to ya soon y/n." jj gave you an awkward side hug before walking out.

you raised an eyebrow at rafe as he handed you the rum and coke. "jealous?"

"no." rafe muttered, jaw clenched.

you sipped slowly as you studied him. "you sure? because that felt pretty territorial."

"just didn’t like the way he was looking at you," he said, stepping a little closer.

"we’re just friends," you said softly, reaching out to grab his hand before quickly pulling away. rafe noticed and swiftly pulled your hand back, tracing small circles on your wrist.

"i really like your outfit," he whispered, nudging your cat ears.

"i like yours too," you mumbled, his intense stare making you feel nervous. "except i'd like it better if you kept the mask on."

"wow. you really hate looking at my face that much?" rafe laughed, eyes never leaving yours.

you tilted your head, giving him a sweet, slow smile. "it’s not that," you teased. "it’s just… you’re less distracting when your face is covered." a surge of confidence taking over.

rafe raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "you find me distracting?"

you took another sip of your drink, ignoring the flutter in your chest. "you’re in a stupid outfit and still manage to be annoying. that’s a talent."

he leaned closer, close enough now that you had to tilt your head to look at him. "you calling me annoying, sunshine, or are you trying to admit you like looking at me?"

you rolled your eyes. "don’t flatter yourself." but your voice was lighter than you wanted it to be.

the music shifted, pulsing louder from the other room, the familiar beat of 'come as you are' started playing. “i love this song!” you turned to rafe, finishing the drink in your hand and pulling him up.

he didn’t stop you, just fell into step beside you as you pushed through the crowd back toward the living room where everyone was dancing. the soft lights glowed across his face as he followed, his jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

"you gonna dance?" you asked, tossing a look over your shoulder.

“only if it’s with you.” he pulled you in.

you laughed, letting your hands rest on his shoulders as his slid to your waist. hips starting to move a little with the rhythm. the warmth from the alcohol was finally catching up to you, softening the edge of your nerves.

your heart was racing. the way his fingers gripped you tighter, the way his gaze kept dropping to your lips like he was fighting something. he pulled you in closer, skin touching and bodies pressing.

you tried to keep your eyes anywhere but his mouth, but it was impossible. especially when he leaned in, voice just above the music. "you always dance like this? or just with me?"

you tilted your head, smirking. "if i say just with you, is your ego gonna inflate?"

"already has," he murmured, turning you around so you were pulled flushed against his chest. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his hands gripping your body like he couldn’t help it.

his fingers slid under the hem of your top, just barely. warm and confident and like he belonged there.

you should’ve pulled away. made a joke. changed the subject. but you didn’t.

"i can feel you staring," you whispered, turning your neck to look at him.

"i know." his voice was low, rougher now.

you turned fully to look up at him. neither of you looked away. your faces were inches apart, breath mixing in the tiny space between. his hand was still on your waist. yours curled in the fabric of his shirt.

"fuck this," he muttered suddenly.

you blinked. "what?"

"come with me." he pulled back slightly, already lacing his fingers with yours. "just for a minute."

you hesitated, but allowed him to drag you through the heavy crowd of people.

he led you out the back door into the cool night air, no one else around but you two.

the noise dulled the second the door shut behind you. it was quieter out here, besides the heavy breathing of the two of you.

rafe stopped by one of the trees, letting your hands drop, reluctantly, you noticed, and looked at you for a second like he wasn’t sure where to start.

"needed needed some fresh air?" you asked, worry rising.

he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "no. needed to stop pretending like i wasn’t gonna kiss you."

your breath caught.

"so dramatic," you whispered, but your heart was thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"maybe." he stepped in again, slower this time. deliberate. his hands found your waist like he’d been there before, like he knew every curve of it.

his voice was barely a whisper now. his eyes locked on yours. "you want me to back off?"

you didn’t say anything. you just leaned in.

it started of gentle, testing the waters. but as soon as a small gasp left your lips and your hand curled around the back of his neck, that was it.

his lips pressed harder against yours, all hesitation gone. he tasted like alcohol and something darker. he tasted like him.

your back hit the tree behind you before you even registered that he'd stepped forward again, chest flush against yours, hand slipping to your jaw.

you weren’t sure who made the sound, him or you, but your lips parted again, deeper this time, more desperate. like neither of you wanted to come up for air. like this had been building for too long and it was finally breaking.

his thumb brushed your cheek, and his other hand gripped your hip. "fuck," he muttered against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. "been wanting to do that since the second i saw you tonight."

you blinked up at him, breathless, lips still tingling. "just tonight?"

his grin was lazy. dangerous. "don’t push it, sunshine. you know the answer already." he kept his forehead pressed to yours. "i've been losing my mind over you," he murmured.

you looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes searching. "so have i."

and rafe smiled, really smiled, before pulling you in again. slower this time, savouring your taste, hands sliding over your body.

the party felt a million miles away. it was just the two of you, hearts racing, lips colliding, unsaid sentences lost in the small space between your lips.

a/n: holllyyyy shit i am back!!! and with a bang if i do say so myself...

anyway notice the queer reference in here hehehe

hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it!!! thank u for always waiting for me and being so supportive. love u guys

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily @nonbeliever1 @cinnamon-girl4life @adollsdarkdiary

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 14 - it's a date

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

you woke up hazy, mascara smudged under your eyes and the taste of alcohol lingering on the tip of your tongue. your throat was dry, head hurting, but your brain, your brain was full of him.

the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you. like a man who had been waiting to do it his whole life.

you groaned, rolling over onto your back, the ache of it all sitting heavy in your chest.

you knew it hadn’t just been the alcohol. you knew that. he’d meant it. you’d felt it in the way he looked at you after, soft, like he wanted to stay in that moment forever. worried, like he'd loose you if you looked away.

"she's awake!" sarah squealed from her bed, quickly getting up and plopping herself on your duvet. "soooo... you gonna tell me about last night?" sarah poked you teasingly.

"what is there to tell?" you replied, a blush forming on your cheeks.

she raised her eyebrows, "oh come ON y/n. we all saw you walk out with rafe. you're telling me nothing happened?"

"he kissed me." you whispered.

"shut. the. fuck. up." sarah almost screamed. "and you waited until now to tell me?"

"i just woke up!" you said in defensive.

"okay, okay, whatever. details. now. don’t leave out a single thing. start from the moment he found you. wait, what was he dressed as again?"

"ghostface," you muttered, covering your eyes with your arm, remembering how good he looked.

sarah laughed. "classic rafe. so, what was it like?"

you paused, lost in the thought of last night. "it felt, fuck i don't even know. different? good? the best kiss of my life?"

that shut her up for a second. "oh so now it's a thing thing."

"what does that even mean?" you sat up, worry setting in.

"i just mean, i don't think this was just a drunk kiss." she smiled at you.

"i don't think so either." you blinked, realisation setting in. "ughhhh," you threw yourself under the covers.

"don't ughhhh this." sarah said, tugging the duvet down, her voice gentle. "you like him, he likes you."

"i think he likes me," you mumbled, suddenly self-conscious. "but what if it was just... the party? what if he wakes up today and doesn’t even think twice about it?"

sarah gave you a look. "rafe followed you around all night in a ghostface costume. he's been chasing you since he met you. he is thinking twice about it. probably more than that."

you let out a small laugh, despite the bundle of nerves in your stomach. "okay, okay."

"i’m serious." she paused, her tone dropping. "just, be careful. i love my brother, but he hangs out with idiots."

you blinked at her. "what are you saying?"

"nothing!" she said quickly, hands up. "just, keep your eyes open. and if he hurts you, i’m siding with you."

you nodded slowly, laying back into the pillows, heart thudding all over again.

just as your heart started slowing down, your phone buzzed beside you.

"well i guess i'm going on a date tonight." you spoke, an involuntary smile escaping your lips.

"are you fucking with me." sarah jumped up and grabbed your phone. "oh my god. rafe sent this? this is real?" her eyes widening as she read.

"yes it's real. stop making it a bigger thing." you snatched your phone back.

"it is a big thing y/n!" sarah grinned, "he's never like this. he doesn't do dates. he does, 'you up?' texts."

"oh great, how reassuring." you replied sarcastically.

she laughed. "no, i mean it’s different. he’s different with you."

you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to. you knew she was right. he was different.

*

a few hours had passed, you'd had your everything shower, shaved, hair washed, and now your room was a mess.

dresses were scattered across your bed, hangers on the floor, and a growing pile of 'absolutely not' options covered your desk chair. you stood in front of the mirror in yet another outfit, turning slightly to the side, frowning.

"try this," sarah threw you an outfit from her wardrobe, being so patient during all your stressing.

you took it from her, a beautiful black midi dress that fitted you in all the right places.

"yep. that's the one." sarah stood up, fixing your curls and turning you to the mirror. you looked good. you felt good.

"is this too try hard? is this too much?" you paused, nerves buzzing in your chest.

"no, y/n." she looked you right in the eye, "you look like the hottest girl rafe's ever gonna see."

you took a deep breath, "okay. let's do this."

as if on cue, you felt your phone buzz in your hands.

your stomach flipped. you grabbed your purse and looked in the mirror one last time.

"okay. i'm going," you said, mostly to yourself.

"you look beautiful. have the best time!" sarah called out behind you as you let your dorm door shut.

rafe was leaning against the lamp post, flowers in his hand.

fucking flowers.

he looked up the moment he heard the door open and did a double take, straightening up.

"hey," you greeted softly.

"hi," he breathed out. "you look…"

your eyes narrowed in amusement. "careful, cameron. choose your words wisely."

he smirked, stepping forward to hand you the flowers. "beautiful. you look so beautiful."

you took them, the blush creeping up your neck before you could stop it. "and you’re laying it on thick tonight."

"flowers too much?" he said, reaching for your hand.

"it's a nice touch. an unexpected touch none the less." you replied, letting him take it.

"i'm full of surprises."

"clearly. you gonna tell me where we're going?"

rafe’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, that same quiet confidence tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"nope."

you raised an eyebrow. "seriously?"

"i just said i'm full of surprises." you let him gently lead you along the now quiet street. "and no. it's not a party."

"i never said it was."

"i actually thought this through." he spoke, almost too quietly.

you glanced over at him. "so, how many girls have you brought to this surprise location?"

he shot you a look, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "don’t do that."

"do what?" you said, slightly surprised at his defensive reaction.

"pretend like this isn’t a big deal for me," he replied.

your heart fluttered. god. he said things like that so casually. like it wasn’t terrifying.

"okay," you said softly. "then i'll stop pretending."

he didn’t look at you, but you saw the way his jaw relaxed.

a few minutes later, you'd walked into a secluded area, one you hadn't seen before.

your turned to him, "what is this?"

"you’ll see," rafe said, leading you further down the path.

you saw it, a little deck overlooking the lake. a blanket already laid out, dim candles glistening and two takeout pizza boxes in the centre.

you blinked. "you picnicked?"

"technically i takeout-picnicked," rafe corrected. "but yeah. i panicked. i didn't have time for the whole thing." you could hear him starting to stress, "is this okay?"

you looked at him, "you did this for me?"

"don’t flatter yourself," he teased. "i like the view. come here when i need time to myself."

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks hurt from smiling. he gestured for you to sit and then joined you on the blanket, leaning back on one arm as you both opened the boxes.

"no one's done something like this for me before." you admitted.

he looked over at you, that same softness from the night before in his eyes. "i wanted to do it right."

you looked away, suddenly overwhelmed. not just by the candles, or the lake, or the goddamn flowers, but by him. by how good he was being. how easy it was to fall into this version of him.

"well," you cleared your throat. "you’re off to a dangerously good start."

rafe leaned forward, "so what i'm hearing is there’ll be a second date?"

you didn’t answer. just took a bite of pizza.

he watched you for a second, then laughed quietly. "i’ll take that as a yes."

it was quiet for a few moments, comfortable. the soft sounds of leaves, water lapping somewhere below.

then rafe’s voice, low, "do you believe people can change?"

you looked at him, surprised by the question.

"i think," you said slowly, "people can change. but most of them choose not to."

his eyes stayed on the lake. "and if they want to?"

"then they’ll show you," you replied. "prove it."

his jaw twitched. "fair."

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. "why’d you ask?"

he shrugged, but it felt like a question he'd been thinking all night. "just wondering."

before you could push more, his phone buzzed beside him. he glanced at it. locked the screen fast and turned it over.

but not before you caught a glimpse of the name: topper.

his whole vibe shifted for half a second. shoulders tense, smile thinner.

you didn’t say anything. just watched as he tried to pretend everything was fine.

he cleared his throat and looked at you again, "so, you like the pizza?"

"are you deflecting?"

his brows lifted. "me? never."

you leaned back on your elbows, gaze fixed on him. he was trying to play it off, but you saw the way his fingers twitched, the way his eyes didn’t quite meet yours.

something about that name, topper, lingered in the air between you. you knew the reputation. you knew what kind of people rafe keep close.

but tonight, he’d brought you here. so, you let it go.

for now.

"i like the pizza," you said eventually. "and the candles. and the deck. and you, kind of."

he looked over, the tension in his jaw easing instantly. "kind of?"

"don’t push it."

he laughed, the real kind, head back, grin wide. and just like that, the mood softened again. like it hadn’t cracked at all.

but it had. and the uneasy feeling lingered.

a/n: another long ish chapter! hope you guys are enjoying <333 rafe trying to sus out if he'll be forgiven lollll

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily @nonbeliever1 @cinnamon-girl4life @adollsdarkdiary

[darlingstarkey]

my talented baby.

[darlingstarkey]

it’s been a while, hm?

[rafesheaven-deactivated20250526]

stepbro!rafe helping you when you have a wet dream ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

warnings — stepcest, fingering, reader has a wet dream, use of 'daddy', finger sucking, dirty talk, praise a/n — reuploaded req from my old blog (originally posted 1/21)

"rafey..." he heard from across the hall; furrowing his brows, he pulled the comforter off his body, getting out of his bed before making his way to your room. he quietly opened the door, closing it behind him as he stepped inside. your chest heaved, small whines filling the room as you squirmed in your bed. your blanket was kicked off your body, and your t-shirt was bunched around your hips, exposing your thoroughly soaked panties.

he crawled into the bed, slotting himself behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. you stirred awake, feeling his arm wrapping around your waist. "rafe?" you yawned, craning your neck to look at him. "shh, s'okay. i'm here, princess what's wrong?"

"need you," you whined, "yeah? need your big stepbrother to take care of you?" he nipped your ear, his hand moving to pull your panties aside. "fuck, you're so wet," rafe groaned, his fingers running through your slick folds. he nuzzled his face into your neck, planting wet kisses along the skin, "spread your legs more." rafe knew he didn't have to tell you more than once. your body arched into him, his thick digits slipping knuckle-deep inside you with ease. you were so compliant, always willing to take what he gave you, "good girl."

"rafey—" you mewled, rolling your hips, chasing after his fingers for more friction. "shit...knew you were needy, but wasn't expecting for you to fuck yourself on my fingers," rafe chuckled. he reached around, shoving his middle and ring fingers into your mouth to muffle the sharp gasp that clawed its way up your throat when he curled his fingers.

"shh, you're getting too loud; gotta keep you quiet," he whispered, his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head at the feeling of your lips suctioning around his digits, sucking eagerly. "yeah, just like that...suck on my fingers just like you would with my cock," he rasps.

your eyes blinked shut, his fingers muffling your whines, “poor little angel... just needed her daddy, huh sweet girl? couldn’t even sleep without needing me to touch this pretty pussy and make you cum? you're always so fuckin' needy for me, aren't you? always needing this sweet cunt to be fucked and filled even when she sleeps, huh?”

taglist: @anacamofficial @chrissturnslovergirlx @dollyfiles @heartsforvin @ilovefiction4lmen @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @rafesbabygirlx @rafesangelita @rafeysangelbaby @rafeysvenicebitch @kild4re @rowdydevs @browniepop62

[hearts4hughes]

“you don’t listen,” you snap, voice rising with every word. “you never listen, rafe.”

“that so?” he mutters, arms crossed, jaw ticking. his muscles are tensed underneath his gray polo. you try not to stare at how his shirt clings to his biceps.

“yes, that’s so,” you bite, pacing back and forth across porch like it might soak up your frustration. “it’s always your way, your timeline, your silence when you don’t feel like dealing with shit—”

he doesn’t say anything. just leans back against the porch railing, shoulder flexing, that damn muscle twitching in his jaw like he’s holding something back.

it sets you off more because god, you know that look; the unreadable one; the i’m letting you burn yourself out one. it drives you fucking insane.

“say something,” you demand, throwing your hands out. “you gonna just stand there and stare at me like i’m crazy?”

he doesn’t blink. doesn’t budge. just watches. his eyes heavy, dark, unforgiving.

“jesus christ,” you laugh bitterly, turning like you might just leave.

“done running your mouth now?” he says it so low you almost miss it. and when you turn back around, he’s already moved closer—too close. almost like he waited until you were breathless and furious and teetering on the edge.

you glare up at him. “fuck you.”

he tilts his head. his eyes never leave yours. there’s a storm in them now. it’s swirling within his blue ocean, slow, but inevitable.

“you talk all this shit,” he murmurs, almost fondly, “but you’re still here.”

“because i’m stubborn, not stupid.”

“no,” he smirks, stepping into your space like it’s his birthright. “you’re mine.”

you hate that your heart skips. you hate that the anger doesn’t cool. it just twists into something hotter, meaner.

“you’re such a dick.”

he dips his head, breath brushing your cheek. “and you love me for it.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but he’s already staring at you again—hard and unrelenting. he’s trying to pin you in place with just his gaze.

and when he looked at you like that, you knew you weren’t going anywhere.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles

[darlingstarkey]

oh

[rafesangelita]

♡ bsf!rafe reads something he wasn’t supposed to..

warnings: use of the name ‘daddy’ (kinda a lot, so if you don’t like this nickname, don’t read pls), male masturbation, handjob (but not really??), suggestive ending

ding—!

rafe’s ears perked up at the sound of your phone going off, a series of notifications ringing out as you sat in front of your vanity. applying the lipgloss rafe loved so much, you eyed his reflection in the mirror as he laid sprawled out on your bed, patiently waiting for you to be done with your makeup so you two could go out for dinner. “can you check my phone, please ray? it’s probably one of my girlfriends.” he grabbed the device from where it sat on your nightstand, your playlist playing softly in the background as he unlocked your phone, opening your recent text threads.

scanning down the list, his eyes zeroed in on the name ‘josh ♡’, his jaw clenching as he clicked on the contact. you were too busy singing along to your favorite song and spritzing your face with setting spray to notice rafe scrolling through your private messages with another guy, his eyes scanning down the flirtatious advances and even a few selfies here and there. you looked amazing in them, of course, and he couldn’t stand that you had granted another person to see you looking that good. scrolling down to the most recent messages, he read the texts you two exchanged just last night.

[8:21 PM] josh ♡ : why won’t you just call me daddy? like how do you expect this to go any further if you don’t call me what i want you to?

[8:27 PM] do you hear yourself? if me not calling you daddy is what’s going to be a factor in us not speaking to each other anymore, then that’s perfectly fine. you aren’t even ‘daddy’ material.. my best friend has more grit than you do.

“what was it?” your voice made rafe jump, his eyes widening slightly as he shook his head, trying his best not to show that you had completely flipped his world upside down with a single name. “oh, just some text alerts from sephora.” he cleared his throat awkwardly before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. once he was away from you, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his mind racing at what exactly you were insinuating in your text. he didn’t know what to think. were you alluding to the fact that he was indeed ‘daddy material’ or were you just trying to piss off that loser?

putting his own kinks aside, rafe cursed under his breath as he imagined you referring to him as that god forsaken word, the dirty thoughts in his head only being fueled by him not even having to ask you to call him something as depraved as daddy. he envisioned you so many times crying out for him, his fantasy of fucking his best friend haunting him every single night. groaning at the reminder that you were basically forbidden fruit, rafe sighed out in frustration when his jeans suddenly felt two sizes too tight. “rafe, i’m ready!” you sung out, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor in the hallway.

rafe panicked, shouting out a “o-okay, i’ll be right out!” as you snapped pictures of yourself for your instagram story. while you were scrolling aimlessly on your phone to pass time, rafe was splashing cold water on himself in a poor attempt to get his cock to stop straining against his pants, a groan leaving his lips as he palmed himself through the denim material. you froze when you heard the sound, your eyes lifting up from your phone as you fixated your gaze on the door knob. “rafe? are you okay?” as soon as he heard your voice, he shut the water off to the sink. “fuck— yes! yes, i’m fine!”

you continued waiting, now sitting at the top of the stairs while rafe struggled to tug one out. “come on, what the fuck?!” he whispered to himself, his cock aching mean and rock hard in his fist. “i’m starving!” you whined, resting your forehead against the staircase. “okay, that’s just unfair. i waited nearly two hours for you to get ready and now you can’t wait for me when i have an actual problem going on?!” rafe grumbled, his jaw ticking as he only made himself feel more embarrassed than he already was. problem? you turned around, walking over to the door.

you could hear him breathing heavy, a slick sound making your eyebrows knit in confusion. biting your cheek, you whispered a ‘fuck it..’ before opening the door, your jaw dropping to the floor at the sight. “oh, shit—!” rafe cupped himself, hiding everything from your view as you stood there dumbfounded. “why would you come in here?!” he shouted, your eyes raking down his form until they settled on his hands. “that’s why you’re taking so long? because you’re too busy jerking off?” rafe watched as you stepped closer, his eyes screwing shut as you leaned against the counter.

“i’ve been trying to make it go away,” he shifted uncomfortably, “it’s not like i can control this.” you were standing just a few feet away from the very thing that’s made you lose sleep just thinking about. you two had it so bad for each other and neither of you had a single clue about it. rafe stared at you as you blinked up at him, a playful glint sparkling in your eyes. “sooo.. what happened?” he shook his head, feeling slightly guilty that you caught him doing this in your bathroom. “look, we don’t need to go over anything—”

“you saw my texts with that guy, didn’t you?”

rafe swallowed thickly, a sigh leaving his lips before he nodded. “how did you know?” rafe asked, embarrassed. “i looked at my phone when you ran off over here and saw that the messages had been opened.” he narrowed his gaze at you, a shock of realization hitting him. “you knew i was going to see them. that’s why you asked me to check who was texting you.” rafe watched as your lips curved into a smile, his eyes turning dark as you put your hand over his. “i would’ve called you daddy a long time ago if it meant finding you like this.” you pulled his hand away so he wasn’t concealing himself from your view anymore, his jaw clenching as you took him in your palm.

he felt hot and heavy as you stroked him, his forehead falling against your shoulder. “oh, fuck,” he moaned, pulling you closer to him so that you could feel his bulge poking your tummy, “say it again.” rafe lifted his head, both of you sharing a knowing look before you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. he immediately tasted the sweet vanilla of your lipgloss, both of you pausing to take in the fact that you were actually kissing each other after all this time of just being friends. bringing your mouth close to his ear, you pecked the sensitive spot on his neck before whispering.

“daddy, will you please take me back to my room?”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[darlingstarkey]

phew.

[darlingstarkey]

some protector - rafe cameron

sometimes you make a mistake that causes you to lose everything you'd ever wanted..

content includes: infidelity, extreme angst, yearning, drugs, smut, swearing, mdni 18

i. am i guilty?

ii. am i sorry?

iii. do i miss you at the party?

iv. am i dragging this forever? am i thinking about september?

v. am i wrecking reputation, while you're making reservations?

vi am i lying to my mother that someday i'll find another?

vii. yes i am, and i always will.

[darlingstarkey]

part 4 coming tonight! x

[darlingstarkey]

hi gorgeous readers!! i know i mentioned pt 4 last night, but i’ve unfortunately been so exhausted and mother’s day is this weekend so i am trying my best! it will be up before tuesday i promise <3

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

i just want to shout out my bff @darlingstarkey who literally is the most creative wonderful gorgeous human ever and i would NOT be half the account i am without her. she helps me so much like she’s the reason u guys are liking wicked game because she helps me come up with the plot and i just couldn’t do it without her. that’s my wife for real

[darlingstarkey]

😭😭😭😭 anya???

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

how would city lights rafe propose?

(ps i am loving wicked game🖤)

ೀ⋆｡˚anya's 2k special˚ೀ⋆｡˚

a/n: i love this question and thank you so much <3333 i did not mean to turn this into a whole blurb but alas here we are i miss my babies

city lights!rafe would propose in the most intimate, loving way possible:

it had been a few years since the whirlwind that was their beginning. they were now reaching their 6 year anniversary and city lights had just announced their hiatus. for the first time in years, rafe cameron wasn’t rushing to a studio or a venue or an awards ceremony. he was just rafe. her rafe.

y/n had a feeling it was coming. the proposal. there were hints, subtle ones, like sarah asking suspicious questions about ring styles and rafe disappearing with his phone more than usual. but she never pushed. she wanted him to do it in his way, his time.

that night, he took her to the restaurant, the one where he’d first asked her to be his girlfriend. they sat at the same table, and he ordered for her like he always did. they laughed, they talked, they loved each other.

after dinner, he pulled out her chair and laced his fingers with hers.

"come on, angel. nights not over yet."

he took her around the new york, pretending to be his tour guide just like that first night in LA. pointing out landmarks, making up stories, doing terrible impersonations of people walking past. y/n didn't think her heart could be any fuller.

they stopped in front of a quiet overlook, the same one where he’d kissed her that night after becoming official, shaky and unsure. she turned around to say something, but he was already kneeling.

not shaking this time. not unsure.

a velvet box in his hand. the same boyish grin on his face that made her fall in love in the first place.

"y/n... i’ve loved you since before i even knew what love really meant. i've loved you since you showed up outside my dressing room and took my breath away. i have loved you every moment i've known you and i want to love you for every moment coming."

tears sprung in your eyes.

"you fixed me, made me the best version of myself. taught me how to live. how to be happy. you made me fall in love with life. and now i never want to do life without you. y/n, please marry me. make this permanent. make this forever."

she didn’t need to say yes, he saw it in her tears, felt it in the way she dropped to her knees and kissed him breathless.

"yes. yes. it was always going to be yes."

tagging city lights tags incase they wanna see it:

 @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl@4urvalidation@chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu @babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers @darlingstarkey @sassyvillaintrophy  @pogueprincesa @stylestarkey@sodapopwaldor @jjasmiineee @littlefreak-liz @therealfairybatman @leotapes @cokewithcameron @multisection @emmaaas-posts

[darlingstarkey]

oh these babies

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 11 - here comes the bride

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language

you couldn't figure out why this stupid fake frat wedding was making you feel things. negative things.

you dragged sarah back to your room after the grilling the girls had given you, all certain you had feelings for rafe.

"so wait, who is rafe even getting fake married to?" you asked her.

sarah grinned. "emily reed, president of zeta delta phi. you already hate her don't you?"

you threw a pillow at her, "for fucks sake sarah let it go!"

she burst into laughter, "i'm joking i'm joking! wait." she paused, "rafe has that jumper. oh my god is that rafe's jumper? when the fuck did you get that?"

you looked down. shit.

you immediately started peeling it off. "no. no! ok, it's not like that i swear. stop. i picked it up when i was leaving his room in a rush to pick up lucas."

"and you're wearing it right now?" sarah could not hide the excitement on her face.

"it's soft. that's all. it's cosy and i like it and that is the only reason. for comfort." you collapsed onto your bed, hiding your face.

"come on y/n you're not fooling anyone." sarah smirked.

"look, it's not like that okay? we just had a moment in the garden the other day at the party. it was quiet, and maybe kinda... nice? and now everything feels... i don't know. weird."

"and now you want to be his frat bride." sarah teased you once again.

"stop!" you groaned into your pillow.

sarah flopped down next to you, voice suddenly gentler. "hey. it’s okay if you like him, you know. even if he is a dick. and my brother."

"i don’t," you said again.

sarah raised an eyebrow.

"i don’t!" you repeated, defensive now.

"well, if you did, i wouldn't be mad. and part of me thinks he likes you too."

your ears perked at that, "really?"

"i don't know, it's rafe." she shrugged like it didn't matter.

you paused. that name alone came with so many contradictions.

yeah. it was rafe.

the same rafe who was cocky and infuriating and said things like "maybe it's a sign" when you kept bumping into each other and called you 'princess' with a stupid half-smirk.

but also the same rafe who sat with you in the garden while the party raged on, letting you hold his hand like it meant something. the same rafe who protected you when you got roofied and looked after you all night.

you bit your lip, sarah staring at you like she was trying to figure you out. "what's going through that pretty head of yours?"

"it's just. he was...nice. the other night i mean. like, weirdly nice. it just doesn't seem like the same guy everyone talks about."

sarah sat up "how weirdly?"

"i mean," you mumbled, "it wasn’t just banter. it felt different. he just sat and we talked and he held my hand and-"

"pause. he held your hand?" her eyes lit up in shock.

"yes but not like that." you spoke quickly

sarah’s jaw dropped. "not like that? y/n, babe, this is rafe we’re talking about. he doesn’t even high-five people unless there’s a crowd watching."

you rolled your eyes but your cheeks were already warm. "it wasn’t romantic. it was just… quiet."

"okay, sure," she said, still clearly unconvinced, "he quietly held your hand in the garden under the stars while you had a vulnerable moment and now you’re wearing his hoodie and getting jealous about a fake wedding. totally platonic."

you sighed, falling back onto your bed. "i hate you."

she laughed, "no you don’t. you hate that i’m right."

you stared up at the ceiling. "it’s just confusing. i didn’t feel like this with lucas. not even close. and now rafe’s getting fake married and i can’t stop thinking about how stupidly annoying that makes me feel."

sarah’s voice softened. "it’s not stupid. you like him. that’s okay."

you didn’t say anything for a moment. then quietly, "do you really think he likes me too?"

she hesitated, not teasing now, "yeah. i think he does. i think he’s just as confused about it as you are."

you nodded slowly, letting her words sink in.

a/n: AHHHHHH i am screaming at this and i wrote it

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily @nonbeliever1

[darlingstarkey]

SO GOOD OH MY ANGEL !!

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ losing your virginity with bsf!rafe.

warnings — 18+. MDNI. reader losing virginity, lots & lots of praise.

cherie's note — this one needs a disclaimer i think; for the purpose of the work, i mentioned something along the lines of people who wait until after college being losers — i want to preface i do not think this way, but believe rafe and his best friend would definitely talk something like this. it's all make-believe!

you couldn't remember how the conversation had even started. maybe it was the ambiance — the television humming with that faint cool blue glow, whatever rafe had thrown on half-watched and long forgotten, a half-smoked blunt tutting between the two of you for the past couple of hours. somewhere along the way — you couldn't quite remember when — you'd let it slip.

you had never done anything. with anyone.

not that it was a big deal — it wasn't. but it was surprising, especially for rafe. the same rafe known for his reckless hookups and casually cruel behavior, who'd experienced it all years ago. he'd always assumed you had too, and never told him.

but as soon as you'd mumbled something about not wanting to be one of those losers who waited until after college to have any sort of sexual experience, the idea popped into his head like a fucking lightbulb — clear, bright, and impossible to ignore.

"what if i did it with you?"

maybe that's where it really started, actually.

his hands are warm and solid where they grip your hips, holding you steady as you straddle his lap, your thighs hovering just above him. your heart’s going too fast. your lip is caught between your teeth, eyes flicking between his and the space between you — like you’re still deciding, like you could still change your mind.

his gaze is darker than usual. blown pupils, flushed cheeks, mouth parted slightly as he stares up at you like he can’t quite believe this is real.

"we don't need to do this," he swallows, voice low and rough, like it's scraping its way up from his throat. his eyes drop to your lips. "you sure?"

you nod. maybe not totally sure, but sure enough. your stomach is tight with nerves, dread curling in your gut at the thought of the pressure, the sting — but when you look at him, the way he’s waiting for your word like it’s everything, it almost seems worth it.

“i—i wanna do this, ray,” you say quietly, and it’s the first time you’ve called him that in weeks.

his grip tightens on your hips. just a little.

“okay,” he whispers. “just breathe. go slow. i got you.”

you reach between the two of you, fingers trembling as you guide him to where you need him — tip nudging right where your body’s warm and ready and nervous. he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time, one hand sliding up your spine, the other still firm on your waist.

you lower yourself onto him slowly — a shaky inhale spilling from your lips as you feel him start to stretch you open, inch by inch. it’s not pain, not exactly — it’s pressure. overwhelming and unfamiliar and a lot.

“fuck,” he mutters, his head dropping back as he exhales through his nose. "nice and slow, pretty girl."

you squeeze your eyes shut. “is it supposed to feel like this?”

“you’re doing perfect,” he breathes, lifting his head again, blue eyes searching your expression. “you okay?”

you nod, jaw clenched.

“keep going,” you whisper. “please.”

he groans, low and guttural, as he helps guide you down the rest of the way, hips lifting just a little to meet yours. when you finally bottom out, your whole body goes still — breath caught in your throat, limbs trembling.

“there you go,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “you did it.”

you nod, blinking fast, and whisper, “feels so full.”

“yeah,” he huffs, brushing a kiss over your cheek. “we’ll go slow, promise. i won’t move until you tell me to.”

you don’t expect the way it makes your chest ache. how gentle he is. like you’re something fragile. like you matter.

like maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

you sit still for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness — his thick cock buried deep inside of you, twitching slightly with every shaky breath he takes. the feeling is foreign, but delicious. rafe doesn't move — wouldn't dare, not when there was so much trust on the line. his hands rub slow, absent circles into your skin, and his lips brush your collarbone like he's trying to ground you.

“you okay?” he asks again, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

you nod, slower this time. “just… weird. good weird.”

he smiles — barely there, but it softens something in his expression. “yeah. it’s gonna get better, promise.”

you take a breath, and then another, and then roll your hips — just the tiniest bit. the movement pulls a gasp from your lips, and a sharp inhale from him.

“jesus—” his eyes flutter shut, head tilting back against the headboard as he groans. “you feel so fuckin’ good.”

you do it again, a little more this time. your hands plant on his chest, finding your rhythm slowly — small, tentative rocks of your hips that make your thighs tremble and your head swim. it’s overwhelming and messy and nothing like what you imagined, but it’s him, and it feels right.

his grip shifts, one hand sliding to the small of your back to guide you gently, the other gripping your thigh tight like he’s holding back everything he wants to do.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your face, like he doesn’t wanna miss a single second. “you’re doing so fucking good.”

his praise goes straight to your stomach, makes the warmth there coil tighter. your brows knit together, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you rock into him a little harder — his cock dragging slow and thick against that sensitive spot inside you, making your breath hitch.

“r-rafe,” you whisper, voice shaking. “feels… better now.”

“yeah?” his hands tighten on your waist. “told you.”

he bucks up slightly, meeting your next roll with a soft thrust — not rough, not fast, but deep enough to make your body jerk and your nails dig into his chest.

you whimper, and that sound alone has him cursing again, jaw clenched like he’s barely keeping it together.

"feels good, huh?" he asks, calloused fingertips tickling the exposed skin of your hips. he presses a firm, lazy kiss against your jaw, his other hand interlocking with yours for an added bit of reassurance.

your hips move on instinct now, chasing the way he feels inside of you — deep and warm and so good it's making your head spin. every roll of your hips sends sparks through your stomach, that tightening coil getting hotter and hotter the longer you keep going.

rafe's gaze stays on you, watching you like he's never seen anything so pretty. hands firm on your waist, guiding you, steadying you.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, voice ragged, eyes flicking between your face and the spot where you're joined for the first time ever. "swear you were made for me."

your breath hitches, lashes fluttering as you grip his shoulders, trying to stay anchored through the pleasure that’s starting to take over.

“ray,” you gasp, soft and shaky. “it feels… i don’t know—i think i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby. just let go. i’ve got you.”

he lifts his hips just slightly, pushing up into you at that perfect angle — again and again, unhurried but deep, and it makes your thighs tremble. makes your back arch. makes your whole body light up from the inside out.

and then it hits.

your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. you cry out, clutching him tighter, hips stuttering as your body pulses around him — every nerve ending on fire.

“fuck,” he groans, holding you through it, hands gripping you like he never wants to let go. “breathe, baby… you’re doin’ so good. i’ve got you.”

you collapse against him, chest to chest, face tucked into his neck as you try to catch your breath. he strokes your back gently, rocking into you a few more times before you feel him still, his breath catching, hips pressing up tight to yours as he lets go with a soft, broken sound.

you’re both quiet after that.

just the rise and fall of your breathing, your bodies pressed together, hearts thudding out of sync.

you don’t say anything at first. you don’t need to.

his hand finds yours. fingers lacing.

and he kisses your temple like he means it.

[darlingstarkey]

sweating so bad at this