fayeei

18+!

[femrafe]

fauxcest with rafe

Rafe loves when you sleep over. You always arrive with a cute little overnight bag, carefully packed, and always with his favorite things. Your toys. The pink glass dildo he had custom-shaped from his own cock, and the adorable bunny bullet he loves to use on you.

Like now, you’re sprawled across his bed, the bullet pressed firmly to your clit. Your breaths come out in broken whines, fingers twisting into Rafe’s sheets as your body trembles beneath his touch.

“Poor baby,” he coos softly.

“Please, Rafe,” you gasp.

He shakes his head. “Not my name, baby.”

“Please—I—I can’t—”

“But you can, sweetheart.” He only nods before increasing the speed of the bullet. “No cumming until I hear it.”

The sudden change has your back arching off the mattress, your moans spilling louder despite yourself. Rafe was a sadist the second he stepped into the bedroom, and you loved every second of it.

You try to squirm out of his control, but he’s quick to correct you.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He tuts, shaking his head. “You move, and you don’t cum.”

“Please, Rafe, please!”

“Then say it.”

He turns the speed up another notch. Your cry breaks as your body melts into the bed, the pressure in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. Ruined orgasm after ruined orgasm has you shaking, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes.

“Please, dad—please,” you sob.

“There’s my girl.” Rafe smiles, letting out a soft laugh. “Go ahead and cum.”

You do, finishing all over his hand as your body shakes uncontrollably, sobbing as the pleasure crashes through you. Rafe watches you with a satisfied smile before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[venigrantrogers]

ᗪᗩᖇᒪIᑎG, ᗷITE ᗷᗩᑕK

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rafe cameron x reader

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: He just wants to feel something.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+/MDNI, DARK!rafe, cmnf, mirrors, rafe has a major pain kink, biting, rafe making reader feel unsafe( by a burning cigarette) (but doesn't actually hurt her), dacryphyilia.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 341

𝐀/𝐍: day three of June Jukebox Scribbles by @societynsoelsscribbles!!! Living without internet for a day is a struggle. not recommended. 0/10. Also....this is my first rafe fic hahahhaa meet my new crush everyone🤭

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: “And he shows them pearly white”

⤷June Jukebox Masterlist ⤷Rafe Cameron Masterlist

He looked like a mess—bloody knuckles and bruised skin. But nothing made him feel. Not anymore.

Not the wounds, not the sting of the antiseptic. Not the burn of the whiskey, and not even the smoke filling his lungs.

Nothing but you.

“Look at us, baby. Don't we look so good?” he grabs your jaw to guide your gaze back to the mirror.

The sight in front of you was beautifully wicked. You, naked and spread on Rafe’s lap, and him fully clothed, a cigarette dangling from his bleeding lips, nursing a drink in one hand, the other holding your jaw in a grip that bothered on painful.

He takes a puff, the smoke curling around the both of you. His hand slides down to your throat, feeling the pulse thrumming wildly underneath his fingertips.

"You scared?" He asks.

Your eyes drift to the lit cigarette, the glowing ember now dangerously close to your thigh. You squirm, trying to get away, but he just chuckles, finding your poor attempt at escape pathetic.

“Rafe, please…”

His eyes lock onto yours through the mirror, and he shows them pearly whites, mocking you without ever saying a single word.

“Please what?”

“It's gonna hurt me,” you whimper, voice broken and desperate.

“Is it? I bet you won’t like that,” his eyes were dark now. He didn't look like himself, lost in whatever world he claims his own.

He moves the cigarette closer to your skin, draping you in a warmth you never asked for. Scared he'd hurt you, you grab his hand in a weak attempt to stop him, hoping this would bring him back to his senses.

This seemed to work, as he huffs out a laugh, before leaning in to place soft pecks to the side of your neck. You barely had time to calm your rushing heart, thankful he shifted his hand away, when a sharp, excruciating pain filled your nerves.

Your screams were muffled by his huge palm, and you could feel his grin against your skin. He pouts as he looks at your pained features through the reflection, the tears streaming down your face, the mark on your neck that screamed his name.

“Bite back, baby. Make me feel again.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: @sassandscribbles @highonmarvel

              𑣲⋆ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, send a letter via a pigeon...or just a reply down below🫶🏻 (i write for ce babes and bocky and now, mr rafe cameron. if you'd like to be tagged for someone specific, please feel free to let me know 🤭🤭)

[cameronsdior]

call me crazy but this was so hot

[kieeslove]

like do me like that

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Brat Tamer | JJ Maybank

summary: You underestimate JJ when it comes to sex

pairing: JJ Maybank x black!readee

word count: 7,942

warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f), face slapping, rough sex

AN: I’m high yall so when I started writing i literally could not stop .. and now here we are! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

________________

The summer heat was stifling, heavy enough to make tempers flare. But you didn’t sweat—ever. Not physically, not metaphorically. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of July in the Outer Banks or someone testing your patience—you stayed cool.

Today was no exception. You sat at your usual table on The Wreck’s patio, long legs crossed and nails tapping against your lemonade glass. Freshly manicured, your nails caught the sunlight in a way that was impossible to ignore. The poor waiter had already tried twice to get your drink order right, but still, the lemonade didn’t taste like what you asked for.

“Listen, baby,” you said, your voice syrupy-sweet but laced with edge. “How hard is it to add strawberries? I know y’all got ‘em. I can see them behind the counter.”

The boy stammered something about checking again, and you waved him off, exhaling in annoyance. “Can’t find good help no more,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair.

Across the patio, JJ Maybank lounged in his seat, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he tilted his head to watch you. He wasn’t subtle. That amused grin tugging at his lips wasn’t, either.

“She’s somethin’ else,” JJ said, low enough for only Pope to hear.

You caught him staring, though. You always caught them staring. But JJ didn’t look away like most people did when you locked eyes with them. No, he leaned into it, smirking like he knew something about you that you didn’t.

You let it slide for now, but when the waiter returned with your drink, still wrong, your patience hit zero. “You know what?” you said, voice sharp as the click of your heels as you stood. “Forget it. I’ll make it myself.”

You stalked toward the bar, every step calculated, hips swaying just enough to make sure everyone knew you were somebody. On your way, though, you couldn’t resist stopping at JJ’s table, your shadow falling across him.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say, or are you just gon’ keep gawkin’ like a lost puppy?” Your words were pointed, but your tone was teasing, a challenge wrapped in silk.

JJ slid his sunglasses off, eyes a piercing blue that raked over you slowly, boldly. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to bite first.”

That made you pause. You leaned closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne and whatever mischief was brewing in those eyes of his. “Boy, you couldn’t handle it if I did.”

“Try me,” he said, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten.

You studied him for a beat longer than you meant to, then tilted your head, a slow smirk spreading across your lips. “Cute,” you said, straightening and taking a step back. “But I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ chuckled, low and gravelly, as you walked away. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You didn’t stop, but you tossed a look over your shoulder, the curve of your smile enough to keep him hooked. “Don’t hold your breath, Maybank.”

But as you made your way behind the bar, the heat wasn’t just from the summer sun anymore.

The sun was setting now, casting the Outer Banks in golden light, but JJ Maybank wasn’t about to let you go that easily. Something about the way you dismissed him—like he wasn’t worth your time—lit a fire in him.

You weren’t his usual type. You were high maintenance, all diamonds and designer sandals. The kind of girl who expected the world handed to her on a platter. But damn, if you weren’t intriguing. Sharp tongue, sharp wit, and sharp enough to cut through his charm like a knife.

He stood up from his table, sliding his hands into his pockets as he watched you behind the bar, instructing the staff like you were running the place. Maybe you were. He wouldn’t put it past you.

When you turned, you spotted him leaning against the bar, watching. You rolled your eyes. “What now, Maybank?”

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer. “Figured you were too busy bossin’ everyone around.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” you shot back, resting your forearms on the counter. You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without a shred of hesitation. “Now, you followin’ me, or you just lost?”

JJ leaned in, closing the distance between you until your faces were inches apart. His voice dropped low, just for you. “Maybe I’m both.”

You blinked, your composure slipping for half a second before you masked it with a scoff. “Cute. But if you’re lookin’ for a handout, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

He smirked, catching the faint crack in your facade. “Who said anything about a handout? Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“You? A challenge?” You laughed, leaning back, but your pulse betrayed you. He was too close, his presence electric, and you hated that it was working. “Boy, please.”

JJ’s eyes traveled down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. But you’re the one still talkin’ to me.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but nothing came out. He had you, just for a second, and he knew it. That smirk widened, lazy and confident.

Before you could regain the upper hand, JJ stepped back, breaking the tension just enough to leave you wanting more. “Enjoy your drink,” he said, turning on his heel and sauntering away, his swagger as cocky as ever.

You stayed where you were, blinking, wondering how the hell you let him get the last word. But as you watched him disappear into the crowd, you felt it—that little spark of curiosity burning hotter than you wanted to admit.

JJ Maybank had your attention, and that was dangerous. For both of you.

The night rolled in, and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around The Wreck gave the place a dreamy vibe. You stayed longer than you planned, sitting at your table and letting the warm breeze dance over your skin. If you were honest with yourself, you were waiting.

Waiting to see if JJ Maybank had the audacity to come back.

You didn’t have to wait long.

“Thought you might still be here,” his voice drawled from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder, arching a brow. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, his T-shirt clinging to him in all the right ways, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of trouble.

“And what if I am?” you asked, turning back to your drink and swirling the straw lazily.

JJ took it as an invitation, sliding into the seat across from you like he owned it. “Figured you’d want some company. Can’t be easy keepin’ up that mean girl act all by yourself.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Oh, trust, I’m not actin’.”

“That so?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The way he looked at you wasn’t casual. It was deliberate, like he was daring you to react. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it.

“You must be real bored,” you said, leaning back and crossing your legs. “Or just desperate. I can’t decide which one’s worse.”

JJ chuckled, low and rough. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“‘Bout what?”

“‘Bout you,” he said simply. “You act like you got it all figured out, but I think you like pushin’ people away just to see who’s stupid enough to stick around.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned in, lowering your voice. “And you think you’re stupid enough?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again. “I think I can handle you.”

“Boy I’ll break you,” you scoffed, laughing softly. “You couldn’t handle half of me.”

“I dunno,” he said, his voice dropping, rougher now. “You seem like the kind of girl who likes seein’ people try.”

You stared at him, your stomach flipping in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t wrong. You liked the game, liked the power it gave you. But this wasn’t just any guy trying to impress you. JJ was playing your game and flipping the rules, making you wonder if you could keep up.

Before you could respond, he reached across the table, brushing his fingers against the back of your hand. It wasn’t much, just a light touch, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t pull your hand away. You didn’t say anything. But the heat between you was undeniable, sparking in the space neither of you dared to cross just yet.

“Good,” JJ said after a beat, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Means I’m gettin’ somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching your hand away and shaking your head. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But you didn’t leave. Neither did he. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over.

The tension hung heavy between you and JJ, crackling like a live wire. You told yourself you were just bored, letting him hang around for entertainment. But deep down, you knew better.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And maybe he did.

“So, what’s your deal, princess?” JJ asked, breaking the silence.

“My deal?” You arched a brow, stirring your drink as if you weren’t fazed. “What’s yours? What’s a Pogue like you doing sniffin’ around Figure Eight?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that said he didn’t care what you thought of him. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you don’t know when you’re out of your depth,” you shot back, tilting your head.

JJ chuckled, leaning forward again. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I think you like that about me. You’re used to all those Kook boys doing whatever you say. Bet you don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t play by your rules.”

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a line. He wasn’t wrong, but you’d never admit that. Instead, you let a slow, teasing smile curve your lips. “And you think you’re that someone?”

He held your gaze, his blue eyes piercing. “I know I am.”

The confidence in his voice made your stomach flip. You leaned closer, your faces inches apart now, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Boy, I could ruin you without even trying.”

“Do it,” he said, the challenge thick in his tone. “I dare you.”

The air between you felt suffocating, your heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, you wondered what it would feel like. You were a different breed, JJ would have his dick tucked, crying back to his friends if you got a hold of him

You could feel the heat between you intensify, like everything around you faded out, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. His gaze flicked down to your lips again, and you caught your breath, heart pounding as the words left your lips before you could stop them.

“Don’t tempt me, Maybank,” you murmured, the edge of your voice betraying the control you were trying to hold onto.

JJ’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it only deepened. “Then maybe you need to be reminded of how good it feels when someone calls your bluff. Maybe those kook boys don’t fuck you good enough, but me? I’ll fuck you just right.”

Your hand twitched, the urge to push him away—or pull him closer—fighting for dominance. But you stayed still, your breath shallow as you stared at him, a slow burn crawling beneath your skin. The space between you seemed to close with each passing second, and you fought the impulse to give in. To give him what he wanted.

He leaned forward, so close now that his breath was warm against your cheek. “I know you feel it, too. That thing between us. Don’t act like you don’t.”

You took a slow breath, the sharpness in your tone returning as you shoved the fire creeping up in your chest down. “You’re right,” you said, voice quieter now. “I feel it. But don’t get it twisted, Maybank. This little game of yours? It’s gonna cost you.”

JJ’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. He leaned in just a little more, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’m counting on it, princess.”

You froze. The tension was unbearable now, and for the first time, you felt that little bit of control slipping. But you weren’t about to let him see that. Not yet.

You pulled back quickly, putting a few inches of space between you, eyes narrowing as you gave him a look that said you wouldn’t back down. “You talk a big game, but can you actually keep up?”

JJ’s smirk never wavered, the cocky confidence radiating from him. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He stood up, slowly, never taking his eyes off you. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

As he walked away, you watched him, heart pounding in your chest, a mix of frustration and desire swirling inside you. The game was only just beginning, and you weren’t sure who would end up winning. But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you.

The days that followed were a blur of half-hearted attempts to focus on anything else. You were used to getting what you wanted, on your terms. But ever since JJ Maybank had come into your life, it was like everything shifted just a little. He was everywhere. The way he looked at you, the way he challenged you—it made your head spin.

You weren’t used to this.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself back at The Wreck, seated at your usual spot with a drink in hand, waiting for your friends. You told yourself you were just there for a good time, not to see if JJ would show up again. But as the minutes ticked by, you found your eyes wandering to the front door with the hope that he’d walk through it.

And, of course, he did.

JJ strolled in with that same lazy swagger, looking like he’d just stepped out of a beachside magazine shoot. He scanned the room, and for a second, his eyes locked onto yours. You narrowed your eyes at him, giving him the cold shoulder, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you couldn’t ignore the way his lips twitched when he saw you.

Without breaking eye contact, he made his way over to your table, sliding into the seat across from you without asking. His grin was cocky as ever. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “And what? You think I’m just gonna follow you around now?”

“I think you can’t stay away,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping a little lower. “I think you like the game. And you’re not ready to let me win yet.”

You huffed, trying to mask the little flutter in your chest. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But he didn’t back off. Instead, his gaze slid over you, slowly, deliberately, making your pulse quicken. He was testing you, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you.

“I’m not dreamin’, princess,” he said softly, his voice almost too low for anyone else to hear. “I’m just enjoyin’ the view.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your cheeks flush, but you kept your face neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his words had landed. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips curving into a playful smirk.

“Is that so? You sure you’re not just tryin’ to get under my skin?”

JJ’s smirk widened, and for the briefest moment, you saw something more in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper. But it was gone before you could name it. He leaned in, mirroring your posture, his face only inches from yours.

“I think it’s working,” he said, voice thick with something dangerous. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t feel it.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

JJ’s gaze flicked to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You don’t have to admit it, princess. But I know you’re just as interested as I am.”

You stood quickly, your chair scraping back as you leaned over the table, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Maybank.”

His smile didn’t falter. He leaned forward just enough to close the gap, his lips barely brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to show me, then.”

The electric tension that shot through your body in that moment was undeniable. Your heart raced, pulse throbbing in your ears. You hated how much you wanted him—how much you wanted to break and let him win.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pulled away, your composure returning as you straightened up. “Nice try, but I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ laughed low and easy, sitting back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

You walked away, but this time, you didn’t feel the relief you usually did. You knew something had shifted, and you couldn’t deny the pull toward him any longer.

And, somehow, you didn’t want to.

It was getting harder to ignore the pull, the way JJ seemed to be everywhere you went, always so damn close. The chemistry was undeniable, and every interaction felt like an unspoken dare. But the game was far from over. You weren’t about to let him think he had you figured out just yet.

But you also couldn’t help the way your body responded when he was near. Every time he got close, you could feel it—this electric charge between you that made it hard to breathe. You didn’t know whether to run or lean in, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy for him.

It was late one evening when you finally cracked.

The Wreck was quieter than usual, the late-night crowd thinned out, leaving the place with a calm, almost intimate atmosphere. You were sitting at the bar, swirling your drink in your hands, letting your thoughts drift. That’s when you felt the familiar presence.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was JJ. You could feel him, his eyes on you, drawing you in even from across the room.

“Couldn’t stay away?” he asked, his voice smooth, almost too confident.

You looked up at him, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you want, Maybank?”

He slid onto the stool next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body radiating into yours. “I told you, I’m just curious. Still don’t think you can handle it?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else lurking beneath it—something darker.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the temptation to let your guard down almost overwhelming. “I’m sure you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘handle,’” you shot back, though your words were laced with more heat than you cared to admit.

“Think I don’t?” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering, sending a shiver through you. “I can handle you. I think that’s exactly why you keep tryin’ to push me away.”

You looked at him, eyes locking. The intensity between you was suffocating, the kind of tension that had been building between you for days now. There was no going back.

Without thinking, you slid off your stool, standing right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat from his body envelop you. “Don’t try to act like you know me, JJ,” you said, voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “You couldn’t handle a girl like me.”

His eyes darkened, lips parting slightly as he leaned in, not giving you any space to escape. “I think I could.” His voice was a growl, a soft challenge hanging in the air between you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you almost couldn’t breathe. The way he was looking at you, the way his body was just inches from yours—it was too much, and yet, you wanted more.

He reached for your wrist, gently pulling you closer. You could feel the calloused warmth of his hand against your skin, a contrast to the softness of your own. “I’m not some Kook who’s gonna back down,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I’ll push you until you can’t stand it. Until you beg for mercy.” He licked your ear.

You swallowed, your chest rising and falling with each breath, your heart a wild mess in your chest. You wanted to fight him, wanted to say something, anything, to push him away. But it was hard to find the words when everything in you screamed to just give in.

Instead, you pushed him back, just slightly, your voice barely a whisper. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

JJ’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that said he was already three steps ahead. “I’m counting on it.”

Without another word, he let you go, standing up slowly and walking toward the door, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, struggling to collect yourself. But something inside you knew you weren’t done with him. Neither of you were. The line had been crossed.

And you both knew there was no going back.

It had been weeks since that night, and the tension between you and JJ hadn’t let up. If anything, it had only grown. There were still moments when you’d catch him looking at you with that cocky grin, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there were moments when he’d be all too serious, like he was trying to figure you out.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Your friends had dragged you out to a house party on the outskirts of the Outer Banks. The house was packed with Kooks and Pogues, loud music blaring from the speakers, people laughing and dancing like the world didn’t exist beyond this moment. You told yourself you were just here for the fun, to forget about everything else for a while. But you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

JJ Maybank was the last person you wanted to see tonight. And the first person you were hoping would show up.

You had been making your way through the crowd when you saw him—standing in the corner, drink in hand, with that same lazy confidence he wore like armor. His hair was slightly damp from the heat of the room, his shirt clinging to his chest, and that smirk? It was there, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

You paused, watching him for a beat. It was almost like he was waiting for you to come to him.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Instead, you found your friends and tried to lose yourself in the chaos, but it didn’t take long before JJ was on your radar again. You could feel his eyes on you, and every time you turned around, he was closer, moving through the crowd like he owned the place.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had been avoiding him long enough.

“Hey, princess,” JJ’s voice was low and smooth, right behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, almost too quickly, your eyes locking with his. “What do you want, Maybank?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his gaze slid over you made your chest tighten.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was something else in it—something deeper. “But I think I already know the answer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

JJ grinned, stepping closer, his body just a few inches away from yours now. The air between you was thick with tension, like a magnet pulling you toward him whether you liked it or not. “You’re thinking about me.” His eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, before meeting your gaze again. “Aren’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you hated that it was so obvious. But you weren’t going to let him win so easily. “Not as much as you think, Maybank,” you said, though your voice was a little less convincing than you intended.

JJ chuckled, a sound that made your stomach tighten. “You keep lying to yourself, princess. But you can’t lie to me.”

You tried to step back, but JJ’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist gently. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. I know you want this.”

The feel of his hand on your skin was like fire, and the tension that had been building for weeks came crashing down in an instant. You stood there, staring at him, your pulse racing.

“I don’t have to fight anything, Maybank,” you whispered, leaning in just enough so your lips were barely brushing his. “But don’t think you’ve won yet.”

JJ’s smirk grew, and for a second, it was almost too much to handle. He leaned in, lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “Oh, princess. We both know I’ve already won. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve said something—anything—to end this before it went too far. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your body betraying you once again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I think we both need a little privacy.”

The offer was tempting, too tempting. You knew the consequences, knew where this could go. But at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t ready to stop, not yet.

Without saying another word, you let him lead you through the crowd and upstairs, your hands brushing against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

JJ had this way of making everything else disappear, and the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hand in yours, the pull between you two undeniable.

As you stepped inside a random room, the cool night air from an open window hit you, but you didn’t feel cold—not with him so close.

He turned to you, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes locked with yours, the playful smirk replaced by something more intense, more real. “You’re not gonna regret this,” he murmured.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and every inch of you screamed to step back. But all you could do was nod, your voice barely a whisper. “I already am.”

JJ’s lips curled into a grin, and without another word, he kissed you.

The kiss was all fire—fierce, hungry, and urgent. You could feel everything in that moment: the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed, pulling you even closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but your body didn’t care.

“JJ..” you whispered, as his hand urgently went all over your body, tilting you head back as he started to place wet, open mouth kisses on your neck.

“I know baby…I know.” He whispered, as he started to take your clothes off one by one.

Wanting to have control, you pushed him onto the bed, a grunt escaping his lips as he watched you run your manicured hands along his thighs, that siren look in your eyes, making him wait to cum in that moment. Without another word, you bit onto your lip, as you watched yourself zip his pants down, him helping you get him out of his jeans, leaving him only in his drawers.

“Remember when I said you couldn’t handle me?” You asked him, seductively. JJ gave you a small chuckle and nodded his head. You hummed, looking at him as you stuck your tongue out, running it along the outside of his plaid boxers, a moan falling from his lips as his back fell onto the bed. You licked again, this time slower, and harder.

“Jesus..do something.” he groaned, looking at you again as you kept licking the base of his dick in a teasing manner. The music from the party was still going loud so if anywhere were to hear you, they would be listening to damn hard.

“What do you want me to do baby? Talk to me.” You spoke, pulling his dick out from the pee hole. It was red, very red, and pre-cum was leaking from the tip so you did what any girl would do and licked the pre cum from his dick before taking his entire tip into your mouth, making sure that your mouth was wet, before abruptly stopping, JJ’s eyes popping open, almost scowling at you.

“What happened to you putting me in my place? Guess you just like every other kook den huh white boy.” You teased, giving his tip another soft lick.

Your words must’ve ignited something inside him, because he immediately reached forward and gripped your neck, catching you off guard. It wasn’t enough to kill you but enough to stop a little air flow. He leaned close, until your lips were barely touching.

“I’ve tried to play by your stupid ass rules. You’re gonna see why those kook idiots could never handle a girl like you like I can.”

You were suddenly thrown on the bed, JJ growling in the process. He immediately started to discard your clothes, not wasting any more time and not giving you a second to say a thing. He looked at your underwear and smirked.

“Matching set huh? How’d you know my favorite color pretty girl?” He asked, leaning down to rub his hands along your neck, wrapping both his hands around it before running them along your chest slowly, feeling it ride up and down quickly as he continued to move down to your breasts. He smiled at you before opening your legs and getting in between them properly. He continued to rub, going along your sides and your stomach, truly admiring your soft brown skin, before stopping right where he wanted to. The party on the other side was long forgotten.

“That’s a coincidence. You ain’t nobody special boo.” You retorted, despite the vulnerable position. You mouth would never let up, and he knew that.

JJ smiled, almost as if he were taking you for a joke, as he started to pull your underwear off. “Okay baby.”

With your panties gone, he finally got a chance to get a good look at what he had been thinking about so much. It was like watching a kid get his favorite toy. Your pretty legs were wide and welcoming, your pussy leaking, almost as if it were fucking fake.

He was in awe, he had never seen anything so pretty. Not only were you fucking soaking, you had a fat fucking pussy, a fucking perfect, and he would’ve came in his pants right then and there if he didn’t wanna eat you so bad.

He took one long sniff and moaned loud, almost catching you off guard. Nobody had ever done that.

“You smell so fucking good mama , can’t wait to eat you til you cry…” He whispered, placing open mouth kisses on your plump thighs, holding a tight grip on them. He licked the space between your right thigh and your pussy, causing you to gasp and bite your lip “You talked so much shit I swear to god I’m gonna make you regret agreeing to let me have you.”

Part of you was scared of that statement, not knowing what he truly meant, but you knew you were about to find out.

“Such a pretty pussy..” He whispered against your lips, slurping and sucking on your clit until he pulled it into his mouth and let it go. You let out a loud whine as your back arched against the bed, trying to close your legs from the immense pleasure but JJ growled and snapped your legs firmly back in place, watching your facial expression as he sucked your clit harder, shaking his head into your sopping wet folds.

“What were you saying? About me not being able to handle you?” He asked against your lips. Before you could answer, he placed his lips back on your clit, sucking harder and harder until you were pushing his head off you, not like he’ll let you. As his sucking continued, he added two fingers into your pussy, slowly fingering you as he watched you unfold. His mission was to make you come at least two times. That way, you never stop wanting more.

JJ flattened his tongue on your clit, and set rubbing circles, using his tongue, enjoying the feeling of your clit throbbing against him. You moaned, almost too loudly, pushing his head into your waxed pussy.

“Fuck yourself on daddy’s tongue. Give me that nut baby.” He rasped, allowing you to move your hips against his mouth, letting you use him any way you wanted. He was eating your pussy better than any guy you had come across.

“Fuckkkkkk JJ, Im gonna come.” You cried, gasping loudly as he sucked your clit harder. Your vision going white as you came, not realizing the liquid that came out of you. When you came down, youopened your eyes to see JJ looking at you like you were a prized possession.

“I just made you squirt…”

You widened your eyes, but before you could say anything, his mouth was back on you for the second time and you almost choked on your moan from how sensitive you were, but he didn’t care. He had a point to prove.

JJ slide two fingers into you, and started fingering you hard, and fast. Not caring about how loud you were, JJ watched as you continued to let out the most beautiful moans he had ever heard, and he wanted to heard more. He moved up to your mouth, placing his lips on yours but not giving you a full kiss. His ego got bigger as he watched your eyes twitch before they rolled in the back of your head.

“Hey hey..eyes on me or I’ll stop. I need two more baby, two more and I’ll think about taking it easy on you.” He whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips finally found yours. You pulled your top down, pinching and playing with your breasts as you kissed him

He swallowed your moans, his fingers never letting up as you unraveled even more. He knew you were still sensitive, but you were so adamant and couldn’t stop running your mouth. It was his mission to give you what you been asking for. He tilted his head, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you suck on it before pulling it away, biting your bottom lip and letting it go. You were drunk off him and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped your face in his hands, squeezing your jaw to open it as he spat a big glob on spit into your mouth, smiling as he watched you swallow it and smile at him with your tongue out. You were a fucking freak. And he was going to take advantage of every minute of it.

JJ pulled away, but kept fingering you as he looked you in your face, watching even facial expression you make.

“Gimme another one, Gush on my fingers baby, I need it.” He whispered, fingering you harder, watching you writhe under him. He leaned down and took one of you nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting on the brown nub until you were a whining mess under him. He smiled against you.

“You talk all that bullshit, but look at you. A bitch for my fingers. A pogue. Wonder what your friends would think if they saw you.” He teased, slowly moving his fingers, his thumb rubbing at your clit harshly.

You smirked slowly, “What I do ain’t nobody business but mine, welcome to the roster big daddy.” You whispered, almost like a moan,

The way you were reacting to him made him want to do unimaginable things to you. He knew he had to really give it to you. You had too much mouth, never had anyone to put you in your fucking place. Tonight that changes, and JJ could give a fuck if anybody hears.

“Keep talking to me like that. It just makes me more eager to fuck you up mama. After I’m done with you, there won’t be a roster.” He replied, pinching your nipple, making you squeak.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and shoved them in your mouth, making you suck them. You moaned, silently thanking yourself for your good hygiene. Your tongue moved slowly in between his fingers, moving from one finger to suck, and then the next, making sure you stick your tongue out to lick up his finger slowly as he watched you, biting his lip.

“You’re a fucking slut.” He laughed, pulling his fingers away and pushing you back on the bed. “But i’m not done with you.”

JJ’s then went back to your pussy, slurping on your juices as loud as he could as you shook under his touch, hold his head with both your hands as you thrusted into his mouth, biting your lip. He moaned against you, letting you use him as your thrusts started to get rougher.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkk, I’m gonna fucking cum.” You cried, your face scrunched up in pleasure, using the same hand to hold him close to push him back, but he grabbed both hands and did his face in deeper, as you screamed, squirting on his dick.

“Stop running, or i’ll fuck you until you pass out.” He growled, before moving your legs up high, “Hold your legs up.”

You did as told, watch as he went from your pussy to your ass, suck on the rim. You gasped, from both pleasure and shock, watching as he went to town on your asshole, using his tongue to push past your rim, fucking your rim slowly. With you holding your legs up, rubbed your clit with one hand and pushed four fingers into your pussy with the other, thrusting aggressively

“Tell me how good i’m making you feel or i’ll stop right now and leave you right here.” He growled, sucking at the puckered hole, his hands still moving. Before you could say anything, you let out a loud gasped as you arched your back off the bed, squirting around JJ’s hands. Your legs shook violently as you came.

“Guess that said enough.” He laughed. “Suck my dick and I’ll think about giving you some dick mama.”

You said nothing, as you sat up and got in front of the bed, letting JJ move back to give you some space. You got on your knees and began rubbing his thighs, looking up at him with a drunk smile as he ran his hand across your cheek, before trialing up to your braids and gripping them hard. He used his other hand to hold his dick and guide it to your mouth, not giving you a chance to adjust to the size and length of his dick before he started thrusting into your mouth, Luckily for you, you give extremely good head, and adjusted quick, getting your mouth wet as he trusted in and out harshly. You wrapped your lips around his dick, watching as he hung his mouth open and let out a loud groan before taking his lip into his mouth and looking down at you as you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

JJ gripped your hair with both hands now, thrusting even harder into your mouth until he couldn’t reach anymore, smirking as he watched you take his rough he was being. Your eyes looking up at him was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He was looking foward to ruining you.

Before JJ could come, he pulled you off of him, leaning down to pick you up, and throw you right back on the bed, and turning you around on your hands and knees. He pushed down the middle of your back to deepen your arch, your ass perfectly in front of him. He moaned, giving your ass a loud smack causing you to gasp, before leaning down to kiss the area he hit.

“Read to get your life fucked up?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You scoffed, wiping his kiss off.

“Fuck me, or don’t. Either way I’ll get fucked.” You shrugged, wanting to rile him up. JJ must’ve caught, because his face turned dark and before you knew it he was thrusting into you from behind, having a harsh grip on your hips, one that’ll probably bruise later. His head tipped back as he roughly fucked you from behind, using one hand to grab you by your back and pull you to him, his thrusts powerful and firm. A moan coming ron you ever thrust.

“Imagine…dick like this every day for the rest of your life.” He moaned, using both his hands to hold into your breasts, your whines becoming louder as you feel yourself about to come again. “Shit it’s so fucking good, i’m gonna fuck you up over … and over .. and over…”

You moaned at his words, as he pushed you back down, your face in the pillows as his foot was now on top of your head, angling your body so he could thrust deeper. His thrusts were ruthless, not letting up on you at all. You almost felt dizzy, but you couldn’t tap out…now now, he just started fucking you.

But it was so good, You grabbed onto his ankle of his foot that he planted on your head and started aggressively throwing your ass back, catching him off guard, his hands now on his own hips as he watched you do the work, sounds of smack and squelching along with your combined moaned filled the room.

“Jesus fuck, slow down.” He gasped, his head tilted back but you didn’t listen, in fact, you went harder, loving the small whimper that just escaped him.

JJ was in bliss, he smiled into the ceiling as he felt your ass crash back into his pelvis again and again. He rubbed his hands slowly up and down your back, loving the feeling of you gripping the shit out of his dick. He quickly pulled out of you, turning you on your back and immediately thrusted into you, leaning down on you, grabbing your neck with both hands and pounding you into the mattress until you kept tapping him, officially tapping out but that didn’t stop him, he smiled. He took one of his hands and slapped you across the face before placing it back on the side of your neck, spitting in your mouth.

“Nobody could ever fuck you like this. Fuckkkkkk.”

“Perfect fucking pussy. That dick feel good baby? Hm?.” He groaned, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before propping it up on the lamp right across from you and pressing record, and ramming his dick into you at a unforgiving pace, causing you to choke on your moan, your cream creating a white circle around his dick.

“Tell the camera who’s making you feel good.” He demanded, forcing you to look at the camera. You finally got a look at yourself, your braids were kinda frizzy, and your eyes were low and tearful as you tried your best to take what he was giving you.

“It’s yours, daddy. It’s all yours.” You cried, feeling yourself sauirt once again tonight, your legs shaking drastically. You cried against him as you came again. JJ smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. Never in your life have you submitted to a man…ever. It felt foreign, but good at the same time.

“Good job baby.” He praised, allowing you to come down from your high. “Too bad I didn’t come yet.”

Your body went limp as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, turning the lower half of your body to the side, before lining his dick up with your pussy and thrusting harshly before pulling out and doing it again. You slowly started to slide up away from him, your pussy too sore to keep going. JJ growled and yanked you back down before pounding into your pussy, grabbing your hip and your thigh as he punished you.

“Stop *thrust* fucking *thrust* running.” He snapped, in between thrusts, using one hand to slap harshly at your face before stuffing his fingers in your mouth.

“I want everybody to hear you. I want every man whose ever fucked your to hear you.” He moaned, grabbed the phone from the night stand and turning the camera to face you.

You were ethereal, your eyes big and glossy, lips puffy and raw from the kissing and biting. You had hit marks and buckles littered across your collar bone and neck. A true masterpiece. JJ smirked at the thought.

Your walls began squeezing around JJ, prompting him to want to nut faster. He leaned down, face to face, moaning against your check as his breathe hit the side of your face. JJ’s moana and groans were getting louder, more rough. Him pumping his dick into made you moan loud, the way he touched you, sucked you. You just might drop all your other hoes.

“G-god I’m gonna cum all in your fucking pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good mama.” He could feel his orgasm coming as he watched your face etched in pleasure. JJ bit his lip, tilting his head back and he thrusted harder into you, chasing his own orgasm, the bed hitting the wall with every thrust.

“W-wait JJ- I’m not on birth control.” You gasped, clenching around him. He hummed.

“Guess we’ll be busy for the next 9 months.”

JJ thrusted into you one hard time before letting himself go inside you, moaning as he looked down at where you were connected and kept thrusting slowly, fucking his cum back into you as much as he could. When he was finished, he pulled out of you, laughing at your fucked out, cock drunk state.

Your body was limp, only thing moving being your chest because of how hard you were breathing. Your eyes towards the ceiling, not sparing JJ a glance as he looked at you lovingly.

“Hope you know this means your mine now pretty girl.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, which made him laugh.

“Told you I could handle you.”

[hydrangel1c]

i also have to say i mourn what non-netflix rafe could’ve been. there were so many interesting and complex aspects to his character. and unpopular opinion but i am not a huge fan of the suddenly going soft thing 😭 it’s just not realistic, like at all. he’s literally dangerous, only therapy would help him and he knows it too

His "redemption arc" is my villain origin story. It's so damn unrealistic, so...forced and while part of me is happy to know he has an ounce of comfort after what he has beeb through, it is unfair that they did not give us a buzz cut, murderous psycho.

The way they turned him into a lobotomized, domestic, rich boy with barely any violent acts or outbursts...ugh.

He needs no Sofia or Kiara, he needs theraphy...or a gun and to shove me to the fuckin' ground.

[kieeslove]

drew starkey on the big screens🥹🥹🥹

[missymiffy]

Kinktober 25'

October 1- Spanking

mean!Rafe Cameron x reader

wc: 500

Rafe's pace is cruel and unkind, one hand is held firm on your hip and the other swats your ass repeatedly, you gasp out in pain at each harsh swat.

“No!” You cry and kick your legs trying to get away from Rafe's cruel grasp, but his grip is firm and unwavering. His strong hand dances from one cheek to the other, returning to the same spot again and again, almost too much, before trailing downward to begin the routine anew.

“I don't want a spanking” you cry, kicking your legs against his firm grip; you wail again when he hits you in a sensitive spot for the third time in a row.

“-tuff” his voice is short; he's acting indifferent to your undoing, He continues to pepper sting and burn your backside.

You try to get up on your arms and almost succeed, freeing yourself from his persistent swats but his free hand pushes you down, and buries your face into the sheets. Rafe pauses-

“Keep the hands to yourself” you whine hopelessly into a pillow in response, kicking your legs trying to stand.

“No!” you don't mean it in defiance- it's a plea for him not to continue his relentless punishment, you think and feel you've learnt your lesson. 

“Keep your hands to yourself.” He starts up again but this time he hits you so much harder and faster, there's no time to breathe, his flat palm searing its mark on your ass.

You stay still trying so hard to behave, but the pain is overwhelming. You lose control of yourself. Your legs kick at his calves, trying to dodge his punishing force, but instead of ignoring you he stops again, his hand splayed on your ass possessively.

“Keep still.” he warns. When he resumes spanking you it's harder than before, his pace is slower giving you a second longer to recover but each swat is red hot against your ass.

“But it hurts!” you cry desperately, the burn of his palm cuts deeper and you beg for him to stop thrashing against him. Rafe stops to wrap his legs around yours, disabling your squirms.

“Fine.” you think its all over, your punishments over. But it's not. The next sound in the room was the solid crack of plastic against skin.

You wailed, trying to kick and writhe away but Rafe knew what you were like– his legs were caged around yours. Each swat of the hairbrush felt like liquid fire being poured onto your already burning skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ow ow! Ah ow!” you can't think straight, the pain is the only thing you can think about. You choke on your cries as tears well in your eyes. Your whole body jerks with each crack of the hairbrush and blistering pain burns through your lower body. 

“I didn't- i didn't do anything- i didn't do anything wrong!” you loudly wept into the sheets, a pool of tears and drool sticking to your face.

kinktober 2025

[ervotica]

brat taming maybe with like dark!rafe???

pairing; rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings; dark(ish?), dub-con if you squint but no smut, public punishment, spanking, dom!rafe, brat tamer!rafe

a/n; not a clue what this is tbh but trying to get back in the swing of writing for my fav boy <3 rafe requests and concept discussions are open as always! i always wanna talk abt this boy <3

“Are you gonna fuckin’ quit it or am I gonna have to beat the attitude out of you, kid?”

You gurgle nonsensically when his thick fingers curl around your ribcage to pull you into his chest, thrashing weakly as the flat of his hand taps against your cheek to sober you. Goosebumps raise on your arms and legs— partially from the night breeze, mostly from Rafe’s cruel touch.

“Rafe,” you purl, voice rising three octaves and swollen lips parting into a silent gasp when a resounding crack permeates the chatter of the party. Your cheeks are aflame, a nasty welt already rising on the soft skin with the distinct shape of a hand. You crinkle your nose indignantly, pushing at his firm chest even as you go soft and pliant in his grasp.

“Wanna try that again?” he snarks, clamping your jaw between his digits to anchor your gaze to his own. “Quit it.”

“You’re a prick,” you hiss, your temper flaring. He rolls his neck, eyes fluttering as he groans.

“Okay, kid.” He slaps you again and your eyes burn, glossing over with tears. “Just remember you did this to yourself, yeah?”

Dewiness clings to your neck as he backs you against the nearest wall, indifferent to the stares of the other partygoers that crowd the vast yard. His head dips until his brow touches yours.

“Turn around.”

“Not here, Rafe,” you breathe, that bravado you had disappearing at his insinuation— to spank you raw in front of everyone. “Can’t we go somewhere else?”

“No, we can’t,” he mocks your whining cadence. “Turn round before I fuckin’ make you.”

You squeal when his fingers press indents into the fat of your hips and spin you, a corded forearm pushing on the back of your neck to hold your cheek against the wall.

“Count.”

“Rafe, stop! ‘s embarrassing.”

His lips press to the shell of your ear. “I don’t fuckin’ care if you’re embarrassed, kid. Count ‘em, or it’ll be worse for you.”

You choke a sob against the brick that grates at your skin, no doubt rubbing it raw, wrestling with the tears that slip down your flaming cheeks as he delivers the first blow.

“O-one.”

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, granting you temporary reprieve with a kiss to the curve of your jaw.

The next three come in quick succession, and you writhe, reciting the numbers obediently through the lump in your throat.

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

By the eighth, you’re crying in earnest, any dignity you had somehow clung to slipping through your fingers as you sniffle at him with teary eyes.

His nose nudges at your cheekbone, his breath a ghostly touch against your scrunched features.

“Two more, kid.”

You swipe spitefully at your swollen eyes, lips pushing out into a pout as you fight back another onslaught of tears.

“Hurts,” you snivel.

“‘s supposed to, dummy.” Your ass is raw and you hiss and jerk as he delivers the last two before he’s finally freeing you of his grip, watching as you smooth down your clothes and drunkenly cuss and hiccup at him. He quirks an eyebrow in a clear warning that has the words dying in your throat, features crumpling further with every second he’s not consoling you.

Your lips are swollen, face flushed and ruddy from Rafe’s rough hands; you let him hike you up by your armpits and draw you into his chest, pressing your stinging cheek to his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Feelin’ better?”

You don’t deign to answer, needling your way further into his warm body and going boneless.

“You’re mean,” you purl, muffled through the fabric of his shirt.

“I know. I’m awful,” he concedes, smearing a kiss to the crown of your skull. Your eyelids fall shut at the tender contact, such a stark contrast to the way he’s been manhandling you.

“‘s time to go?” you ask, limply twitching in his grasp.

“Yeah. Let’s go home, kid.”

[nemesyaaa]

KKZKDKKDEKEKKEKEEOMGEKZKKDE MEAN!DOM!RAFE CAN RAIL ME. WAS AMAZING PLEASE. I NEED MORE ?;?;`{¥{`]%`{{¥}`{`{{| NOBODY CA' SAVE ME, IM GETTING FERAL

“‘s supposed to, dummy.” Your ass is raw and you hiss and jerk as he delivers the last two before he’s finally freeing you of his grip, watching as you smooth down your clothes and drunkenly cuss and hiccup at him. He quirks an eyebrow in a clear warning that has the words dying in your throat, features crumpling further with every second he’s not consoling you. I JUST NEED HIM LIKE THAT, TO GET ROUGH WITH ME WITH NO MERCILESS

“No, we can’t,” he mocks your whining cadence. “Turn round before I fuckin’ make you.” IM SCREAMING 😳😳😳😳

“Okay, kid.” He slaps you again and your eyes burn, glossing over with tears. “Just remember you did this to yourself, yeah?” WILL GET A TICKET FOR THE HORNY JAIL 😓😓

“Wanna try that again?” he snarks, clamping your jaw between his digits to anchor your gaze to his own. “Quit it.” MEAN, MEAN, MEAN, RAFE. FUCK ME.

“Are you gonna fuckin’ quit it or am I gonna have to beat the attitude out of you, kid?” THAT WAS SO GOOWD

[dreaming-for-an-escape]

Euphoria episode 2x01 remains #1 for me. Nothing will ever top Fezco beating the shit out of Nate.

[kieeslove]

the fact that all 3 of them have been in a movie/series w drew starkey

(margaret has an upcoming movie w drew!!)

[zyafics]

hi! i love your work. Can you do a insecure reader being comforted by Rafe? I need that in my life (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)

i am so sorry it took me so long!! i was contemplating deleting this because i thought it was so bad, but thankfully, i didn't. i hope you enjoy it! shoutout to @itneverendshere for saying she would smack the girl bsf, i hope to never become friends w ur mans

LINE WITHOUT A HOOK | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Insecure!Female Reader

Content — Lots of insecurity thoughts, Rafe comforting his girl best friend and you get jealous, past mentions of Rafe being the popular jock and you're the social outcast, and music is a clutch for you, but lots of fluff!

Word Count — 1.7K

Song — Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery

You were always a sensitive person.

It should come as no surprise that you became a sensitive girlfriend, too.

You don’t know how Rafe and you came to be. He was the stereotypical jock in high school; the one who had the entire student population in the palm of his hands, riding on waves of social admiration, and the unofficial mascot of pep rallies. You were the ostracized, quiet girl on campus; the one who could be found in the library, paging through heavy tomes, with music blaring through your earbuds at maximum volume.

Total, complete opposites.

But it happened.

Three years into your relationship should squash that unfortunate personality trait, but it hasn’t. Watching a movie in your shared apartment with Rafe, all his friends are present. Friends you don’t have a rapport with, friends you wanted there in the first place.

Yet, you’re uncomfortable. Sitting on the edge of the couch, hands tucked between your thighs, you’re trying to soothe your own deliberating nerves while everyone around is boisterous, noisy, and loud. You look to Rafe on several occasions, and he calms you down, but even then, the harbored bile in your throat doesn’t fade.

After dark, everyone leaves. They bid their farewells, pay their respects for your gracious hospitality, and when Rafe’s friends trickle out of the door, only three people remain: you, Rafe, and his best girl friend.

You never had a problem with his best friends. In fact, you pride yourself as a cool girlfriend who can tolerate her boyfriend having female friendships. You believe in that; you have to.

But Rafe’s best girl friend is going through something. Recently, she had broken up with her own boyfriend, and she was mellowing out the repercussions of losing a loved one. She needs comfort; she wanted her best friend.

To say the least, it’s awkward. They sit together on the couch, his arm slung around her shoulders, while you awkwardly gawk at them on the side. Like you’re intruding on something, an intimate moment that isn't privy to you.

And maybe it isn’t. Maybe Rafe has a right to comfort his friends, and his friends have a right to that privacy, but you can’t seem to starve that aching sense of betrayal that crawls up your stomach.

He doesn’t do anything inappropriate, his hands never travel too far from platonic territory, but you are sensitive. She’s crying into his chest, heaving through choked breaths, and you have the strongest urge to shove her off. Unfortunately, you are non-confrontational.

All you can do is watch, pathetically. Your heart feels like it’s being grated from the inside out. The more you saw him, comforting her, offering her safe words, the more you crumbled. You don’t want to say anything—he knew her longer—but you’d rather rip your heart out of your chest than deal with this.

Your foot brushes against Rafe’s, signaling. But he doesn’t take it. You do it again, and again, eyes pleading, but Rafe holds his concentration on his best friend. You don’t know if you imagined it, but you swear he pulls away.

Everything in the air drops. Oxygen stolen from your lungs, you can’t handle it anymore.

Standing from your seat, you head straight for the bedroom. You go straight to your bed, limp onto your side, and draw your knees to your chest.

You’re crying—but why? Rafe didn’t do anything; he didn’t cheat on you, he didn’t hurt you, but everything inside aches. You were being ignored in the comforts of your own home by the very person you shared a single thread of safety with. He knew you didn’t take new crowds well, like an easily-scared fawn that runs at the first sound of noises. Yes, you wanted this, but you didn’t want this.

Chest heaving with tightness, your breaths come out in shudders. You reach for the headphones on your nightstand and switch it on, flipping through your playlists for the loudest track.

Music has always been your clutch. You find solace in the rhythm and lyrics, drowning out your own damning thoughts. It’s easier to deal with the fury of another tempo than to deal with the destruction of your own heart.

This was also how you and Rafe came to be.

You were in the library, alone as always, listening to some song on wired headphones. Flipping through pages, minding your own business, you suddenly felt a breath against your shoulders, and a cool, smooth voice asked, “What are you listening to?”

It had startled you. You jumped back in your own chair and turned to see the most popular guy in school. His eyes were a warm, clear blue, and his smile was friendly, but you felt rattled.

You hadn’t spoken. You lost all abilities to.

“What are you listening to?” He had asked again, still posturing with the same level of friendliness. Somehow, you were convinced to take off one side of your headphones and allowed him a peek. He plugged in, nodding to the rhythm, and a covert smile fell upon his lips as he glanced back at you. “Nice taste.”

Now, you’re doing the exact same thing without him. Without his comfort. Without his warm presence. The volume of your song was loud and destructive, and your fingers clutched around the case of your phone for much-needed anchoring.

It’s pathetic. You shouldn’t feel this way.

But it had hurt.

The door creaks, and you don’t need to lift your gaze to see Rafe entering the bedroom. At the threshold, he fills the entire doorway, his presence so domineering, your heart skips a few beats.

But you refuse to react. Tucking yourself inwards, knees drawn to chest, arms wrapped around your calves, hoping to be swallowed by the very earth and disappear.

Or, at the very least, be as invisible as possible.

Rafe steps up to your bedside, but you don’t see him. Your back facing him, your eyes drawn to the blinds of your windows. You pretend to paint patterns, to notice everything—anything—outside of the demanding, silent presence of your boyfriend.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Rafe asks softly, his large hand lands on the side of your thighs, the callouses of his palm scraping against your skin in intimate strokes. But you can’t stop thinking about those same hands comforting another woman.

You don’t answer, scooting further into the bed, reeling away from Rafe’s touch.

He sighs, and you think: this is it. This is how he has had enough of you. A simple incident is enough to demonstrate the preview of a lifetime, and Rafe decides he isn’t meant for this type of commitment. Your heart sinks at the revelation, but you’re immobile, paralyzed by the inevitability.

Floorboard creaking, you expect Rafe to leave. Go outside. Back to his friend. That’s who he can picture his life with.

Instead, the mattress beneath you sinks, springs coiling under feathers. Strong arms wrap around your stomach, his touch causing a thousand embers to burst into flames, and he draws you into his naked chest.

All the muscles in your shoulders coil and tighten at first contact, but they slowly melt into his embrace, as if he’s the fire to a freezing day. You sink into his skin, bleed into his bones, and your chest shudders with an overflowing flood of emotions.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, the rhythm of the music pounding against your eardrums causing you to feel everything at once. Rafe’s arms around your waist tightens. “I’m sorry,” you sob.

“Why are you apologizing?” He murmurs into the nape of your neck, cradling you closer. Almost as if he needs this as much as you do. “You did nothing wrong.”

”I—“ You choke on your own air, “I felt abandoned.”

“You aren’t,” he reassures in a soft, caring voice, the same tone he used when he first met you. When he knew how to not scare you off. “You’re never a second choice for me.”

“But with your friend—”

“She was going through something,” Rafe clarifies, and while you know that, it doesn’t hurt any less. “But when I saw you suddenly leave, I knew something was wrong. I sent her home and came here.”

He chose you, is what you should be hearing, but instead, all that pulses is the echoes of your guilt. He sent away his grieving friend because of your jealousy.

Another sob rips from your raspy throat.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes in your ear, pushing away your hair to get a closer touch. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

“I was jealous,” you admit with much putrid, “I’m so sorry.”

Rafe says nothing, find the phone gripped in your hand, and lowers the volume until it becomes mute. You can feel everything, hear everything, much clearer. His touch turns light, and his large palm grazes her your exposed stomach briefly, stirring butterflies.

His mouth finds the nape of your neck, and Rafe murmurs lyrically, “I want you.” He declares with utmost honesty. “There’s no one in this world I want but you.”

That should comfort you. Strip away the last barrier of insecurities, but instead, you say, “I’m not easy.”

“I don’t want easy.”

“I’m so sensitive.”

“I can handle it.”

“I get so jealous,”

He lets out a laugh, the rumbles filling his chest meets your spine. “So do I,” he confesses, “I’m the most jealous person in the world. When you said you wanted to meet my friends—I got jealous.”

Your heart stops.

“Why?” You whisper.

“Because I want you all to myself,” he says with a sigh, “I didn’t want them to see you in this new light; how beautiful you are, how kind, how perfect. You’re my safety, my light, and I didn’t want to share that with anyone else.”

Somehow, it works. You feel calmer, like you find comfort in a kindred spirit. Moments pass for you to digest this newfound information, but the weight on your chest slowly lifts. Finally, you take off your headphones and tilt your head back to face Rafe.

His smile is gentle, like he was waiting for this precise moment. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you speak, and his grin widens.

“We’re okay?” He asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, “We’re okay.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[i-love-ptv]

rafe cameron fans pls help me find this series 🫩🫩

okay so it might’ve been an enemies to lovers idk, but the series was made last year n basically reader had like 2 little sisters i think n a crazy ass ex boyfriend or smth that she owed money to n rafe was trying to give her money..it was super angsty

i think in one of the chapters reader woke up to rafe like playing w her little sisters despite her telling him not to if that helps at all

genuinely these are all the details i remember n some of them i’m not even confident abt but hopefully smb knows what i’m talking abt 😭🙏🏽

[emtozier21]

Two generations of Hanlons and Urises!

[kieeslove]

1 year since jj died

[maverist]

rafe making you blow him even when you’re in public

ON YOUR KNEES… ROUND #6

Playboy Mansion

OYK Minilist & Main Masterlist

warnings! nsfw, smut, fem!reader, playboy house, bambi!reader x dark!rafe, voyeurism, public sex, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral sex, derogatory language, p in v unprotected sex, nudity & more

The Cameron's residence was pulsating by the time you arrived, the party in full swing with the house almost shaking to the beat of the bass bleeding from the living room. You weren't sure what to expect, this being your first time at an exclusive Cameron Halloween event, but it felt like something out of a Playboy magazine.

Lines of coke littered every surface, with champagne glasses filled to the brim of liquor more expensive than your rent. Rich boys in borrowed tuxedos continued their meaningless conversations as they hungrily watched the girl being fucked on the kitchen counter, regular entertainment at the Cameron residence.

You let out a squeak, too embarrassed to have been intrigued, rushing away in your impossibly high heels and tiny doe costume to try and find your boyfriend.

It takes you another 10 minutes to find him in his bathroom, eyes red, bag of coke clenched in his hand as he stares himself down in the mirror. You aren't quite sure what to make of it but choose to dismiss it as his mood completely shifts the second he sees you.

Rafe doesn't say a word, instead pulling you into a heated kiss, hands groping your ass, pressing your body towards his. You pull away first gasping for a breath as your boyfriend's hands continue to roam your body barely covered by the costume that he bought for you.

"Have you had a tour of the party yet?" You shake your head in response, smiling shyly as he offers to give you a personal tour, showing you all his favourite spots, but not before taking your purse and phone, dumping them in his room where they'll be safe.

Your first stop of the night is the pool. You immediately bring your hand to your eyes, flushing bright at the sight of a dozen girls topless, either in the pool or lounging by the poolside. Rafe chuckles darkly seeing your reaction, softly pulling your hand down.

"Don't worry it's all consensual, no one does anything they don't want to and they're all fucking gorgeous so why not flaunt it?" At the last part, a round of cheers go up.

A girl approaches you in a thin black lace catsuit, completely naked underneath, holding out her hand, asking you to join her in the pool. You blink widely, eyes flitting between her body and her face, struggling to form an answer as Rafe comes to your rescue possessively wrapping an arm around your waist. The girl rolls her eyes, getting the message, sauntering off towards the girls now playing chicken with the boys. She looks back, giving you a wink which causes you to curl further into Rafe's body, overwhelmed by all the new sights and sounds.

Rafe leads you inside to where the music's considerably calmed down. His next stop's the game room where the pool table's currently occupied with a girl, dress pulled down, black lace bra on show, with a man leaning over her as he snorts a line off her tits.

"Yo, set me up a line off her," Rafe calls out, smirking as he sees the frown on your pretty lips, "Bambi, I don't wanna make you do something you don't want to d-"

"I want to do it!" You burst out in reply, flushing as the guys let out hoots in celebration.

Rafe's eyes darken, "you sure baby?" You nod decisively, like hell was he gonna do a line off someone else's tits.

"Alright, hold it Top, lemme set it on my girl."

Topper helps you up on the table as you lie down, trying and failing to pull your skirt down.

"Gonna need to take this off, s'that alright?" Rafe asks, gesturing to your tight long sleeve doe-print top. You nod shyly, lifting yourself up to give Rafe easier access. You don't notice the crowd grow or the groans as their view of your tits springing free is blocked by Rafe's body.

"There's my girls." You blush, letting out a flustered moan as he uses his knee to separate your legs, the blonde smirking as you unconsciously grind yourself against his leg. Rafe leans down, snorting the line off your tits, amused by your giggle at the slight tickling sensation, "you're perfect."

Rafe helps you off the table, holding out your top to put back on, eyes darkening with lust as you struggle to put it on properly, tits barely covered as you make your way to the living room.

You head straight for the makeshift bar, downing three drinks in the time Rafe catches up with your giggly mess.

"Rafey, where's that girl?" Your boyfriend frowns, annoyed that you're asking him about someone else.

"What girl."

"The- the one that was getting uh fucked on this table," Rafe watches you curiously as you blink up at him innocently, "Can I- we do that?"

"You want me to fuck you where everyone can see?" You nod excitedly, pouting when Rafe laughs at you. "Rafey, please, f'me... I'll do anything just wanna show them I'm yours."

His eyes darken, lust taking over as he imagines you down on your knees taking him in front of a crowd of people, his personal little slut ready to do anything for him. Rafe doesn't say anything, instead pulling you to your knees in the middle of the room, smirking as you fumble with the belt buckle.

The second his cock is free, you wrap your small hand around him, pumping him once, twice, until a shine of precum coats his cock. The chatter slowly dies down as a crowd gathers, watching Rafe's annual Halloween tradition of getting his dick sucked by his plaything of the moment.

Your lips wrap around the tip, letting it rest before hollowing your cheeks to take more of him in. You blink up, mouth full of cock and still so much more left, but you ain't a quitter. You bobbed your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could fit, cock shiny and wet from your spit.

Rafe didn't say anything, he didn't need to, you were perfect for him, for this and everyone could see he'd found the one. Your eyes watered but you didn't stop, building up the rhythm as you increased the speed, drawing several moans.

Your tongue glided along the vein running down his cock, Bambi eyes blinking up at his as his hips stuttered, the vibrations from your own moans causing thick ropes of cum to hit your tongue, swallowing as much as you could.

You giggled, pulling your pretty mouth off his cock, asking the crowd, "how'd I do?" You were definitely coming back next year.

© credits to ZYA8TRACKS/ZYAFICS for the layout

DREW’S NOTE… not proofread, it's incredibly dark & smutty and very playboy mansion inspired. thank u anon for this ask and i hope i did it justice.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know. And, if you want to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts, which includes commenting &/ reblogging (credits to @zyafics).

TAGLIST FOR OYK... @deerlaned , @zya8tracks & @overrlygoinn

[cherrywriterrr]

haunted

bodyguard!rafe x reader

warnings:18+ mdni!!!mentions of rape,abuse, cheating, manipulation, self worth issues, self-blame, grief,self loathing, intrusive thoughts?? drug abuse, violence, family issues, mental health struggles, sexual thoughts.

nine ten eleven

okay, maybe you’re wondering what rafe’s backstory is. fair enough, i’d too.

you see… when he got to your mansion the first time for his bodyguard job, it wasn’t because he liked or even wanted to do it—no way—it was because he needed the money and the free roof over his head.

why a bodyguard for the senator’s daughter? because he knew how to fight, very well, that’s all he knew.

it all started in his teens years, smaller fights transforming into blood being spilled. it wasn’t because he liked it—at least not at first— it was because he felt like he needed to fight to keep up the appearances.

being ward’s son meant being tough, intelligent, always two steps ahead. so what did he do to keep that reputation? he started being a menace.

those fights transformed into reckless drinking, every day even, just to feel something more than just anger and sadness. didn’t take much for the drinking to transform into drinking and smoking weed, wich to be honest, wasn’t that bad. i mean we all did it at some point, right?

whatever, then the smoking and drinking became coke. just at parties, to feel more sure of himself. better. more powerful.

that didn’t have the best outcome though, because, doing lines to forget about his daddy issues quickly turned into doing lines every single day. after any small inconvenience, even after just waking up.

one night, about a year or so ago, before he came here. that’s when it happened. the night he couldn’t forgive himself for.

the night he came home spun out, heart racing so hard it felt like a fucking hammer in his chest. sarah was waiting up, scared out of her mind. asking where he’d been. what he’d taken. if he was okay.

and rafe—god, rafe didn’t even hear her.

he just snapped.

slapped her. once. not hard. not hard—but enough to make her cry.

and the second he saw her tears, he sobered the fuck up.

he fell to the floor. begged. held her knees and cried like he hadn’t cried since he was a kid. she said she was okay. she said she knew he didn’t mean it. she said she forgave him.

but she told ward anyway. and that was it.

no second chances. no rehab. no “get better soon.” just you’re an embarrassment, you’re not my son, get the fuck out and don’t come back.

and that was that.

rafe lived out of a hotel for a week before the card stopped working. credit lines frozen. voicemail full. the coke ran out quick, and the withdrawals came like fucking hellfire.

he thought about dying. not in a poetic way. not in a “leave behind a note” kind of way.

just… going out and picking a fight he couldn’t win

but then your dad called. said he needed a bodyguard for his daughter. rich girl. high security. good money. full room and board. just for six months.

and rafe thought, fuck it.

he’d play guard dog.

he didn’t expect you.

he didn’t expect the way your laugh would echo in his chest for hours after you’d walked away. he didn’t expect how you’d yell at him when he got too protective, but still come back to patch up his bruises anyway. he didn’t expect to fall for the way you whispered his name like it meant something holy.

but mostly… he didn’t expect you to be the first person since sarah who made him feel worth saving.

and now here rafe is.

in his room. in your mansion. lying flat on a bed that isn’t his, in a house that doesn’t belong to him, bruised all to hell, stitched and aching, and somehow… still hurting worse in places no doctor can reach.

after he just told you he couldn’t do this.

this, as in—you.

you and him. whatever the hell that kiss-almost-was, whatever those middle-of-the-night confessions were. whatever he felt in his fucking chest when you held him like he was yours.

he told you no. like a fucking idiot.

and now he wants to punch himself in the face.

he stares at the ceiling with his jaw clenched, stomach twisted, fists curled so tight his knuckles go white even under the bruises. one stitched hand throbbed like hell. the other still smelled like your skin from when you kissed it.

he could still feel it. your lips. soft. forgiving.

and he just let you walk away.

jesus christ, he thinks. you’re a fucking coward.

he wants you. of course he fucking does. how could he not?

you’re all he thinks about. all he dreams about. even now, the scent of you still lingers on his shirt, that little jasmine perfume you wear, the kind that makes his lungs tighten and his eyes sting with everything he doesn’t deserve.

but he can’t do it. he won’t.

because what if he breaks again?

what if one night the wrong word leaves your mouth and he snaps like he did with sarah?

what if the rage comes back? what if you flinch?

he could never live with that. he doesn’t trust himself.

he’s been clean. yes. for months now. he hasn’t touched a line. hasn’t so much as smelled a drink. but that doesn’t erase the monster inside him. it just locks it in a prettier fucking box.

you deserve more than that. you deserve soft. stable. someone who could love you out loud without the risk of spiraling.

not someone who almost kissed you with busted ribs and stitched-up arms, only to pull away like he hadn’t just wanted you for years.

he grits his teeth.

“fucking pussy,” he mutters to himself. “fucking coward.”

he turns onto his side, slowly, painfully, dragging the blanket higher even though he’s burning under it. his body’s wrecked. his thoughts are worse. every muscle aches, but nothing hurts like the hollow spot in his chest where your presence used to be.

you kissed his goddamn hand. and he let you walk away.

and still, deep down, some stupid part of him hopes—maybe tomorrow. maybe you’ll come back.

maybe you’ll still look at him like that.

maybe, if he’s careful… he won’t break it. won’t break you.

he runs a hand down his face.

slow. rough. stitched knuckles grazing old scars.

his jaw clenches again as he sinks deeper into the mattress like it might eat him whole. like maybe that’d be easier. like maybe vanishing would be better than feeling this—this gaping hole in his ribs. the one that opens wider every time he thinks of you and what he can’t let himself want.

and still, the thoughts spiral. like they always do when the room gets too quiet.

his mind drifts…to the past. to another reason he can’t do this. not just the anger, not just the coke, not just ward or the senator or the rules.

cora.

fuck.her.

she was the only girl he ever let in before you.

he thought she was different. he was good to her. hell—perfect.

he brought her flowers. remembered the shit she liked on her coffee. let her sleep on his chest every night and never once pushed for more when she wasn’t in the mood. he listened to her music. drove her to her fucking hair appointments. skipped parties with his boys to stay in and hold her.

he did everything right. and still—she cheated.

not once. not even just a slip-up.

she cheated. over weeks. maybe months. he still didn’t know how long.

and her excuse? “you couldn’t say it back.”

what?

“i love you,” she said. “you never said it back.”

like that was enough reason to fucking ruin him.

like he was the broken one.

like she didn’t understand that he was raised in a fucking house where hugs were saved for public image, where “i love you” meant nothing unless it was on a goddamn Christmas card for a photo op.

he never even heard ward say it. so how the fuck was he supposed to learn it?

how the fuck was he supposed to say it out loud when it sat like lead in his throat? when it burned his tongue? when no one ever said it to him unless they wanted something?

and now, now he’s ruined.

cora did that.

she carved into the last of what was tender in him and ripped it out just because he couldn’t say three words he wasn’t taught to believe in.

so now, every time you look at him like you could love him, it makes him ache.

not because he doesn’t want you. but because he’s scared he’ll ruin it again.

that he’ll fuck it up like he always does.

and he’d rather break his own heart a thousand times than let you look at him the way cora did—like he’s a disappointment.

so yeah.

he told you no, he let you walk away.

because he’d rather keep you safe from him than get another taste of love he’ll never be brave enough to keep.

he turns over. pillow pressed hard against his side. eyes wet. breathing sharp.

he whispers it into the dark room.

“you’d hate me if you really knew.”

and the worst part is—you probably wouldn’t. and that’s what makes him hate himself even more.

okay, i can’t lie… you aren’t better than him right now. your ego is fucking shredded after what rafe said.

“can’t do this.”

like—what? what the fuck does that even mean?

who does he think he is?

you’ve been through hell. actual hell.

you’ve been raped. abused. torn apart and stitched back together with shaking hands.

your mom fucking died and you still got up the next day. you still smiled at your dad.you still fought

and somehow—somehow you thought maybe… maybe the universe owed you something back.

something warm. something good. like maybe rafe.

but no. no, of course not.

because apparently rafe cameron is too broken to want you. or maybe—maybe you’re too broken for him.

god. you don’t know. you wish you did.

but all you can think about is how fast your heart shattered in your chest when he said it. when his voice was all guilty and distant, like he was scared of even being seen near you.

and fuck… maybe it is your fault.

maybe you’re too loud. too opinionated. too fucking much. you talk back too much. you always have something to prove. you argue about dumb shit—just to feel like you’re not being stepped on. you say you’re independent but you crave closeness like it’s your goddamn drug. you can’t blame him, not really.

you keep telling yourself you can, that you should, but it just circles back into that pit in your chest that says: maybe no one will ever really want you. not in the way you want to be wanted.

and that’s not his fault. it’s yours, right?

for being fucked up. for surviving. for still hoping.

your eyes sting but you blink fast, not letting them fall. not here. not now. not when you’re still wearing yesterday’s mascara and you look like a ghost.

you walk to the mirror and stare. your lip’s a little chapped. your eyeliner’s smudged. your eyes are hollow in a way you don’t even try to hide anymore.

you trace the line of your jaw.

the faint outline of your medusa tattoo is visible through your shirt on the back.

you’re a war survivor. a riot. a goddamn volcano.

you’re not weak.

so why the fuck does it hurt so bad that he doesn’t want you?

you sigh. hard. angry. “fuck him,” you mumble to yourself.

then softer“no, fuck me for caring.”

you sit on the edge of your bed and bury your face in your hands.

and god, it’s so quiet. so quiet you almost think you can hear him, thinking about you too.

okay, if i’m gonna be realll honest… this isn’t the first time someone told you you weren’t enough. or too much.

you remember the first time it all went wrong.

you were sixteen. young. stupid. full of love and too desperate to be held by someone.

his name doesn’t matter now. just that he was older. smoother. had a car and a voice that made you forget your gut instincts.

he was sweet at first.

texted good morning and bought you your favorite candy and said you were different.

but then… he started calling you dramatic. needy. annoying.

told you your laugh was too loud. that you were embarrassing when you cried. that no one would want you if he didn’t.

and then came the hands. the bruises. the choking. the tears you wiped away in bathroom stalls with trembling fingers, telling yourself

he just had a bad day.

you just said the wrong thing.

it’s not abuse if he apologizes, right?

but it was. he raped you. multiple times.

called it “fixing your attitude.”

called it “love.”

and you… you believed him.

because what else do you call it when someone stays? even if it’s with bloody knuckles and cruel words. even if it makes you feel small, and scared, and cold inside.

you forgave him. over and over.

because that’s what love was to you. forgiving. hurting. pretending.

and it wasn’t even you who left.

he did. after all the breaking, after the rape, after the blood and silence—he cheated.

cheated.

and said you were too boring.

that you didn’t make him feel anything anymore. like you were a toy he’d broken and got tired of.

and that… that destroyed something in you.

you didn’t cry that night. you just stared at the wall and whispered “okay.” like that word could glue all your shattered pieces back together.

and after that? you just stopped letting people in. you kissed strangers at parties.laughed too loud. drank too much. said you don’t believe in love like it was a fact.

and then came him.

rafe cameron.

all bruised knuckles and heavy eye contact.with those eyes that look at you like you’re something holy and untouchable—and that’s the problem, isn’t it?

because you’re not. you’re not clean. you’re not soft. you’re not new.

you’re made of trauma and scars and screams swallowed at seventeen.

and maybe that’s why it hurts so bad when rafe says “we can’t.”

because for once—just once-you wanted someone to choose you.

not out of pity. not out of obligation. but because they saw you. and still wanted you.

but even he doesn’t. he’d rather suffer than hold you.

and you’re tired. so fucking tired of being too much for people who were never enough for you.

you remember the first time you saw him.

standing by the marble columns like he didn’t want to be there, arms crossed, chest rising and falling slow and bored and arrogant.

black t-shirt, sleeves tight on his biceps, veins on full display. aviator sunglasses pushed halfway into his hair. a faint bruise still healing near his jaw like it belonged there.

you were in pajamas. just a tank top and some shorts you didn’t expect anyone outside your house staff to see.

your dad gestured at him and said, “that’s your new bodyguard.”

and you—staring, dumbstruck, mouth a little parted—laughed and said “haha. very funny. where’s the real one?”

not because he didn’t look strong. not because he didn’t look capable.

but because he was hot. jaw-dropping hot.

arms of a fighter, eyes of a villain, mouth of a sinner. hot in the kind of way that made your thighs clench without warning.

hot in the kind of way that made your brain short-circuit with one look. hot in the fuck-me-right-now-against-the-wall kind of way.

and he didn’t even try.he just blinked at you, annoyed, and said in that gravel-thick voice“i am the real one.”

and you had to physically turn your face away so he wouldn’t see how red you got. or how your legs shifted because your core was fucking throbbing.

it was embarrassing. it still is. you’ve never wanted someone so instantly. so helplessly.

and not just sexually—though, god, yeah that too.

there was something about his anger. his quiet.

his brooding silence, like he was trying to keep the whole world from falling apart and failing.

and now here you are. in the same house. months later.

still aching. still wanting. still remembering that stupid moment, in your stupid shorts, with your stupid flushed cheeks—when you looked at rafe cameron and thought:

i’m in so much fucking trouble. my dad will kill me.

you hate that you’re still thinking about it.

the way he looked when he said no. bruised and stitched and too fucking beautiful to be real.

you keep pacing in your room, every corner filled with the tension of it. he had no right to say that and still look like that

no right to whisper that he meant it—every word of it—and then follow it up with we can’t.

you want to scream. you want to cry.

you want to slap him across the face and then straddle him like nothing ever happened.

because the thing is…you still want him. of course you do.

you want that fucking mouth on yours.

you want those hands—scarred and calloused and always clenched—to grab you by the waist and pull.

you want to feel the rough press of his bruised chest against your back, his voice thick in your ear saying you don’t know what you do to me.

you want to find out what he sounds like when he’s losing control.

when he’s inside you, saying your name over and over, breathless and deep.

when he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care if it ruins everything.

and the fucked-up part is, you wouldn’t stop him. you wouldn’t even hesitate.

you’d let him ruin you. you’d thank him for it.

you hate how much you want him. you hate how soaked your panties are just from the memory of him in your bed, stitched and shirtless, voice raw from trying not to fall apart.

he rejected you. he said it couldn’t happen.

and now he’s probably on the other side of the mansion wall, pretending it meant nothing.

well, good for him. must be nice to have control.

you yank open your dresser, pull out another pair of shorts and throw them across the room.

why does he get to look like that?

why does he get to touch your hand, say he meant it, and then still walk away?

why does he get to be the one with all the power?

you sit down on the edge of your bed, fists clenched, chest rising like you’re mid-argument with no one.

and then, click. you freeze.

your door.the handle turns. slow. too slow.

your breath catches in your throat as the door creaks open, the light from the hallway spilling in, golden and tense.

your heart jumps straight into your mouth, blood rushing low and hot as you lift your eyes— and all you manage to say, through clenched teeth, flushed cheeks, and shaky breath is“…fuck me.” not annoyed. not angry. just absolutely, completely flustered.

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tags:🏷️ @rafesbabygirlx @kys4-20 @pluviophilis @cherryhoneybabe @blissfulbutterfliess @meetmeintheemeraldpool @k4yr14 @iconiccolo @devoutedlover @viqtoria @vaelyann @qversazex @scorpiosolar @hunzzzzz @sc05 @t0x1cfaerie @purplerose291 @mrspuffdriving @sfoiasturn @silkylovey @xoxorafe @kieeslove @toterry @rcwhore @lmnop00 @rafescloudie @reesereadsalot

[kieeslove]

reread this and idk y i expected not to be sad

[aemnd-moved]

⸜̑⸝͂ ⋮ mdni, 18+ › rafe cameron 𝑥 bunny!reader ꣑ৎ 𓏲 ݂ ˖ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. this lil drabble is based on this req.. ꒰ ´͈ ᵕ `͈𓏼 ྀིᥩ꒱ i'm sry this took so long, sweet angel... ⸜̑⸝͂

it starts the same way it always does, with you, blissfully unaware. you're standing at the bar, laughing at something one of rafe's friends said, sunlight caught in your hair, pink gloss catching the light when you smile.

you're all sugar and softness, swaying in your miniskirt, a sweet drink in your hand that matches your nails. you don't notice how the room bends around you, how every set of hungry eyes shifts in your direction. you never do.

but rafe notices. he's across the room, watching like a storm behind glass. there's a vein ticking in his forehead, a joint burning down between his fingers. his friends are talking, laughing, unaware of the heat building behind his eyes. he doesn't join in, he never does when you're around other men.

because you forget, sometimes, how easily the world looks at you. you forget that when you lean over the counter to reach for your straw, the neckline of your small top dips just enough to make him see red. you forget that when you tilt your head and smile, all innocent and sweet, it feels like a sin he can't let anyone else commit. you forget, but rafe never does.

when the guy at the bar touches your arm to get your attention, rafe's whole body goes still, stiffening to the point that his muscles bulge. you don't even notice him standing behind you until his hand finds your waist, firm and final. "bunny." you jump a little at the sound of his voice, half turning, smile bright and oblivious. "hey, baby! i was just talking to—"

"i know who you were talking to," he murmurs flatly. his hand doesn't move from your waist, and his tone is too soft, too controlled, too dangerous in its calm. "go sit down." you blink, confusion flickering through your features. "rafe, i—"

he looks down at you, blue eyes sharp as broken glass, and whatever words you had die on your tongue almost instantly. you swallow, shifting a little in your kitten heels. his expression softens just a fraction when he sees it, your small, nervous nod of obedience.

"good girl," he purrs, pleased when you finally listen to him, and the praise slides through you like warm honey, dizzying and suffocating. he brushes a rough hand down your arm, the gesture deceptively tender. "go on, bun."

you move toward the table like a ghost, heart fluttering against your ribcage. you don't see what happens behind you, but you hear the low murmur of rafe's voice—cold, clipped, final. the other guy leaves soon after, face pale, drink unfinished.

when rafe finally joins you, you're fidgeting with your thin straw, doe eyes darting to him. he doesn't speak for a while, he just sits there, thigh pressed to yours, one arm slung heavily across the back of your chair. the weight of his silence is heavy, possessive, and strangely comforting.

"did i do something wrong?" you mewl softly, after a long stretch of quiet. he exhales through his nose, tilting his head toward you. "you don't ever realize it, do you?" you blink, pouting, your head tilting in confusion like a fragile kitten. "realize what, rafey?"

"how they look at you." his hand slides from the back of your chair to your neck, thumb tracing the delicate line of your throat before his fingers brush over the pink diamond charm hanging from the necklace he gave you for your birthday. "how they'd take pieces of you if i let them."

your glossy lips part, false lashes fluttering, unsure of what to say. you know you should tell him he's overreacting, but you can't, not when he looks at you like that, like you're something fragile he has to keep from breaking. "i wasn't trying to—"

"i know," he cuts in, soft but firm. "you never do." his calloused thumb brushes your jaw then, tender yet rough with affection. "that's the problem, baby." your chest tightens, a strange ache blooming there. he leans in closer, breath warm against the delicate shell of your ear. "do me a favor, bun," he murmurs, smirking softly, voice dark as the night sky that makes your pulse jump. "next time some guy looks at you like that? you look right back at me instead."

you nod, small and obedient, and his grip loosens just a little. "that's my girl." the words are low, rough, and something in him eases as he says them. he leans back, casually, now seeming relaxed, pulling you closer until you're settled in his lap, his hand resting on the curve of your ass as you lean against him. the room fades away, the music, laughter, all of it, and you sink into the warmth of him, the silent certainty.

rafe presses a kiss against your temple, quiet, reverent, and it's the kind of touch that says everything he won't. that he's jealous, yes. possessive, dangerously so. but under it all, it's love, fierce and unyielding, the only way he knows how to give it.

and you, his sweet, ditzy bunny, his bright little dream in a cruel world, you'll always stay close. because where else could you go, when rafe's arms are the only place that ever felt like home?

© 𝑎𝑒𝑚𝑛𝑑. est, 2025.