the two of you barely make it ten feet inside the house before you're breathless, tripping over each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. you’re clinging to rafe’s neck like a koala, cheeks flushed, both of you reeking of tequila and saltwater and that electric, dizzy feeling of being absolutely wasted and so in love it hurts.
“i swear,” you giggle, pressing sloppy kisses up his jaw, “you tried to fight that guy over me.”
“he bumped into you,” rafe grumbles, slapping your ass with one big hand while he kicks the door shut. “and then you laughed at his dumb joke. nah. you were flirtin’ .”
“was not!”
“were too,” he smirks, already stumbling toward the couch with you still wrapped around his waist. “you got all giggly. that’s your ‘i wanna jump his bones’ laugh.”
“that is not my laugh,” you say indignantly—then promptly let out a ridiculous hiccup followed by another burst of breathless laughter.
rafe full-body snorts as he drops onto the couch with you in his lap, both of you sinking deep into the cushions. “that’s the fuckin’ laugh. right there!"
you slap his chest half-heartedly, grinning like a fool. “shut up.”
“make me.”
so, you kiss him—messy and eager, tongues brushing, teeth clicking, both of you laughing right through it. your hands are in his hair, tugging gently, and he’s already mouthing at your jaw between kisses, muttering something about how you’re “too fuckin’ pretty” and “wearin’ that damn dress like you don’t know what it does to me.”
“you sound like a perv,” you mumble into his mouth, and he grins wider, dragging you closer.
“i am a perv,” he says, lifting your hips and grinding you down against the hard bulge in his jeans. “for you. only you.”
you both groan at the friction—needy and hot—and then immediately break into laughter when you try to roll your hips again and end up kneeing him in the side.
“ow!—” he wheezes, rubbing his ribs, but he’s still smiling like an idiot. “you tryna break me, baby?”
“i’m trying to ride you,” you giggle, face hot as you try to shimmy your dress up higher. “but you’re too slippery or something—”
“oh my God,” he laughs, full-belly and bright and tipsy as hell. “you’re literally insane. c’mere.”
he grabs your face, kisses you hard, then yanks your dress up with one swift motion, exposing your panties. his eyes flick down and he groans dramatically. “are those fuckin’ pink?”
you nod proudly, biting your lip. “they’ve got little hearts too.”
he blinks at you, clearly trying not to laugh. “you wore little heart panties to a party where i was gonna get drunk and have to behave myself?”
“i forgot,” you say sweetly.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he growls—and then hooks his fingers in the waistband and yanks them down with zero finesse. you squeal, trying to wiggle free, but he’s got you pinned with one hand gripping your hip and the other sliding right between your legs.
he groans again when he feels how wet you are. “fuuck. you’re soaked.”
“i always get like that when you’re annoying,” you say, but your voice cracks when he brushes his thumb over your clit.
“oh yeah?” he starts circling slow, lazy, just enough to make your thighs twitch. “how annoying am i now?”
you try to glare but you’re giggling again, high-pitched and breathy as your hips rock into his hand. “still so annoying.”
“bet you won’t think that when i’m inside you.”
“prove it.”
he lifts you again—barely managing with how much you’re both laughing and half-falling over each other—and tugs his jeans down just enough to free his cock. when it springs out, thick and flushed and already leaking, you let out a soft gasp and reach for him immediately. rafe wraps a hand around himself and gives it a few slow strokes, watching the way your eyes glaze. “you gonna sit on it or just stare at it all night?”
“i’m admiring it,” you say, smirking. “you should be flattered.”
“oh, i’m flattered,” he grunts as you guide him to your entrance. “now stop flirting and sit the fuck down.”
you sink onto him slow, moaning at the stretch, your head falling back as he groans beneath you. “hmmn fuck, baby,” he hisses, hands gripping your thighs tight. “every single fuckin’ time.”
you’re already clenching around him on purpose, and he knows it. “you’re such a little freak,” he says, half-laughing, jaw slack as he watches you start to roll your hips.
you whimper, body already trembling from how deep he is. “feels so good,” you breathe, eyes fluttering as you start bouncing in his lap, slow at first. “you’re so deep, rafey…”
“yeah? that’s what that dumbass at the bar’s missing,” he mutters, and you burst out laughing again, nearly losing your balance.
“oooh my God, you’re so petty!” you wheeze, but you’re still grinding on him, your nails digging into his shoulders.
he starts thrusting up to meet you, harder now, his hands guiding you down every time you try to lift. “not petty,” he pants. “just makin’ sure you remember who this pussy belongs to.”
you slap his chest, gasping and laughing at the same time. “rafe!”
“say it,” he growls, eyes dark but glinting with mischief.
“yours!” you cry, half-moan, half-laugh, “mnm, baby, it’s yours, you already know that—”
“damn right it is,” he grunts, angling his hips up just right so he hits that spot inside you that makes your whole body jolt.
you slap a hand over your mouth as your head tips forward, giggling so hard it’s shaking your whole body. “stop—stop doing that, i’m gonna—oh my God—i’m gonna cum laughing—”
“yeah?” he grins, dragging you down onto him over and over. “gonna giggle your way through an orgasm like the little mess you are?”
you nod frantically, eyes rolling, and that only makes him move faster, holding you tight as your thighs start to tremble. you cling to him, still letting out choked little laughs even as your moans get louder, more desperate. you cum with a strangled cry, still smiling, still laughing, body going tight as your orgasm crashes over you. rafe watches, completely obsessed, thrusting up into you with desperate groans until he follows seconds later—burying himself deep, moaning against your shoulder, his whole body tensing as he spills inside you. you both collapse into each other, panting, sweaty, giggling so hard you can barely breathe.
“hoooly shit,” you say between breaths, pressing your forehead to his. “that was so…stupid.”
“so stupid,” he agrees, eyes still closed, hand lazily rubbing up your back. “we’re idiots.”
“but like…” you pause, still smiling. “the hot kind.”
imagining rafe finding out another man been buying things for reader and him losing it
warnings: dealer!rafe, jealousy/possessiveness, unprotected sex, rough handling, choking, arguing, mentions of sex work/stripping, slight dumbification
a/n: thank you so much for this request anon!! i had a similar prompt to this one but i wasn’t sure how to word it lol. join my private community today for girly advice and talks! let me know if you’d like an invitation ♡
it was subtle at first— rafe would see you waltz into barry’s trailer late at night with a brand new pair of pleasers, leaving behind a trail of perfume that wasn’t your signature scent. you were getting your hair done more often, even your nails started changing more frequently. he really took notice one day when barry had left to go run some errands, foolishly leaving you two alone together. rafe had your knees pressed into your chest, your pretty pedicured feet rocking with each of his thrusts as the pendant on your anklet glittered underneath the dim lighting of your room, the small detail instantly catching rafe’s attention.
he looked down at the little thing, a silver playboy bunny charm dangling from the dainty chain. “h-hey, when did you get this?” he cursed under his breath, pressing a kiss to the back of your calf as you cried out from the feeling of his pubic bone slamming down on your sensitive bud. your heart dropped at the question, your cheeks heating as rafe fixed his eyes on your face. “oh, nothing! s’just a little gift one of my regulars got for me..” you moaned, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as rafe’s jaw clenched.
he was definitely mad now.
picking up his pace, he reached down and squeezed your cheeks together, forcing you to look up at him. “what the fuck do you mean one of your ‘regulars’ are you fucking this guy?” rafe was livid, considering he had already told you he wanted you to quit dancing at the club since he pretty much funded you and bought you whatever you wanted without hesitation. attempting to get out of his grip, rafe only tightened his hold on your face, his eyebrows pinching together as you struggled to find your words. “hmphh— no! r-rafe, i’m not fucking him!”
he swallowed thickly, letting go of your cheeks only to wrap his hand around your throat instead. “so why is he buying you gifts and shit?” rafe said through gritted teeth, “what is he getting you that i can’t?” you knew rafe was just mad because he felt threatened, the thought of another man spoiling you and making you happy with their money instead of his pissed him off like no other. “he just puts some extra money in my pocket, that’s all.. plus a little bit of interest..” you looked over at your vintage purse collection, rafe following your line of vision.
what used to be like six bags sitting in the corner of your room, had now grown into an easy twenty, the evidence of your claims making him pull out of you with a hiss. “you’re fucking joking, y/n. you’re letting another man buy his way with you?” you couldn’t help but feel exposed, rafe’s demeaning tone making you want to curl in on yourself. “i’m not letting anyone ‘buy’ their way with me, asshole. except you, but clearly i’m sooo wrong for that.” you scoffed, pulling your sheets over yourself to hide your body from rafe’s view.
“i didn’t say you were wrong for that, you dummy. what i’m mad about is the fact that you’re still working at pink sugar when i told you to leave that place a long ass time ago. why are you still there?” rafe was quick to get his boxers back on, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he plopped down at the edge of your bed. “instead of questioning me, you should ask barry why he hasn’t moved us out of this shit hole yet,” you sat up against the wall, “you and barry make all of this money but we’re still in the same spot! i do what i do so that i can get out of this fucking trailer, rafe.”
you were right, and rafe knew it. as much as he had been telling your brother to at least get a nicer place for y’all, your brother always put the money back into his pawn shop where it barely made any profit. rafe looked back at you, a mix of both sadness and irritation written all over your face. “if a man is buying me gifts and giving me money, essentially allowing me to get out of my situation, then i’m going to do what i have to do. the gifts are just tokens of appreciation for my time. and no, i’m not having sex with this guy. he’s a lonely loser who makes way too much money for himself who just wants to blow it. i’m not gonna say no to that.”
rafe listened to you carefully, his hard gaze softening as he reached out to stroke your legs under your sheets. “look.. i want you to pack your stuff and stay with me then. if you let me take care of you— not just spoil you and buy you stuff, but really let me cover everything, you know i’ll do it. you’ll be out of this trailer and you could leave the club for good, i don’t want none of this dancing shit keeping you from me anymore.” your heart was racing in your chest, everything you’ve ever wanted now offering itself to you at your feet. “but what about barry?” you sighed, allowing rafe to come up and wrap his arms around your shoulders.
“he’ll get over it, babe. i’m sure he’ll be more thankful than anything to know that you’re not in that environment anymore. you know your brother is a simple dude, all he needs is this trailer and a cold case of beers in the fridge and he’s happy.” you laughed softly at his words, your cheek resting against his chest. “i promise i’ll make him fix up the trailer so you don’t have to worry about him over here. i’ll clear out the yard and install a new ac unit if it makes you feel better, does that sound good?” you nodded, pressing a kiss to rafe’s knuckles. “yes, please. he’s too stubborn do it himself.”
ummm a drunk rafe and he can not shut up about how pretty and perfect the reader is 😭🙏
so cuteeee
…
the party was still going strong, but rafe? gone. absolutely, undeniably wasted. he was slumped against you on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, one arm draped lazily around your waist like he’d forget how to sit up if he let go.
“god, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour, his words slurring together.
you sighed, trying (and failing) to suppress a smile. “rafe—”
“no, listen.” he lifted his head, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide as he stared at you like you’d hung the damn moon. “you don’t get it. like—like, you’re actually perfect. it’s insane. it’s not fair. how the fuck am i supposed to function when you look like that?”
you bit your lip, heat creeping up your neck. “you’re drunk.”
“i’m honest,” he corrected, poking your cheek like that proved his point. “and i’m telling you—you’re the most beautiful, smartest, coolest person ever. and you smell good. and your laugh makes my chest feel all—” he waved his hand vaguely before dropping it back onto your thigh, squeezing lightly. “weird.”
you shook your head, laughing softly. “weird?”
“yeah. like, warm. happy.” he exhaled dramatically, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “fuck. i think i’m in love with you.”
your heart stopped.
but before you could even process those words, rafe’s head flopped back onto your shoulder, his breath evening out almost instantly.
you stared at him, stunned. he was out cold, completely unaware of the absolute bomb he just dropped.
“oh, we’re definitely talking about this in the morning,” you muttered, shaking your head. but even as you said it, you couldn’t stop the stupid smile creeping onto your face.
Rafe Cameron x Reader
sfw, warnings! cheesy drunken behaviour lol
The party’s long past its peak.
The bonfire’s burned down to a lazy orange glow, casting flickering light over scattered red solo cups. The Bluetooth speaker is still playing a slow indie track, the lyrics getting lost under the crash of waves.
You step away from the group, the sand cool under your bare feet as you wander toward the darker edge of the beach. The air smells like smoke and saltwater, your hoodie barely protecting you from the breeze that is coming off the sea. Your shoulders relax as you escape into the shadows, it feels good to be away from the noise for a second.
Then you see it, a body, half curled in the sand, still as a rock.
You freeze. He’s not moving.
Your chest tightens as you approach slowly, cautiously, until you're kneeling beside him. His head’s turned away, face buried in the crook of his arm, and for one terrifying second, you think he’s—
“Rafe?” you whisper, reaching out.
Your fingertips touch his cheek. His skin is warm.
Then....he stirs.
He lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted like he’s trying to remember how to breathe. The knot in your stomach loosens, relief flooding in.
He blinks at you once. Twice.
“Y/N…” he slurs, voice soft and full of something you don’t recognize. “Hey.”
He smiles.
Not his usual cocky grin. This one is sleepy. Sweet. Maybe even a little sad.
You blink, stunned. Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, the hothead with too many demons and not enough patience, is looking at you like you're the first good thing he’s seen all night.
“You scared me,” you murmur. “I thought you weren’t breathing.”
He doesn’t respond, just lets his head flop back into the sand with a small groan. “M’fine,” he mumbles. “Just… tired.”
“You can’t sleep here,” you say gently, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “You’ll choke on your own puke or something.”
“No puke,” he insists, eyelids heavy. “Swear. I’m good.”
You sigh, kneeling next to him. “Rafe. Come on. Sit up.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, like you’re asking him to do way too much, but eventually he shifts, arms clumsily propping himself up.
And then, without any warning, he leans into you.
His arms loop around your waist, and he slumps forward, burying his face into your neck like it’s the only safe place left in the world.
You freeze.
This is not the Rafe Cameron you know. He’s an angry drunk, you'd been witness to numerous drunken fights, he was always so tense like he’s on the edge of snapping. But now? He’s soft. Warm. Heavy against you, like he’s letting go for the first time in forever.
His breath ghosts against your skin, and you find yourself… stroking his hair. Feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen, liking that you can have this effect on him.
You can feel him mumbling something into your throat, just noise at first. Then a slurred, “…You smell nice…”
You snort softly. “You’re drunk.”
He nods into you, then lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy as they search your face. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “Like, really. I always thought that.”
Your eyebrows raise, but before you can say anything, he leans forward, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders, pressing a soft, sloppy kiss to your cheek. Then another. Then your jaw.
Your pulse skitters.
“Rafe—”
His lips brush close, too close to yours.
You turn your head with a laugh, your cheeks flushed.
He pulls back slightly, frowning like a kicked puppy.
“Why’d you do that?” he pouts, eyes narrowed. “I was bein’ sweet.”
“You were trying to kiss me.”
“So?”
You bite your lip, amused. “You’re Sarah’s brother.”
“And your her friend,” he mumbles. “Still like you.”
You sigh, brushing his hair back again, a little too gently for someone who should know better.
“Let’s get you some water,” you say, trying to stand, but his arms come back around your waist, tighter this time, like he’s not ready to let you go yet.
warnings: car accident, Topper and Kelce🥸, protective Rafe
You didn’t want to take Rafe’s car at first. He usually was the one who drove you whenever and wherever you needed, insisting that he felt calmer about you being okay. But he was busy from an early morning at work, and you really didn’t want to disturb him, even if you desperately needed to go.
Also, he didn’t mind you taking his car, even allowing you to practice on his favorite one. He just wanted you to be careful. Though you were always hesitant, not wanting to scratch it or accidentally break something, because you knew how much Rafe cherished his cars.
So it was not your fault when some asshole drove on the red light. It happened so fast that you couldn’t even do anything about it. One moment you were driving down the street, and the next the sound of tires, breaking glass, and scratching metal filled your ears. Rafe’s car spun around from the force of the hit, and the airbags deployed, preventing you from hitting your head too hard, but it still knocked the wind out of you. Your hands were shaking on the steering wheel, your heart pounding in your ears louder than the car horn that wouldn’t stop blaring.
You sat there, frozen, chest heaving as you tried to process what had just happened. Your ears were ringing, eyes darting around to make sense of the chaos. The taste of adrenaline coated your tongue, bitter and sharp.
People started to gather, voices muffled as if underwater. Someone knocked on the window, asking if you were okay, but all you could think about—stupidly, helplessly—was Rafe’s car. The one he waxed on weekends, the one he never let anyone else touch until you. And now it was ruined.
Your fingers struggled to unclasp the seatbelt. You were okay, you realized as you looked down to see whether there was blood or not. Maybe bruised, but okay. Still, tears welled up in your eyes from shock, guilt, and something else deeper you couldn’t quite name. A stranger helped you to get out of the car, holding you under your arm and asking you something, but you could not respond. Your eyes darted to another car, the men looking almost unbothered by what he had done.
Just a few minutes later, an ambulance and police arrived, and you sat in the ambulance car, with a thin blanket over your shoulders, while a woman checked you. That’s when you saw Kelce and Topper walking nearby, and you could see the realization hit them, their faces changing. Topper whipped out his phone and started dialing. Kelce stood there, wide-eyed, like he’d just been in that car himself.
They didn’t even look at you at first.
Then the call ended. Fast.
“He hung up the second we told him.” Topper muttered, walking towards you looking with this weird mix of pity and disbelief. “He’s gonna lose it. You know how much he loves that car.”
“Yeah, he really fucking loves that car.” Kelce agreed, scratching the back of his head and looking at you with the same expression Topper did. “That’s literally his baby.”
You felt your stomach dropping, his friends’ words settling in and making your guilt even worse. Your hands trembled on your lap, whether from the adrenaline or from fear of Rafe’s anger. Would he snap? Would he hate you for that? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to.
But then he got there.
You saw Rafe before you even heard him. His blue truck was parked carelessly in the middle of the street, his eyes almost wild and hair in a mess, as he was scanning the people for you. He didn’t look at the wrecked car, the random people, or the police. Once his eyes found yours, he ran.
Rafe felt like he could breathe again the moment his hands touched you. His arms wrapped around you so tight you could feel how hard he was shaking. Hands moved over you in frantic patterns—your face, your shoulders, your arms, your ribs—like he needed to feel each part of you to believe it wasn’t all some nightmare.
The woman who was checking you looked at him sideways but didn’t say anything, probably noticing his trembling hands and wild eyes. She stepped aside, giving you some space, and you couldn’t be more grateful.
The warmth of his body and his familiar scent made you completely break down, nuzzling closer to him and sniffing. “I’m sorry.” You choked out, your voice barely audible, like the words were stuck in your throat. “I didn’t mean to take it—I just—I’m so sorry, Rafe.” You tugged at his shirt. “He-he crushed into me, I c-couldn’t do anything.”
Rafe pulled back, taking your face in his hands and shaking his head with a deep frown. The tears streamed freely down your face as all of the emotions finally got out. Rafe gently wiped them away with his thumbs, leaning even closer to you. “Sh-h, baby.” He mumbled. “I don’t give a fuck about the car, do you hear me? I thought you were hurt, I thought I might lose you.”
You stared at him, stunned. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, just cupped your face like he was anchoring himself there.
“That’s the only thing I care about. You hear me? Not the car. You.”
Topper shifted awkwardly, glancing between the wrecked car and the two of you, a strange tension hanging in the air. His gaze flickered back to Rafe, and after a beat of hesitation, he finally spoke up, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Wait, hold up. You’re seriously not gonna care that your car’s wrecked?” He asked bluntly, tone edged with a mix of confusion and judgment. “It’s a fucking mess, Rafe. It costs a shitload of money.”
Kelce, standing beside him, nodded along, a skeptical frown crossing his face. “Yeah, dude, you always lose your shit over stuff like this. She wasn’t supposed to take your car in the first place. You’re just gonna let her—”
Rafe cut him off before he could finish the sentence, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened around you, pulling you a little closer, the protective instinct in him flaring up. “Shut the fuck up before I break your jaw.” He growled, his eyes hardening as he turned to face them, shielding you. “Don’t talk to her like that. Don’t even look at her. I’m not in the fucking mood for your dumbass jokes.”
Topper took a step back, hands raised in defense, his voice tight. "Hey, man, we were just—"
Rafe’s glare cut him off, his voice low but deadly. "I don’t give a shit about the fucking car, Top. My girl was in that car. You think I’m gonna give a damn about a stupid piece of metal when she could’ve got hurt?"
Kelce swallowed hard, clearly taken aback by Rafe’s intensity. "Rafe, we—"
"I said, shut the fuck up." Rafe repeated, stepping closer. "You wanna keep running your mouths, or do you wanna walk away with your teeth?"
For a moment, there was silence, the tension hanging thick in the air. The two of them just stood there, processing Rafe's fury, and then they both slowly backed away, glancing nervously at each other.
"Yeah... alright, man.” Topper muttered, still clearly rattled. "We get it."
“Then go.” Rafe didn’t take his eyes off them until they slowly turned and started to walk away, their pace quickening under his gaze. He exhaled sharply, shoulders still tense.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Rafe turned back to you, his face softening instantly, but there was still a fire in his eyes. He pulled you into his arms again, pressing his forehead against yours, the intensity of the moment lingering between you both.
"Don’t listen to them." He murmured, his breath shaky. "They don’t fucking get it. All I care about is you." His hands ran over your forearms to your neck. “And I promise that I’m gonna lock up the one who did it, baby. He will pay for it, for almost hurting you.”
You nodded, still shaken, but feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Rafe’s arms enveloped you again, grounding you in the safety of his presence.
𑄽𑄺 some aftercare headcanons: rafe taking care of your swollen parts
he always checks on you after "fuck—look at you, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with pride and concern. his fingers spread you open, and his brows furrow when he sees the way you're trembling, swollen, and a mix of his cum and your arousal still clinging to your thighs. "too much?" you shake your head, still breathless.
he doesn't believe you. he never does when you try to play it off. his hands are already moving, one soothing down your hip, the other reaching for a warm cloth he prepared beforehand because he knew he'd fuck you up like this. "baby," he murmurs, warm breath against your raw, overstimulated cunt. he presses the gentlest kiss to your clit, just enough to soothe,and not tease. "gonna clean you up, alright? don’t want you sore in the morning." he always does this. always.
his mouth soothes what his cock ruins he calls it an apology. a silent one, because there's no way in hell he's actually sorry—he likes seeing you like this, wrecked, thighs twitching, pussy swollen from how deep andhard he went, how rough he was. still he cares about how you feel. so he goes down, pressing kisses along your inner thighs, worshipful, whispering nonsense between each one. "good girl" kiss. "took me so fucking well" another kiss. "always do" and then his tongue finds your clit to soothe and leave a cooling relief against the ache he left behind.
"shh, i know, i know" his hands press down on your hips when you jolt, when you whimper from the sensitivity. he doesn't stop. he won't. not until he feels the tension drain from your muscles or until your breath evens out. he made you like this so he needs take care of it.
he massages you after, even if you're half-asleep "poor thing," he mutters, all low and soft, rolling his thumbs into your inner thighs, kneading the stiffness from them. "all shaky ‘cause of me, huh?" you hum something incoherent, barely awake, and he chuckles. but his hands don’t stop.
they move slow, deliberate, pressing into every sore spot, making sure you're loose and won’t be sore tomorrow—or at least less sore. you’ll still feel him. he likes that part. but he doesn’t want you hurting. eventually, he works his way up, rubbing soothing circles over your swollen clit, pressing featherlight kisses against your overstimulated cunt. "rest, baby" he whispers, tucking the blanket over you. "i got you."
he kisses your cunt like he kisses your lips no rush. no urgency. just pure affection. some nights, when he's not looking to fuck you into the mattress, he wants is to show you a little attention. he presses kisses along your mound, over your folds, unhurried. his lips find your clit, but not to make you moan—just to remind you that he cherishes every inch of you. "so pretty," he murmurs, between kisses. "so fucking perfect."
and when you're sore or aching or even when you're too sensitive to even think about more—he doesn’t ask for it. he just takes care of you. warms a cloth, wipes you down, presses the softest kisses between your legs before pulling you close.
tags (lmk if you want to be removed; using the list from my recent series): @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @emluvsuxo @rafestoothbrush @cadhlabear
+18 -> smut | getting your nails done + rafe enjoying the way you leave scratches on his back/shamelessly showing them off in the locker room
𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝔀𝓪𝓰!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻
c/w: jealousy, ownership, swearing, pet names, scratching, marking, sucking fingers, fingering, massage, sexting, exchanging nudes, *cross-posted on my NHL account*
1.7K
⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ at the nail salon
You look up at the TV, watching as the camera pans across the ice, and then, as expected, the focus shifts to Rafe. He steps off the ice, his damp fringe falling across his forehead as he bites and slides off his glove, breathing heavily.
The stunning reporter steps forward with her microphone, her smile practically gleaming under the bright arena lights. “You’re going for the big win tonight. How’s the energy in the locker room?” Her voice is sticky-sweet. She tilts her head when she looks at him, her interest in the handsome Defenseman bleeding through her thin veil of professionalism.
Rafe, to his credit, is polite but unmoved. “Energy’s good,” he says, his tone cool, efficient. “We’re focused.”
“And if you guys pull off the win, any big plans to celebrate?” Her lashes flutter as her body angles toward him more, hoping for a little extra charm.
Rafe gives her a small, polite smile. “The usual,” he says simply.
The reporter blinks, clearly hoping for more. “Well there’s a lot to do in Vegas. The usual? Do you have something you usually do when you’re here?” She prompts, laughing lightly.“Just hanging out with my girl.”
⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ back at the hotel
Rafe had just finished showering, his hair curling at the ends as he walks over, already reaching for your hands. “Lemme see,” he murmurs, taking your fingers in his own. He turns them over, inspecting your fresh set like it’s the prettiest thing in the world. “Pink? I love it.”
“It’s the color–”
“Of my tip?” He chuckles, putting two and two together.
“How did you know that?” You tease as you run your hands down his strong chest.
“Well I’ve looked at it a few times, princess,” he rasps, letting out a breathy chuckle.
“Approved?”
“Definitely,” he mumbles, and like clockwork, he starts rolling out his neck and his shoulders, wincing in pain. You raise your brow at him, trying not to laugh at his predictability.
“Yeah, baby?”
Rafe just shrugs, feigning innocence. “You know how it goes,” he says through a boyish smile.
“Mhmm…” You hum, reaching for the hem of his shirt, helping him out of it as always.
Rafe’s skin is still warm from the shower, his tight muscles melting already from the slightest touch from you. As soon as he hits the hotel bed he lets out a deep, contented sigh, lazily sprawling out on his stomach.
His beautiful blue eyes follow you as you crawl onto the bed; his smile spreads wider as you move closer and closer until you’re climbing on, running your fingers down his strong back, watching as goosebumps spread across his dewy skin. Rafe shivers, letting out a groan that sends heat coursing through you.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans at the slightest touch.
“You’re so easy,” you tease, dragging my nails over his broad shoulders before pressing them into the tight knots you knew you’d find.
“Shittt,” he chuckles, exhaling sharply as you nail that perfect spot, working out the tension. “Feels so fucking good, pretty,” he mutters, voice muffled against the plush comforter.
You let your finger drift into his damp hair, scratching your manicured fingers against his scalp. “Fuck me,” he groans, turning his heavy head slightly, eyes half-lidded. “I love when you get your nails done,” he murmurs, voice drowsy, utterly relaxed beneath your touch as he lets out a little yawn.
You smile as you twirl your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, baby?”
“Fuck yeah,” he sighs, letting his heavy eyes fall closed. “Shit, princess, they’re kinda sharp. You should keep ‘em like this forever.”
Leaning down to press a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling his slow, leveled pulse thump under your lips. “I’ll think about it.”
Rafe hums in reply, already halfway asleep, completely at peace. “Gotta keep me up, princess,” he huffs. “I’m gonna pass the fuck out.”
You press your nails a little harder into his back, making his muscles tense for a second before he softens into the mattress. “Too much?” You ask, pausing slightly.
“No–No, keep goin’,” he murmurs, voice rough with contentment. “S’perfect.”
You smile as you watch the faint red marks appear where your nails drug down, the contrast between his skin and the marks leaving you oddly satisfied. Your mind drifts for a moment as you glance up at the TV, watching some highlights from the last King’s game, before the camera throws back to the reporter from this morning.
The interview from earlier plays again on mute—and the way she’s leaning in is just a little too much; the way she practically preened when Rafe gave her the slightest smile boiling your blood.
Would she try again after the game tonight? Probably.
“Fuck,” Rafe hisses as you find yourself so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize how hard you had dug into his skin until it had already happened.
“Oh, shit–” You gasp, but Rafe just laughs, shifting slightly underneath you as he cranks his neck a little more to look back at you.
“Don’t stop,” he assures, his voice dazed out but amused nonetheless.
You chuckle and shake your head, letting your nails trail more deliberately over his tight skin. Your pointer finger traces from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, following the place where CAMERON usually sits on gameday.
You scratch your nails into his skin–digging your initials in–watching as they shift red. Rafe lets out a deep, knowing laugh, his voice vibrating through his chest. “I know what you’re doing, baby,” he bullies.
You giggle breathily, leaning down until your lips brush against the shell of his ear, tits pressed against him. “I got a little jealous today,” you admit.
“Really?” He drags out the word, completely aware.
“Yeah,” you whisper against his hot skin, trailing soft kisses down his neck. Your fingers continue to work the muscles in his shoulders, kneading out the tension as your mouth moves lower. You hit the perfect spot, sitting right above where you know the collar of his sweater will sit.
He doesn’t stop you, instead slithering his hand behind his back, slipping under the band of your shorts and panties, finding your clit.
You suck down on his neck as he rolls his fingers on top of your sex, groaning when he feels just how wet you are; knowing this close to the game time, he’ll have to wait to sink his thick dick deep, but he loves to tease.
“Roll over,” you whisper, watching as Rafe obeys without hesitation. His fingers find you fast, slipping your little shorts to the side this time. Rafe dips the tip of his thick finger in your soaked hole, his pretty blue eyes rolling back at the feeling of your body, so warm and wet.
You tilt in, pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, savoring how he quickly wraps his other arm around you, pulling you in.
He sighs against your lips, his fingers pushing deep, soaking his digits with your essence. “I don’t know why I do this to myself,” he chuckles as he continues to torment himself with the thought of ruining you before his game.
“All night long?”
“All night long, princess.”
You pull back, resting your hands on his firm chest. Rafe looks up at you as you trace your fingers higher, circling the hickey forming on his neck.
“You know,” he starts, his voice low and rough, “you always tease me for liking to mark you up…”
“Because you do,” you giggle breathily as you watch a smirk spread on his kiss-swollen lips.
“Yeah, I do. And now you’re over here claiming me like you’re all kinds of territorial or somethin’.”
“I am,” you smile.
Rafe chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I love it when you wear my jersey,” he murmurs, one hand drifting up your back again. “You think it’s just because I like how you look in it, but nah… I love marking you, too. Anyway, I can.”
His fingers slid down your arm, slow and deliberate, before reaching your hand. He lifts your hand, pressing soft kisses on your fingers, slipping your middle and ring fingers in his mouth as he looks up at you.
“I’m gonna put a ring on this finger on day,” he murmurs, his voice warm and confident. “Mark you up some more.”
⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ after the game
Rafe steps closer to his stall, pulling off his jersey, aware–more than usual—as the cameras linger. He peels off his compression shirt, dragging it over his head slowly and deliberately. The cool air hits his skin as he drops the fabric to the bench beside him before turning around fast–thin, perfect lines left behind by your nails shamelessly shown.
He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling at something someone said before tossing a wink their way; one of the players in the locker room no doubt saying some shit about it already. The second the red light on the camera cuts and the reporter and crew leaves, the chirping starts.
“Jesus, Rafey,” one of the guys laughs. “You get in a fight we didn’t see?”
Another voice chimes in, laughing. “Nah, those aren’t from the game, boys.”
Rafe rolls his eyes, reaching for a towel as another teammate whistles low. “And the hickey?”
“Enough, Rafe,” mumbles smugly.
“Blushing like a slut, bud.”
The dressing room erupts in laughter and groans, somewhere between teasing and outright jealousy.
“Settle down, aight?” Rafe laughs.
“The placement—someone sending a message?” Kelce adds as he gives him a knowing glance. Rafe smiles, shaking his head as he wipes his face, trying to hide it. “He fuckin’ loves it—”
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Rafe mutters, but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even bother because Kelce’s right. He fuckin’ loves it.
ughdjxkzjdissiskss seeing the text edits make me miss the bar down era plssss, like where all my boys rafe and kelce atm 😭😭😭 anyways, hot, messy and freaky, tysm for your service !! Reading this at night is a blessing ngl ‼️🥴 the back pictures, lord have mercy
“Of my tip?” He chuckles, putting two and two together. “Well I’ve looked at it a few times, princess,” he rasps, letting out a breathy chuckle.
its giving frat!rafe i swear to got. this is his humor
“I’m gonna put a ring on this finger on day,” he murmurs, his voice warm and confident. “Mark you up some more.”
😌😌 that's my man
i love the mix btw message and texts !! its refreshing 🥹🙏🏿‼️hockey!Rafe, you're so loved bby especially when kel is the one doing it
the warm steam curls thick in the cold figure-eight night air, wrapping around the two of you. the water bubbles against your skin, heated jets pulsing against your back, but none of it compares to the heat of rafe’s hands, gripping your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as you rock against him.
“fuck, baby,” he groans, head tipping back against the edge of the hot tub, eyes hooded, lips parted, watching you like you’re the only thing in the world. “look at you. you just can’t get enough, can you?”
“mm,” you hum, hands braced against his chest, nails teasing over slick, toned muscle. “you say that like you’re not the one begging me to ride you every five seconds.”
rafe smirks, one hand sliding up your spine, gripping the back of your neck, dragging you down until your mouths are just barely apart. “maybe i just like watching you come on my cock.” his voice is low, rough, his breath hot against your lips. “maybe i like knowing you need me just as bad as i need you.”
his words make you shiver, even with the heat of the water and with his body burning against yours. he feels so fucking good inside you, thick and deep, stretching you just right, making your thighs shake every time you move.
“fuck, rafe,” you gasp, rolling your hips, making him groan, making his fingers tighten on your skin.
“yeah, that’s it,” he grits out, pushing his hips up to meet you, the movement forcing a high, breathy whimper from your lips. “you gonna keep teasing me, princess? or are you actually gonna fuck me?”
“oh, i don’t know,” you breathe, nails dragging down his chest, leaning in until your lips brush his jaw. “depends. where are we going for spring break?”
rafe’s laugh is breathless, rough, barely held together. “you wanna talk vacation plans while you’re bouncing on my dick?”
“mm-hmm.” your tongue flicks over his pulse, and he shudders beneath you. “multitasking.”
his grip tightens, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he thrusts up hard, knocking the air from your lungs, making your moan break high and needy. “bahamas,” he rasps, his other hand gripping your ass, guiding you down onto him again. “private beach. just us. no one to bother us.”
“mm, sounds nice.” you grind against him, slow, deep, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers dig harder into your skin. “who else is coming?”
“sarah’s staying with the pogues,” he says, voice rough, distracted, his gaze locked on where your bodies are joined beneath the bubbling water. “so that means…”
“means what?” you tease, leaning in, biting his lower lip before pulling back, grinning. “we’re gonna be all alone?”
his smirk is slow, dangerous, fucking devastating. “means the dress code is naked. the entire time. not even panties”
his words send a fresh wave of heat flooding through you, pooling low in your belly. you clench around him, and rafe groans, fingers biting into your hips. “fuck, baby, you like the sound of that?”
“maybe,” you pant, rolling your hips, feeling him twitch inside you. “more rafey.....”
rafe’s laugh is low, dark. “princess, you have no fucking idea what you’re in for.”
his grip tightens, and before you can respond, he’s moving, fucking up into you, fast and hard, dragging you down to meet every thrust. the only sounds left between you are gasps, moans, the slap of wet skin, the bubbling water masking just how filthy it all is.
being with rafe cameron is a mistake —one you keep making over and over again, despite knowing better. you both fight, you push him away, you tell yourself you’re done with him… and yet, every time, you come crawling right back. and rafe? he fucking lives for it.
he’s mean, rough, possessive. he fucks you like he hates you, like he’s trying to break you. and in some way, maybe he is, because nothing in this world gets him harder than seeing jj maybank’s precious little sister falling apart beneath him, whimpering and completely soaked for the one guy she shouldn’t want.
he loves making you beg, loves reminding you who owns you, and no matter how much you fight it, no matter how wrong it is, you love it too.
his truck smells like sweat and sex, the windows fogged up as rafe pounds your sloppy cunt from behind like he owns it. one of his hands is in your pretty head, pushing it down onto the leather seat to make you arch your back for him, while the other is holding your wrists bruisingly tight at the bottom of your spine —yanking you back onto him, forcing you to take his cock deeper.
"god, you’re such a fuckin' mess," rafe groans, relishing in the way you’re dripping down his dick from all the times he's made you cum already, ruining his seats. "soakin' me like a desperate little whore."
he’s so mean, spitting filth that makes your insides tighten, your walls clench around him harder. every cruel word that falls from his lips has you growing wetter, despite the shame churning in your stomach. and he swears he could cum just from the way your greedy pussy is squeezing him, like it doesn't want to let go.
"this what you wanted, huh? my dumb little slut needed to get fucked stupid?" he mocks, lips curling into a dark smirk when he hears you moan in response.
every time his hips snap forward, he hits so deep you swear you might break, the fat tip of his cock almost brushing your cervix and making you literally shudder beneath him.
"rafe–" you whimper, big tears running down your flushed cheeks.
"fuck, baby, you cryin' f'me?" he groans, wiping those tears away, "god, you look so damn beautiful when you cry."
but you cannot say anything in response, pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head as he keeps bullying your g-spot, and that makes him chuckle, large hand fisting your soft hair to yank you back against his hard chest, which causes your scalp to sting.
"so fuckin' pathetic, aren’t ya'? can’t even think, can’t do anything but let me use you," he whispers in your ear, his voice teasing —petty.
his other hand slips between your thighs, rubbing slow circles that have you crying out from how good it feels, little clit throbbing under his rough finger pads.
"look at you. so fuckin' sensitive..." he purrs, and he sounds really fucking pleased with himself for what he's doing to you. "gonna cum again f'me, princess?”
you try to shake your head no in response, try to beg for a break and squirm away from him —overstimulated, but rafe doesn't let you, gripping your throat to keep you in place.
"yeah, you fuckin' will." you can almost hear the smug smirk in his words.
you cry out, overwhelmed, but you don’t tell him to stop because you don't really want him to. your lewd moans break into something closer to sobs, and your fingers clutch desperately at the leather seats while he thrusts into your poor, sensitive cunt, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.
and when you finally fall over the edge, pleasure crashes over you so violently that it knocks the air from your lungs and makes your whole body tremble like a leaf while you scream against the seat, leaving you nothing but a shaking, incoherent mess beneath him.
rafe is right after you. he cums hard, dick twitching inside your hot, spasming cunt, which is fucking strangling him —the feeling so good that it has him trembling as he curses and moans out loud. wanting to draw out the pleasure all he can, he keeps fucking you through it, thrusts uneven and sloppy, until he's collapsing on top of you, completely spent.
for a moment, all you can do is lie there, face pressed against the leather seat, body still twitching with the aftershocks and mind fully blank. rafe doesn’t move right away either, his weight heavy on top of you, one hand smoothing over your back in slow, lazy strokes.
then, he pulls back, withdrawing his softening cock from your pussy with a grunt. he slaps your ass gently, watching with pure satisfaction in his blue eyes how his cum oozes out of you, and you can't help the little moan that follows.
“god, you look so fuckin' pretty like this. all used up. just f'me...” his fingers would definitely fuck his cum back inside you, not giving a shit that you're squirming and whining from overstimulation. "my good fuckin' girl."
rafe Cameron has started blowing off gf!reader to hangout with his friends like cancelling plans last minute, leaving in the middle of a date, and just ignoring/neglecting her when all she wants is to just spend time with him. And it makes her so sad and insecure and she finally confronts him when he tries to leave their plans and she says "if you don't want me anymore please just say it and stop stringing me along" and just breaks down and he feels terrible, she's the love of his life and he didn't realize what he had been doing and makes it up to her with cuddles gifts breakfast in bed and maybeee some smut
synopsis — after rafe stops putting in enough effort into your relationship, you confront him about stringing you along.
notes — ugh my heart. why are boys so stupid sometimes.
the first time it happened, it stung a little, but you were sure it wasn’t on purpose. rafe didn’t show up to the date, leaving you to sit in the parking lot of the restaurant, tears streaming down your cheeks. it was more disappointment than anything else, but rafe chalked it up to getting caught up with topper and kelce at the paintball place, the date completely slipping his mind.
you left it at that, opting to give him another chance. he missed that one too, his excuse being something to do with ward and some kook bullshit you didn’t understand. the last time, however, was different.
the two of you were in the middle of dinner at your apartment. you’d made a home-cooked meal you found a recipe for online, and the two of you sat at the couch, about an hour into a movie you’d been begging him to watch for weeks. he was there, but mentally he was somewhere else.
it felt like every minute on the minute he was checking his phone or texting someone. as the movie progressed, you became more and more fed up. then you watched him send a text and then look at you, face screaming i hate to do this, but.
“you’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words only amplify your anger.
“yeah, the boys wanna go try out topper’s new wave-runners, can we take a raincheck?” it’s almost as if he has no idea how much this hurts. or maybe he just doesn’t care.
you scoff, shaking your head as you stand from the couch. you pick the plates up from the table and walk into the kitchen without saying a word. you rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher, dropping a pod into it and hitting the start button.
“babe? is it cool if i dip? they’re blowing up my phone right now,” he reiterates from the couch, brows raised expectantly.
“whatever, rafe,” you shrug emotionlessly as you make your way back to the living room. you curl into yourself on the opposite side of the couch, wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets as you back out of the movie and put on the show you’d been binging recently.
“you mad at me?” he asks, confused.
you let out a wry laugh at that, cutting a glare at him. “what do you think, rafe?”
“i don’t get why you’re mad, though?”
“i’m not mad, rafe,” you look at him, eyes watering, “if you don’t wanna be here anymore i’m not gonna hold you hostage.”
“what?” he cocks his head back at that, “what are you talking about?”
“dude,” you scoff, “it just feels like you want nothing to do with me anymore. like every time we have a date or try to hang out you either leave early or just don’t show up and i just-” you can't help the way your voice cracks, “i just can’t keep waiting around for you all the time, rafe. this is killing me, so if you don’t wanna do this anymore just tell me now, okay? stop stringing me along, please.”
rafe’s face falls with realization, his heart clenching at the look on your face alone. “oh shit, babe,” he starts, expression riddled with regret and agony. “fuck, i’m so sorry, i-i’ve been such a terrible boyfriend lately. it’s not you, i promise you that, i don’t know why i haven’t been putting in enough effort, i just have been so carried away with kelce and topper that i haven’t even noticed what i’ve been doing to you. i’m so sorry, baby. i do wanna be here, more than anything, i want to be with you more than anything.”
his words send you spiralling a bit, tears flowing more freely now. you sob softly, hands flying up to cover your face. “i just don’t know what to do anymore.”
“i know, baby,” he can't help the way his own voice cracks this time, “i never meant for it to be this way, please, please just give me one more chance. let me make it up to you, okay? i promise i’ll be a better boyfriend.”
“i wanna believe you, rafe, i really do,” you sniffle, shoulders falling in exhaustion, “but i just don’t think I can anymore.”
rafe drags his hands over his head anxiously, “c’mon, baby, please. i swear to god, if i fuck up again you never have to see or talk to me again, okay? just let me prove it to you?”
you gnaw at the inside of your cheek for a bit, eyes locked on his bright blue irises. “fine. but don’t make me regret this, okay?”
“i swear i won’t,” he holds his pinky out to yours, waiting for you to link your own pinky with his. once you do, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your soft skin.
he texts topper and kelce, telling them to fuck off since he’s at dinner with his girl, and puts his phone on do not disturb. he cuddles into you on the couch, pulling your head onto his chest while his ringed hand rubs soft shapes onto your back. “i love you,” he hums into your scalp before pressing a kiss onto the hair.
“i love you, rafe,” you mutter back, heart panging at his words but aching to believe that it’s true. “more than anything.”
“more than everything,” rafe retorts before pulling you tighter into his chest, nearly suffocating you in a hug. “i really am sorry.”
you nod against his chest, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. you desperately blink them away, hand gripping his t-shirt tightly as you control your breathing.
you aren’t entirely sure when you fell asleep, or when rafe moved you to your bed. you woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and maple syrup. you pulled the charger from your phone and checked the time, a glaring 7:45 shining back at you.
you scrolled on your phone for a few minutes before rafe made his way to the room with a tray of fruit, tiny pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs, just like you liked them. he even went to the store to get you more of your favorite breakfast drink; cranberry juice.
“bon appetit,” he grinned at you as he placed the tray in your lap.
“oh my god, rafe, when did you have time to do all this?” you look at him tenderly, heart fluttering at the time and energy he put into your meal.
“i couldn’t sleep so I went to the store and got some stuff for breakfast,” he shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “it’s no biggie, plus I know you don’t eat unless someone feeds you most of the time.”
“that’s an exaggeration,” you huff, “i'm just not hungry most of the time.”
“yea, well, you still gotta eat, babe,” he shrugs again as he scooches in next to you. “how is it?”
“it looks amazing,” you can practically hear your stomach growling at you just from the smell of the food, much less the sight. after taking a bite of everything on your plate, you look at him, nodding in approval, “it’s delicious.”
“good,” rafe smiles at you, “i’m glad.”
once you finish the meal, rafe takes your dishes from you and spends a few minutes in the kitchen as he cleans his mess. once he comes back, he gets comfortable next to you, this time letting you lay your head on his lap as he turns your favorite show on.
“thank you, rafey,” you hum happily.
“of course, baby,” he gives your bicep a tender squeeze, “anything for my girl.”
rafe cameron and reader are at a party and she starts acting bratty and telling him to go away and shoving him off and then he leans down and whispers in her ear to tell her to meet him in the bathroom for a spanking as punishment but she tells him no and that they should just do jt at home and then he smirks and leans down again saying that if they do it at home he'll make it 10x rougher, then he leaves, giving reader no choice as he watches her from afar with a smirk as she nervously chips on her nail and bouncing her leg. also can u write the smut punishment (edging)
brat.
pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count — 2.4k
warnings — smut minors dni — raw sex (wrap it up y’all), rafe edges the fuck out of reader, crying due to edging, p in v, oral (f rec), creampie 🫣, uhhh, dirty talk, little bit of after care.
synopsis — at a party on figure 8, you begin testing rafe’s patience with your attitude. he’s not the type to let shit slide, and you’re in for a long night.
notes — HOT HOT HOT woah now i ate with this i think… thanks for the request anon! sorry it took so long i hope this makes up for it tho 💌
the first time, rafe had to admit, it was cute. but by the third and fourth, he knew you were doing it on purpose. consistently teasing him by letting your ass glide against the thin fabric of his shorts as you passed in front of him, or the winks you shot his way over the rim of your cup. he wasn’t mad, per se, just frustrated.
rafe knew you were riling him up, and he knew that it was working. however, he wasn’t ready to leave, the two of you had only been at the party for a total of an hour.
rafe also knew that the more alcohol went into your system, the more you would tease him. and he was right, the longer it took for you to get your way with him, the more horny you felt and the more you pushed.
you finally found a moment where he was away from his friends, using that as your opportunity to whisper into his ear, “baby, when are we leaving?”
“not now,” he cuts a semi-menacing glare at you, “i’m not ready yet.”
you groan, making a face at him, “but babe!”
“no,” he affirms again, “not leaving now. you’re just gonna have to keep it in your pants for a little longer sweetheart.”
now you were frustrated, brows furrowed and eyes squinted at him. “seriously?”
“yeah,” he huffs back at you, “now stop teasing me.”
“or what? what are you gonna do about it?”
rafe looks at you like his next meal, “oh no, no, i’m not playing this game with you right now.”
“ugh, you’re no fun,” you roll your eyes.
you knew you were getting to him, but you also were fully aware that rafe would never let you be in control, especially not when you were acting like such a brat.
he leans down to give you a kiss, face hardening when you weave away from it at the last second, a mischievous grin plastered across your face. he takes a deep breath and tries again; this time grabbing your face as he does so. you wrench your chin from his grasp, dodging his kiss yet again.
“you being forreal right now?” he’s not hurt, that much is obvious, but you can see the mild anger building behind his gaze. “give me a kiss.”
“you can get a kiss when we leave,” you cross your arms childishly, turning your face away from him as you begin to walk away.
he grasps your bicep firmly, pulling you back and into his chest, “meet me in the bathroom.”
“nope, i’ll wait till we get home,” you raise a brow at him, almost as if you were challenging him.
“oh, baby, you won’t like it if you wait till we get home, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse.”
he grips your chin again, this time using his grasp to place a sweet kiss on your forehead before he leans down to the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, lighting up each and every nerve in the area.
“meet me in the bathroom. now.”
you watch, wetness pooling in your panties as you watch him flash a grin over his shoulder while he makes his way up the stairs. you debate internally whether or not you should follow him, but you’ve dealt with rafe’s punishments before, and the last time was fairly recently, you weren’t sure if you could handle another severe one again just yet.
you quickly scurried up the stairs and down the hallway, eyes scanning back and forth until you find the bathroom.
you take a deep breath, ruffle your hair, and pull your hand from your mouth; a nervous tick you’d picked up as a child, constantly watching your dad mimic the same motion when he was nervous. you knew it was bad, that biting at your cuticles and nails was a big no-no at your age, especially being in a relationship with the king of the kooks. but you couldn’t help it, it was one of those seemingly unbreakable habits that was instilled in you at such an early age. and you figured there could be worse habits to have, so you didn’t do much to quit.
you let your knuckles rap against the hollow core door two sharp times, a signal to rafe to open the door, which he does almost immediately.
he beckons you in wordlessly, watching you squirm in place as you lean up against the bathroom counter. “hiya, rafey,” you huff out in a nervous laugh.
“hiya, baby,” he shoots a wolfish grin at you as he moves toward you, removing his rings and watch, setting the gold items inside of his hat atop the counter. “take your panties off and flip, angel.”
you follow the instructions, lip pinched between your teeth as you do so. you watch him in the mirror, his tight shirt making his muscles pop in the dim lighting. he looks down the neckline of your low-cut dress, his cock growing hard at the sight of your tits dangling against the soft fabric.
rafe drags his hands up the insides of your thighs as he uses his foot to spread them, a quiet gasp flying from your lips at the sudden movement.
“gotta stay quiet, baby, can you do that for me?”
you nod at him quickly, your pussy clenching and dripping just at the sound of his voice, much less everything else he was doing at the moment.
he flips the bottom of your dress up onto your back, leaving your mostly-bare ass out in the open for him to admire. rafe drags his hands across it slowly, fingers tracing the roundness of your cheeks. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart, every part of you is just fuckin’ gorgeous.”
you can’t help but blush at his words, dropping your head for a moment before picking it back up to watch him in the mirror.
“i hope you wore your good mascara tonight,” he laughs lowly, watching as you gulp at the implication.
rafe pulls your panties down and out from around your ankles, placing them along with his jewelry inside of his hat. he uses one hand to pull you a couple steps backward, your legs still spread as he angles you just how he wants you; pussy on full view for him to do whatever he wants.
he begins by slowly trailing his fingertips through your wetness, letting them glide through your folds and around your clit ever so lightly. the gentle sensation already has you breathing heavily, your hands clasped in front of you, gripping each other tightly.
rafe continues that motion for a few more moments before really focusing in on your clit, rubbing it in the way he knows you love the most. he builds up your climax, almost to the point of bursting, and then pulls away quickly, watching the realization flow over your face.
he was going to edge you to the point of tears, that was your punishment for acting like a brat all night, you finally understood, part of you kicking yourself with anticipated frustration while the other part of you felt nothing but excitement.
he flips you over, allowing you to sit atop the counter while he kneels between your open legs, your knees hooked over his shoulders. he starts by kissing long, slow kisses beginning at your knees and eventually trailing their way up to your sensitive area, his lips pressing up against everything except for where you want them the most. where you need them the most.
you were already horny before you even entered the bathroom, hence all the teasing and games you’d been playing all night, but now you were on a whole other level of horniness.
rafe waits until you're far past the point of squirming in your seat before giving your pussy a quick lick, letting his tongue swirl around your clit for a moment before pulling away, his eyes watching the look on your face fall back into a deep level of frustration.
“rafe,” you whine softly, brows furrowed desperately. “please, baby.”
“please, what? you get to tease me for over an hour and i don’t even get five minutes? that’s pathetic, baby.”
you groan at his words, knowing he’s nowhere near giving into your needs.
“you did this to yourself, just keep that in mind, angel.”
you huff softly, the sound caught in your throat when he latches back onto your sopping wet cunt, practically making out with it as you throw your head back in relief. he grips your thighs, letting the tips of his fingers dig into the flesh as he alternates between open mouthed kisses and intricate licks, waiting for the signs of an incoming climax.
you wonder if he’s going to let you cum, or if you can let one slip past him before he notices, but he knows your body better than you do, pulling away as soon as he knows you’re mere seconds away from hitting that point.
he repeats that process a few more times, bringing you to the brink of cumming four more times before standing between your legs, his lips coated in your juices as he grips the back of your hair, gripping it while he pulls you in for a kiss. “you taste yourself, baby? taste so fucking sweet, i just can’t get enough.” he’s almost breathless now, his eyes glossy with lust and his hair unkempt from your hands gripping and tugging on the golden strands.
he notices the tears that have welled up on your waterline, your chest heaving and your expression full of pure desperation.
rafe unzips and unbuttons his shorts, letting them fall around his ankles as he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the counter. he releases his cock from his boxers. he’s big, his dick full of veins and his tip leaking precum. he lets the tip glide through your folds gently, lets it swirl around your clit while he kisses you, his cock throbbing in his hand at the desperate sounds you breathe into his mouth.
your hips jolt forward when you feel his tip barely breach your hole, hoping that the movement would be enough to feel him inside of you, a whine falling from your lips when rafe pulls back, giving you a look. “you want me to keep going?”
a tear glides down your cheeks at his words, “no, no, please, rafey, i need it.”
“what? what do you need, baby?”
“i need you, i need you inside me,” you whimper, praying it's enough for him.
“what, like this?” he sticks two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out quickly, curling them at the ends so his finger tips brush against your g-spot. your eyelids flutter at the feeling, a frown washing over your lips when he pulls them away. he sucks the juices off of his pointer finger before putting his other finger in your mouth. “speak up, sweetheart, tell me what you need.”
“i need to feel you, feel you fuck me,” you’re truly on the verge of real tears here, “please, rafe, please fuck me, i can’t take it anymore.”
he flashes that tell-tale grin at you, one hand gripping your hip roughly as the other guides his cock back into your hole, “whatever you want, baby.”
you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside of you, the tip of his dick brushing up against the deepest part inside of you. one hand grips the edge of the counter, the other one grasps the back of his neck as you pull him closer. the hand he used to guide himself into you moves to hold one of your legs up to his hip, the other gripping your ass tightly. he thrusts in and out harshly, breathing heavily as he feels you clench tightly around him.
“feels so fucking good inside this pussy, baby,” he groans softly into your ear, “this is my fucking pussy.”
“yea,” you moan quietly, “it's all yours baby, just for you.”
he continues thrusting, knowing that your climax will come crashing down at any moment after all the edging he put you through, and he can’t wait for it. he moves the hand that was gripping your ass to your clit, letting his fingers drag over the sensitive nub gently but quickly.
you grip the back of his neck even tighter, pulling him as close as possible. you can feel a scream building in the back of your throat at the upcoming climax, knowing that you can’t let it escape. so the only logical thing you can think of at that moment, your brain practically fried from the mixture of his endless edging from earlier and now amazingly good sex, is that the only way to keep quiet is to sink your teeth into his shoulder. he’s wearing a black shirt, so you know it won’t show, but even if it would you didn’t really have another backup plan.
rafe fucks you like a wild animal until you cum, his fingers still gliding over your clit as your body tenses, teeth digging into his shoulder. he throws his head back at the combination of your pussy practically swallowing him whole, clenching around him so tightly he’s sure his poor dick has suffocated inside of you, and the harsh feeling of your teeth. the cluster of feelings sends him spiralling into his own climax, hips stuttering as he fills you up, cum spurting deep into you.
the two of you rest for a moment, holding each other as you both breathe heavily. he plants a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling out and grabbing a handful of toilet paper to wipe up the mixture of cum that begins leaking from your hole almost immediately. he gives you your panties back and pulls his own boxers and shorts back up, adjusting his appearance in the mirror next to you. “i love you, baby,” he whispers softly as he watches you go through similar motions, taking a different piece of toilet paper, wetting it as you wipe at your face, c;eaning up the places your mascara ran from the tears.
“i love you,” you smile at him, turning to plant a sweet kiss against his cheek, “that was fun.”
“yea, it was,” he laughs quietly, “you feel better now?”
“oh yea,” you nod, heart fluttering as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug.
he holds you for a moment, hand rubbing your back softly before leaning back to look at you once more. “now, let’s get back to that party and get fucked up, what do you say?”
“i’m so down, babe,” you smile, fingers interlocked with his as he leads you out of the bathroom after checking to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway.
Hey girl! I wanted to send in a Rafe request for the angst prompt #7: accidentally/drunkenly confessing feelings and yes it’s for the celebration! But it’s Rafe that confesses his feelings for the reader even though she’s a pogue but he’s always had a soft spot for her🤍
drunken confession.
pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader
word count — 0.7k
synopsis — rafe gets drunk and starts spilling the beans on his love for you.
notes — hi babe! i love this sm he would be such a doofus honestly.
join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!
you watched rafe down shot after shot, part of you feeling a little concerned for his well being for the rest of the night, and the other part of you just wanting to focus on your friends and mind your business.
but rafe was your friend too, you reminded yourself. you’d grown a soft spot for the kook after a party one night, one very similar to this one, in fact. jj loved to tease you and say that the feelings you harbored were much more than platonic, and you constantly denied his statement. but you knew he was right.
you also knew, however, that rafe cameron would never be caught dead dating a pogue. so any and all thoughts and feelings that were more than platonic for rafe got locked away to protect your own well being. the last thing you needed was the boys getting on your ass for being in love with a kook, or for topper and kelce to antagonize you for being a nasty pogue that nobody, especially rafe, would ever love.
and yet here you were, stuffing him into the passenger seat of your car because he’d had far too many to drink.
“how you feelin’ buddy?” you hum softly, your voice sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “let me know if you wanna throw up, okay?”
he just groaned in response, your words nearly triggering his gag response. “drive slow,” he keeps his eyes closed tightly as he takes deep breaths.
“you got it,” you huff through a laugh, driving as safely and steadily as you could while you brought him back to your house. you knew ward would flip his shit if rafe got brought home by a pogue while drunk like that and you wanted to protect him from that shitshow as much as possible.
by the time you got him to your house, he sighed desperately as he crawled into your bed, trashcan ready by his side. “y/n?” he called out, eyes trying to steady themselves to look at you.
“what’s up?” you call back with a sweet smile on your face, having absolutely no problem taking care of him in this vulnerable state. honestly, you felt honored that he trusted and asked for you specifically.
“i love you,” his voice is shaky and you almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.
you’re sure he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him too, so you brush him off with a soft laugh and allow your hand to rub his back soothingly. “love you too, rafe.”
“no,” he groans as he rolls to face you better, “i love you. like i know i shouldn’t cause you’re a pogue or whatever the fuck, but i love you and i can't stop thinking about you when i'm not with you. i want us to be more than this.”
you blink at him in shock, your face clad in an expression he’s unable to read that nearly sends him face first into the trashcan. he’s almost positive he ruined everything.
“are you being serious right now, rafe?”
“yes, i’m sick of walking on eggshells, i just-“ he sighs deeply, “i can't even look at other girls anymore because none of them are you.”
“i love you too, rafe,” you could cry at the confession, eyes watering and hands trembling, “i have for a while now. i just didn’t think you would feel the same way.”
“you really couldn’t tell?” he raises a brow at you.
“i guess i was in denial,” you shrug with a breathy laugh. “what do we do now?”
“well, i guess now i ask you to be my girlfriend,” rafe smiles at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy from the alcohol.
“you sure you don’t wanna wait until you’re not drunk anymore?”
“i won’t regret it, i promise,” he holds a pinky out to you, gesturing for you to hook yours with his.
you do, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently.
“y/n l/n, will you be my girlfriend?”
“rafe cameron, i absolutely will.”
he sits up slowly as to not upset his stomach, and kisses you gently, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other one steadies him. he pulls away just enough to whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”
“i always will,” you peck his lips before checking the time. “you hungry ? some places are still open, i could run and grab you something.”
thank you all so so much for all the love on my recent works!! due to all of your support, i’ve decided to do this celebration!
when — jan. 3rd to feb. 3rd
what — blurbs, headcanons, moodboards & more!
who — all characters are listed on my masterlist! (featured on the line below this <3)
resources — masterlist | prompts | rules | blog guide
note — please specify in your ask that it is for this celebration so i can get it out in a timely manner!! any request may be paired with another one! (for example you could ask for a moodboard and blurb/headcanon on the same topic within the same ask)
p.s — if you have requested a fic prior to this celebration, don’t worry! i’m working on them, but they will be full-length (1k+) fics and therefore will take more time and effort but they are coming!!
below you can find a more in depth list of the asks you can send this month!
moodboards.
moodboards will consist of 9 photos pertaining to a specific topic and show/character of your choice!
the more specific you are the easier it is for me to create the moodboard, so please enter as many details as you can!
blurbs.
blurbs will consist of a short fic-like post under 1k words. this word count limit is to prevent me from feeling burnt out or overwhelmed with asks and will help me put out more content in a timely manner.
you can request a blurb based on a specific topic + character surrounding a particular song, scenario, alternate universe (AU), or prompt. (please don’t forget to specify!)
headcanons.
headcanons will consist of a bulleted list of thoughts and ideas i have on a specific concept pertaining to a character/topic/show.
you can request a headcanon on a specific topic + character surrounding a particular song, scenario, or alternate universe (AU). (please don’t forget to specify!)
yap sesh.
use this as your opportunity to ask me anything (within reason!) or just chat with me about anything. i’m looking for new moots that i can talk with about stuff so don’t be shy!
anons are more than welcome! please don’t abuse this privilege, however.
i’m so excited to see what requests you guys send in :) thank you all again for supporting me from the beginning and being so kind! i love u all 💌💌
tagging some moots to help get started! — @rubiehart @lanasb0ngwater @sarahsangelicdoll @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme
jbbartram-illu
prguitarman
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
