Summary: What if you were the one who saved Sarah from drowning instead of Topper? Unfortunately, being the hero comes with consequences in risking your own life at the hands of Rafe Cameron.
⚠️warnings⚠️: dark content, violence/gun violence, implied drug usage, kidnapping, language, eventual dubcon
Inspired by season 2 episode 5 "The Darkest Hour"
“You’ve always been against me!”
Rafe had Sarah cornered at the dock, making it impossible for her to escape. You were at the docks late at night, picking up a package that was left at the front shipment of your dad’s fishing business. Once you grabbed the package, you heard a man yelling from the distance.
“Do you understand!” The strong voice boomed throughout the docking area, echoing towards where you stood.
“Where are you going, Sarah?” Rafe says, chasing after his little sister.
“Sarah” was the only thing you were able to understand. “Sarah!” You drop your package and immediately ran towards the commotion. You quickly reached the main part of the dock, but there was no one there. It was suddenly silent, until you heard water splashing and a gasp for air.
You quickly turn around to find the nearest noise. After jumping over the rope, there you saw Rafe Cameron standing tall as he was drowning Sarah in a container of water. Your adrenaline acted fast, picking up a metal bar you found next to the ropes. Running up to him, you swing the metal bar to his back, causing him to collapse and releasing his grip on Sarah.
“Oh my god, Sarah!” You quickly pulled her out of the water.
Her lips were turning blue by the second she wasn't responding.
Finally, she gasps for air. Choking on the water she had accidentally swallowed.
“Hey, hey! Are you okay?!” you were painted with concern. She hunches over, while you hit her back to release more of the water.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fin- y/n!” she yells in warning. Rafe was suddenly behind you, grabbing you harshly.
“What are you doing here, y/n.” His voice ran a chill down your spine.
“Let go of me!” You struggle to escape from his brutal grasp, but that only made him hold on tighter.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
He then drags you away from Sarah, and moved towards the exit.
“No! Let go of her!” Sarah attempts to run after him, but he turns around and pushes her down, causing her to hit her head on the ground.
You scream at her unconscious body lying there.
“You think you could just save the day, huh? Everyone wants to save Miss. Sarah Cameron!”
He shoves you into his truck, clicking the child safe locks, as he gets into the drivers seat.
“Rafe! Let me out! Help!” Your attempt to punch him and bang at the window was no use. Your resistance only made him angrier. Without any warning, Rafe reaches from under his seat and a black rectangular object appears in his hands.
“Stop! Stop!” he yells, you silently cry as his aim was now pointed at your forehead. Salty tears ran down your face, your vision so blurry from all the tears, yet the gun was so clear to see.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna come with me, okay? No more screaming, and no more fighting, or else I will pull the trigger, alright?”
You were crying so hard that your words were muffled, making it difficult for him to understand you.
“I said, alright!” He shouted, repeating himself. You flinched, immediately clearing your throat. “Yes! Alright!” Your words were laced with fear. Rafe removed the gun away from your head, tucking it back under his seat. He turns on his car and quickly pulls out of the driveway towards the main road.
Quiet sobs escaped you while Rafe drove you to god knows where. The roads were too dark to make it out, all you heard was ocean waves crashing into the night. You glance at him slightly in hopes of creating some conversation. But he didn’t even flinch, his eyes were fixated on the dark road for about 10 minutes now. You opened your mouth, but you were quick to close it.
“What is it, y/n?” Rafe says, his eyes still focused on the road. His tone was tense, but it was a bit more calmer than how it was earlier.
You gulped, not sure if anything you ask will get you killed.
“What are you going to do to me?” You choked out, your voice comes out so little, so weak in comparison to Rafe’s.
He finally looks at you, his bloodshot eyes stares directly at your swollen ones. You weren’t the type to cause any drama. That was JJ’s job. But since everyone on the goddamn island knew how much Rafe Cameron loves to stir shit up, you just never cared to interact with him. Simple as that. Plus, you don’t remember the last time you two had a proper conversation. Rafe was either too coked out or drunk to keep one with you. JJ once made an absurd joke saying how Rafe had given you the “Pogue pass.”
“Pogue pass? you just made that shit up, JJ” you exclaimed.
“I did not!” he stomped his foot on the ground.
You shoot him a ‘are you serious’ look that he knew all too well.
“Okay, maybe I did. But listen, I’m right. And you wanna know why I’m right? Because out of all the times that Rafe had tormented us…” JJ’s index finger whirls into a circle and then points directly at you.
“He made sure that you weren’t there.”
That made you stop to think for a minute.
JJ threw another crushed up beer can on the grass as he watches you come to this realization.
“Give me an example” you said, not fully convinced.
“That time at the movies, you couldn’t go because some Kook family placed a large amount of fish orders that night.”
“JJ that’s nothing out of the ordinary-”
“Then bam! Rafe and his little Kook minions attacks me, Kiara, and Pope.”
“Okay but-“
“Ah! ah! ah! And there was that other time when our bikes “magically disappeared” on the beach, but the only one left was yours. You had to leave early because you were late for dinner, and what does Rafe do? He picks a fight with John B.”
You placed your hands on your hips.
“Well, maybe he didn’t want some hot pink bike from when I was nine.”
“Doesn’t matter, you still had your bike.” JJ shrugs. “Oh and guess what? You still weren’t there!"
You playfully roll your eyes at JJ's crazy theory. There's no way that Rafe would create a plan to keep you from being involved in his violent activities.
"I’m telling you y/n, Pogue pass, soft spot, pretty privilege, whatever the hell it is! Rafe doesn’t hate you as much as he hates us.”
Now, if only you could tell JJ that Rafe has held you at gunpoint, kidnapped you, and is now going to finish you off…
You would have placed a bet on it.
Rafe ignores your question and just mumbles, “We’ll be there soon.”
Your heart starts to race even faster, you thought of so many possibilities all at once.
Is he going to take you somewhere to finish you off?
Drown you like what he did to Sarah?
Actually pulling the trigger this time?
Panic starts to flood your body and you had to think quick. Now’s the time to act before you reach your final destination.
Running off on adrenaline, you suddenly shot your hand out to grab the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve left and right.
“You monster!”
“Hey! What the fuck are you doing!” Rafe shouts, trying to get a hold of the wheel. But you didn’t let go. You didn’t care if you crashed, as long as he wasn’t going to be the cause of your death. The truck screeched in circles, and the smell of tires burns through your nose. However, Rafe’s grip was stronger. He swats your hand away and now has full control of the wheel. Rafe took a hard break, but the sudden turn made his truck hit a small tree off the side of the highway. The impact wasn’t hard enough for the airbags to inflate, but the front bumper had been damaged.
“Shit!” Rafe yelled, slamming his hand on the wheel. Now was your chance to escape. You busted the passenger door open, headache pounding as you run side to side of the opposite way of the truck. Dizziness and blurred stars start to form in your vision. You started to visualize your friends waiting for you at the end of the street. Sarah waving and encouraging you to make it towards her. As you run faster to them, you feel your body betray you at the worst moment. Your muscles felt like jelly, making it harder for you to keep up. And before you knew it, you dropped down to the pavement floor. Just like that, the environment around you faded like a black screen. Heavy steps and the sound of loafers rang through your ears. All there was left was the light sensation of your body weight being lifted off the ground from a pair of strong arms.
💙 ೃ࿔*:･ 💙 ೃ࿔*:･ 💙 ೃ࿔*:･
You passed out without even knowing it. A bump in the road causing you to shoot up from your unconscious body, hoping that all of this was just one big nightmare. A light grey jacket was draped over your shoulders. The jacket's scent consisted of soap and smoke fills your senses, making you realize that it was Rafe who had placed it there while you were out. You curse yourself for being so reckless, who knows what Rafe could’ve done to you while you were out? But as your eyes adjusted to the bright gate lights, there you saw a medium sized blue house, enough to fit a family of 5. It was not as extravagant as Tannyhill, but definitely in better condition than your house back on The Cut. This was probably one of the many beach houses that the Cameron’s own.
Rafe exits the drivers seat, opening your door and pulling you out from your seat. His grey jacket now on the floor. You wince at his cruel way of manhandling you, glaring at him at every chance you could get. He then pulls out a black bandana and tightly wraps it around your eyes. While also grabbing your two hands, and placing them behind your back. Rafe noticed how you stiffened when he tightened the zip ties around your wrists.
“That’s what happens when you make stupid decisions”, He spits out.
You stumble up the patio steps, tripping over your own feet. Rafe opens the front door, pushing you to go in first. He leads you through the house, while your legs were trembling on every step of the staircase.
Before opening the first room that he could find, Rafe stops in the middle of the hallway. He digs for something in his pocket and takes a deep breath. You didn't need your eyes to know what he was doing in that moment.
Guilt starts to creep up on you while you wondered if Sarah was even alive. Yes, you saved her, but at the cost of putting her in danger again. Seeing her body go limp at the docks made you want to cry all over again. You were really hoping someone had found her. Snapping you out of your thoughts, Rafe pulls you the opposite way of where you two were standing at and opens a door. He forces your body onto the firm mattress, making you groan.
“Pl-please, Rafe. I’m so sorry, don’t do this to me. Just let me go, please.” you beg so desperately, not knowing which direction he’s standing in.
His body weight dips onto the mattress when he stalks closer to you. His rough calloused hands shoots out to squeeze your cheeks together, making you form a squishy face. Your body starts to shake, preparing for the worst to come.
"You're lucky I got somewhere to be right now, or else I would've fucked the desperation outta you", he whispers into your ear like it's a secret.
The mattress then felt lighter below you when the sound of the door locking fills the room. Leaving you all alone, and tied up with no indication of when he’s coming back.
author's note: soo…😳😳 what do we think?? there will be a part 2! hopefully i have some time to revise it soon bc i’ve been booked😪 but i never thought i’ll be posting this so 🕺🏼 coming out of my shell! cheers to my first fic being posted!🥂
summary: where a heated game of chase with rafe turns real.
tags: cussing, chasing kink (?), kidnapping, insinuating of sexual activity, drugging.

it was weird.
how being with rafe made you realize weird things about yourself.
like how you loved being babied, or how you loved being held like a baby in his arms. or how you liked being chased.
it started as a joke, you were in his room, watching tiktoks while he ran his hands up and down your hip, occasionally ticking you. it was one of those days where the house was alone, just you and rafe in the cameron's house.
you had already asked rafe to stop tickling you. you considered it a form of torture. especially since he never stopped when you said no! so to get back at him, you suddenly bolted away from him. stumbling a bit on the stairs. you thought you had the head start, that he was going to have to chase you.
but in less than a minute you felt strong arms wrapping around your torso and picking you up. did he fuck you after that? yes...was it the best sex you had yet? absolutely.
it happened again at a party. you wanted to stay longer, to drink till you blacked out! but he was a partypooper and decided to head home. but with you. naturally, you whined, pouted and even stomped your feet like a little girl. and when he threatened to pick you up and take you to his truck, you did it again; you ran.
obviously you didnt last even a second before he picked you up again. and ofcourse, you did get fucked in the back of his truck. and again when you both got home. and again and again and again.
you assumed it was the adrenaline, the rush of running from a big man like rafe. getting chased and thrown and manhandled weirdly turned you on.
it turned into a little game between you too.
“im going to give you 30 seconds to get back here before i-” and before he could finish his sentence you had blasted past him, out of the house and into the woods. the sun was about to set, you were in a sundress and kitten heels yet still, you were pretty fast.
recognizing this little antic of yours, rafe gave you about 30 seconds before he was running after you. because even if rafe denies it, this little game of cat and mouse helped him. not only did it intensify an already very active sex life between you two, but it was also an outlet to release all his pent up rage that he had accumulated from his dad and the outside world.
you were so cute, thinking you could easily get away from him. you were oblivious of the fact that rafe was already near, your body flinched when your heel accidentally snapped a branch. ”shi-”
“boo.” he deadpanned behind you, big, bulging and arms wrapping around the back of your thighs to haul you up like a sack of potatoes. you didnt argue, just a small pout adorned your lips. it did make you feel better how he was out of breath though. it showed that you were getting better at the game.
fast forward to now.
today it was different, things were more serious, more tense. you knew rafe was...not exactly okay. he was broken, a little bit demented. you realized that when he killed a cop, when he drowned sarah, but it's all hitting you more when he's pushing you down the stairs against your will.
he's been repeating something about a boat, a cross, about a better life.
“let me go!” you cried into his palm, clawing at his forearm as he adjusted his grip to make your screams more muffled. “shut up. shut up shut up shut up.” he let you go abruptly, causing you to fall to your knees. a loud sob ripped through your lips. chest heaving as your hurriedly pulled yourself up and ran out of the house.
this time it wasnt a game, it was real. you could hear sarah scream in one of the closets, paired with rose telling her that it'll be okay. you needed to get out of here, fast. you dont know how long you ran, you just know your bare feet are bleeding.
it was futile, you knew that. rafe was probably behind you, probably beraly getting out of the house because he knows no matter what, he would find you.
“mm..” you let out a whimper,looking around, hoping to see any lights. but all you saw was dark, then you felt him behind you. a napkin being pressed against your nose, your nails dug harshly into his arm again as you kicked the air. “you'll understand. this is for us, baby. for us.” he whispered into your hair, his chest heaving erratically as your slowly went limp in his arms.
as he walked back to the house, rose was already placing sarah's unconscious body in the backseat. “everything okay?” he asked tightly, watching as he cradled you in his arms. slightly wincing at your cut up feet. “she'll be okay.” he whispered, sitting down next to sarah, your body still cocooned in his arms as he pressed delicate pecks against your cheek.
“ready?” rose mumbled as she sat in the driver's seat, giving a very scared wheezie a small smile before she looked back to check on rafe.
“just drive.” he mumbled roughly, his lips pressed against your hairline.
“she'll be okay.” rose echoes his previous statement, “she'll understand once she sees what we have on store for us.”
rafe smiles a bit for the first time that day. you'll understand, you'll learn to forgive him and he'll learn to give you the life you deserve outside of the outerbanks.
Warnings: Rafe verbally abusing, slutshaming and calling reader a bitch, spitting in readers face, humiliation, hair pulling, slight noncon threat, mention of slapping reader (he doesn’t)
Word Count: 1.3k
The sun is hanging overhead, painting the sky orange with its slow descent. You’re sitting on the bleachers in a mini-skirt, feeling the humidity latch onto your skin with a thin sticky layer. But your mind is stuck on your stepbrother.
He’s covered in sweat and his arms are swollen from the blood rushing to his muscles. He adjusts his helmet, making sure it’s secure while everyone gets back into their positions to run the same drill over again.
You watch in rapt attention as Rafe tackles another guy his size to the ground. The way he barrels into the boy almost makes you flinch. It’s so angry, so cruel, almost like Rafe is trying to knock him out. And you aren’t the only one who feels that way, because sure enough, the Coach blows his whistle.
“Cameron, what the hell was that?!” Coach Lewis sneers. “You told me to hit him, Coach.” Rafe replies clearly and evenly. “I told you to hit the sonuvabitch, not kill him!” Lewis yells back, pointing toward the bench against the brick wall below the bleachers. “Off my fuckin’ field.” he commands, turning back to the other players standing there awkwardly, visibly more afraid to face Lewis’ wrath than Rafe. “You assholes take a water break. Ten minutes.”
You stand up immediately, shoes padding down the metal stairs until you reach the railing just overhead of where Rafe’s sitting with his helmet off and shoulders slumped. “Did you just get benched?” you ask, peeking over. He looks up at you, eyes tired and jaw clenched in irritation. “Shut up and get down here.”
Rafe runs a tense, gloved hand over his greasy blond bangs while you hurry down to him. He looks up as you practically materialize by his side, taking a seat next to him on the worn wood. His cheeks are flushed and a bead of sweat drips down his forehead, his body hot and overworked like a furnace. You can feel the heat radiating off of him with each slow second.
Then he grabs you by the back of your head, his large palm almost covering it entirely, forcing you into a passionate kiss. Your eyes widen a brief moment before fluttering closed, meeting his kiss with less intensity. Your lips fit together perfectly, like God itself crafted the two of you to be one. As if your senses return at the mere feeling of Rafe’s swollen lips against yours, your hands press against his padded chest. “Rafe, we can’t.”
He scoffs, his face twitching indignantly. “Chill out, no one sees us.” You look over at the field, paranoia creeping up your spine, but the coast is clear. No one even spares a glance in your direction. From your peripheral, you see Rafe stand up with a newfound determination in his once fatigued form.
“Get up.” He nearly barks, loud enough to spook you off the bench but not enough for someone else to notice. For the first time today, Rafe gets a good look at your skirt. You stand there timidly as his narrowed eyes take in the sight of your bare thighs, and the way the fabric’s edge picks up with every light brush of wind. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He snaps at you, his voice booming in demand. “It’s a skirt!” you reply defensively, hands going down to brush it, trying to tug it lower.
Rafe shakes his head in disapproval, seizing the opportunity to drag you by your mocha-colored backpack to the underside of the bleachers. You stumble along, trying to keep up with his long strides.
“What are you doing—“ you’re cut off by the feeling of something wet landing across your forehead and nose, making you freeze. You blink in shock, mind buffering in its processing of what he’s done. But Rafe doesn’t waste any time tearing into you in your stuck-in-place stance.
“How dare you walk around in a slutty little skirt like some rent-a-whore?!” he nearly bellows, his voice dropping into something scary. Something you aren’t used to with him. “I- I-“ you shake your head, stammering over your words while your hand finally goes up to your face, wiping off the saliva from earlier.
“You what?” he grits, not allowing you to respond as he spits in your face again. Your eyes close, a whimper ripping from your throat. “Answer me, bitch.” he presses, grabbing you by the jaw and squeezing your cheeks with his thumb and pointer, proceeding to spit in your face for the third time. His saliva, warm and sticky from dehydration, hits your eyeliner, landing in your lashes and slowly trickling down your face. You gasp, “Rafe—“ you whisper and he spits on you once more, this time landing on your contoured nose.
He lets go, forcing himself to take a step back and a deep breath, doing his damnedest not to slap you across the face. “Tell me. Fucking tell me why my sister’s walking around with her ass out for everyone to see!”
You wipe the spit from your eyes, feeling tears burn in humiliating pools that are threatening to overflow. “I thought it was cute.” you answer quietly.
“Bullshit, you wanted attention.” he snaps. You stand there with a frown, because he’s not wrong. You did want attention— but only his. “I wanted you to look at me.” you admit with shame. He scoffs, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you closer. “You’re a little attention-seeking bitch.” he glares, his eyes conveying nothing but anger and repulsion.
The two of you maintain silent but uncomfortable eye contact, the energy behind the bleachers charged with disgust that makes you want to disappear.
Then he grabs your face again, not as harshly but still too rough. “Open your mouth.” he says softer this time, already shoving his thumb through the small gap in your lips. Your lips wrap around his finger on instinct, making his jaw clench with annoyance. “I said open.” he repeats, and this time you do, albeit hesitantly.
Rafe smirks, “Stick out your tongue.” he adds. And once again, you listen. He moves his thumb out of the way and spits again. This time he aims right for your tongue. He misses, the sticky DNA landing perfectly into the back of your throat, making you choke. He watches with a lick of his lips as you cough, and before you can catch your breath, he pulls your head back and spits again. This time a thicker glob lands in your mouth, on your tongue. Despite how sweaty and dirty his body was— the dehydration too— his taste isn’t bad. It makes you want more. So you swallow, which isn’t unusual. You always swallowed Rafe’s fluids.
“Good.” he says simply, petting your hair while you gaze up at him, your eyeliner slightly runny and nose blushed. Then he leans in. His tongue carefully runs across your wet cheek, lapping up the salty tears and leftover spit like some kind of dog.
“Again.” he murmurs, standing up straighter and towering over you.
You nod, opening up. He spits one more time, you swallow, then his hand drops from you. He looks you up and down, his gaze still critical but more pleased now with your obedience. Rafe leans in one last time, kissing you. This time he’s softer, savoring the flavor of your cherry chapstick. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, letting it run across your own with something that tastes forbidden in the best way.
“Don’t wear shit like that again or I’ll fuck you on the field.” he states unnervingly easily as he pulls away. And you know he’s being honest.
“Okay.” you say quietly, watching him walk back out from the bleachers and slowly to the field, leaving you there with runny makeup, a wet face, and a sense of regret.
Pics above come from my lovely moot @sweettoothrafe’s Vampire!Sarah moodboard!! Please give her a follow 💋
Vampire!GF!Sarah That may or may not have stalked you for months, eaten your last boyfriend, then “coincidentally” showed up at the right moment to play your dream heroine.
Vampire!GF!Sarah With icy cold hands and a spray tan to hide her empty veins. You still recall the first time you asked, “How is your skin glittery?” and she told you it was the lighting. It was nighttime.
Vampire!GF!Sarah That digs her sharp nails into your arm when those Kook boys stand too close to you. “Will you get away from her, Topper?!”
Vampire!GF!Sarah Sneaking around the forest when you went camping with the pogues. She never told you she was there and you never asked because you could feel her. Her voice blended with the wind and her movements were masqueraded with what sounded like animal footsteps. But when your head hit the pillow that night, her voice echoed in whispers only you could hear.
Vampire!GF!Sarah Who’s too prideful to admit you leaving her is terrifying, so she veils it with threats. “You know I’d eat you and your entire family if we broke up?” “Sarah, what the hell?”
Vampire!GF!Sarah Who keeps trying to bring you over to the other side. “But we can be together forever, babe.” she tilts her head, giving you an irresistible pleading pout. You struggle to resist her but you know it’s for the best. “Forever is a long time…”
Vampire!GF!Sarah Eating you out on your period and sucking a little too hard on your entrance.“Ow, Sarah!” you sit up, looking down at your girlfriend whose brown eyes meet yours with a playful gaze. “Did you just bite me?” She tilts her head innocently. “Did you not like it?”
Vampire!GF!Sarah Who goes to medical appointments with you to request an extra vial of your blood. When the doctor asks why, Sarah just stares. Her eyes are penetratingly gorgeous, which charms the doctor into dropping the question all together.
Vampire!GF!Sarah That defends you to her family, especially her elitist older brother. “She’s no good, she’ll just get all of us killed.” he loves to tell her. “Fuck you, Rafe. You don’t know her.” Sarah always fought back. She only digs her heels in the dirt like that, both metaphorically and literally, for you.
Vampire!GF!Sarah Demanding Rafe impregnate you so you and her can raise a baby together. “I’m not doing that.” he refuses with a look of disgust. “Mom, is that not a good idea?!” Sarah turns to the older women defensively, expecting Rose to take her side. “Sarah… that’s.. no.”
hi! u asked for some rafe oneshots req, so i thought that maybe u could do rafe helping reader on her period. he's usually cold in their relationship but this is the only time where he softens and cuddles her. tysm<3
Make it better
pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
blurb: Rafe comforting you when you're on your period
warnings: fluff, kissing
wc: 1k
You were curled up under the covers. Again. Just like you were every single month, for the few days when your body decided to turn against you and your hormones decided to do their own thing. And every single time it was terrible. Cramps. Headaches. Mood swings. The whole lot.
Rafe noticed immediately when he strode in. The way your face was scrunched in discomfort. The way you were on your side, pressing into the mattress like you wanted to melt into it. He’d been out with his father the whole day. Some business thing that you didn’t ask too much about. It was obvious to him that you were in pain.
“Hey… hey baby, what’s wrong?” he murmured, throwing his jacket over a chair before sitting down next to you on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as he tried to get a better look at you. He was surprisingly gentle in times like this, something no one would expect from Figure 8’s golden boy.
You shook your head, burying yourself deeper into the bed, answering back with a strained, “I’m fine.”
Rafe frowned. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice was still soft but firmer this time, as he gently brushed your hair back from your face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
You couldn’t stay quiet when he spoke like that. “It’s just cramps,” you mumbled, eyes a little glassy from the pulls of pain. It was a little embarrassing to admit that to him. The fact that you couldn’t even deal with some tiny cramps. What if Rafe got disgusted and left or something?
Just as the thought popped into your mind, his weight was off the bed again. When you looked up, he was gone, his presence no longer there. Great. Why did you tell him that? A sob crawled its way out of you, the mood swings making every emotion feel that much more intense.
However, before you could dwell on it for too long, Rafe was walking into the room again. Was he holding… a heating pad? You stared at him in shock this time, hair messy and fresh tear tracks on your cheeks.
Rafe didn’t tease you or comment on that. No matter how cold he usually was, he’d never stand you hurting on his watch. If there was a problem, he’d fix it. Make you smile again. You deserved it. Deserved all the love and care in the world. Rafe knew that while also knowing you could do better than him. But damnit if he didn’t try his best to give you it all.
You whimpered slightly as Rafe sat on the bed, pulling you into his lap so you were curled against his chest. The shift in positions caused your muscles to tense again, a wince escaping you, but that pain soon melted as Rafe pressed the heating pad against your stomach. You sighed into his shoulder, instinctively leaning towards the heat.
“Is that better?” Rafe’s voice was gravelly, his breath fanning over your ear.
“Mm… yeah,” you nodded, relaxing slightly for the first time in hours. “Feels good…”
Rafe watched you intently, memorising how you loosened up. His hand ran through your hair again, the other moving to place the heat pack under the shirt that you're wearing. One of his loose faded tees. You gasped softly at the added relief, curling into his touch.
Rafe tilted your chin, wanting you to meet his eyes. “Don’t hide from me again. Tell me everything. You understand?”
You nod, still a little bit shy. You weren’t used to being cared for like this during your period.
Rafe must’ve noticed, that protective look in his growing. “I’ll always take care of you, baby. I take care of what’s mine.”
You didn’t know what to say, but his words made you feel wanted in some way. If being his meant feeling like this, you’d take it.
“You wanna watch a movie? We can watch one of those cheesy romcoms you love,” Rafe asked, as if knowing a distraction was what you needed.
Your face lit up at his words. Rafe hated romcoms. “Really?”
“Mhm.” Rafe tried to play it off, but he couldn’t hide the way his expression softened at the pure joy in your eyes. “We could have some ice cream too. Chocolate?” He knew that was your favourite.
“Yes! Can we?” you squealed, practically glowing at that point. The cramps hadn’t necessarily gone, still a faint feeling in your stomach, but you were focused on them now. Only about having a night in with Rafe. You always savoured every second when he was soft like this.
Rafe chuckled, gently picking you up and carrying you downstairs. He placed you on the couch, wrapping you in a fuzzy blanket before heading to the kitchen. He returned holding a bowl of ice cream and two spoons. “Go on. Pick whatever,” he drawled, plopping down next to you.
After way too much careful consideration, you decided on 10 Things I Hate About You. Rafe groaned playfully, rolling his eyes, “Again?”
“You said pick anything,” you giggled, resting your head on his chest, cuddling into him.
Rafe froze for half a second before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Only because those stupid cramps are hurting my girl,” he murmured, settled the heat pack carefully before opening the ice cream.
“You know you love my taste in movies,” you smiled, grabbing a spoon and digging into the tub. You hummed as it melted on your tongue.
The opening credits rolled as Rafe asked, “How is it?” He took a spoonful for himself a second later.
“Perfect,” you whispered, softer now as you settled against him. You weren’t sure if you were talking about the ice cream, the moment, or him anymore. All you knew if the cramps were something you could barely notice right now.
“I’ll always make it better, baby…”
a/n: sorry this is like kinda short but i always love a little soft comfort rafe moment. as always thank you sm for the request! more oneshots will be coming sooonnn 💕✨ feel free to send in requests for fics, headcanons or moodboards ꫂ᭪݁
Warnings: swearing, horror movie mentioned, calling Rafe daddy, married couple fluff!!
Word Count: 1.6k
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
After dinner, Rafe stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and let Winnie run around while you started the dishes. You only had the two plates and a glass to scrub, placing them in the dishwasher with the pots and pans you’d already put in there from earlier.
By the time you finished, Rafe came back in with the dog. He tossed Winnie a treat and watched as she pranced over to the couch, curling up with her honey-yellow blanket. You leave the kitchen a moment later, glancing at your fur-baby before turning to look at your man-baby. “Ready to shower?” you ask with a little cheeky smile. He smirks, biting his bottom lip and grabbing your hand to drag you upstairs.
Rafe pushes the door to your room open with care, a demand you made after he used his boot one time and left a mark you spent the next day having to scrub. “I’ll get the water going, grab towels.” he says, stepping into the bathroom. You pull two from the towel rack, then two washcloths and hang them up on the little hook next to the shower. Rafe stands up straighter, having gotten the temperature just right, pulling the curtain closed and letting the shower run long enough to heat up the room.
He turns his attention towards you, taking a lazy step closer. “You’re still in your boots.” you remind him, looking down. “Fuck.” he grumbles, rolling his eyes and pushing past you to take them off. You huff a laugh.
He’s always forgetful, always ruining little moments like these with something so trivial. That’s one reason why you fell for him. Rafe isn’t perfect and never tries to be.
He re-enters the bathroom, boots gone and belt unbuckled, running a hand over his head. You take a moment to get a good look at him, seeing the way his bicep flexes, the subtle tension in his jaw from the stressors of work, and the small scars on his rough hands caused by careless work accidents that weren’t always his fault.
“What?” he mutters, feeling self conscious under your gaze. His tiredness momentarily unmasks his cool, confident facade, revealing the unguarded, not-so-confident Rafael you know. “Nothing.” you reply, lifting your short dress to pull it over your head. Rafe stands back, watching, taking in the site with admiration instead of lust. It’s why you have no hesitance standing bare for him. His hands go to your hips with a light squeeze, eyes trailing from your face to your chest before meeting yours again with quiet reverence. “You’re so beautiful.” he praises like a secret.
You smile, hands going to the waistband of his underwear beneath his jeans. “Yeah, yeah, hurry up.” you roll your eyes, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach. He scoffs, playing the part of an annoyed husband, tugging his shirt over his head anyway. You let out a moan, something playful but maybe involuntary, making his face scrunch with amused disgust. “What’s your problem?”
“You, daddy.” you tease him with a grin, and he rolls his eyes again, shaking his head. “You’re fucked up.” he scolds, pretending he doesn’t love when you call him that. You kiss his peck, playful but affectionate and he pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “We need to hurry up before the water gets cold.” he murmurs against your hair. You tug at his belt loop, and he finally drops his pants, the belt still in the loops, leaving him in his boxers. You smirk, moving your hand quickly to scare him into thinking you’re gonna grab him down there. He jolts, nearly jumping back, “Hey!”
You giggle, pulling your panties down with ease and leaving them discarded on the tile. He follows in suit, climbing into the shower after letting you go first. Once you’re under the water together, Rafe holds you tightly against him, an excuse to steal your body heat since he’s letting you get hit with the majority of the water. “Ew, now I’m sticky and gross.” you complain, feeling his previously dried sweat cling to your skin. “Just enjoy it.” he jokes dryly, holding you even closer just to get on your nerves. You huff, wrapping your arms around his muscular waist, allowing yourself to have this moment with him. Quiet, no worries, no responsibilities or past anxieties resurfacing like they often did in your shower spirals before bed.
Rafe leans down, kissing your neck, his lips trailing down your shoulder gently then back up. He doesn’t feel rushed or forceful, the way his hands caress you like a fragile porcelain. You exhale, feeling your body relax in his presence. “Let me bathe you.” his voice is breathy in your ear. “I’m supposed to be the one bathing you.” you point out. He doesn’t reply, instead grabbing your shampoo, squirting more than you would’ve used, on top of your head. “You son of a bitch.” you scold, he chuckles. Rafe wastes no time scrubbing the product deep into your scalp, his rough fingers forcing the shampoo to penetrate every follicle. Once he’s done, he positions you under the shower head and washes the rest of it, leaving the little shower smelling like warm vanilla cream. “Thank you.” you murmur. He doesn’t respond, but he does pick up one of the rags, wetting it.
Before he can soap it up, you grab his wrist, “No, it’s your turn.” you grab the bar of soap— because he’s a man and that’s what he uses, despite your concern of how well it works on dirty, greasy construction workers— lathering it up in the rag until it’s sudsy enough. “Stand under here.” you position him under the shower this time, letting the still-warm water hit his limbs and back.
Once he’s ready, you begin by scrubbing his chest, squeezing the cloth to gather up more of the bubbles and rubbing them all over his torso with a gentle hand. Rafe watches how you care for him, deciding to ask, “Are you gonna wash my dick too?”
You blink, glaring up at him in a silent look of, ‘shut the fuck up’. He grins, “well?”
“No, because then you’ll get hard and I’ll have to jerk you off.” You reply shortly, not in the mood for his shenanigans. “And that’s bad.. why?” he presses, putting his hands up in a playful defense when you whip his abs with the rag. “Turn around.” you murmur, unable to stop yourself from looking at his ass. “Nice butt.” you comment. “Shut up.” he grumbles. You snicker, running the rag under the water again, getting it soapier to wash his back.
“When we get out of here, do you want to watch a movie?” Rafe asks, grabbing his shampoo to hurry up and get this over with. He hates long showers when he’s already sleepy. “Yeah.” you answer, not bothering to ask what he has in mind. It’s horror. It’s always horror.
Once Rafe is completely clean, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes following the water droplets running from your forehead down to your breasts. “Those are great tits.” he states, looking at them unashamedly. “Thanks.” you reply blankly. Then he smirks, and so do you, because this is your love language.
Dry, blunt, raunchy and sarcastic. But never a lie.
“Okay, switch.” he puts his hands on your shoulders to change positions again, maneuvering you back under the stream. “Now spin.” he adds, as if he’s some kind of camera man you’re modeling for.
“Rafe this is stupid—“ he cuts you off with another, “Spin.” you roll your eyes for god only knows the time tonight, turning in a stupid, embarrassing circle for your stupid husband. He grins, satisfied and amused to see you obeying despite your earlier protest. “Okay now you’re wet.” he nods curtly, grabbing the second wash cloth to bathe you. Just then your eyebrows lift with realization. “I forgot conditioner!”
“Baby!” he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Your fault by the way.” you mutter, grabbing the conditioner and hurriedly lathering the ends of your hair. He goes back to getting your cloth ready with your coconut body wash that he always bitches about the price of. You quickly rinse your hair for a final time, watching as Rafe already begins washing your body. His movements are quick but gentle, making sure to lightly scrub from your chest to your neck and shoulders. You hum in satisfaction, tilting your head to give him better access. The corners of his lips are curled up in a small smile, pleased to see you in bliss over him helping with such a mundane task. “Smells good.” he murmurs mindlessly. You continue to watch quietly, his hands lightly gripping and sinking into soft flesh with a careful reverence.
Rafe’s focus is solely on your form, his eyes hazy with love and strongholded hunger. “I can’t wait to go to sleep.” he murmurs, turning you around again to wash off the bubbles and scrub your back. “I imagine you are. You work a lot.” you reply, not much thought behind it. He only hums.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
Out of the bathroom, now tucked in bed, Rafe turns on ‘Hostel’. You side eye him while he lays back, wrapping a muscular arm around you, his bicep lightly flexed under your chin as he gets comfortable. “Are we actually watching this before bed?”
“Yeah, shut up.” he mutters, already starting to fall asleep. You huff, because this always happens. He turns on a scary movie, falls asleep, and leaves you watching it by yourself. The worst part is you know morbid curiosity will get the better of you, you’ll watch it even in disgust. But you let it continue to happen because it’s the little moments like these that leave Rafe satisfied and you feeling safe.
eeeek! okayy👀 i decided to release a draft that i wrote back in feb 2025 which is based on these three gifs!! my first *EVER* fic that i’m posting on the internet🙇♀️🙈
CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.
@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.
"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.
"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.
"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.
"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.
"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.
"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.
"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.
"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.
"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.
i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.
@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.
“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.
“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.
“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.
“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.
“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.
"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.
@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.
"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.
"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."
"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"
@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"
"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.
@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.
"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.
@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.
@perlelune
"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.
"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone
"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(
@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.
"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.
"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure
"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.
"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.
"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.
"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)
@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3
Love the off Campus content n fics ur writing, ur genuinely on a roll! but I'd love more drew starkey or Rafe cameron fics, only if u could ofc
Rafe Cameron's NSFW Alphabet (Rough/dark Kook Rafe x pogue edition)
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡Archive for Earth-1104
a/n: You will get much more when season 5 comes out, right now I'm very much out of requests for Rafe but if you guys like this I could make a softer Kook x Pogue version, a Kook x Kook version and a season 5 fugitive Rafe and Pogue version!
Classification and content warnings: Smut +18 | Intense power dynamics, rough physical intimacy, degradation, drug references, marking/bruising, mention of spitting, breeding kink, cum play, possessiveness, jealousy, risky/exhibitionist elements and a highly toxic, addictive relationship dynamic with class tension.
Word count: 5,3k
Divider by me ;)
A - Aggression: Rafe Cameron doesn’t do gentle, especially not with a Pogue like you. The second he has you pinned against the side of the Cameron’s boat house or shoved into the back of his truck after a party where you weren’t even supposed to be, his hands are bruising.
He’s all teeth and territorial growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave marks that you’ll have to hide under hoodies for days while you’re slinging beers at The Wreck.
“You think you can just look at me like that in front of my friends, huh? Dirty little Pogue slut,” he’d rasp against your ear, voice thick with coke, contempt and something darker that he only lets out with you.
His fingers dig into your hips, yanking you back onto his cock with punishing snaps of his pelvis, no warm-up or mercy. You’re soaked anyway, because the hate-fuck chemistry between a Kook prince and a Cut girl is filthy and addictive. He’ll choke you just enough to make your vision spark while he pounds you, whispering filthy praise that sounds like insults sometimes, “Fuck, you take me so well…better than any of those brats on Figure Eight.” When he cums he doesn’t pull out, just grinds deep and fills you, then makes you walk home with his cum dripping down your thighs under your shorts as a reminder of who owns you now.
B - Bruises: You wear his fingerprints like jewelry. Rafe loves marking you up, on your inner thighs, throat or the soft underside of your tits with dark purple spots that bloom overnight after he’s had you bent over the pool table in the abandoned house on the marsh you showed him.
He’ll press his thumb into a fresh bruise while he’s fucking you slow and deep in missionary which is rare for him, watching your face twist in that perfect mix of pain and pleasure.
“Look at you…all fucked up and pretty for me,” he’d murmur, almost tenderly, before his hips snap forward hard enough to make you cry out. As a Pogue you know how to hide shit with long sleeves or makeup, but Rafe gets off on the risk. He’ll suck fresh hickeys onto your collarbone right before you have to go meet JJ and Pope, then laugh darkly when you shove him away.
The ache the next day is constant, a secret throb that makes you clench around nothing every time you think about his cock splitting you open.
C - Coke: Rafe does lines off your body. He’ll have you naked on the expensive marble counter in the Cameron kitchen when the house is empty, chopping fat rails right along the curve of your spine or between your tits.
“Stay still, baby,” he commands, voice already wired, then snorts hard before burying his face between your legs like a starving man. The high makes him feral, his tongue laps at your clit with ruthless precision, two thick fingers curling inside you while he rambles about how you’re the only one who gets him, the only one who can take his shit and still beg for more. When the coke hits peak he fucks you like he’s trying to break you, flipping you onto all fours and railing you so hard the counter creaks. “Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, voice cracking. You choke it out between moans, Pogue pride long gone, because in these moments Rafe is your drug too.
D - Degradation: He loves reminding you of the class difference while he’s balls-deep inside you.
“My dirty little pogue whore…spreading your legs for Kook dick like a good slut,” he’ll groan as he fucks you against the wall of your tiny house when your parents are working double shifts.
He makes you repeat it back to him while he slaps your clit or spits in your mouth. The humiliation burns so good because underneath it you can hear how obsessed he is. He’ll make you suck him off on your knees in the dirt behind the country club after he’s ditched his friends, gripping your hair and fucking your throat until tears stream down your face. “That’s it, choke on it. This is what you were made for.” But after he cums across your tongue he pulls you up and kisses you messy and desperate, like he needs you more than air.
E - Exhibitionism: Rafe gets hard at the thought of getting caught. He’ll finger you under the table at a kegger on the beach, two thick fingers pumping while you try not to moan in front of your Pogue friends.
“Don’t make a sound or everyone’s gonna know what a needy little slut you are for me,” he whispers, thumb circling your clit. Or he’ll pull you into the bathroom at the Island Club during Midsummers, bend you over the sink and fuck you fast and raw while the party goes on outside. The mirror shows your wrecked face, smeared makeup and his hand clamped over your mouth. He cums inside you and makes you go back out with his spend leaking down your legs, smiling at the Kooks who have no idea their golden boy just ruined a Pogue in their bathroom.
F - Filthy talk: Rafe Cameron’s mouth is a weapon all on its own, especially when he’s buried deep inside his secret Pogue girl. He doesn’t just fuck you, he narrates every dirty second of it in that low, wrecked Carolina drawl that makes your pussy clench even when you’re trying to hate him.
Parked deep in the marsh in his truck, windows fogged up, you’re riding him reverse cowgirl while the radio plays low. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he forces you down onto every thick inch.
“That’s it, baby, bounce on that rich cock. Fuck…look at this greedy little pogue cunt swallowing me whole. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take Kook dick behind your friends’ backs.”
He’ll lean forward, biting the shell of your ear while his fingers find your clit and rub tight, mean circles. “Tell me how much better I feel than any of those loser Pogues you hang with. Say it. Say ‘Rafe’s cock ruins me for anyone else.’” You gasp it out between moans, pride crumbling because he’s right, nobody fucks you like he does. He keeps going, voice getting rougher as he gets close, “Gonna fill this dirty pussy up until you’re leaking me for days. Walk around The Wreck serving tables with my cum dripping down your thighs and nobody will know their little pogue princess got fucked raw by Rafe Cameron.”
The filth never stops, even when he’s got you on your knees sucking him off in the back of the country club after hours, he’s praising and degrading you in the same breath, “Good girl, choke on it. Deeper…yeah, just like that. My perfect little pogue whore…bet JJ would lose his shit if he saw you like this.”
G - Greedy: Rafe is never satisfied with just one orgasm from you. He’s greedy in every sense, greedy for your body, your moans, your submission and the way you come apart only for him.
After a party where he spent the whole night watching you from across the bonfire, pretending not to care that you’re there with your Pogue crew, he drags you into the trees. He drops to his knees first, hiking your sundress up and eating you out like a man starved, two fingers buried inside you while his tongue works your clit relentlessly.
You cum hard, thighs shaking around his head but he doesn’t stop. “Give me another,” he growls against your soaked folds, adding a third finger and curling them just right. “I’m not done with you yet.” By the time he finally stands up, spins you around and bends you over against a tree, you’re already a mess of weak legs and throbbing pussy.
He fucks you hard and deep, hips snapping with punishing force. “One more. Cum on my cock like the needy slut you are.” He reaches around to rub your clit again, overstimulating you until you’re crying out, the tears mixing with sweat. Even after he fills you with his release, he’s not done, he fingers his cum back into you, whispering how he wants you addicted to him, how no one else will ever be enough.
As a Pogue scraping by, you’re used to wanting things you can’t have but Rafe makes you feel wanted in the most overwhelming, all-consuming way possible. He’ll text you at 3 a.m. demanding you sneak out just so he can have you again in the back of his Range Rover, greedy for every second he can steal with his forbidden girl.
H - Hair pulling: Rafe loves controlling you with his fist in your hair, yanking your head back so you’re arched perfectly for him. He’ll do it while he’s taking you from behind in the Cameron’s boathouse, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the water. One hand wrapped around your throat and the other buried in your hair as he pulls until your scalp burns deliciously.
“Look at you, all stretched out for me,” he rasps, pounding into you with long, brutal strokes. “You love when I use you like this, don’t you? My dirty little pogue fucktoy.”
The sting makes everything sharper, your moans grow louder and your pussy wetter. He’ll pull your head back to kiss you messily over your shoulder, all tongue and teeth, before shoving your face down again and railing you harder. During blowjobs he’s even more possessive, gripping your hair to control the rhythm, pushing you down until your nose presses against his pelvis and holding you there while you gag and drool. “Fuck yes, take it all. Good girl.” When he finally lets you up for air, strings of spit connect your lips to his cock and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his chaotic world.
I - Intoxication: Everything with Rafe feels like the strongest drug. Whether it’s the coke he does off your tits in the empty Cameron mansion, the cheap beer you shotgun together on the beach at night or just the intoxicating danger of your secret relationship, he gets you drunk on him. High Rafe is unpredictable and addictive, sometimes he’s vicious, like when he’s fucking you against the wall of your tiny house, hand over your mouth so your family doesn’t hear, growling “Quiet. Wouldn’t want them knowing their daughter’s getting ruined by a Cameron.”
Other times the high flips him soft and needy. He’ll bury his face between your legs for what feels like hours, mumbling against your skin about how you’re the only one who understands him, the only one who can handle his darkness. Then he slides into you slow and deep, eyes locked on yours. “Don’t leave me, baby. I’d lose my fucking mind without this pussy.” You ride the high together, bodies slick with sweat, until you’re both trembling. The comedown is always dangerous, he gets clingy and possessive, leaving more marks and whispering promises about taking you away from the Cut.
You’re intoxicated too, chasing the rush even though you know it could destroy everything.
J - Jealousy: Rafe’s jealousy is explosive and terrifyingly hot. If he sees you laughing with JJ or talking to any guy on the Cut, he loses it. He’ll text you to meet him immediately, then drag you into the nearest secluded spot, maybe the old lighthouse or the back of his truck and fuck the jealousy out of his system.
“You think that pogue trash can have you? No. This pussy is mine,” he snarls, slamming into you with punishing thrusts, one hand wrapped around your throat. He’ll make you repeat it over and over while he rails you, “Say you’re mine. Say no one else gets to touch you.”
The sex is rougher than usual until you’re sobbing his name and promising anything he wants. Afterward he’s almost tender, kissing the marks he left and holding you close but the possessiveness always lingers. He’ll make you wear his hoodie home, cum still leaking out of you too, of course, as a silent claim. You hate how much it turns you on, how the danger of a jealous Rafe makes you wetter than anything else.
K - Kinks: Rafe’s kinks run dark and extensive and he explores every single one with his willing Pogue. Choking is a favorite, he’ll wrap his long fingers around your throat while he fucks you missionary, eyes locked on yours as your vision sparks. Spanking leaves your ass sore and throbbing after he bends you over his knee in the truck. He loves light bondage, using his belt to tie your wrists to the headboard in some abandoned beach house so he can tease you for hours, while breeding talk gets him feral, “Gonna pump this pogue cunt full until you’re knocked up. Tied to me forever, baby.”
He edges you mercilessly, bringing you to the brink again and again before finally letting you cum.
L - Love/hate: It’s the most toxic, addictive mix of love and hate. Rafe calls you his “dirty pogue slut” while he’s balls-deep but afterward he holds you like you’re fragile, stroking your hair and whispering how you’re the only thing that quiets the noise in his head. You hate him for everything he represents, the privilege, the violence and the way he looks down on your friends yet you crave him more than air.
He hates how much he needs you, ‘this girl from the Cut who sees through all his bullshit’. The sex is always charged with that push-pull. He’ll fuck you angrily after a fight, then desperately kiss you like he’s scared you’ll disappear. “I fucking hate how much I need you,” he admits one night, buried inside you in the dark. You feel the same, it’s love disguised as hate and neither of you can quit.
M - Morning after: The rare soft mornings are almost more dangerous than the rough nights. Rafe sneaks into your room at dawn, still smelling like last night’s party and coke. He slides under the covers with you, hard and insistent, sliding into your sore pussy while you’re still relaxed and begging him to make you feel good before your day starts.
“Shh, baby. Just need to feel you,” he murmurs, fucking you slow and deep with one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Every thrust is possessive as his lips remain on your neck leaving fresh marks. After he cums he doesn’t leave right away, he watches you get dressed for your shift at The Wreck, eyes dark with satisfaction at the way you wince when you sit. He’ll pull you in for one last bruising kiss before slipping out the window, leaving you marked, sore and already aching for the next time your worlds crash together. Those mornings make the secret even harder to keep because you’re falling harder every single time.
N - Neediness: Rafe’s need for you is bottomless and borderline unhinged, especially when the coke wears off and the demons creep back in. He’ll show up at your tiny house on the Cut in the middle of the night, banging on your window like a man possessed, not caring if your parents might hear. “Let me in, baby, I need you right now,” he growls the second you crack the window, already climbing through and pinning you to the bed before you can even speak and obviously, you need him too.
His hands are everywhere, pulling your sleep shirt up and shoving your panties aside so he can bury two thick fingers inside your still-sore pussy from the last time. “Fuck, you’re always so wet for me. This pogue cunt knows who it belongs to.” He doesn’t wait, just frees his cock and pushes in raw, groaning like he’s finally home.
The sex is desperate and messy, hips snapping hard while he buries his face in your neck, mumbling half-coherent confessions between thrusts, “Can’t sleep without this. Can’t breathe without you choking on my dick or creaming around me. You’re the only one who makes the noise stop.” He fucks you through multiple orgasms, chasing his own like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, then collapses on top of you while still inside, holding you so tight it hurts.
In the afterglow he’s clingy as hell, tracing the bruises he left earlier and whispering how he’d burn Figure Eight to the ground if it meant keeping you. As a Pogue you feel some power in how badly this rich, broken boy needs your body and your presence, even if it wrecks your life.
O - Obsession: Rafe is obsessed in the most ridiculous and all-consuming way there is. He stalks your shifts at The Wreck, sitting in the corner nursing a beer just to watch you move, then drags you into the storage room on your break to bend you over crates of beer bottles.
“Been thinking about this tight little pussy all day,” he admits, slamming into you from behind while one hand muffles your moans. “Pictured you on your knees for me while I was supposed to be at some family dinner. You’re in my head every second, pogue.”
His obsession shows in the risky texts he sends that are mostly dick pics while you’re with JJ and Pope. He’ll fuck you for hours in some abandoned beach house he “borrowed,” tying you up with his belt and edging you until you’re begging and crying. “Tell me you’re obsessed with me too. Tell me no one else will ever fuck you like this.” The class difference fuels it, he loves corrupting the good Pogue girl, making you crave the Kook prince who represents everything wrong with the island.
After he fills you up he stays buried deep, kissing you slow and possessively, like he’s marking every inch of your soul as his.
P - Possessiveness: He marks you inside and out, cumming deep and then pushing it back in with his fingers so you’re claimed for days. “This pussy is mine. Say it while I fuck it,” he demands, pounding you against the side of his truck parked on a deserted marsh road.
He’ll choke you lightly while staring into your eyes, hips rolling deeply. If any Pogue guy even glances your way at a bonfire, Rafe pulls you away immediately, fingers digging into your wrist as he finds a dark spot to rail you senseless.
“You belong to a Cameron now, not some worthless Cut rat.” The dirty talk eventually mixes with genuine obsession, “Gonna knock you up one day so everyone knows you’re tied to me forever. My pretty pogue wife, full of Kook cum.” He loves making you wear his clothes home after an encounter too. The risk of your friends finding out only makes him harder and more determined to own every part of you.
Q - Quickies: Rafe lives for risky, adrenaline-fueled quickies that leave you both wrecked and wanting more. Between parties, during family events or right before your shift, he’ll pull you behind the dunes at the beach, shove your bikini bottoms aside and fuck you standing up against a lifeguard tower. “Gotta be fast, baby but I need this pussy,” he pants, one hand over your mouth, the other lifting your leg so he can thrust deep and hard.
The thrill of possibly getting caught makes him feral, he bites your shoulder to stay quiet while he pumps you full or in the bathroom at the Island Club while Sarah’s outside. He bends you over the sink, fucks you fast and raw while the party music thumps through the walls. “Look at yourself getting ruined by me,” he growls, forcing your eyes to the mirror. You cum hard from the intensity and the filth, then have to walk back out flushed and leaking his cum, smiling politely at the Kooks who have no idea.
R - Rough: Everything with Rafe is rough, from his hands to his thrusts and words. He fucks like he’s punishing you for making him feel this much. In the Cameron boathouse he’ll have you on all fours, slamming into you so hard your knees bruise on the wooden planks. “Take it, pogue. Take every fucking inch like the slut you are for me.” Yet underneath the roughness is raw need.
After a particularly brutal round where you’re sobbing from overstimulation and pleasure, he’ll pull you into his chest, stroking your back and murmuring, “You’re so good for me…so fucking perfect,” and the contrast wrecks you every time. As a Pogue used to hardship, you match his roughness, clawing his back and calling him “psycho Kook” while he rails you, which only makes him go harder and deeper.
S - Spanking: Rafe loves spanking your ass sore with his big hands. He’ll pull you over his lap in the driver’s seat of his truck, yanking your shorts down and spanking you hard while fingering you from behind. “Count them, baby. Tell me who owns this ass.”
Each smack echoes, the sting blooming into heat that makes you drip onto his fingers and then he fucks you just like that, bent over and ass throbbing, pounding relentlessly while praising how well you take his discipline. “Such a good little pogue, getting wet from getting spanked by Kook hands.” He’ll do it during sex too, smacking your ass or thighs in rhythm with his thrusts until you’re clenching around him and cumming harder than ever.
T - Teasing: Rafe is a sadistic tease when it comes to his favorite girl, drawing out every encounter until you’re a dripping, begging wreck who’d do anything for his cock.
He’ll sneak into your room while your family is home, the risk making his eyes darker and spend what feels like an eternity between your thighs. His tongue laps slowly at your clit, circling and flicking but never giving you the pressure you need, while two thick fingers pump lazily in and out of your soaked pussy.
“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your folds, voice low and mocking as you whimper and try to grind against his face. “Pogues have to earn it…beg like the desperate little slut you are.” You hate how easily he breaks you by whispering filthy promises about stretching you open later while he edges you closer and closer, only to pull back at the last second.
In public it’s even worse, at a mixed kegger on the beach he’ll pull you onto his lap in the shadows, slipping his hand under your shorts to rub your clit through your panties in torturously slow circles while you try to keep a straight face talking to JJ and Kiara nearby.
“Be quiet or they’ll hear what a needy pogue whore you are for Kook fingers,” he whispers hotly in your ear, grinning when you clench and soak his hand. Only when you’re trembling and biting your lip bloody does he finally let you cum, then fucks you hard and fast right after in the dunes, making sure you know the teasing was all part of owning you completely. The power trip of controlling your pleasure and of making the independent Cut girl fall apart so thoroughly, gets him harder than anything.
U - Unpredictable: Rafe’s moods make every meeting with you dangerously unpredictable, one moment he’s the vicious Kook prince spitting degradation and the next he’s almost vulnerably desperate for connection.
You never know what you’re getting when his truck lights flash on the marsh road. Some nights he storms in after a fight with his dad, slamming you against the wall of the abandoned fishing shack you use as a hideout, ripping your clothes off and railing you with brutal, punishing thrusts. “Fuck this pussy…take my anger, baby. You’re the only thing that shuts my head up,” he snarls, hand around your throat while his hips snap so hard your back scrapes the rough wood.
Other nights the coke and the loneliness flip him soft, he’ll lay you down gently on a stolen blanket on the beach, kissing every inch of your body like he’s worshipping a secret goddess.
“I don’t deserve this…don’t deserve you,” he confesses between deep, rolling thrusts that hit every perfect spot, eyes locked on yours in the moonlight. “But I’m keeping you anyway…my dirty little secret who sees the real me.” The switch keeps you hooked, right in between the adrenaline of never knowing if tonight will leave you bruised and sobbing in ecstasy or being held close while he murmurs promises about running away from the island together.
As a Pogue you thrive on the chaos he brings, matching his unpredictable energy by clawing his back and calling him names one minute, then cradling his face and letting him lose himself in you the next. It’s toxic, intense and utterly consuming.
V - Voyeurism: He loves the risk of public or semi-public spots where anyone could stumble upon the Kook prince fucking the Cut girl raw. He’ll park his truck on a bluff overlooking a popular Pogue bonfire, windows cracked just enough for the distant sounds of laughter and music to filter in while he has you bouncing on his cock in the backseat.
“Imagine if they walked up here and saw you creaming all over my dick,” he groans, hands gripping your ass to guide you faster. “They’d know their friend is nothing but a cock-hungry pogue for a Cameron.” The danger makes everything sharper as your moans are muffled against his shoulder, his dirty talk constant and filthy as he thrusts up into you. Sometimes he makes you touch yourself in front of him first, watching hungrily from across the room in some empty vacation rental he broke into. “Spread those legs wider…show me how you play with that pussy when you’re thinking about me instead of your loser friends.” He strokes himself slowly, building the tension until he can’t take it anymore and pounces, fucking you against the window where the risk of outsiders seeing silhouettes feels electric.
The voyeuristic edge heightens his possessiveness, he wants the world to know you’re his without actually letting them see everything, keeping the corruption of his perfect secret Pogue all to himself.
W - Worship: Beneath all the degradation and roughness, Rafe worships your body like it’s the only pure thing in his fucked-up world.
He’ll spend hours exploring every inch of you in a rare slow night at the Cameron boathouse, lips and tongue tracing scars from your hard life on the Cut, sucking marks onto your inner thighs while murmuring praise. “This pussy is fucking perfect…so tight and wet just for me. No one else gets to taste it.”
He eats you out like a man starved with long licks and deep tongue-fucking until you’re shaking, then slides into you inch by inch, savoring the way you clench around him. “Look at you taking me so deep…my beautiful pogue girl was made for this.”
The worship also mixes with filth, he’ll praise how well you suck his cock, how pretty you look with tears and spit on your face and how your body was built to be ruined and cherished by him alone. After intense sessions he traces every bruise and bite mark with gentle fingers, kissing them softly while still buried inside you. “You’re mine to break and put back together.”
For a girl used to scraping by and being looked down on by Kooks, his twisted worship feels like the most addictive drug, making you fall deeper even as you know it could destroy you both.
X - X-Rated: Everything between you and Rafe is pure, unfiltered X-rated filth that would make even the most jaded islanders blush. The visuals alone are obscene, imagine his thick cock stretching your pussy wide, glistening with your cream as he pounds you relentlessly in the back of his truck. The sounds are even dirtier, wet and obscene slapping of skin mixed with your broken moans and his guttural groans and filthy commands.
“Fuck yes, listen to how sloppy this pogue cunt is for me,” he growls while filming a quick, risky video on his phone (always deleted after) just so he can show you how wrecked and cock-drunk you look. He describes every detail while he fucks you, “Watch my cock disappear inside you, baby. See how your greedy hole grips me? This is prime Kook-pogue porn right here.” He loves making you watch in mirrors or reflections too, bent over the hood of his car at night, forcing your head up so you see your own face contorted in pleasure while he rails you from behind.
The explicitness extends to taste and smell, him making you lick his cock clean after he’s filled you or the musky, sex-soaked scent that clings to both of you afterward. Every encounter is raw, pornographic and addictive, blurring the line between hate and desperate love in the most explicit ways possible.
Y - Yearning: The yearning you both feel when apart is constant and painful, like a physical ache that only his body can soothe.
During long days apart with him stuck at Figure Eight events and you working doubles at The Wreck, Rafe blows up your phone with increasingly desperate texts and voice notes describing exactly what he’s going to do to you. “Been hard all day thinking about burying my face in that sweet pogue pussy. Miss the way you moan my name like it’s the only word you know.”
You feel a throbbing emptiness between your legs, thighs clenching at random memories of his roughness.
When you finally reunite it’s explosive. There’s tearing at clothes, desperate kisses that bruise and him lifting you against the nearest surface and sinking in bare with a shared groan of relief.
“Fuck, I missed this…missed you creaming on my cock, baby. I’m never letting you go again.” The sex is intense and marathon-long with the both of you chasing the high of reconnection through multiple rounds, switching positions and him filling you over and over as if trying to erase the time apart. The yearning fuels the obsession, making the secret relationship feel inevitable and all-consuming despite the class lines and dangers.
Z - Zoned out: After the most intense, soul-shattering sessions, you both zone out in a hazy, blissed-out afterglow that feels like the only peace either of you gets. Rafe will collapse on top of you in the bed of his truck or the rickety mattress in your hideout shack, still buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, bodies slick with sweat and cum.
His breathing is ragged against your neck as the world fades, from the crashing waves to the distant party noise and your own racing heart, all blurring into background static. “Just…stay like this,” he mumbles, voice wrecked and softer than usual, arms wrapped around you securely.
In these moments the toxicity quiets, he strokes your hair, presses lazy kisses to your marked skin and whispers confessions he’d never say otherwise, “You’re the only real thing in my life... I don’t know what I’d do without my pogue girl.” You zone out too, floating in the satisfied subspace he puts you in, pussy still fluttering around his softening cock as his cum leaks out.
The calm never lasts long as reality finds a way to creep back with the risk of discovery but those zoned-out minutes are sacred, a brief sanctuary where you both feel like you could actually belong to each other. It’s in that hazy after-space that the love/hate bond feels strongest, binding you tighter than any bruise or load ever could.
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