request. frat!rafe who, despite all odds & stereotypes is ... surprisingly a good boyfriend?
from what you heard of kie, sarah & cleo, you were pretty hesitant to get yourself in a relationship, more less with practically the king of frats: rafe cameron. the frats had already got themselves a notorious relationship for being wild, and it wasn't exactly what you were looking for right now. your girls have the most awful stories of what topper, pope, jj have all done, even to each other.
the first time you went to a party with rafe, with his arm around your waist, you were counting the minutes when it would slide down and he would go off on his own, presumably to drink or even to join topper.
"why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, brow raised, as you kept glancing back at him every minute or so.
"are you not gonna go off to topper?"
"is topper my girlfriend?" he retorted back as he kissed your forehead gently. "no, he's not. "came here with you, so i'm stayin' with you. don't question it, baby."
you kissed him on the cheek, warmth spreading through your gut but honestly, you thought that wouldn't last. and yet faithfully, the entire night, was rafe by your side. even when you got a bit too tipsy, he wasn't even mad at you. "you not mad?" you asked as he carried you bridal-style to the car.
"you can do whatever the hell you want, baby, you don't gotta restrict yourself for me." is all he replied as he set you carefully in the passenger's seat and put your seat belt across your body.
when you cry, rafe actually knows how to comfort you. surprising, really, since the story of when kie told you jj laughed at her before realising she was actually upset and had to comfort her even more. rafe, on the other hand, doesn't do anything extra: all he does is lift you up and rest you in his lap while rubbing circles over your back, "it's okay baby, breathe." most of the time he won't know what your situation is until after and often he just lets you cry it out.
frat!rafe who does truly does love his frat brothers but couldn't care less about what they think about your relationship. if one of them even mentions half of your name, he's listening. if they make a joke about you or any of your friends, he's across the room in an instant. it doesn't really matter to him, anyways. he knows you're his forever.
Giving Away Your Ex’s Phone Number @ The Bar Instead of Yours…
ex bf frat!rafe x reader
c/w .ᐟ.ᐟ voyeurism (phone call during sex), physical violence (rafe vs random guy), digital threats, pet names, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m receiving), jealous!rafe, choking, spanking, possessive!rafe, begging, praise + degradation kink, face fucking, cum play + overstim
-> Click on the image and slide your finger to the left 💕
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Rafe’s Phone…
Your back is pressed to the bar, one hand clutching your drink, the other buzzing with an incoming call from Rafe. You don’t even look—you just double-tap the side of your phone to decline it, eyes locked on Easton as he leans in, mumbling something about how ‘he’s not scared’.
“Can’t believe you gave your ex my number,” he chuckles, stepping closer. “Could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck with your ex in exchange for your number. I would’ve done way worse.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, giving him a soft smile, head tilting slightly—and that’s all it takes.
“Nah, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he says, the space between you narrowing.
This isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to take Rafe’s number, text him, and fuck off. But now he’s looking down at your lips, wetting his own. The kiss he stole earlier still burns on your lips—and from the way he’s looking at you, he wants more.
So you wrap your lips around your straw—keeping yourself busy.
A hand slaps down on Easton’s shoulder—too familiar to be anyone else. “Rafe!” His name slips out on a gasp. Gold ring. Signature watch. Just a flash before he spins him around.
Easton barely has time to blink before Rafe’s fist slams into his jaw—brutal and fast.
He hits the floor hard and the bar erupts around you.
Rafe stands there, chest heaving, shaking out his hand. “You done?” He growls. “Seriously. Are you done now?”
He laughs—low and humorless—as you look up at him, eyes wide.
“Six fucking guys, huh?” He steps forward. “You were really about to give him my number too?”
“No…”
“Oh? Finally got some sense, huh?”
“You know him… it’s Easton,” you breathe—just as the other man groans, stumbling to his feet between you. Crack—another hit, straight to the face drops him again.
“I told you to stay away from her—HEY!” The word rips from Rafe’s throat as two bouncers grab him from behind. “I’M TALKIN’ TO HER!” He shouts.
You sip slow and careful, trying not to smile but the corners of your lips betray you. And Rafe sees it.
“Oh, you think this is funny?” He snarls, eyes drilling into you.
You just look at him, drink half-raised, face calm even as your pulse skitters.
The crowd parts around him as the bouncers drag him toward the door—all six-foot-two of him fighting every inch of the way.
They toss him outside like garbage, but he never stops looking back at you.
Nostrils flared. Lips tight. Jaw locked like stone. Red and blue police lights flicker across his face as the doors close.
You know he’s not gonna push it. Too much security. And a night in jail would leave no possibility of a night with you.
He’s not done.
The bar’s still buzzing behind you as you and your friends slide into the back of the Uber.
You barely settle into the middle seat when someone else climbs in behind you fast… uninvited. “Rafe—” You gasp for the second time of the night.
He slams the door shut before you can react, settling in beside you, fastening his seatbelt. Your friends exchange a look, both trying not to laugh. Honestly, they expected no less.
Your friend lays out her hand to the other— “Pay up, babe.”
Bailey groans dramatically from the front seat. Slaps a five in Hannah’s hand with an eye-roll.
“You two bet on this shit, seriously?” Rafe mutters under his breath.
“Mhmm.” Hannah hums, smug. “I said he was gonna get her on the street.”
“I said you were gonna try to break in and get arrested,” Bailey sighs like she’s disappointed.
“I told you, Bails. He’s predictable,” Hannah chuckles, like Rafe’s not even there.
Bailey gives you the look and you wink. She glances at the wide-eyed Uber driver, his night taking a turn for the dramatic real fast. “We’ll catch another Uber—I’m starving,” she mutters, pushing the door open.
Rafe’s hand shoots out—grabbing your arm like he really thought you might leave him behind. “Don’t,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Are you—Is everything okay?” The driver asks, and you chuckle tiredly and nod.
“Just perfect,” you mutter, voice flat and sarcastic—just enough to make Rafe’s head snap to you in disgust.
You blow out a raspberry, digging in your purse for your lip gloss, denying him the attention he’s so clearly starving for. You unscrew the cap slowly, dragging the wand across your bottom lip like it’s no big deal—like your ex-boyfriend didn’t just knock a guy out at a bar for saying his name, then climb into your Uber like some movie villain. Like this is just how your Wednesday nights go now.
You click the gloss shut and fluff your hair, adjust your cleavage, fixing the little R pendant on your chest.
“You done?” Rafe asks, annoyed—but you ignore him still. Instead, you lift your phone, angling it slightly downward, pout soft, eyes softer; chin tilted just right—and flash.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe recoils, disgust painted all over his face because a part of him knows exactly who that’s for.
You hum lightly, scrolling through your messages until you find the thread.
Easton…
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: Damn tonight was crazy. I hope you’re okay.
📱Your Name: How are you doing?
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: I’m fine. Just a little banged up.
You scroll a little lower, taking the time to let Rafe read it as well.
Your Name: Oh no is it bad 🥺
Rafe sucks his teeth, looking away for a moment to collect his thoughts as he sees the top of a picture sent from Easton—and a double-tap, heart reaction from you.
You roll your thumb a little lower—making sure Rafe sees. And of course Easton’s shirtless. Of course he looks like every hockey boyfriend romance main character after a rough game. Abs on full display, split lip and a black eye, one arm folded and flexed behind his head.
His eyes are a rich chocolate brown—black hair damp from a shower, skin dewy, eyes fixed on the camera like he wants you to come fix the damage he got from your ex.
📱Your Name: I’m so sorry about my ex. That looks like it hurts.
“Don’t,” Rafe warns.
📱Your Name: I can stop by if you need a little distraction tonight 💕
You tap the plus sign on the bottom of your text messages, uploading the selfie you just took.
“Enough,” Rafe snaps, snatching your phone from your hand.
But that sick little whoosh already hit.
📲 Message delivered. Too late.
His jaw flexes once, then again, like he’s chewing glass. He blinks at the screen like he might still have a chance—like if he grips the phone hard enough, the message might crawl back out.
💬 Read.
“Oh my god,” Rafe’s eyes fall shut and his head tips back to the headrest. He takes a tight breath, blowing it out his nostrils, hands clutching his legs, fingers digging in to keep himself from falling to pieces. “Baby… what kind of game are you playin’ here?”
He lifts your phone between you like it’s evidence, and you can already see back-to-back notifications coming in from Easton.
“I honestly don’t think I can fuckin’ look at this reply without killing him.”
“That’s a lot—”
“You really sent that to him? To him? Really? You want me to lose it? Is that what you want?” His voice breaks—hoarse and broken. You lean a little deeper into the seat, crossing your arms. “He’s got that picture in his phone forever,” he fumes.
“It’s a selfie… it’s not like I sent him a nude. Calm the fuck down.”
“You—You wanted me here. Don’t act like you didn’t. Why else would you do this shit? You know who I am. You knew I’d lose it and come find you. You let him touch you—fucking kiss you.”
“He bought me a drink,” you say flatly.
“Yeah, and I broke his fucking face,” he answers with the same tone, the vein in his neck pulsing; knuckles white as they clutch your phone.
“Give me my phone, Rafe—”
“You’re not texting him. I know you don’t want to either. I could see it on your fuckin’ face. You didn’t give a shit about him when I hit him. You weren’t scared for him. You were watching me. Your texts to him are dry as fuck. I remember vividly how you were talking to me when we first started dating—even before we took a break,” he murmurs. “Just say you miss me. Say you wanted me to follow you. Just say it—so I don’t feel like a complete fucking idiot right now.”
“All that time, Rafe. Day after day, spent showing you how much I cared for you and it still wasn’t enough for you, until it was too late. I wanted you to sweat—”
“Mission fucking accomplished, sweetheart,” he huffs out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyelids fall shut. “I know I deserve this shit and I'm so fucking sorry. I will work on my shit—but you could’ve stopped at the first or second and got your point across—”
The Uber pulls up to the curb and you step out, heels slapping against the pavement.
Rafe moves to follow you, and you slam the door behind you, hitting him clumsily—making him fumble forward as he rushes to catch up.
“Shit. Fuck,” he hisses.
“Oh. Were you planning on coming in?” You ask without so much as a glance over your shoulder at the broken man behind you, dragging himself up the stairs.
“You serious?”
“I didn’t ask you over.”
Rafe’s shoes hit the stairs—loud and angry. “Give me five fucking minutes—”
His palm slams against the door above you, holding it open, refusing to give you the chance to push him away again. He’s coming inside.
You start up the stairs, and he follows.
Your phone starts to ring in Rafe’s fist, the sound echoing through the empty house like a warning bell—chills race down your spine.
The growl that escapes him is animalistic, clawing out of his throat.
“DON’T SAY A FUCKIN’ WORD,” he barks into your phone at Easton. “DON’T EVEN FUCKING BREATHE. I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF. I TOLD YOU SHE WAS MINE, ALRIGHT? YOU THINK SHE WAS SENDING YOU THAT SHIT BECAUSE SHE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOU?”
You bite your lip, holding back a nervous smile, adrenaline coursing through your veins as he storms up the steps behind you.
“SHE’S MINE,” Rafe growls. “YOU HEAR ME? IF YOU EVER CALL HER AGAIN—IF YOU EVER LOOK AT HER AGAIN—YOU’RE DEAD. DEAD. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
He ends the call just as your bedroom door slams shut behind you, his back hitting it with a heavy thud.
Silence.
His chest rises slowly. Eyes fall shut. You don’t move, and neither does he—his breathing shredded like he just ran from the cops instead of ending a call with some hockey boy named Easton.
He watches every step as you cross the room, tracks every flick of your fingers as you toss your keys on the dresser, pull your earrings off one by one. You don’t even spare him a glance—you know that’ll be the final blow.
You sit on the edge of the mattress. Finally, your gaze lifts.
And he looks destroyed.
Rafe rests his hands over his eyes, muscles clenched tight, dragging them down his face as he moves toward you slowly.
And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly look more ruined for you, he sinks to the floor—one knee, then the other. His head bows between his broad shoulders. A long, winded breath leaves his chest before he raises his eyes to meet yours.
“Baby,” he says softly, his voice already fraying at the edges. “I—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, okay?”
You press your lips together, letting him unspool.
“I know I hurt you,” he goes on. “I know I fucked up. I know I let my jealousy eat me alive for no reason. You’re fucking perfect. And I… I’m a mess. I know I am. Especially when I think about someone coming in between me and you—and fucking it up. And then I go and fuck it up myself.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched, eyes glossy.
“You were so fucking good to me. I'm begging you please, please stop. I'm so sorry.”
Then, slowly, you part your knees—just slightly.
Rafe sees it and breathes deeper, moving in—settling as close as you’ll let him. He rests his head in your lap, hands finding your hips as the tension bleeds from his body.
“I’m so tired,” he whispers. “I’m not okay. I’m not. Not without you.”
You rest your hand on his head, fingers slipping into his messy hair.
“I need you,” he says, voice barely audible.
You stroke his cheek and he shuts his eyes, living in your touch.
“Co’mere,” you murmur, guiding him to look up at you. You hold his cheeks in your palms—and you swear you see the glimmer of tears in his eyes, his nose scrunching slightly like he’s begging them not to fall.
“I missed you,” you whisper.
“You got no idea how much I missed you,” he breathes, dragging his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm. “M’sorry for callin’ you so much—I lost it a little—”
“A little?” you giggle breathily.
“A lot… I was a fuckin’ problem.”
“You’re not allowed to break my heart again, Rafe,” you say softly.
“I won’t, baby. You got my word.”
He slips his hands beneath your thighs and lifts you. Your legs wrap around his waist, chest to chest, your palms still cupping his cheeks, your eyes locked on his, and he kisses you, like he’s trying to erase the days apart from his memory—the nights spent wishing he could get over you.
You tighten your legs around his waist as he carries you toward the bed—kissing you harder with every step.
His forehead presses to yours. Eyes closed. Breathing unsteady. When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “I’ll never do that shit again.”
Your fingers skim the side of his neck, feeling the thump of his pulse—fast and nervous. You wait just a moment, until his eyes meet yours again.
“I swear to God, baby,” he says, voice raw. “I’ll never accuse you like that again. I won’t let my jealousy ruin us. Just—” He swallows hard. “Can we try to go back to us?”
“Yes,” you whisper and he steals the words straight off your lips.
The kiss deepens.
His mouth parts against yours, tongue sweeping slow and hungry, tasting you. You moan into him as your hands slide up his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer. His hips press forward, grinding slow and heavy between your legs.
Rafe breaks the kiss just long enough to tear his shirt over his head, tossing it blindly. His chest heaves—skin flushed, jaw tight. That gold chain swings at his collarbone, catching the light.
And then he’s on you again. Mouth on your neck. Your shoulder. Biting just hard enough to make your breath catch.
“I missed you so fuckin’ bad,” he groans into your skin.
You grab the back of his hair, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing him harder now—hungry and open, your teeth catching on his bottom lip.
“I missed you too, baby.”
“Love when you call me that,” he mutters against your skin, hot breath skating over your skin as he tugs at your dress. “Take this off. Let me see you.”
You grab the bottom of your dress—already bunched around your waist—pulling it over your head.
“Fuck me…” His hands are already on your body, sliding up—palms hot and rough—and then he’s mouthing at your chest, sucking at the gentle skin of your cleavage.
He shoves his jeans down, cock already straining through black briefs. You lick your lips as your gaze drops—panties clinging, lace wet between your thighs.
His voice drops to a dangerous rasp, fingers slipping between your legs to pull the fabric tight against you.
Your thighs bracket his hips. He’s still catching his breath when you lift a hand to his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
“I hated that you didn’t trust me,” you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “It fucking hurt, Rafe.”
“I know, pretty—”
“But…” You press your lips to his neck, working slowly up his skin, lips brushing his ear. “Seeing you like that? Losing it over me?”
You grab his hand—knuckles bruised and split—bringing his fingers to your lips.
“So fucking hot,” you hum, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth, slow and deliberate. The tips press against your tongue and your lips seal tight, cheeks hollowing.
Rafe lets out the filthiest groan as you swirl your tongue—just like you would if it were his cock in your mouth—and you know from the look on his face that he’s fantasizing about that as well.
“You like me possessive?” He asks, pulling your panties down, dragging your thighs apart. “You want me obsessed?” He asks as you whimper a soft ‘yes’. “You fuckin’ got it.”
You try to smirk but it falters when he bites your thigh, a sharp gasp fleeing your parted lips as he leaves his mark.
“You’re mine. Say it,” Rafe breathes.
“I’m yours,” you pant, head tipping back.
He pushes his briefs down his legs, cock swinging free. Long and hard; thick and throbbing. His dick presses against your thigh, tip dragging along your slit as he lines himself up.
He drives into you, burying himself to the hilt.
He fucks into you hard—jealousy fueling every thrust, like he needs to brand you from the inside out.
Your gasp snaps into a moan, back arching off the mattress, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in.
“Rafe, fuck—”
“I know, baby, I know,” he pants against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, every thrust deep and punishing. “You feel what you do to me?” He grits. “Every time I close my fuckin’ eyes it’s you—this pussy, this face, this fuckin’ mouth.”
You pull him down by his chain, crashing your lips to his again. Your teeth scrape his lip, his tongue licking into your mouth. You’re so wet he slides in and out of you with ease, obscene sounds echoing between your bodies.
He grinds down, hips circling, making your breath catch. “Yes,” you cry, clenching around him, and he groans—loud and filthy.
“Look at you. Crying on my cock—”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Rafe’s phone lights up on the edge of the bed, vibrating with an unknown number and a local area code. Your breath catches and Rafe freezes for a moment.
“This some guy from the bar, ain’t it?” He asks, slamming his hips forward so hard your body jolts, skin smacking against his. “Fuck, pretty girl. You made a goddamn mess for me, huh?” He mutters through gritted teeth.
Before you can even answer, he snatches the phone and takes the call.
“WHAT?” He snarls into the speaker, sweat dripping off his brow, bicep flexing as he squeezes your hip, keeping you flush to him.
“Rosie?” You hear on the other end, tentative and confused.
Rafe’s hand cracks against your thigh—sharp and stinging—you scream, breathless and broken, your voice spilling straight into the phone. He clamps his big hand around your throat, using the leverage to slam into you harder.
“YOU HEAR THAT, BITCH?” Rafe snarls as a self-satisfied smile stretches across his lips.
He throws the phone somewhere beside you without bothering to end the call. His hands hook behind your thighs, folding you in half, pinning you to the bed as he drives into you. Your nails claw at the sheets, then at his back, then into his hair, pulling at the roots.
“Rafe—Rafe, holy shit—” He dips down to kiss you—his cock sinking impossibly deep.
“You’re right there. C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me.”
Your head falls back, mouth open in a silent cry as your body tightens, every muscle trembling as he keeps hitting that exact spot.
“C’mon, baby. Let him hear who makes you cum.”
Your orgasm rips through you so hard your back arches off the bed, a choked sob escaping your lips as you clamp around him, shaking under his weight.
“That’s it,” he whispers against your mouth, still thrusting through the aftershocks. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
You’re soaking him, dripping down your thighs, pulsing around him as he keeps fucking you through it, working you toward another.
“Feel that mess you made?” He asks, smugness dripping from every word. “Proud of you, baby. So filthy for me.”
“Feel so good,” you manage, barely forming words.
“One more—just one more. Need you on top.”
He pulls out fast, making you gasp at the loss of him. Rafe wraps his hand around his dick, pumping as he watches you climb on top, hovering over him; delicate fingers circling your clit as he licks his bottom lip.
You spread your thighs, sinking on his tip, taking the first few inches, moving up and down teasingly before you take the rest—eyes locked on his, nails digging into his chest.
You ride him hard, your bodies colliding in messy, rhythmic slaps, the sounds of your pleasure filling the room.
Rafe can’t keep quiet—his moans, his praise, his ragged breathing filling the room. You know if that fucker is still on the phone, he wants him to hear all of it. Rafe grabs your waist, lifting you slightly only to slam up into you.
“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he rasps. “Right fucking now.”
And you do—your belly tightens, the band snaps, and his name tumbles past your lips as your head falls back. Your throat’s ragged from sobbing his name, thighs drenched in sweat and slick, shining under the low light.
“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, reaching up, hooking a hand around the back of your neck to kiss you. You’re breathing heavily and so is he—a breathy chuckle buzzing against your lips.
“Go on,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “Get on your knees.”
Your whole body trembles as you lift off his length, hissing in overstimulation, knees pressing against the bedroom floor. You look up at him from between his legs—mascara smudged, hair wild, eyes glassy, chest rising fast.
Rafe reaches for his phone, grabbing it off the bed. The call ended seconds ago. He taps the screen a few times—then points the camera right at you as you open your mouth, tongue out.
His other hand wraps around his cock, tapping the swollen tip against your tongue; your mouth already pillowy and wet from kissing.
You wrap your lips around him and he groans instantly, jaw dropping, one hand slipping into your hair. You taste yourself on him and moan around his length as you take him deeper.
“Christ… Just—Just like that, baby,” he pants, guiding your head, using your mouth to stroke him slow, then faster. You let him use you—let him fuck your throat—spit slicking your chin as your eyes water and your hands grip his thighs for balance.
The phone is still trained on your lips, trembling in his hand, catching every moan, every gag, every obscene sound.
He bites his lip, hips jerking. “Close, baby. Shit—I’m fuckin’ close—”
He pulls out, stroking hard, warm ropes of cum painting your lips, your tongue, your chest.
Your hands are trembling against his legs, looking up at him as he looks down at you. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he grabs you by your cheeks to get a better look.
His thumb rubs his cum along your lips, slipping it inside your mouth. You suck it clean, releasing it with a filthy pop.
“God, you’re fuckin’ stunning, you know that?” He drawls, voice syrupy and spent, eyes half-lidded and impossibly blue. “Say it again for the camera, angel—who the fuck do you belong to?”
You lean into the lens, licking the corner of your mouth clean, eyes gleaming. “Rafe Cameron.”
it wasn’t until rafe was halfway through kissing down your neck, one heavy hand planted beside your head while the other rested warm against your waist, that your eyes would suddenly flutter open wide.
“wait.”
rafe freeze immediately, lifting his head just enough to squint down at you. his hair is messy from your fingers, his expression already edged with irritation.
“what now, bunny?”
your cheeks burn as you glanced over his shoulder toward the headboard.
all of them were sitting there.
your stuffed bunnies, your little bears, the pink strawberry plush your grandma got you when you were seven, all lined up neatly against your pillows with their stitched little smiles pointed directly at the bed.
you press your lips together, mortified.
“they can’t look.”
rafe stares at you for a second, dead silent.
then he’d let out a slow breath through his nose.
“you’re kidding.”
“i’m serious,” you whisper, squirming under him. “it’s embarrassing.”
his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh, but your already be nudging at his shoulder, wide eyes pleading.
“please?”
and because rafe could never say no when you looked at him like that, he pushes himself up with a groan.
“unbelievable.”
you sit up quickly, smoothing down your pink pajama top as you carefully turned each plushie around one by one, making sure none of them were facing the bed.
“there,” you murmur, satisfied. “now they won’t feel awkward.”
“they’re stuffed animals.”
you glance back at him with that little pout he secretly hated because it always made him cave.
“they have feelings.”
rafe dragged a hand down his face. “right. sure they do.”
sometimes, though, if he was already feeling impatient, he wouldn’t bother waiting.
he’d just grab a whole armful of them and toss them dramatically onto the floor.
that was always his mistake.
because the second the soft thumps hit the carpet, your whole face would crumple.
your glossy eyes would dart down to where they’d landed, horrified.
“rafe.”
the way you said his name would make his stomach drop instantly.
“oh, come on.”
you’d already be scrambling off the bed, dropping to your knees to gather them into your arms.
“bunny, it’s a damn pillow with a face stitched on it.”
you’d look up at him, lower lip trembling.
“help me pick them up.”
and just like that, he’d lose. every single time.
with a muttered curse, he’d climb off the bed and crouch beside you, helping collect every last plushie while you directed him on where they belonged.
“daisy goes by the lamp.”
“which one’s daisy?”
“the one with the bow.”
“they all got bows.”
you’d let out a tiny offended gasp, clutching mr. berry protectively to your chest.
“you don’t know them at all!”
“didn’t realize i was expected to memorize your stuffed animal roster.”
still, he’d put them back exactly where you wanted.
and once every plushie was safe and properly arranged, you’d crawl right into his lap, all soft and warm and smelling faintly like strawberries from the lotion you always used.
your arms would loop around his neck, and you’d press a sweet little kiss to his cheek.
“thank you,” you’d murmur. “they’re not upset anymore.”
rafe rolls his eyes, but his hands would settle on your waist, holding you there.
“good. was real worried about what the damn strawberry thought of me.”
you smile, completely missing the sarcasm, and nuzzle closer.
“i knew you’d help. you’re nicer than you pretend to be.”
in which i present to you rafe cameron x hypersexual!ditzy!reader headcannons!!
too many warnings to state them but lots of kinky things & not proofread.
hypersexual!reader who is absolutely insufferable about his hands, and not in a subtle way. she’ll stop mid sentence in a crowded room just to grab his wrist and examine his fingers like they’re a museum exhibit, turning them over and tracing the veins, murmuring “god, look at these.” under her breath while rafe tries to carry on a conversation with topper like his girlfriend isn’t openly ogling his knuckles. the obsession reaches a tipping point one lazy afternoon when she’s lying across his lap on the couch, supposedly napping, but instead she’s pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to his palm, his fingertips, the inside of his wrist. rafe lets her for a full minute, tension coiling in his gut, before he curls those same fingers under her chin and tilts her face up. “you got a problem?” he asks, voice already sandpaper rough. she blinks up at him, lip gloss smeared, and says with devastating sincerity, “just thinking about how good they feel inside me.” he has her bent over the arm of the couch within seconds, two fingers knuckle deep while she keens and babbles about how she knew they’d feel this perfect, she’s been thinking about it all day, and his hands are her favorite thing maybe ever. he makes her count each orgasm on those fingers after, holding them up, slick and shining, while she whines and loses track at three.
hypersexual!reader who talks during sex, genuine, unfiltered stream of consciousness rambling that should ruin the mood but somehow never does. he'll be balls deep, bottomed out inside of her, her back arching off the mattress, and she'll gasp out, "oh my god, wait, did i tell you what sarah said about the—oh—the party? she said kelce might not—right there, right there—bring a date and i said—" and rafe laughs against her neck, low and breathless, and says, "baby, baby. love you, but i swear to god i’m gonna need you to stop talking about kelce right now." and she'll blink up at him, dazed and flushed, and whisper, "m’ sorry. you just make my brain go all fuzzy." and then he's kissing her again because she's so unbelievably ridiculous and he puts up with it.
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of asking for the most unhinged things in the sweetest voice, like she's requesting a refill on her iced latte. they'll be lying in bed, post round one, her tracing patterns on his chest while he catches his breath, and she'll prop her chin on his sternum and say, "hey, rafey? can you choke me next time? like, not too hard, but hard enough that i feel it the next day?" and he just blinks at the ceiling for a solid five seconds before looking down at her with an expression somewhere between disbelief and desperate arousal. "you can't just say shit like that," he manages, voice wrecked, and she tilts her head like a confused kitten and says, "why not? you'd be so good at it! you've got such big hands." he has to take a moment. then he rolls her onto her back, wraps a careful palm around her throat, and watches her eyes flutter shut with a breathy little "finally." that makes him dizzy. she babbles through the whole thing about how safe she feels, how much she trusts him, how she knew he'd be perfect at this too, and afterward she's so blissed out she just curls into his side and murmurs, "told you," before passing out cold.
hypersexual!reader she has a habit of crawling into his lap during the most inconvenient moments, and rafe has stopped being surprised by it. movie night? she's sideways in his lap, legs hooked over the armrest, twirling her hair and whispering commentary about the film directly into his ear. family dinner at the camerons'? she's perched on his thigh like it's her assigned seat, passing him bread rolls and trailing her fingers up his forearm under the table until he has to excuse himself to adjust his pants. the worst, or best, depending on who's asking, is when he's on the phone with barry, pacing the driveway and trying to handle business, and she pads out in nothing but his button down, climbs onto his lap right there on the porch bench, and starts kissing his neck. "i'm on the phone," he mouths, but she just smiles against his pulse point and whispers, "i'll be quiet," in a tone that promises she absolutely will not. barry hangs up three minutes into rafe's increasingly distracted responses, and rafe doesn't even call him back.
hypersexual!reader who develops a pavlovian response to the sound of his belt unbuckling, which would be embarrassing if she had any shame left. it starts during a particularly tense fight that isn't really a fight, just him wound tight from a deal gone sideways, pacing his room like a caged animal, and she's perched on her knees on the bed trying to figure out how to help. he yanks his belt free in one sharp motion, more frustration than intent, and she just melts. visibly. pupils blowing wide, thighs pressing together, a tiny involuntary sound catching in her throat. he freezes, belt still in hand, looks at her with that slow, calculating head tilt, and pieces it together instantly. "oh, you like that?" his voice drops into something dark and curious, and she can only nod, glossy lips parted, completely caught. now he uses it against her constantly. will casually start loosening his belt in public just to watch her squirm, hooking his thumb in the leather with a half smirk while she completely loses her train of thought mid conversation. the first time he wraps it around his knuckles and uses the folded leather to tap her inner thigh, gentle, teasing. she makes a sound she's never made before, and he adds it to his mental arsenal.
hypersexual!reader who discovers a mirror kink by accident, or maybe not, because everything she does feels calculated in a way rafe is still learning to decode. they're in his bathroom, her freshly showered and perched on the marble counter in just a towel, him standing between her legs while she complains about having to move her nail appointment. he's half listening, more focused on the way her towel's slipping, when she glances at the mirror behind him and just stops talking. her eyes lock on their reflection, on the way his bare back looks, on her own post shower glow, and she breathes out a tiny "oh" that's all curiosity and zero shame. "wait," she says, pushing at his chest until he turns around, until she's facing the mirror with him pressed up behind her, "i wanna watch." and rafe gets so hard so fast he has to brace his hands on the counter. she watches herself with wide, greedy eyes the whole time, chattering away about how pretty they look together, how good he fills her up, how she wishes she could film it for later, and he comes harder than he has in weeks, face buried in her damp hair, rearranging his entire mental list of turn ons around this single moment. the mirror fogs up by the end, and she draws a little heart in the condensation with her fingertip, prints still smudged on the glass, and hums, "we should do that again tonight." and they do.
hypersexual!reader who gets it in her head that she wants to roleplay the classic "stranger at a bar" scenario, and rafe's initial reaction is a flat, unimpressed stare. "you want me to pretend i don't know you?" he says, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand, and she's already bouncing on her heels in a dress that barely covers her ass, nodding so fast her earrings jangle. "it'll be fun! you'll be all mysterious and broody—well, broodier—and i’ll be a ditzy little thing you pick up." he takes a long sip, eyes narrowing. "you are a ditzy little thing i picked up." she gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense, but her grin is pure trouble. "rafe! be meaner. pretend you don't like me yet." so he does. he slides onto the stool next to her with a cold, appraising look that sends a shiver down her spine, and orders a whiskey without breaking eye contact. she plays her part so well, twirling her hair, biting her glossed lip, asking if he comes here often in that breathy, clueless voice, that he almost forgets they've been together for months. by the time he's got her spawned out on the kitchen island, her legs on his shoulders and his name a wrecked chant on her lips, she's babbling about how he's so good at this, how she felt like she was cheating on him with him, and he just laughs against her throat, a low, surprised sound, and says, "you're batshit, you know that?" she hums, nails raking down his back.
hypersexual!reader who has a thing for waking him up with her mouth, which rafe discovers on a random tuesday when he blinks awake to find her already under the covers, working him over with the kind of lazy, unhurried dedication that says she's been at it for a while. "what the f—" he starts, voice wrecked with sleep, and she pops up from under the blanket like a daisy, hair a mess, lip gloss long gone, and beams at him. "morning baby. you just looked so pretty, i couldn't help myself." he stares at her, chest heaving, one hand fisting the sheets while his brain reboots, and she just ducks back down without waiting for a response. it becomes a thing after that, he never knows when he's gonna wake up to her mouth or her hands or her already sinking down onto him with a contented little sigh, murmuring about how she couldn't sleep and he felt so warm next to her and she just wanted to feel close. he starts going to bed earlier just to give her more time, not that he'd ever admit it. one morning she's so focused she doesn't notice he's awake until he's flipping them over and pinning her wrists, "my turn" against her throat, and she just giggles and spreads her legs wider and says, "finally! i was getting lonely up here."
hypersexual!reader who gets obsessed with the idea of being his "good girl" in the most literal sense, wants rules, wants praise, wants him to tell her exactly what to do and then reward her for doing it. rafe thinks it's ridiculous at first, this hyper feminine little thing asking him to "give her structure," but then she's kneeling on his bedroom floor with her hands folded in her lap, looking up at him with those big eyes, asking "how can i be good for you today?" and something in his brain short circuits. he starts small. she texts him her outfits for approval, asks permission before touching herself, waits for his nod before she orders at restaurants. and every time she follows a rule, she glows, preening under his muttered "good girl" like it's a standing ovation. the sex is unreal, she's so eager to please, so responsive to every command, melting into a puddle of breathless gratitude when he tells her she's taking him so well, she's being so perfect, she's the best girl. after, she's curled up against his side, tracing shapes on his chest, and she whispers, "do i get a gold star?" and he laughs so hard he pulls a muscle, then kisses her forehead and says, "i'll get you a whole sticker chart, baby."
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of saying the most unhinged shit mid bite of a salad, like her brain and mouth have zero filter between them. they're at lunch with sarah and john b, some tense double date thing rafe only agreed to because she asked, and she suddenly sets down her fork, tilts her head, and says to no one in particular, "i think i have an oral fixation. like, not just with food. with everything. rafey's fingers, his d—" and rafe chokes on his water so violently sarah has to thump him on the back. "what the fuck," he coughs, eyes watering, and she just blinks at him with genuine confusion like she forgot other people were at the table. "what? it's a real thing— i read about it." john b is staring at the ceiling like he's praying for death, sarah is bright red, and rafe is gripping the edge of the table with both hands, jaw tight, a vein ticking in his forehead. "we're leaving," he announces, throwing cash on the table, and she pouts the whole way to the car about how she was just trying to share, she thought they were all friends. he doesn't say a word until they're in the truck, and then he just turns to her with this wild, incredulous look and says, "you cannot say shit like that in front of my sister. ever. i fucking mean it." she crosses her arms, lower lip jutting out, and mutters, "fine. but you know i'm right." he drags a hand down his face, starts the engine, and doesn't speak for five full minutes. then, quieter "i know." and she beams.
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of absentmindedly touching herself while they watch movies, not even in a performative way, just idly slipping a hand between her thighs under the blanket while she’s curled against his side, eyes glued to the screen, breath hitching so subtly he almost doesn’t notice. the first time it happens, he glances down and sees the movement, the blanket shifting, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and he goes still. “are you serious right now?” he asks, voice a low rasp, and she turns to him with those big, startled eyes like she forgot he was there. “oh! m’ sorry, just felt good,” she pouts, completely unashamed, but starts to pull her hand away. he stops her, wrist caught in his grip, guiding it back where it was. “don’t stop. let me see.” after that, movie nights become a gamble, she’ll either fall asleep on his chest twenty minutes in or end up straddling him with the credits rolling, both of them too wrecked to remember what they watched.
first time writing little blurbs/headcanons (???) like this and i luv theyre so fun and cute. i have a really good rafe fic idea and i got inspo from a video i’d seen on twitter so im excited😫 but i also wanna write a fic for the 4th but sooo undecided on if i should do rafe, garrett or dean ughhegsgshsg help & send ideas!!!! kisses to u all<3
It was just supposed to be a quick tour of your campus and your dormitory, a little drive around the area so your mom feels more familiar with the environment her own daughter have adapted to.
"Pretty close to the campus, right?" You smiled from the passenger seat as she drove out of the driveway of your rented dorm once she was satisfied enough with checking it out, "I can even wake up just a tad late and still be early."
A tender laugh escaped your mom, hands on the wheel and driving down the road you've gone through since the start of the semester, "Not so expensive too, huh?" She nodded in approval.
Only then did her eyes land on a certain event going on on the side of the street. "Oh look! A car wash!" She exclaimed cheerfully, the wheels of your car immediately redirecting to that certain part of the street, "Your old man will be so happy to know his car's washed up after that awful rain last night." She snorted, patting your hand.
The moment your eyes followed her gaze, your smile vanished from existence. "Mom, no!"
Because, sure, a clean car would be perfection in your dad's eyes. But a clean car due to the hands of frat boys and witnessing it happen from within the car sounds like a torture in hell for you.
Especially when your mom parked the car right by Rafe Cameron and his closest frat bros. A frat boy with a cocky smirk, cap always on backwards, with an arrogant and snobby kook attitude as the cherry on top that makes him somewhat unbearable in your eyes.
How you wished you could evaporate into thin air when your mom rolled down her window with that wide smile on her face.
Topper Thornton first approached the car, grinning a toothy grin, "Ma'am." He winked at your mom, shirtless torso leaning against the side of her car door, his eyes just briefly glancing your way with an amused chuckle.
Before your mom could speak, you raised a hand to interrupt her quick, "Are the sorority girls doing the car wash too?"
At this point, even having to witness the tiniest skanky bra one of those girls would wear is better than having shirtless exasperating frat boys wash your car.
"Just us, sweetheart."
Of course he had to show up. What better time for Rafe Cameron to actually put work into his car washing other than when your parents' dirty car pulled over? Was it perfect timing or was he just being annoying?
"Cameron." You sighed, nodding tiredly as you slowly sank down the passenger seat, praying to god for a miracle of becoming invisible.
Noticing your familiarity with Rafe, your mom beamed with excitement, "Oh, who is this, darling?" She asked, watching as Rafe squeeze out the drenched, soapy sponge, his skin perfectly sunkissed; shirtless with that stupid backward hat still on.
"No one important."
"Rafe Cameron, ma'am."
He was smiling, all performative and charming wannabe! It sickens you seeing him trying to act all sweet and perfect in front of your mom, you might as well jump out the driver's window to strangle him in 3... 2...
Your mom turned her head towards you, almost giggling as she grabbed your hand, whispering enthusiastically to you, "He's cute!"
Looking back at Rafe, all you saw was his wide toothy grin, gaze completely locked onto the pissed off look you had on your face. He was enjoying it all too much, his face alone was practically mocking you. And even with every second you look at him, even with squinted eyes, you still couldn't find this "cute" factor your mom have found in him.
A scoff escaped your lips, rolling your eyes at him. "Just go wash the car. Squeaky clean." You waved him off, or rather tried to.
"Tell me more about yourself, Rafe."
"Mom!"
Rafe chuckled, the stupid grin on his stupid face only widening as he stepped closer to your mom's window, his lean torso practically put on a showcase for the both of you.
"Well, I guess I can say that I'm majoring in business, I play golf, and…" He shot you one glance. A glance that just tells you he's looking for mischief, "…I asked your daughter out on a date once."
A gasp escaped your mom, looking back at you, "I've never heard of this!" The look on her face was an odd combination between disappointment towards you and excitement towards the news, "How come I've never heard of this?!"
"Because it never actually happened, mom." You groaned, "He—"
"—Needed your permission." Rafe completed with more lies, "I told her I'd need your full consent to proceed with the date."
His never-ending lies only made your mom believe more and more that he's such a distinguished gentleman.
"Such a lie!-"
"How thoughtful and respectful." Your mom said in awe, close to actually tearing up from the "angel" in front of her, "Well, you've definitely won my permission now!" She laughed.
It took you a good amount of six seconds to realize she was genuinely giving Rafe Cameron the permission to take you out on a date. It felt like one of those wattpad stories of being sold by your mom to one direction. Except instead of the gorgeous Zayn Malik, you got the irritating Rafe Cameron.
Your mom smiled wide and happy, "Oh please, sweetheart, just go on a date with this cute boy." She subtly pleaded, "Don't you wanna make your mom happy?"
Well... you don't get that bright of a smile on her face every day. It's kinda sad.
It's his smile that suffocates you.
On one hand, you wanted to give your mom what she wanted, especially since you think she's trying hard to give you puppy dog eyes. On the other, you just wanted her to drive away from Rafe Cameron. Even better if she drives over him. Just to get away from his self-absorbed, cocky, shit-eating—
"Whatever." You sighed, already sinking in the passenger seat and regretting even letting her drive the car by the time she finally ended the convo with him with a cheerful shriek.
Delighted by your response, with a cocky and arrogant smirk on those lips, Rafe Cameron proudly washed your car, the wet, soapy sponge in his hand dripping while he lingered by your side of the car, stalling washing the roof of the car just to give you more time to appreciate his bare torso showcased in your window.
He surely must've thought you'd spread your legs open just at the sight of his glistening torso. But a difficult girl like you just makes this ten times more enjoyable for Rafe.
And just to make sure you know you're stuck with him, he leaned his face down by the window, grinning and winking at you before aiming the hose right at where your annoyed face was behind the window.
"You're dead." You mouthed through the window, looking like the equivalent to an angry rat clenching its fist.
"You're mine." He mouthed back, shooting you a wink before squeezing soap onto the window, blurring away your sight of him.
One way or another, he was already planning the date.
summary; rafe is the president of the biggest party frat on greek row, and his sweetheart girlfriend meets his frat brothers for the first time, under less than great circumstances.
warnings; veryyyyyy ooc rafe (like sue me), sensitive!reader, slightly smut at the end but barely, so it would make me more comfy if mdni!
Rafe's hand was tight on your thigh while he drove you guys to the library on campus. Your english lit books stuffed into your tote, and your uggs snug on your feet as you prepared to have a full studying day with Rafe.
You were already sceptical of the idea the second he brought it up. He pushed the proposed study date the second you refused to hang out with him until your lit final was out of the way.
Rafe was smart sure, majoring in finance and on his way to securing a high position after graduation. However, he wasn't the most academic person you had come across, preferring study the playbooks for his next football game.
So, you knew not much focused study could come from his day, but your boyfriend refused to not see you for the 2 weeks until your final was over.
He picked you up in his far to massive truck, getting out of the drivers side to kiss you good morning and lift you up into the passenger seat next to him.
He was tapping the beat of the music that echoed out of his car speakers, a backwards cap resting on his head and his lettermans jacked slung over his broad shoulders.
You listened to him babble on and on about him and his fraternity brothers recent escapades on campus. A story about how they climbed up the flag pole that stood in the middle of the college and tied their fraternity flag to the top of it in the middle of the night.
His smirk was bright on his face, perking up when you laughed at his recount of that night. You lifted your pale pink water bottle out of his cup holder that you always kept there, remembering you filled it up only the day before.
What you didn't recall though, was the fact that you hadn't screwed the top all the way. Meaning, when you brought it over to your body, it spilled all over you before you could lift it up to your lips.
Rafe turned his head swiftly at your squeal, your waterbottle now empty in your hand and its contents all over you.
The water covered nearly the whole front of your top, the white fabric of your baby tee now turning see through due to the liquid, revealing the lace pink bra you threw on before leaving your dorm.
"Shit, baby" Rafe sighed, watching as your eyes went glossy as the tears rose through you.
It would be an understatement if you said you cried often. But with all stress pushing a heavy weight on you due to your looming final, you couldn't help but cry over spilt water.
Rafe's eyes went back to the road, pulling into an empty space and parking.
"Hey, hey. Don't cry. Please don't cry." He begged, bringing his hand up to your cheek and wiping a stray tear that had fallen. He turns away, rummaging around his truck to see if he could find anything to dry you with.
"Rafe, its cold" you whisper, cringing at how whiny your voice sounded. This would be the only moment in your life you regretted how well your water bottle kept your water cold.
Rafe's hands continued to search his glove box and console, failing to find anything but old receipts and sonny angels you had left in his car.
"Shit" He whispered, looking back at you and then the area he had pulled over in. "The frat is not even 2 minutes away, we can run in and get you a dry shirt, yeah?"
You nodded swiftly, any anxious thoughts about entering his frat failing to enter your mind as the feeling of your shirt sticking to your chest and shivers rushing through you overtook your senses.
Rafe pulled his truck out rather dangerously fast, the hand that wasn't gripping the steering wheel finding your hand to clutch it tightly.
His large hand swallowed yours, grounding you as the sensation of your sticky shirt clung to your like a life line. Your tucked your lip under your teeth to halt its relentless wobbling as the tears ran softly down your cheeks.
Okay, maybe your brother was right when she said you were a crybaby.
Rafe turned his head over to look out through his rear window, pulling in to his carpark at his frat, the 'Fraternity President' sign standing proudly at the front of the car space.
He turned off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of his seat. Rafe walked around to your side, opening the door and reaching over to unbuckle your seat belt before placing his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifting you of his truck.
The fall breeze sent goosebumps down your thighs, nipping at the wet fabric of your shirt and threatening your teeth to chatter at the cold.
He held your hand once more as he guided you up the cobblestone walk way that brought you to the stairs that lead to his fraternity.
Your head craned up to the view of the massive house that stood on greek row. Large white columns stood in your view, vast windows spread across the walls, black greek symbols decorated the space that met the roof proudly.
You and Rafe had only been dating for 2 months now, preferring to stay in the cozy four walls of your dorm than his fraternity that was decorated by littered red solo cups and empty beer bottles.
It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't putting off introducing you to his frat brothers. He wasn't embarrassed of you, far from it.
He loved his friends, alot. But he was, well, maybe just a tad worried they would scare you off.
You weren't in a sorority. You didn't frequent greek row for the weekend parties. You topped nearly all of your classes, spending the weekends cozied up with your roommate eating ice cream and clad in silk pyjamas.
Rafe knew you were too good for him. Too smart. Too pretty. Too pure.
His thoughts were interrupted as you stood at the front door that lead into his fraternity. Rafe reached into the pocket of his letterman jacket, pulling out his key card and moving to push it against the reader on the front door.
"Rafe, wait." You gasped, pulling your hand out of his and stepping back. He turned to you, looking down at your eyes that stared back up at him.
"Look at me" You voiced, his gaze following your hands that swept over your frame. He hadn't noticed during his frantic haze to do anything to cease your tears how your white shirt was fully see-through, your bra fully now visible.
His lips upturned into a smirk, raking his eyes up and down your frame. "Yeah, i am. And i'm loving it"
You reached up and smacked his shoulder, not finding this situation as amusing as he was.
"Ok, ok. Sorry baby. Here"
He shrugged his letterman jacket off his frame, resting it over your shoulders as the smell of his Cologne clouded your sense. You interested your arms into the jacket, the fabric nearly swallowing you whole as you used it to bring around your front and cover your shirt.
Rafe's hand was clasped into yours once again, his biceps straining against his navy tee as he pressed unlocked the door with his key card.
"Ok, We just gotta run up to my room real quick. We'll be in and out." He voiced, turning to give you a searing kiss on your cheek.
You were surprised to find the house rather cleaner than you expected. Rafe told you that there was a party here last night, that he kindly described as "Shit"
You half expected to see drunk guys passed out on the floor and empty liquor bottles resting on every surface.
But the floor was free from unconscious bodies and suspicious liquids. However, remnants of the night before still remained through the folded up ping pong table resting on the wall and trash bags brimming with beer cans waiting to be taken out at the door.
"Rafey! Back so soon?" A voice cheered, the floorboards of the stairs creaking as a body bounded down them.
A blonde boy only clad in checkered pyjama pants appeared in your view only seconds later, his expression dropping and his eyes found yours before darting back to Rafe.
"Oh my god!" The boy gasped, dramatically bringing his hands up to his mouth in exaggerated shock. "You're real!"
Your brows furrowed at the statement, looking up at Rafe next to you who was rolling his eyes. "Fuck off Top" Rafe spoke, his hand dragging down his face as an amused smile painted his lips.
"Well, Are you gonna finally introduce me?" The boy spoke, looking at Rafe expectantly.
Rafe rolled his eyes once more, looking down at you adoringly.
"This is Topper. Topper, This is my girlfriend" Rafe spoke, finishing of the sentence with your name. You smiled as the boy suddenly brought you into a bounding hug, grinning from ear to ear as he released you.
"We were starting to think our Rafe made you up!" Topper smiled, putting his hands up in surrender as Rafe placed his hand against his chest and pushed him away from you.
"Nope, I'm pretty real the last time i checked" You voiced, laughing softly.
"Hey, you're funny. I like you" Topper smiled, pointing at you jokingly.
"Ok, This was fun." Rafe stated sarcastically, reaching his hand to rest on the small of your back and guiding you up the stairs.
"Hey! The other boys are gonna want to meet her!" Topper yelled behind you, Rafe not even looking back as he replied with a middle finger directed back at Topper.
Rafe had never been more glad all of his friends were to hungover from the night before to leave their rooms.
"He's nice!" You whispered to Rafe as you two walked up the stairs as he lead you to his dorm. Rafe looked down at you, a smirk still present on his lips.
"He's annoying"
You smiled back, hearing the adoration thick in his tone despite his statement.
Rafe guided you down the long hallway of doors, reaching the end and using his keycard once more to open the door to his room. Pushing you inside softly and closing the door behind him.
His room was exactly what you pictured. Somehow messy but still clean.
It smelled exactly like him, like cologne and the soft scent of his occasional cigarettes he indulged in when stressed. Occasional picture frames decorated his dresser and desk, pictures of him and his friends holding up a football trophy and him and his little sisters when they were little.
One frame caught your eye, the only one that rested on his bed side table. In it, was you. Not even aware of the camera as Rafe shot the picture.
You remember that day vividly, because it was the day Rafe asked you to be his girlfriend.
A flower crown rested softly on your head, the sun kissing your skin as you looked up through the trees in the field Rafe took you to, an hour drive out of campus.
You stood out like a sore thumb in the muted tones of his room, standing awkwardly before Rafe rested you down on his haphazardly made bed, quickly going to rummage around in his draws for a shirt for you to wear.
You watched him as he found one, shutting his dresser draw before walking over to you.
He looked down at you intently as he lifted his letterman jacket of you, instructing you after the fact to lift your arms up.
You couldn't help but bite your lip as he peeled the still soaking wet top off of you slowly, watching as his eyes drifted down to your chest now only clad in your bra.
He reached for the top, halting as you suddenly spoke. "Rafe, wait"
You reached for his hand, guiding it slowly to the clasp of your bra on your back. "It's soaking too"
Rafe ticked his jaw at your statement, running his tounge over his teeth at your teasing.
He couldn't help but lean down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, swiftly unclasping your bra before pulling back and staring at your bare chest.
You pulled further away from his, reaching for the shirt he brought you and putting it on.
"You're such a fucking tease" He gasped, embarrassed his hard on was growing under his grey sweats further at the sight of you in his grey football shirt. Your college logo etched on the front and the list of the championship winning team on the back, his name proudly stamped first under Quaterback.
You giggled softly at his statement, reaching up to pull the collar of his tee-shirt and guiding him down to your lips once more.
His hands rested heavily on your thighs, picking you up effortlessly to switch positions so he was now sat at the foot of his bed. You now sat on his lap and bringing your legs around to straddle him.
Your hands lifted up to rest on his jaw, your tongues now interlocking as you made out.
He brought his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, hooking his fingers under the fabric as his touch left a searing heat on your skin.
You pulled out of the kiss, causing him to groan at the lose of contact. "I'm glad i could finally meet one of your friends." You sighed, out of breath as you rested your forehead onto his.
"Yeah? Me too." He smiled, feeling a weight now being pulled of his shoulders that he didn't even know was there.
He leaned forward once more to catch your lips in another kiss, the feeling of your ass on his dick making the tent in his pants grow even harder.
But the feeling was short lived, as you two were swiftly taken out of your little bubble.
The sound of fists banging on his door boomed through his room, making you jump and lift yourself off his lap and stand up straight.
"Rafe! We know she's in there" "Let us meet her!" "C'mon bro!" "Topper got to, It's not fair!" "Open up!"
Rafe rolled his eyes at the sound of his friends yelling through the door, lifting himself off his bed and adjusting his dick in his pants.
- Summary: Rafe sees you with another guy and acts out of jealousy but like always, you make him crumble until he’s crawling back.
- Warnings: male masturbation & p in v.
Walking through the halls of the campus, backpack hanging on one shoulder, backwards hat on, Rafe had one idea in mind. He was meeting up with the boys to plan the next party at the frat house. They had the grand idea to use one of the study rooms to help organize everything. Usually, Rafe would never find himself anywhere near the library but he did find himself pausing at the sight of you sitting in a study room next to a boy who was too close for comfort.
Rafe blew out his cheeks at the sight, tightening the grip on his backpack strap as he walked right up to the glass wall and knocked on it. You lifted your head and furrowed your brows, excusing yourself as you exited the room.
"What are you doing here?" You asked gently, knowing Rafe would never be here on his own means.
At first, Rafe was silent, deciding whether to be an ass or act like he didn't care. You and him weren't exclusive so he felt he'd look like a pussy if he got all pissed and whined about it.
"Just meeting up with the guys, we're studying and shit."
Though he did want to impress you and say something better than using a study room to plan a party.
You narrowed your eyes, quickly calling his bullshit. Every time you tried to get Rafe to study with you it was like you were asking him to sit in a dark room for ten days with absolutely nothing to do.
"You're studying?" Rafe immediately knew you saw through his bullshit. He groaned and tilted his head back.
"Yeah, I'm studying. Is that so hard to believe?"
"A little bit, yeah."
"Whatever- What are you doing, huh?" He said, nodding towards the guy inside the study room scrolling on his phone.
"Studying, just like you apparently"'
"Yeah but... who is that?"
You wanted to laugh in his face. You could already see that look in his eyes. It was the same look he had in the mornings when you'd try to get ready for class and he'd lie on top of you so you couldn't leave him.
"My partner."
"Your partner" He said flatly.
"For what?"
"What do you mean for what? For my lab. For my class."
"Right. So yall are just friends?"
"Not even. Just partners." You pat his bicep, which was straining because he felt like asserting his dominance and looking all big.
"Okay”
"Okay?" You let out a short laugh. "That's it?"
"Yeah. See you later."
“Mm— Rafe!" You said as you started to laugh
He didn't answer, walking away because he felt dumb that he was very obvious with his jealousy. You walked away with a smile on your face and walked back into the room.
Rafe walked into his study room, and all the guys were already sprawled out around the room. They lazily greeted him as he sat down and threw his bag down on the table.
Topper cackled. "y/n?”
Rafe ran a hand over his face as he sat back.
"Shut up."
That only caused Topper to laugh some more.
"What'd she do?"
"Nothin' she's just studying with some guy in the room next door." He said it like he was already straining himself in order not to go back over there.
"And you're already acting like this?" Topper tipped his head back in laughter. “You’re fuckin’ gone man.”
"Whatever, let's just get this shit over with."
Finally, the boys managed to get their shit together just in time to throw a party together in six hours. By the time the sun started setting, the invites hit across campus, Rafe was hunched over his desk staring at his phone with a glare when topper came in.
"Yo, is y/n coming?"
"Nah, man she's still at the library or some shit."
"With that dude?"
"Yeah." Rafe groaned out as he threw his phone onto his desk, clicking off your location, and sat back in his chair.
"So she's not—“
"She's not fucking coming to my party. Don't ask me again. And don't come into my room unless people start showing up. Fuck.”
"Yo’ you needa’ relax and get your girl back, man. You're a fuckin' ass when you guys are arguing"
He said as he trailed out of Rafes' room, making sure to close his door before he pissed him off again.
Rafe rested his face in his hands and groaned loudly.
"Fuckin' y/n, bro."
Halfway through the party and Rafes already six drinks in, looking for the nearest girl he can get to sleep with him. He doesn't wanna think of y/n. Doesn't wanna speak of her. Doesn't want to see her.
So he finds a girl to come up to his bedroom with him. He pushes her face down into the mattress, ass up as he immediately plunges into her. She moans and he reaches down to pull her hair and tell her to 'Shut the fuck up."
Whenever Rafe acts out like this, he uses girls as an escape. Though he always finds himself surprisingly displeased that they're nothing like you.
He doesn't finish. He pulls out of her when she does and pulls his pants back up. She dresses herself up as well and moves closer to cuddle Rafe.
He lets her because he doesn't wanna be an ass. It's not her fault but her touch irritates him.
"Yo.. I'm tired, so if you could yknow."
It takes her a minute to grasp what he's throwing, but she purses her lips into a line and nods. When she leaves Rafe heads into the shower, cleaning himself of touch he regrets.
He steps under the harsh stream of water, inhaling as he wipes his face. He can't help but think of you.
The smile on your face when you looked at him, the way your laugh sounded, and the way your eyes looked. He felt a lift between his legs and he didn't hesitate to grab himself. Tilting his head back, he braced a hand on the wall to stabilize himself. He moaned as he quickened the pace on his cock, squeezing it in the way he remembered you would.
A few minutes later and he was gently easing his come out. He always loved the way you slowed down when he came, making his eyes roll back as he held his breath. After he finished, he cleaned himself up and wrapped a towel around his waist. When he got out, he stared at himself in the mirror knowing he was the only one he could be mad at. Not that guy, not you. Just himself.
He was always too much of a pussy to ever ask you out. Always buying you dinner but eating it at the frat house up in his room so it wasn't a "real date"
Took you around parties but never claimed you when people asked him if you were his girlfriend.
The next time he sees her is in the dining hall eating breakfast, sliding into the chair next to her like he didn't completely spiral last night.
"Morning, gorgeous." Rafe flashes a soft grin your way and leans in next to you.
"Morning. Have fun last night?"
You knew of the party he threw last night, knew that he didn't invite you for some reason you didn't know. You just had to get it out of him.
"Yeah- shit was packed."
"I should've seen it." You said, eyes flicking up to him to see his reaction.
He failed to respond after that. Rubbing his palms on his jeans as he tried to resist the urge to say anything.
You two spent the whole day like that, exchanging words but never really saying anything. Rafe only got worse, getting antsy and frustrated as the day passed. By his sixth heavy sigh, you turned over on your bed and faced him.
"Why are you breathing like that?"
"What? I can't breathe?" He asked sharply.
"I never said you couldn't breathe I asked why are you breathing like that."
"Because I can."
"Okay, but you don't normally breathe like that."
"What if that's how I'm choosing to breathe now?"
You narrow your eyes at him.
"Really? That's how you're gonna breathe every day?"
"Yeah."
You stared at him for a minute.
"Why are you being like this?"
"Like what?"
"You were quiet all day and now you're breathing all heavy."
"I just want to," Rafe grumbled as he turned away from your face, running out of excuses.
"Rafe.." You gauged gently.
"What?" He huffed.
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
"Because.”
"Why because?"
"Because I'm mad at you and even though I don't wanna talk to you, I still don't want to leave you."
You laughed at his tone. He was so obvious.
"Why are you mad?" You said, caressing his arm to get him to look at you.
"Because... you were with that dude."
“The guy from the library?”
"Yeah, that dude. He was just... close to you. And I don't know him."
"And that's why you're mad?"
"Yes." He said flatly.
"Rafe. As I said, he was just a partner"
"Yeah but, you were with him all day."
"So we could finish our project and you didn't even invite me so how could I have known?"
"I didn't invite you because you were with that guy! All day. You didn't text me or anything."
"I was in a study room. You knew that."
"Still."
"Okay, you're being ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous, you were the one who spent all day with some random guy."
"And what'd you do?" You asked flatly, because you knew him. You knew he retaliated against you in some way.
"What?" He murmured.
"What did you do at your party?"
"Nothing. What do you think?"
"I think you slept with someone else because of what you saw and you thought it'd make you feel better."
"I didn't sleep-"
"You know it's fine if you did. It's not like we're together."
"What...?" Rafe finally looked at you, brows furrowed, and rough palms itching to reach for you.
"Exactly what I said."
"y/n- don't be like that."
"No. You can't keep acting out like this i'm tired of dealing with it."
Rafe immediately caved. Whatever jealousy and possessiveness he felt was gone and replaced with desperation and guilt.
"Hey, no- don't say that." His voice cracked as he grabbed at you, moving down to straddle you as you sat. He bent his 6'2 frame down enough to press his forehead to your shoulder.
"Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry”
You sighed and rolled your eyes, glad he was hiding his face so he couldn't see your reaction. You hadn't embraced him yet despite having him halfway on your lap. You didn't wanna give in.
"I'm sorry. I'm an ass and I should've trusted you."
"And I shouldn't have found another girl just because I was mad. I'm sorry.
You sighed again but embraced him this time and started rubbing his back. "Big baby."
hihi! thank you all for so much love and support, it baffles me that anybody is interested in the stuff i write, and is willing to stick around for more. so grateful i get to share my writings so vulnerably and i can have others enjoy my creations. thank you from the bottom of my heart, i appreciate every single one of you! <3
that being said, please be advised that this post includes links to NSFW videos/pictures. please do not engage if you are a minor, thank you! all of these links are posted on twitter/X and will not work unless you have an account + are logged in. be mindful of the content you consume!
RAFE CAMERON
rafe fucking his cum back into you.
rafe & his gamer girlfriend.
his fav position so he can watch your tits bounce & where you both connect.
there’s nothing he loves more than making you a squirming mess.
poor guy couldn't even make it home before pouncing on you. :(
throat training his favourite girl. <3
the kinds of videos in his phone.
BSF!RAFE
eating you out & making you squirm after he accidentally yells at you.
clinging to anything for stability while rafe fucks you, and it just happens to be the teddy bear your ex-boyfriend gifted!
it's not wrong if he doesn't stick it in, right?
FRAT!RAFE
shoving your face against the mattress of his grungy dorm room.
quickie in his truck (the snapback stays on during sex).
STEPBRO!RAFE
rafe loves playing with your pussy almost as much as he loves actual sex.
testing the waters with his sweet little stepsis.
absolutely adores that tiny excuse of a skirt, gives him easy access. continued.
trying to keep you quiet while your family's home + size kink.
helping each other get off.
cumming against your clothed, soaking slit.
he catches you fucking yourself, so he'll met you halfway and spare you the work.
needs to have his hands on you whenever he feels like.
