#jealous rafe

[rafeyssugar]

yours to break

sub!rafe x fem!reader

rafe cameron was a nightmare.

at school, he made sure you knew it.

he was relentless—tripping you in the hallway, knocking your books out of your hands just to watch you sigh in frustration, leaning down to whisper something cruel in your ear while his friends laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. he’d smirk, watching you with those sharp blue eyes, waiting for a reaction.

"what's wrong, princess?" he’d taunt, all mock sympathy. "thought you could handle me."

he was unbearable. arrogant. a menace.

but at home?

at home, he was yours.

on his knees, forehead resting against your thigh, hands gripping at your legs like he was praying at an altar. like he wasn’t the same boy who spent his days tormenting you.

"please," rafe rasped, voice wrecked, hands sliding up your thighs like he needed to hold onto you. "please, baby, don't be mad. i need you."

you scoffed, tilting his chin up with two fingers, making him meet your gaze. his eyes were wide, pleading, so desperate it almost made you laugh.

"you’re mean to me at school," you said, voice light, almost teasing. "why should i be nice to you now?"

rafe swallowed hard, licking his lips like he was trying to find the right words. "you don’t get it," he said, shaking his head. "i gotta keep a reputation somehow."

you hummed, dragging your fingers through his hair before giving it a sharp tug, making him whimper. "is that right?"

"yeah," he breathed, nodding quickly. "but you—fuck, you know it’s not like that. not really. i worship you, baby. you’re everything."

his hands tightened on your thighs, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for mercy.

"then prove it," you murmured, watching the way he melted at your voice.

"i will," he promised, nodding so fast it was pathetic. "anything."

you smirked, pressing a thumb against his bottom lip, watching the way he parted his mouth, obedient, waiting.

"open up," you commanded.

rafe obeyed instantly, tongue flicking out, pupils blown wide with need. you leaned in close, letting spit drip from your lips into his waiting mouth.

he moaned. actually moaned. eyes fluttering shut like it was the best thing he’d ever been given.

"good boy," you murmured, running a hand through his hair again, this time softer.

rafe exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, and when he looked up at you again, it was with pure devotion.

"see?" he whispered, voice raw. "i belong to you."

you hummed, dragging your fingers through his hair again before tugging him up, forcing him to his feet. his breath hitched, body pressed against yours, his hands hesitant like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

"you’re gonna stop being mean to me at school," you murmured, tilting your head, fingers tracing down the line of his jaw.

rafe swallowed hard. "baby—"

"or i won’t touch you again," you warned, watching his face fall in an instant.

"no—fuck, i’ll be good," he promised, nodding so fast it was pathetic. "i swear, i just—please, baby, i need you."

you smirked, gripping his jaw, pulling him down until your lips were barely brushing his. "prove it."

he crashed his lips against yours, desperate, needy, like he’d been starving for you. his hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss like he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between you.

he kissed you like he had something to make up for. like he was trying to replace every cruel word, every shove in the hallway, every cocky smirk with the way he moaned against your lips, the way his hands trembled slightly as they held onto you.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he whimpered, hips stuttering forward, pressing even closer.

"please," he murmured between kisses, lips moving desperately against yours. "please, baby, tell me you forgive me."

you smirked against his mouth. "are you gonna behave?"

"yes," he breathed, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. "i’ll be so good, baby. promise."

you sighed, dragging your nails lightly down his back, and he shivered. "fine. i forgive you."

rafe groaned, arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go. "thank you, thank you," he murmured, lips pressing against every inch of skin he could reach.

you rolled your eyes, shoving him back onto the bed. he let out a little yelp before you climbed on top of him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest.

"’m sorry," he mumbled again, voice muffled against your skin. "you’re so soft, baby. let me stay here forever."

you laughed, fingers threading through his hair. "needy," you teased.

rafe hummed, nuzzling closer, lips pressing against the swell of your chest. "only for you," he whispered, voice soft, content.

and just like that, the menace from school was gone—left behind in favor of the boy curled up in your arms, clinging to you like you were the only thing that mattered.

[usteadyophelia]

hey! could you make a fic of jealous!rafe when he sees the reader talking to another boy in a coffee shop? you can add your own twist too if you want!

DOUBLE SHOT

pairing: jealous!rafe x female!reader

summary: Working at one of Figure Eight's busiest coffee shops means dealing with entitled customers, endless espresso shots, and the occasional guy mistaking your customer service for flirting. Normally, you can handle it yourself. Unfortunately for them, your ridiculously possessive boyfriend is watching from his usual corner table... and Rafe Cameron has never been very good at minding his own business.

warnings: fluff. jealous/possessive!rafe. protective boyfriend. customer flirting. mild confrontation. established relationship. rafe spending an unreasonable amount of money on coffee just to stare at his girlfriend.

word count: 3.3k

note: First request ever!!! i've tried my best, i hope you like it!

my masterlist!

Working at one of those expensive coffee shops in Figure Eight had never seemed like a controversial career choice.

To you, it was simple.

The pay was surprisingly good, the owner let you take home whatever pastries hadn't sold by closing, and after a few months you had memorized nearly every regular's order. It was easy work, familiar work. Comfortable.

To Rafe, however, it was nothing short of a personal attack. He hated it, not only because he thought you were above making coffee, but because people looked at you.

Every morning, businessmen in expensive polos lingered a little too long when you smiled while handing them their cappuccino. College boys home for the weekend suddenly found themselves ordering a second coffee they clearly didn't need. Even tourists passing through Figure Eight somehow forgot what they wanted the second you leaned over the counter to ask if they were ready.

And, of course, Rafe noticed every single one of them, always muttering that they were staring at you, pretending to order coffee, literally paying, and you just rolled your eyes and placed another lid on a cup before sliding it across the counter, telling him they had only asked for extra caramel, which, needless to say, got the conversation absolutely nowhere.

Eventually, Rafe stopped trying to convince you to quit, mostly because he realized you weren't going to.

So, instead, he adapted.

Whenever he had free time, and honestly, even when he probably didn't, he found himself wandering into the café, claiming he was bored or that he wanted a coffee, even though you were almost certain the amount of caffeine running through his bloodstream should've been considered medically concerning.

He always sat at the same table. The one tucked into the corner where he had a perfect view of both the register and the front door.

It wasn't subtle.

Neither was the fact that every guy who looked a little too interested in you somehow found themselves making eye contact with Rafe Cameron halfway through ordering. It usually didn't take long before they remembered somewhere else they had to be.

The owner loved him, thought. Mostly because Rafe spent an embarrassing amount of money there. Some days he'd order three different drinks simply because he'd already finished the first one but wasn't ready to leave.

Other times he'd buy a sandwich he had absolutely no intention of eating before quietly sliding it toward one of the older regulars on his way out.

"Your boyfriend's single-handedly keeping this place in business," your boss had joked one afternoon.

You'd laughed. "You should probably give him employee benefits at this point."

"I've considered it."

Rafe had looked up from his table without missing a beat. "I'd look good in an apron."

You snorted so loudly half the café turned to look at you. "You'd last ten minutes."

"I'd be Employee of the Month."

"You'd punch the first customer who smiled at me."

"I'd ask him politely to leave."

"You'd threaten him."

"I'd threaten him politely."

Honestly...That was probably true. Not that Rafe would ever admit how much time he actually spent watching you. He'd insist he was reading the newspaper lying folded beside his coffee. Or scrolling through his phone. Or waiting for Topper to answer a text.

Meanwhile, his eyes tracked your every movement with almost embarrassing consistency. He knew which regular always tipped five dollars. Which elderly couple shared one blueberry muffin every Tuesday morning. Which customer forgot to ask for oat milk at least twice a week. He even knew exactly how many times you tucked your hair behind your ear during a shift. It wasn't intentional.He just... noticed.

Maybe more than he should, but that was the thing about loving someone, you couldn't stop looking at them. Especially when they were impossible to look away from.

Most days, Rafe's silent presence in the corner was enough to keep overly friendly customers at bay. The moment they noticed the six-foot-something blond sitting with his arms crossed and an expression that could curdle milk from across the room, they suddenly remembered they were running late for something, collecting their coffee before disappearing through the front door.

Most days.

Today, however, the universe seemed determined to test his patience.

The lunchtime rush had finally begun to settle, the endless line in front of the register shrinking to only a handful of customers. The café had returned to its usual afternoon buzz, quiet conversations blending with the low hum of the espresso machine while the smell of fresh coffee filled the room. You barely had a second to breathe between wiping down the counter and calling out the next order before the bell above the entrance chimed again.

You looked up with the same warm smile you offered every customer.

"Hi. What can I get started for you today?"

The man standing on the other side of the counter couldn't have been much older than you. He was well-dressed in that effortless Figure Eight sort of way, linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, sunglasses hanging from the collar, an expensive watch glinting beneath the café lights. The kind of guy who'd probably spent the morning on someone's boat before deciding he was in desperate need of a coffee.

Except...

He wasn't looking at the menu, no, his attention had settled on you almost immediately.

"I was hoping you'd tell me."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"What you'd recommend," he clarified with an easy smile that suggested he'd rehearsed lines like this before. "You look like someone with good taste."

You let out a small, polite laugh, already reaching for a cup behind the counter. "I'll pretend that wasn't your way of avoiding making a decision."

"It wasn't."

"No?"

"It was my way of starting a conversation."

There it was. You'd been working there long enough to recognize the difference between customers who were simply friendly and customers who were looking for an excuse to keep talking. This one definitely belonged in the second category.

Keeping your smile firmly in customer-service territory, you tilted your head toward the menu hanging behind you. "If you like sweeter coffee, I'd probably recommend the caramel latte. If not, our cold brew's pretty popular."

"Hm." His eyes never left your face. "I'll trust your judgment."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement.

Rafe had lowered the newspaper he'd been pretending to read. His eyes had already found the man standing at your register.

You decided to ignore it.

"So," you asked as your fingers danced across the register, "what size would you like?"

He didn't answer straight away. Instead, he leaned forward ever so slightly against the counter, smiling in a way that immediately made your shoulders tense. "I've actually got another question first."

You looked back up.

"Do you always work afternoons?"

For the briefest moment, your fingers paused above the screen. It wasn't the first time someone had asked. It probably wouldn't be the last. "I work a bit of everything," you answered, deliberately keeping your tone light as you resumed entering the order. "Morning shifts, afternoons... depends on the week."

"Lucky me, then."

You simply smiled. "The coffee?"

"Hm?"

"The size."

"Oh." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as though he'd genuinely forgotten why he was standing there. "Medium."

You nodded, grateful that maybe, finally, the conversation was moving back toward coffee. But it wasn't your lucky day.

"So..." he continued while you reached for a cup. "What's your name?"

You glanced down at the nametag pinned neatly to your apron before looking back at him.

"I think I've already answered that one."

He laughed. "I guess you have."

You offered another polite smile, hoping that would be enough of a hint for him to take his receipt and step aside. But instead, he rested both forearms on the counter. "You've got a really pretty smile, you know that?"

"Thank you."

"And really nice eyes."

"Thank you."

"You probably hear that a lot."

"I hear a lot of things."

His grin only widened.

Behind him, Rafe hadn't moved an inch. He hadn't looked at his phone in the last three minutes. His coffee sat untouched on the table. His entire attention was fixed on the conversation unfolding across the room. Even from where you stood, you could see the muscle in his jaw working and you didn't need to look directly at him to know exactly what expression he was wearing.

Still...You did. Just for a second your eyes met his across the café. He looked ready to get up. You gave the smallest shake of your head imaginable. A silent I've got this.

For a moment, neither of you looked away. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Rafe leaned back into his chair with an exaggerated sigh, dragging one hand over his face before crossing his arms. But he wasn't relaxing, he was just forcing himself to stay seated. There was a difference, a very important difference.

You turned back to the customer just as he smiled again.

"So..." he said casually, completely oblivious to the six-foot-two blond currently contemplating homicide from the other side of the café. "Think I could get your number too?"

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that very much."

Most people would've apologized and maybe laughed awkwardly and wished you a nice day before collecting their drink.

But this guy simply shrugged. "He doesn't have to know."

The smile on your face faltered. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

You gestured toward the espresso machine, hoping to redirect the conversation once again.

"What I can give you is an extra shot of espresso."

He laughed. "I admire persistence."

"I admire people who know when someone's not interested." The words came out kinder than they probably should've. You'd hoped he'd finally understand.

Instead, he remained exactly where he was. "So what time do you finish?"

"I'm working."

"I can wait."

"You really don't have to."

"I don't mind."

Your patience was beginning to wear thin. And not only because he was flirting, you dealt with that often enough. But because every polite excuse, every subtle rejection, every mention of your boyfriend had simply rolled off his shoulders like you hadn't said them at all.

Behind him, a chair scraped softly against the wooden floor. You didn't need to look, because you already knew.

Rafe had stood up.

For a second, he stayed exactly where he was, one hand still resting on the back of the chair he'd just pushed away from the table. His untouched iced coffee sat forgotten beside the newspaper he'd claimed to be reading for the last twenty minutes, condensation dripping lazily down the plastic cup onto the wooden table. Every reasonable part of him told him to sit back down.

You'd rejected the guy three different times already. Politely. Patiently. More politely than most people would've managed after someone ignored every excuse they offered. But the problem wasn't you.

It was that the idiot standing in front of the register seemed incapable of hearing the word no unless another man was the one saying it.

"So..." the customer said, completely unaware of the pair of blue eyes burning holes into the back of his head. "What if I leave you my number instead?"

You let out the smallest sigh, hoping he hadn't noticed it.

"I appreciate the offer," you replied as kindly as you could while placing another lid on his drink, "but I really don't think that's necessary."

"You never know."

"I do, actually."

"You haven't even given me a chance."

"I don't need to."

He laughed, actually laughed, as though this entire conversation was some harmless game the two of you were playing. You could practically feel Rafe's patience disappearing from across the room.

And then, finally... He started walking.

If anything, it was worse that he wasn't rushing.

Each step was slow enough to draw attention without making a scene. A couple sitting near the window paused their conversation. One of the older regulars lowered his newspaper just enough to glance over the top of it. Even your boss looked up from the pastry display, immediately recognizing that particular expression on Rafe's face.

The one that usually meant someone was about to make a very poor decision.

You spotted him approaching from the corner of your eye.

"...Rafe," you warned quietly before he even reached the counter. But he didn't answer, because his attention never left the customer. The guy only noticed him when Rafe stopped beside you.

The customer blinked.

"Oh."

Rafe looked at him for a long second before speaking.

"You finished?" His voice wasn't loud. If anything, it was almost conversational. Which somehow made it infinitely more intimidating.

The guy frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were finished."

Silence settled between them.

The customer glanced toward you before looking back at Rafe, clearly trying to decide whether he should laugh or leave. "We were just talking."

Rafe nodded once. "So I heard."

"You got a problem with that?"

You could almost hear yourself groan internally. Of course he'd asked that. Rafe tilted his head slightly, studying him with an expression that was almost... curious.

"My problem," he said after a moment, "is that she's been trying to end this conversation for the last five minutes."

The guy opened his mouth.

Rafe didn't let him speak.

"She told you she has a boyfriend, but still asked for her number anyway. Then she said she wasn't interested." He gestured lazily toward the coffee sitting on the counter. "And somehow..." His eyes flickered toward the untouched latte before returning to the customer. "...you're still here."

The customer shifted awkwardly where he stood before letting out an uncomfortable laugh. "Relax, man."

Rafe smiled, but it is Rafe, so it wasn't a politely smile. "I am relaxed."

"No need to get all worked up."

"I'm not." His voice remained impossibly calm.

"I've been sitting over there for..." He glanced toward his table as though genuinely trying to remember. "...what? Forty-five minutes?"

You sighed it was closer to an hour.

"I watched my girlfriend tell you no." He held up one finger. "Then she mentioned she had a boyfriend." A second finger. "You ignored that." A third. "Then she tried ending the conversation." His hand dropped back to his side. "And somehow you decided asking again would change her mind."

The guy's smile had disappeared completely now. "I was just being friendly."

"No." Rafe took one small step forward. Not enough to invade his space, just enough that the other man instinctively leaned back. "You were hoping she'd eventually stop saying no."

Your heart sank because you knew that tone. It was the same one he'd used the night someone grabbed your wrist at a bonfire. The one that was completely level, dangerously calm.

You reached over, your fingers gently wrapping around the sleeve of his shirt. "Rafe."

Immediately, his eyes left the customer. "What?"

"I think he understands."

For a second, he simply looked at you. The irritation written all over his face softened almost instantly. Then he looked back at the man standing opposite him. "You understand?"

The customer swallowed. "...Yeah."

"Good. Then enjoy your coffee."

The guy didn't need to be told twice.

He grabbed the cup so quickly he almost knocked over the tip jar in the process before muttering a quiet, "Have a good day," and making a beeline for the exit.

The bell above the door chimed and the café fell back into its usual rhythm as conversations slowly resumed, though more than one person continued stealing curious glances toward the counter.

You waited until the door had closed before slowly turning your head toward your boyfriend.

Rafe was still staring at it. Just to make sure the guy wasn't coming back. Only after several seconds did he finally look down at you. "...What?"

You stared at him. "What?"

He frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You folded your arms across your chest, trying very hard to look annoyed despite the smile threatening to appear. "You lasted almost an hour today."

"I know."

"That's progress."

"I was trying."

"You really were."

"I really was."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I almost stayed in my seat."

"You got halfway there."

"I did."

"You even let me reject him myself."

"I did."

"And then?"

Rafe looked at you as though the answer should've been obvious.

"...Then he kept talking to you."

You couldn't help it, you laughed. "I told you I could handle it."

"I know."

"You didn't trust me?"

His eyebrows knitted together almost instantly. "It wasn't that."

"Then what was it?"

He glanced toward the door one last time before looking back at you, his shoulders finally relaxing. "I trusted you." His voice had become quieter now. "I just didn't trust him."

You held his gaze for another second before letting out a quiet sigh.

God, he looked so pleased with himself.

Not because he'd scared the guy away, that part didn't even seem to register, but because, in his mind, he'd simply done what any boyfriend would've done.

You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile threatening to appear. "You're unbelievable," you murmured, though there wasn't much conviction behind it.

Rafe's expression softened almost immediately. The tension that had been sitting across his shoulders ever since he'd walked over was still there, but only just. You could see him slowly relaxing now that the customer had finally left, his breathing evening out as he looked down at you instead of toward the door.

Without thinking much about it, you stepped closer until there was barely any space left between the two of you. Your hand found the front of his shirt, smoothing down a crease that didn't really need fixing before you gently pulled him down, pressing a quick kiss against his lips.

When you pulled away, the change was almost immediate.

The tightness in his jaw disappeared, the permanent frown he'd been wearing for the last ten minutes melting into something much softer. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one that was reserved entirely for you.

"There," you said quietly, satisfied with yourself. "Much better."

A quiet laugh escaped him, shaking his head as one of his hands instinctively settled against your waist.

"You always know how to shut me up."

"I have plenty of practice."

He smiled to himself, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against your side, clearly having no intention of moving anytime soon.

Unfortunately for him...

You were still on the clock, so you placed both hands against his chest before giving him a gentle push backwards.

"As much as I'd love to stand here all afternoon..." you said with an amused smile, glancing toward the growing line beginning to form behind the register, "...I do actually have to work."

Rafe looked over your shoulder before letting out an exaggerated sigh, as though the customers were personally inconveniencing him. "I liked it better when you were paying attention to me."

"I know you did."

"So this is me getting kicked out?"

"This is you going back to your table."

He laughed quietly, shaking his head in defeat before taking a few reluctant steps backwards. "Fine."

His eyes never really left you as he walked back to his usual corner, dropping into the chair he'd occupied nearly every afternoon for the past few months.

You caught him watching you again almost immediately.

This time, though...

There wasn't a trace of jealousy left on his face. Only the same impossibly soft expression he'd had since the moment you kissed him. You smiled to yourself before turning back toward the espresso machine.

Some things, you supposed, never changed.

[vicwritesfolklore]

We're Leaving ᡣ𐭩

୨ৎ ⋆ don’t look at him ⋆ ୨ৎ

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader warnings: jealousy, tension, alcohol, arguments, possessive vibes word count: ~941

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The bonfire at the Boneyard was loud tonight.

Music blasted from someone’s truck, people shouted over each other, beer cans clinked together, and the ocean wind carried the smell of smoke and salt through the crowd.

You were laughing.

That was the first thing Rafe noticed.

Leaning against the cooler, drink in your hand, head tipped back as some guy said something that made you laugh again. His hand rested on your waist like he belonged there.

Rafe’s jaw tightened.

Across the sand, he watched the whole thing play out — watched the way you leaned closer, the way the guy brushed your arm like it was natural.

Like he had the right.

His fingers curled around the bottle in his hand.

This was stupid.

He shouldn’t even be here.

The Boneyard was the last place someone like Rafe Cameron should be standing, surrounded by Pogues and cheap beer and sand in his shoes.

And definitely not watching you flirt with some random guy like it didn’t bother him.

Except it did.

God, it did.

He forced himself to look away.

But when he glanced back a second later, the guy’s hand was still on your waist.

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Relax,” he muttered to himself.

He had no claim here.

None.

You’d made that clear plenty of times.

And he sure as hell couldn’t walk over there and start acting like he did.

Not after all the nights he’d made you slip out the back door of the Cameron house before sunrise.

Not after pretending he barely knew you whenever someone else was around.

Still.

When the guy leaned closer to you again, something dark twisted in Rafe’s chest.

A few minutes later you peeled away from the crowd, heading toward the coolers for another drink.

Rafe moved before he could think about it.

You were bending down to grab a beer when his voice cut in from behind you.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced up.

“Oh,” you said casually, popping the top off the bottle. “Getting a beer.”

He stared at you.

“That’s not what I meant.”

You took a sip like the conversation barely mattered.

“What did you mean, then?”

Rafe stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“What are you doing with him?”

You blinked at him like the question was ridiculous.

“With who?”

“That guy you’ve been hanging all over.”

Your brows pulled together slightly.

“I haven’t been hanging all over anyone.”

“Don’t do that,” he said sharply.

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You shrugged, turning like you were about to walk away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The dismissal hit him harder than it should have.

You brushed past him, beer in hand.

Before you’d taken two steps, his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

“I’m talking to you.”

The grip wasn’t rough, but it stopped you cold.

You turned slowly, eyes flashing.

“Yeah,” you said, tugging your wrist slightly. “Well I’d rather be anywhere else.”

That stung.

More than he expected.

Rafe’s jaw clenched.

“So what,” he said, voice tight, “you’re just gonna go back over there and keep flirting with him?”

You laughed under your breath.

“Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air.

Because he did.

Because watching some random guy touch you made his chest feel like it was caving in.

Because he hated that he had no right to say anything.

Rafe looked away for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“You gonna tell me you weren’t all over him?”

You took another sip of your beer, unfazed.

“Even if I was, what does it matter to you?”

His hand tightened slightly around your wrist.

“Answer the question.”

You tilted your head.

“Why?”

Silence stretched between you.

Then he muttered,

“So you’re just gonna go fuck him too?”

The words came out harsher than he meant them to.

For a second you just stared at him.

Like you were trying to figure out where this was coming from.

“Maybe I will,” you said finally.

Something snapped.

Rafe’s expression darkened instantly.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

“You’re not going anywhere with him.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

“And why is that, Rafe?” you asked. “Because last time I checked, you’re the one who acts like I don’t exist in public.”

That hit its mark.

His jaw flexed.

“You know that’s not—”

“Not what?” you cut in. “Not convenient?”

You tried pulling your wrist away again.

He didn’t let go.

Instead he leaned closer, voice low and dangerous.

“We’re leaving.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He finally released your wrist, but only to grab your hand instead.

“Rafe—”

“Now.”

You looked toward the party behind him, where the guy you’d been talking to was still standing near the fire.

Then back at Rafe.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t want anyone else looking at me.”

His gaze locked onto yours.

For a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“You think I like it?” he said under his breath.

You hesitated.

Rafe ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Watching that guy touch you?” he continued. “You think that’s fun for me?”

Your voice softened slightly.

“Then maybe stop pretending you don’t care.”

He stared at you for a long moment.

Then muttered,

“Yeah.”

His fingers tightened around yours again.

“That’s not happening tonight.”

And before you could argue, he started pulling you away from the bonfire and toward the dark stretch of beach beyond the party.

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💌 requests: open send prompts or fic ideas anytime ♡

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salt air, bonfires, and boys who pretend they don’t care 🕊

[itneverendshere]

i'm so obsessed with bitchy!pouge!reader x rafe!!!! 😭❤ thank you so much for sharing your talent with us! 🫶 if your request is open, can you please write about rafe's reaction if the last fic was kinda in reverse? what if rafe or one of his friends sees reader talking to an ex and tells him about it? 🫣

call it passive or aggressive - r.c (+18)

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe warnings: smut

wrote this based on this ask and this one: "I need jealous sex with rafe x bitchy!pogue!reader please 🙏🏻"

"ur girl was talking to that dude she used to date. thought u should know."

Topper added a photo too. Blurry, zoomed in from across the marina, but clear enough to see you were smiling, tilting your chin in that typical way you always did when you knew you had the upper hand.

Standing way too close to your ex.

Jealousy flamed behind Rafe's lungs like smoke.

You hadn’t bothered to tell him you were going down to the marina today.

Rafe knows that smile, how you touch your hair when you want someone to look at your mouth. It looks like the same shit you used to pull with him when you were playing in his face before you became official.

By the time you get to his house later that night, barefoot, sandy, smelling like sea breeze and sunblock, Rafe's pacing his room, teeth gritted, head full of you.

You barely get the door open before he starts his well-rehearsed (it's not) monologue.

“Had fun today?”

“Hi to you, too?”

“Fuck off.”

You raise a brow in disdain at the tone he's using with you. “Okay. What the fuck up crawled up your ass tonight?”

Rafe laughs ironically. “Try to be less obvious when you’re flirting in public.”

You scoff, immediately connecting the dots. “Oh my god. That's what this is about? You’re pissed because I bumped into someone I used to fuck?”

His jaw flexes again, wanting to strangle you for the reminder.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s pathetic,” you reply sweetly, lifting your chin. “Be fucking serious, country club. Flirting? Catching up with a male friend is flirting now?”

"Male friend?"

"You're pissing me off."

Rafe clicks his tongue as if he figured it all out.

“So you were catching up.”

“Oh my god.” You drop your bag by the door and walk past him, not about to have the fight he’s already playing out in his head. “I said two words to him.”

He turns, following after you like a good dog. “Funny. looked real fucking long for two fucking words.”

You stopped, whirling around in perfect fury and pettiness. If he'd been calmer about it, you would've chosen a nicer way to phrase it, but alas.

“Yeah, I talked to someone who knows what I sound like when I cum for more than two seconds.”

Rafe grabs you, palms against your thighs, lifting, pushing you up against the wall. He had to hold you still, or he was gonna break something. Your attitude, hopefully, maybe your fucking ego.

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.

“Don’t fucking remind me.”

“Rafe, calm down."

“I'm mad,” He growls, “that you thought you could give him that smile. It's mine. That mouth? It’s fucking mine too, baby. You think he could handle you?” he laughs bitterly, nose brushing yours. “he wouldn’t even last five seconds with your bitchy little mouth.”

“You’re so dramatic," You breathe, despite your hips grinding down against him. “He said hi. That’s literally it.”

“I don’t care if he waved from a fucking boat,” Rafe snaps, hand sliding under your shorts, dragging your underwear to the side. “You wanna act like you’re still available, baby? I'll show you who you fucking belong to.”

You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders when his fingers roughly work you up and down, two of them slipping in, knuckles deep, as his thumb focuses on your clit determined to erase every trace of that piece of shit from your system. 

You moan so prettily for him, head falling back against the door, whimpering his name.

“Oh, you remember it now? Your actual boyfriend's name?” Rafe bites out against your throat as he kisses it down. “That’s more like it.”

You pull his shirt hard, dragging him in closer, angling your mouth to his ear.

“I came thinking about you this morning,” you whisper, “Wanted to be good for you. but you’re too busy being jealous to fucking notice.”

That’s when Rafe tears your shorts down, turns you around, hands on your waist, and pushes you over to his bed, pressing his hips flush against yours with enough force to make your breath stutter like a virgin.

“Good girls don’t flirt with their exes.”

"Lucky for you, I'm not good."

"Huh. Is that right?"

“And good boys don’t have anger issues.”

“Lucky for you,” he taunts, mocking you as he drags the tip of his cock through your pussy, teasing “M'not a good boy either.”

His hips move with no proper warning as you cry out, the stretch overwhelming in the greatest familiar way, your hands bunching in his sheets as he bottoms out in one furious thrust.

“Fuck me—” You curse, arching instinctively, body trying to take more than it could.

Rafe doesn't give you a single minute to adjust.

“I will," he growls like an animal in heat. “Once you say it.”

“Fuck you!”

He slams in harder, a broken whine leaving your mouth traitorously.

“Say it.”

“You,” you choke, delirious, clenching around him. “You, you, you—rafe, fuck—”

Rafe's strokes are punishing, not because he's angry at you—no, this is him spiraling, trying to fuck out the image of you smiling up at someone else, the possibility of you laughing at some old inside joke with someone who had you like this.

Your moans echo off the walls, high-pitched and desperate, as he drives into you from behind, hands bruising into your hips, shaping them to his liking.

“Fucking mine,” He gritts out, growing more irritated by the second, hips pistoning against the backs of your thighs. “Say it.”

You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes glazed and mouth open in a breathless smirk. “no—”

“Say it.”

You shake your head in denial to drive him insane, a wicked smile curving your lips. That's when he slaps your ass so fucking hard the entire bed frame shakes along with it, the sting throwing you off your game.

“Tsk. That’s not what I asked for.”

Your breath hitches, pain and pleasure tangled together as his hand comes down again, more insistently this time, palms quickly kneading sweet circles with his thumb to soothe the burn.

“I'm yours,” You eventually concede as his hand keeps working the spot, reminding you he's got you.

“That’s right.” His hand fists in your hair, yanking you up so your spine arches for him, your ass pushing back into his hips. “You don’t fucking smile at anyone like that ever again. Got it?”

“I wasn’t—” Your protest melts into a moan as he fucks into you even harder, dragging a whimper out. “I wasn't flirting!"

He wraps a hand around your throat from behind, to make you feel it, thumb on your jaw as he leans down over you, his mouth right next to your ear.

“You let him get a good look?” He grinds out, cock driving up into you slowly now. “Let him imagine what I get to feel every night?”

“Fuck, rafe—”

“Bet he’s still thinking about it. Thinking about how good you sounded. But y'know what?” He licks up the shell of your ear, hips stuttering. “Only I know how you sound when you break.”

“Gonna cum?” You manage to pant in retaliation, teasing through the fog in your head, searching for the upper hand.

Too bad Rafe's not handing it to you this time around.

“Not until you do,” He bites out, hand reaching between your legs, fingers working your clit, knowing exactly what you need.

Rafe can't stop staring at your back.

How your spine dips, the arch of it, when he pulls your hair, offering yourself to him, only him. The way your skin flushes when you moan his name. The bed creaks with his thrusts, the sound of it obscene in the quiet, but Rafe can't hear anything over the noise in his head.

“Still think he could fuck you like this?”

He's moving hard enough to shove the breath from your lungs. You can't answer, your body tells him everything he needs to know—how it welcomes him, clenches for him, throbbs for him.

“Yeah,” he muttered darkly, "didn’t fucking think so.”

He hates that someone else has seen you like this, that someone else had this view, that there was ever a time before he got to be the one to see you fall apart.

It's so fucking stupid of him, it's petty and irrational and fucking insane. But he's so in love with you, it makes him murderous. He doesn't want to be one of many; he's it.

His fingers get needier against your clit as he drives into you again, chasing the sound of your gasp, his personal oxygen.

You don't see it, can't see the way his face twists, how his teeth dug into his bottom lip, his eyes burning when they drop to where he's buried inside you. But god, he feels this ache in his chest, this need to make sure the memory of other men dissolve under what he gives you.

Rafe leans down, voice cracking in your ear as he fucks you with everything he has.

"I hate,” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Knowing he ever had this, that he got to touch you. See you like this.”

Your breath hitches, his cock twitching along inside you.

“Hate that I didn’t get to be the first one to wreck you,” he groans, genuinely upset about it, wishing he could undo it somehow.

“Baby—”

“He doesn’t know you, not like this.” He nips at your shoulder, hand sliding back into your hair, pulling your head up so he can hear every word that spits out of your mouth. “He doesn’t know how you get when you’re desperate, how you beg for it.”

“Please—”

“Yeahhh, say it. Go ahead,” his voice turns hoarse from all the talking he's been doing. “Tell me no one else has had you like this.”

“No one,” you promise, thighs trembling. “No one, Rafe. only you.”

“Yeah?” his pace falters at the reassurance, losing rhythm with the stupid emotions building in his chest. 

“I p-promise.”

You're a mess for him, drool on the pillow, your voice sore from how many times you'd cried out his name, and still it isn't enough.

Rafe pulls out, flips you, spreads your legs, and stares for a second, breathing through the sight of you flushed and fucked out, pussy drooling for him, eyes barely open, inner thighs slick with your arousal and his.

He sinks back in with a neediest groan, holding your gaze as he bottoms out again, your walls fluttering around him, body hardly waiting to pull him even deeper. Your hands eagerly fly to his hair, pulling him into a kiss as your hips lift to meet his thrusts.

He swallows your moans, your sobs, your everything, and keeps going, needing them for his own personal fuel.

Rafe's so deep it feels like he's everywhere at once, in your head, in your guts, in your heart. His name is falling from your lips over and over and over again; it's the only word you remember right now.

“I love you,” he breaths, awe and pride and madness tangled in his voice. “Yeah, that's it. You’re mine. fuck, you’re mine—”

You shudder underneath him, nails dragging red lines across his back as you kiss him senseless. Every time, every goddamn time, kissing you feels like an explosion in his head. It burns and blooms, blowing everything else away.

Your lips are swollen, slick, and trembling when he licks into your mouth, catches your moan with his tongue, and swallows it whole, relentlessly. He tilts your chin up, nose brushing yours, lips sticky with spit and curses.

“Never getting tired of this,” Rafe rasps, fucking into you deeper, filthier now.

Your hands are still fisted in his hair, dragging him until your teeth scrape his bottom lip, and your tongue tangles with his. Your shaky breath vibrates against his mouth, and he groans in retaliation.

“Shiiiit, baby—”

He feels you clench around him, fluttering, and pulls back to marvel at your pretty face as you come, eyes fluttering shut, mouth forming his name in broken sentences before it rips out of your throat, loud and cracked and perfect.

Watching you like that—his, undone, dripping, fucked out, and kissing him like he owns your soul—it undoes something in him.

You look up at him, eyes glassy, tears clinging to your lashes from how hard you came. “Always you, Rafe.”

Rafe moans into your mouth, growing sloppy as his fingers dig into your thighs, and his cock is about to spill inside you. You're still shaking around him, your body so sensitive that you flinch with every grind of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mutters against your lips, forehead pressed to yours.

“Inside,” You yank him back into the kiss, tongue lapping at his cheek, “Rafe—please—inside—”

He cries out against your mouth as he comes, body jerking, cock buried into your soul as he fills you the way you like it. Your body takes it like a champ, used to it by now, clenching and pulsing around him, wanting to keep it there forever; you're made for this.

And when it's over, and you're still tangled beneath him, panting against his cheek, he kisses you one more time.

“I did too much?"

Your eyes close, but your lips curl into the laziest smile as you reply.

"Don't underestimate me, Country Club."

[lovesurwriting]

𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 - 𝐈𝐈

summary - Rafe Cameron can’t stop thinking about one girl—only problem is, she’s Barry’s.

chapter summary - Rafe shows up at Barry’s place for a deal—but gets more than he came for when Y/N answers the door wearing Barry’s shirt and an attitude to match.

tags - | rafe cameron | rafe cameron x reader | barry's girl | season 2 rafe? | outer banks | obx fanfic| rafe cameron fic| kook x reader | barry obx | rafe cameron imagine | enemies to ??? | tension| spring break chaos | she does not care about him | and that’s why he’s obsessed | barry being barry| topper thornton | kelce obx | party scene| slow burn vibes | attitude problem (her)| ego problem (him) |

| next part | series masterlist |

Rafe told himself it was just business.

That’s why he was standing on Barry’s porch. That’s why he knocked. That’s why, when the door swung open he forgot all of that immediately.

She stood there, already looking mildly annoyed, like she knew exactly who it was before she even opened it. She took one look at him and sighed. “Seriously?”

Rafe leaned casually against the doorframe, eyes dragging over her without even trying to hide it. And yeah he noticed.

Barry’s shirt. Of course it was Barry’s shirt it was loose on her, slipping slightly off one shoulder something about that didn’t sit right.

She turned her head and shouted into the house, “Baby! Your boyfriend’s here!”

Rafe let out a quiet scoff, but there was a smirk tugging at his mouth.

Barry’s voice called back, “Shut up, I’m coming.”

Rafe didn’t look away from her, he didn’t even try.

She caught him staring and just rolled her eyes again, like he was already exhausting. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t need one,” Rafe said easily. “Got a pretty good memory.”

That earned him a look quick, sharp but before she could say anything, Barry appeared behind her. “Rafe, man,” Barry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I got your stuff.”

Rafe barely acknowledged him. “Yeah,” he muttered, distracted because she had already turned away, walking further into the house like he wasn’t even there anymore and he followed her with his eyes.

She moved around like she lived there. Like this was normal. Grabbing things, tossing stuff aside, completely unfazed by the fact that Rafe was standing in the doorway watching her.

Actually watching her.

She started getting dressed like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter and for some reason that bothered him more than if she told him to stop. “Where are you going?” Rafe cut in.

She didn’t even look at him at first, pulling a skirt on. “Why do you care?”

Rafe just stared at her blank and unapologetic.

She glanced up, caught it, and sighed. “Somewhere that’s foreign to you.”

Rafe let out a short chuckle, eyes flicking over her uniform. “Is it?” Because he recognized it immediately: The country club.

Barry snorted from behind him. “What, you worried she’s gonna take your nickname, Country Club?”

Rafe shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

Barry just grinned.

But she spoke again, cutting through it. “No,” she said, tying her hair up. “I’m doing something you don’t do.”

Rafe’s attention snapped right back to her, not that it ever really left.

She didn’t rush. Didn’t hide. Just stood there, adjusting her skirt, fixing her shirt Barry’s shirt like she had all the time in the world.

Like she didn’t notice him watching or worse like she noticed and didn’t care.

That irked him.

More than it should have.

“I’m working,” she added finally, glancing at him. “And that, to you, Cameron” She paused, finishing her hair, stepping toward the door. “is a foreign concept.”

Barry laughed under his breath.

Rafe didn’t.

His jaw tightened slightly, but his eyes stayed on her.

Always on her.

Barry leaned against the wall. “No goodbye kiss, sweetheart?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “I’m good," and just like that, she walked out the door shutting behind her.

There was a beat of silence which made Rafe exhale slowly, then looked at Barry. “You really just let her change in front of me?”

Barry shrugged like it was nothing. “She does what she wants.” That answer didn’t help at all.

Barry turned away. “Lemme grab your stuff.”

But Rafe wasn’t done. “Where’d you meet her?” he asked.

No answer, what was worse is Barry kept moving.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you together?”

Barry glanced back at him, something unreadable in his expression for half a second then it was gone.

“Man,” he said, casual again, “you ask a lotta questions for someone just here to buy.”

Rafe huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”

Barry came back, holding out what he came for. “Yeah.”

Rafe took it, but his focus wasn’t on the deal it hadn’t been from the second the door opened.

Barry watched him for a second, then smirked slightly. “Careful, Country Club.”

Rafe glanced up.

“That’s my girl.”

Rafe held his gaze for a moment. Then smirked slow, deliberate. “Yeah,” he said.

But his mind was already somewhere else.

On her walking into a place he knew better than anyone, wearing a uniform that definitely wasn’t foreign to him and suddenly neither was the idea of showing up.

Rafe shouldn't have come. He tells himself that at least three times while pulling up to the Kildare Island Country Club like it wasn’t the most predictable thing he could’ve done.

Because of course she works here.

He walks in like he belongs because he does. But his eyes are already scanning. Looking, trying to find—There behind the bar.

Except, she sees him first and immediately turns around. “Are you kidding me,” she mutters, ducking down behind the bar so fast it almost looks like a reflex.

Her coworker blinks at her. “What are you doing?”

“Hiding.”

“From who—?”

She grabs her arm. “Don’t—”

Too late.

Her coworker glances up. Spots him instantly. “Oh. Him?”

She groans. “Yes, him.”

And Rafe? Rafe hears her, of course he does. That voice he’d recognize it anywhere. A slow smirk spreads across his face as he steps closer, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world.

“You know,” he drawls, tilting his head slightly, “for someone trying to hide…”

She freezes.

“…you’re not very quiet.”

Her coworker snorts.

Rafe crouches just enough to catch her eye under the counter, grin widening. “And here I thought I was special. Guess I’m not the only one you talk to like that.”

She stares at him for a second.

Then stands up—slow, unbothered, brushing herself off like he’s the inconvenience here. “Yeah,” she says flatly. “Except the difference between you and her is I respect her.” A beat. “I don’t respect you.”

Rafe just smiles. “Playin’ hard to get, love?”

She ignores that completely. “What are you doing here, Cameron?”

“Playing golf.”

She blinks at him. Then gestures around the empty bar. “The golf course is outside. This is the bar.”

Rafe doesn’t even react—just pulls out his ID, drops it on the counter. “A whiskey.”

She looks at it. Then at him. “It’s 9am.”

“That doesn’t change my order, sweet girl.”

She exhales sharply. “Don’t call me that.”

“Just get me my drink.”

She scoffs, turning around.

“With a smile would be great,” he adds, way too pleased with himself.

She doesn’t even look back just lifts her hand and flips him off.

Rafe laughs under his breath. “Isn’t part of your job customer service?” he calls after her. “Wouldn’t want me to complain to your manager now, would I?”

That makes her laugh like actually laugh.

She turns back, leaning slightly on the counter. “Funnily enough for you,” she says, tilting her head, “I am the manager.”

Rafe raises a brow. “Yeah?”

She points at herself. “Do you see my badge?”

“…No.”

“You're just ignoring it, asshole.”

He smirks. “I know the owner.”

She rolls her eyes. “Wow. Who knew Rafe Cameron was a Karen?”

That one actually gets him, a real laugh. “Just give me service with a smile,” he says again.

She leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough “I’d rather spit in your drink.”

Rafe’s grin sharpens. “I’d like to see you try.”

A second later, her coworker grabs her arm and drags her aside. “Okay—no,” she whispers. “You actually look like you’d do it.”

“I would not—”

“You would.”

She sighs, dragging a hand down her face. “You know I won't get fired—I've been here too long—”

“Don’t risk it. He’s Rafe Cameron. Just—don’t.”

Behind the bar, Rafe’s still there.

Leaning, listening and of course smirking.

“If she’s worked here for years,” he calls casually, “how come I’ve never seen her before?”

She grabs the glass harder than necessary, turning back to him. “That’s because you’re not that observant.”

She sets the drink down in front of him with a sharp clink. “There.”

“Rafe?” He turns and there she is. Sofia, apron in hand, pausing when she sees him before putting on a polite smile.

And just like that the moment’s gone.

The Y/N disappears to the back without a word, not even looking at him again. Rafe watches her leave, doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Hey,” Sofia says, stepping up beside the bar. “Didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

Rafe hums something in response, barely looking at her.

“You okay?” she asks, tying her apron.

“Yeah.”

But he’s not listening, not really.

Sofia tries again. “How was Topper’s party?”

“Fine.”

Short. Dismissive.

His fingers tap against the glass. His eyes drift back to the door she disappeared through. Like he’s waiting, like he doesn’t even realize he is.

And maybe—That’s the problem.

Rafe had been there for hours.

Just… there.

Inside the Kildare Island Country Club, drifting from the bar to the lounge to the hallway like he had something to do like he had a reason to stay.

He hadn’t even stepped foot outside. Didn’t play golf. Didn’t check in. Didn’t do anything except linger.

And at some point, even he started questioning it. Why was he still here? What was he doing?

He leaned against one of the pillars, drink in hand, barely touched, scanning the room for what felt like the hundredth time—

And then he saw her and just like that, it made sense.

Y/N stood across the room, not behind the bar this time, but facing Jim the owner of the country club. The most powerful man in Kildare.

And she was arguing with him.

Rafe straightened slightly, his attention locking in immediately.

Her arms were crossed, posture firm, expression sharp. Jim was talking, clearly irritated, gesturing like he was used to being listened to used to being right. But she wasn’t backing down, not even a little. If anything… she looked like she had the upper hand.

Rafe frowned slightly, watching closer because that didn’t make sense.

No one talked to Jim like that. No one stood there, completely unbothered, challenging him like they weren’t even slightly intimidated.

Which meant she had to have been here a long time.Long enough to know exactly how far she could push him, long enough to be confident doing it.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on her, something almost impressed flickering in his expression.

Because yeah she must’ve really worked here for years. You don’t argue like that with the most powerful man in Kildare unless you know exactly where you stand.

He shifted slightly, just enough to catch the end of it.

Jim exhaled sharply, clearly done. “Just—go.”

Y/N didn’t argue, didn’t push. She just held his gaze for a second longer steady, unimpressed before giving the slightest shake of her head and turning away.

Rafe just stood there watching her. Because now… he wasn’t just curious, he was impressed.

Even better she was walking straight toward the bar, toward him.

He was already waiting when she got there leaning back like he owned the place. Watching her like he didn’t even try to hide it anymore. “What was that about?” he asked casually.

She paused for half a second. “What?”

“I saw you with Jim.”

There it was that tiny shift it was barely noticeable but Rafe caught it. So he smirked, trying to lighten it. “What, was he changing the uniform or something?” he teased. “I mean, I agree if he wants your skirts shorter”

She smacked him with a tea towel. “Goddammit, Cameron.”

Rafe just grinned. “What? Nah, tell me. What was it about?”

She gave him a look, already turning away to grab something. “I thought it was the bartender’s job to listen to your problems,” she shot back, “not the other way around.”

Rafe leaned forward slightly. “Says the girl dating a drug—”

Her hand slapped over his mouth instantly. “Don’t say that out loud,” she hissed, eyes flicking around.

Rafe blinked, amused, completely unfazed.

She pulled her hand back, glaring.

“Why are you dating him?” he asked, quieter this time but not backing down.

She grabbed a glass, poured him a whiskey out of habit.

Rafe looked at it then at her. “…It’s too early.”

She paused then laughed actually laughed. “Funny,” she said, sliding it back and replacing it with orange juice. “You literally had one a couple of hours ago.”

Rafe took the glass, smirking slightly. “Better.”

Then, more serious, “No, really. Why are you with Barry?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Just wiped the counter slowly.

“Why are you friends with him?”

Rafe’s expression shifted. Slightly a glare, it was subtle, but there. “…I see,” he muttered.

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

Rafe studied her for a second. “You don’t look like the type.”

She gave him a look. “Sure.”

“No, you don’t,” he pressed. “He’s not a good guy.”

“I know that.”

That made him pause. “You’ve been seeing him that long?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said casually. “Give or take two years.”

Rafe blinked. “And I’ve never noticed you until now?”

She laughed at that. “Wow. That just sounds like you lack observation skills, Cameron.”

Rafe huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “No, really.”

She leaned against the bar slightly. “Yeah, well… if you really do the math, it’s more like one year.”

Rafe frowned slightly, lifting the glass to his lips. “What do you mean by that?”

“I study out of town,” she said simply. “So when I’m here, I stay with him.”

Rafe stilled for a second then nodded slowly. “That’s what you meant,” he said, leaning in slightly, “by ‘only during spring break.’”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

She blinked at him then laughed. “Why are you so interested in me, huh?”

Rafe didn’t even hesitate. “I’m trying to figure out how you ended up with a guy like Barry.”

She rolled her eyes, noticing his empty glass. “That,” she said, reaching for it, “is a round two conversation, don’t you think?”

Rafe smirked, already pulling out his card and sliding it across the counter. “Continue my tab.”

She smiled slightly. “Happily.”

She handed him another juice.

Rafe looked at it, offended. “No, no—whiskey. Come on.”

She laughed, taking it back to actually make him one this time.

When she set it down, he didn’t waste a second. “So?”

She sighed, like she already regretted entertaining him. “…It was sociology.”

Rafe hummed.

“But my dad made me change it to business,” she added.

Rafe nodded. “Yeah, I agree with him.”

She shot him a look. “Don't you study too?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sip. “Business management”

She nodded slightly, like she understood more than she let on.

Rafe watched her for a second longer then noticed something else.

When she was not talking to him, the way people greeted her, the way she greeted them back like it was familiar and easy. Like she belonged here.

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re really from here, huh?”

She glanced at him briefly. “Obviously.”

And just like that, she turned away back to work serving someone else.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t look away.

Because Now he was realizing something else, he didn’t just want to know her. He wanted to understand her and that was worse.

He had been here all day, he leaned casually against the counter, pretending to be interested in the polished wood and the expensive glasses behind the bar, but he was lying to himself, and to everyone else.

Kelce and Topper, of course, noticed immediately.

“You’re here?” Topper asked, smirking.

“Just grabbing a drink,” Rafe said, voice smooth, like he could sell it even if he didn’t believe it.

Sure, a drink. That’s why he was staring at her.

Y/N was behind the bar, pretending not to notice him while wiping down a glass.

Pretending—but failing.

He could see the moment she spotted him out of the corner of her eye, and the little sigh she tried and failed to suppress.

Rafe smirked. “So,” he said, leaning slightly closer, letting his voice drop just enough to be playful, “when do you get off work?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, barely looking at him. “Like I’d tell you that.”

Kelce snorted from the side. “Bet she gets off in an hour.”

Y/N whipped her head around, eyes sharp as knives. “Excuse me?”

“How would you know that?” Topper asked, suspicious.

Kelce shrugged, completely unbothered. “Think about it. Nine-to-five job, right? She leaves at five. In an hour.”

Topper smacked him on the head. “You sound like a stalker!”

Kelce just waved him off. “No, I did the math.”

Rafe leaned even closer, smirk teasing, eyes locked on her. “So, sweetheart… do you get off in an hour?”

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard it should’ve been a crime. “Nope.”

Rafe’s grin widened, because he knew she was lying. He could hear the little snort of laughter from her coworker behind her, giving her away.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low, teasing, dangerous.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she shot back. “And yes. A girl called out, so I’m on a double shift.”

Rafe straightened up slightly, pretending to consider it seriously, though his eyes never left her. “I could drop you home if you want.”

Her look said everything: you’re insane. “No thanks. I’m good,” she said flatly. And just like that, she was called to the back, disappearing from his line of sight.

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave the door.

Kelce elbowed Topper. “You like her, don’t you?”

Rafe smirked faintly, voice low. “she's hot”

Topper laughed. “Yeah, dude. Totally.”

Rafe ignored them, his gaze glued to the back room door. Every second Y/N wasn’t in sight made it worse.

And when Sofia appeared at the bar a few steps away, apron in hand, pausing politely when she saw him, Rafe barely registered it. He barely even breathed.

His attention was entirely on Y/N.

Kelce grinned. “She totally lied. I bet she does finish in an hour.”

Topper shrugged. “I don’t know… she looks like she gave herself an extra shift just to avoid you.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He was already imagining her walking out of that back door. He could see the way her hair would bounce, the way she’d roll her eyes at him even as she did.

And, if he was honest even to himself he wanted to go to that door. Right now. Right this second.

Not because he was stalking. Not because he had some stupid crush.

Because Y/N was worth it. Worth every sharp retort. Every eye roll. Every impossible-to-ignore glance.

And that… that was new for Rafe Cameron.

Five o’clock came faster than it should’ve.

Rafe had been there longer than he’d admit, leaned up against his car in the country club parking lot, arms crossed, sunglasses on like he was trying to look casual.

He wasn’t. He was waiting and he knew she’d show.

And she did. Right on time, the doors opened and there she was walking out like nothing happened, like she hadn’t lied straight to his face about a double shift. Bag over her shoulder, keys in hand, already halfway across the lot before she noticed him.

She stopped dead.

Rafe smirked instantly.

The sigh she let out was loud. Deliberate. Annoyed.

“You’re predictable,” he said, pushing himself off the car.

She didn’t even entertain it, just rolled her eyes and kept walking past him. “I had to come out anyway.”

“Yeah?” Rafe fell into step beside her easily. “That why you clocked out right at five?”

She shot him a look. “I can get home myself.”

“I’m heading to Barry’s anyway,” Rafe said, casual, like it meant nothing.

That made her stop.

She turned to face him fully. “I have a car.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, glancing around like he expected to see it. “Yeah? Which one?”

She pointed toward the corner of the parking lot. “That one.”

He let out a quiet laugh, dragging his gaze back to her. “Flash car… for a pogue.”

“God, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, already walking toward it.

“And yet,” he called, following her, “here I am. Offering you a ride.”

“And yet,” she shot back, “I’m still saying no.”

Rafe tilted his head, watching her unlock the car. “You lied about the shift just to avoid me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

He stepped closer, smirk still in place. “You did.”

She exhaled sharply, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Oh my god, Cameron, not everything is about you.”

Rafe leaned against the side of her car, arms crossed. “It is when you’re involved.”

That made her pause.

Just for a second.

Then she turned the key in the ignition—Click, nothing. She frowned. Tried again. Click and silence.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, staring at the dashboard for a second before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

Rafe laughed “Seems to me,” he said, pushing off the car, “you’re coming home with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, stepping out of the car. “You did this, didn’t you?”

Rafe blinked, almost offended. “Wow. blame me.”

She ignored him, popping the hood of her car and walking to the front. “Help me jump start it.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, hands going back into his pockets. “Like I’d do that.”

She shot him a glare. “Bloody kook boys. Used to people doing things for them.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer, slightly defensive. “I know how to do it.”

“Then do it.”

He shook his head, smirking. “I just refuse to.”

She stared at him, unimpressed.

“Let me take you home,” he added, softer this time but still stubborn.

Her expression didn’t change. “No.”

Of course not.

She crossed her arms, standing by her broken-down car like she’d rather sleep in the parking lot than accept his help.

Rafe just grinned because somehow, this was even better.

The drive started in silence.

Not awkward—just… loaded.

Rafe pulled out of the country club parking lot, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily near the gear shift. His eyes flicked toward her every few seconds, like he couldn’t help it.

Y/N sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window like she hadn’t just willingly gotten into his car.

Rafe smirked slightly. “So…” he started, casual. “What’s your deal?”

She didn’t even turn her head. “My deal?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You. Your life. Your whole mysterious ‘I only show up for spring break and live with a drug dealer’ thing.”

That got her to look at him.

“Wow,” she said flatly. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Rafe shrugged. “I’m curious.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Why are you so curious about me?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Like I said before… I’m trying to understand how a girl like you ends up with someone like Barry.”

She laughed actually laughed this time and turned fully toward him. “Why?” she said, amused. “It’s like what you’re really asking is—why am I not with a kook like you?”

Rafe slammed the brakes just a little too hard, the car jerking slightly as he turned his head to glare at her.

She blinked at him, then smirked. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her for a second longer than necessary before turning back to the road and continuing to drive.

But now he was quiet and that said everything.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, satisfied. “I grew up watching guys like you, you know.”

Rafe’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “And?”

She shrugged. “Not my type.”

He scoffed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at her again, something unreadable in his expression. “If you were with a guy like me—”

She laughed immediately. “Yeah, no.”

Rafe ignored that, continuing like she hadn’t interrupted him. “If you were with a guy like me, you wouldn’t have to work.”

She rolled her eyes so hard he could practically hear it. “Maybe I like working.”

“No one likes working at the country club,” he shot back.

“I do,” she said simply.

“Liar.”

She smirked. “Better than being bored all day, doing nothing.”

Rafe let out a quiet laugh. “You think I do nothing?”

“I think,” she said, turning toward him again, “you’ve never had to earn anything.”

That hit. He didn’t respond right away just kept driving, jaw tightening slightly. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said, voice quieter now.

She tilted her head. “And you think you know everything about me?”

“Working on it,” he replied.

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still in my car,” he shot back instantly.

She opened her mouth—then paused because he wasn’t wrong.

Again.

Y/N looked out the window, trying to hide the small smile threatening to form. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe smirked, eyes back on the road. “Sure it doesn’t.”

next part | series masterlist |

[rafeysafterglow]

More jealous rafe smut plsss

jealous!rafe fucks the thought of another guy out of you

pairing: jealous!rafe x f!reader cw: smut little plot, pinv, kinda rough, jealous & possessive rafe, dirty talk, edging, creampie, 18+ mdni a/n: a quick ask before i continue my ttpd series :p yummy

“ya’ think he can fuck you better than me, huh?” rafe grunts out as he pounds into you. his tip was hitting the soft part inside you just right which made your eyes roll and your toes curl. “look at ya’, so perfect for me, squeezing me tight.” he continues wrecking your pussy, his ragged breath loud above you, his sweat dribbling down his face and dripping onto yours.

“mmmffhh, fuuuckk raaafeee,” your high-pitched whines bounced off the walls, mixed with the deep sound of bodies clapping. the air in the room was stifling, the smell of sex and sweat evident. your arms were stretched wide across the bed, you fingers gripping the sheets beneath you until your knuckles ached. your mind was hazy, he was fucking you so good, so right, all you feel is the pleasure coursing through your body.

you can feel your clit tingling, the familiar feeling building inside you, signaling you were about to come. rafe, of course so in tuned with your body, realized and pulled out. the immediate feeling disappeared and the loss of his cock inside you caused your whines to be ten times louder. “ahhhh rafeee, i was so closeeee,” you wailed out.

in response, rafe grabbed your hips and turned you around, your stomach connecting with the bed with a humph. he forced your ass towards him and slammed his cock into you without warning. you wailed out as he mercilessly quickened his pace, clearly chasing for his own pleasure. your cried out for him loudly, which made him reach forward and grab the back of your head harshly, pressing your face into the mattress.

“you flirt with a guy right in front of me, and ya’ expect me to let you come?” he breathes out. “ya’ should think twice before doing that again, sweetheart, or i’m gunna think you want me to get angry.” you whimper out into the bed, your saliva wetting the sheets.

the combination of his fingers tangled into your hair, your struggle to breathe, his hips jerking off-pattern, and both of your whines caused the familiar feeling to build again. “i’m gunna come, puhhleeeaseee rafeeee,” your pleas were muffled, making it hard for rafe to understand you.

“nuh uh, ya’ not coming before me,” his hips start stuttering and he releases inside you with a long groan. you couldn’t hold it anymore, his warm cum inside you forced you to come yourself.

rafe collapsed on top of you, his breathing still hard. “i better not see you flirt with anybody again, or next time i won’t let you finish.”

[multifandomposts-blog]

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆

requested by anon

character: Rafe Cameron fandom: Outer Banks

info

black female reader, toxic traits, possessiveness, jealousy, suggestive content, power dynamics, arguments, slight manipulation, canon-typical behavior, reader discretion advised

SFW

Him acting like he doesn’t care in public but always keeping an eye on you from across the room

Random late-night drives with no destination, just blasting music and him tapping the steering wheel while glancing at you

Buying you expensive things “just because,” then getting annoyed if you say it’s too much

The way his hand always finds the small of your back in crowded places—subtle but firm

Arguments that burn hot and fast… but end with him lingering nearby instead of leaving

Him lowkey hating anyone who makes you laugh a little too hard

You being one of the only people he actually listens to (even if he pretends he doesn’t)

Quiet moments where he rests his head on your shoulder like everything isn’t constantly falling apart

Him teaching you how to handle things his way—money, power, people—and watching you catch on quickly

The rare, soft “you’re mine” that sounds less like control and more like fear of losing you

“Keep looking at me like that and see what happens.”

Suggestive

His voice drops when he’s close to your ear, saying things meant only for you to hear.

The way his grip tightens on your waist when someone looks at you a second too long, as if he needs to remind himself that you're still his and you chose him

Heated arguments that end with you both way too close, neither of you backing up till your legs are wrapped around him, and anybody walking past his room definitely know what you're doing

Him pulling you aside at parties just to have a moment alone where his hands linger a bit longer than necessary and way too long underneath whatever your wearing making everyone else jealous or just uncomfortable

That cocky smirk when he knows exactly the effect he has on you especially in public when he's been whispering in your ear all morning knowing there's nothing you can do about it here

Sitting on his lap while he pretends to stay focused on something else, but his hands say otherwise

Him getting territorial in subtle ways...standing behind you, chin near your shoulder, arms brushing yours, arms on your waist or ass

Whispered promises about what he’ll do later when you tease him in public

The tension when you wear something that clearly gets his attention and he cannot hide it (let's just say he needs to invest in loser pants )

Him holding your chin just long enough to make you look at him before saying something in that low, sexy voice he knows you like more than you're willing to admit

[mariespen]

Breaking Trust. ˚➶ ｡˚

protective!Rafe Cameron x reader warnings: swearing, guns and firing into the air/ground, aggressive anger, anger issues, MDNI: fingering, p in v, praise summary: "You only noticed Rafe when he was storming down to the sandy bonfire, gun in hand." based on this request! thank you so much!

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You were perched like a porcelain doll on Rafe’s lap as the two of you watched a new movie on the TV. His hands were massaging the back of your head softly as his eyes were glued between your thighs and the screen itself. You were squinting at the captions, trying to not ask too many questions. It was your fault, anyways. You let Rafe put on a boring war movie that was three hours long. That alone should show how much you love him.

After thirty minutes into the movie, your phone subtly pings on the spot it was laying on the coffee table. You peered down casually, not drawing Rafe’s attention. The message on the dim screen was from the pouge’s group chat that you had just recently been added to. Without Rafe’s knowledge, of course. Your boyfriend, king of the kooks, had it out for any pouge that came within a mile of his perfect girlfriend. If it was up to Rafe, you would be in your own museum and displayed in a pretty box, for him and only him. In his words, 

“I don’t want the dirt on my shoes touching my pretty girl.”

Of course, this phrase was only spurred on because you got shoulder checked by a guy from the cut. You barely blinked before Rafe made sure he couldn’t move to get in your way again. That being said, if your boyfriend found out you were in a group chat with pouges, he just might lose it.

“I gotta pee baby.” You said softly, faking a squirm as you got up quickly and grabbed your phone. You looked down, seeing Rafe’s small pout. You giggled, kissing his cheek, “I’ll be back, promise.” Rafe nodded and watched your ass sway as you walked into the bathroom, his eyes glued to something new now. You closed the door quickly, scrolling through the messages.

JJ: Beach?

JB: when

JJ: idk like 11

Kie!: kk

Pope: Sounds good.

You felt nervous and a little out of place, but you still wanted to go. Hanging out with the pouges gives you the sense of adrenaline that you’ve been craving for longer than you realized. Your thumbs were shaking and your body was quick with nerves as you typed out your third ever message in the chat.

Me: perf!

Maybe it was too girlie or too kook-y. Were they even talking to you? What if they forgot they added you? Before you could come up with another scenario in your head;

*JJ liked your message*

A sigh of relief left your body and a wave of excitement stuck to your chest. All that was left was figuring out a way to avoid Rafe and make sure he’s not suspicious of you leaving so suddenly.

“Baby, are you okay?” His voice gently yells across Tannyhill.

“Yeah!” You replied, trying to not sound as frantic as you felt.

With a forged sense of causality, you walked back into the living room. The sound of your feet against the hardwood spurred Rafe’s attention and he turned over his shoulder to see you.

“What took so long?” He asked, a slight concern in his tone. “My girlfriends texted, they want to hang out!” You said, coming up with the obvious lie on the spot.

“Which ones?” Rafe asked, cocking his head.

“You know.. Kenna and Eliza!” A smile plastered on your face. You’ve never been good at lying.

Something about Rafe felt different as he shrugged and told you to have fun. Thinking you made it out, you ran up to his room to re-apply some makeup and grab a change of clothes to wear at the beach. A bikini was in your sights and you grabbed it, along with a draped skirt and one of Rafe’s sweaters. Shoving everything into a beach bag, you headed back downstairs.

“Where ya goin?” Rafe asked, towering over you now.

“Beach!” You replied, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s 10:30 at night baby, are you sure?” He gently pushed, his arms coming up to hold your shoulders with concern.

“Yeah, I promise!” You kissed his cheek and brushed past him, “I love you!”

“I love you too.” Rafe sighed, obviously stressed about the abrupt change in plans.

With a surprising lack of resistance from your boyfriend, you got into your car and began to drive down to the cut, meeting the pouges at their normal spot on the beach. You grinned as cheers were heard when you showed up, a bonfire already being started. Kiera met you in the sand, a beer in her hand as she slurred her laughter. 

“Hi Kie!” You giggled with her, beginning your walk down to the fire.

JJ and John B met you with a beer and marshmallows, encouraging you to make s’mores. The fire grew throughout the night and you drunkenly ran around with them. The sand kicked at your feet as you ran from JJ after stealing his knife and the water drenching you and Kie when she convinced you to run into the waves. Pope talked to you with the others, and you mindlessly listened to his rants as you traced drawings in the sand, John B’s towel wrapped around you. Your lack of observance was a weakness. Throughout the excitement and exhilaration, you failed to notice Rafe’s truck parked at an overlook, with your boyfriend inside. His eyes were on you as you drank and forgot about anything besides what was keeping your attention that second.

When you had left the house originally, Rafe was concerned. He had his original suspicions, so he reluctantly let you leave. Topper and Kelce had invited themselves into Tannyhill once they realized your car wasn’t there anymore, but they instead found Rafe watching your location intently. After some comically deep discussions, Topper had convinced Rafe to follow you. Admittedly, this was an easy thing to convince him of. Rafe’s keys were in his pocket the moment you left. He drove with urgency, seeking you out. Rafe told himself that he was just worried about your safety. At the beach this late, the sneaker waves could grab you in a second. Deep down, he knew that there was a lack of trust, and he needed to talk to you about it. You only noticed Rafe when he was storming down to the sandy bonfire, gun in hand.

“Get away from my fucking girl!” He yelled, firing a warning shot into the air.

Confrontation sparked instantly as you tried to beg Rafe to not do anything he would regret while the pouges taunted him like it was a game. Your heart broke on the betrayal from either side. Rafe’s constant threat through the bullets in his gun and the lack of protection or awareness from the others was giving you anxiety. Your boyfriend didn’t play pretend when it came to you.

“Rafe.. Rafe please! Put it down!” You begged, tugging on his bicep.

“You brought them this.” He responded, firing a shot into the sand.

“Fuck you Rafe!” JJ spat on the dent the bullet made.

Tears flooded your eyes as neither group let up. You felt utterly hopeless and all to blame. The only thing to divert the attention of everyone was the soft sound of sirens and the illumination of quick-approaching lights. Rafe pulled you along with him, forcing you into his passenger seat with a subtle undertone of gentleness, not wanting to hurt you badly. The tires dragged through the sand as your boyfriend sped away, driving back to Tannyhill.

The air in his truck was thick with anger and anxiety. Rafe’s lack of words were enough to speak for themselves. You stared out the window in disbelief, trying to push everything away.

The truck parked at Tannyhill and Rafe got out, slamming his door before coming to the other side, picking you up from the car and carrying you into the house with a sense of annoyance. Rafe took you up to his room with little protest and sat you down on the bed.

“What the fuck?” He asked, obviously hurt by your lies.

“Rafe m’so sorry baby I-“ You began the apology rant you prepared in the car, but he cut you off.

“I trusted you. Why the fuck did you lie?” He said, scoffing at your tears, “Don’t start with me. Tell me.” “You hate them!” The words flew from your mouth, “They are my friends and I still want to hang out with them but you hate pouges! For no reason!” Your voice was rising without you realizing.

Rafe groaned in anger, “That’s a good enough reason on its own!”

“Not to bring a gun!” You yelled, emotions running high.

In an instant, he shoved your makeup off the dresser and onto the floor, shattering the pretty pink Miss Dior bottle he bought for your anniversary.

“Stop!” You sobbed, crumpling into the bed.

“I’m fucking done! You can’t keep pulling this shit!” Rafe yelled back, storming out of the room.

The strong scent of the perfume gave you a pounding headache. You crawled off of the bed and staggered into the bathroom, laying in the empty bathtub to escape the scent. You fell asleep quickly, the emotional and physical exhaustion sweeping your feet. There was no signs of Rafe as your eyelids became heavy and protested the bright bathroom light. The curled position you had pulled yourself into was the same one you fell into a deep sleep in.

Soft mutters and shaking movements awakened you slightly, hours later. Rafe cradled you in his arms, kissing your forehead. The bedroom no longer smelled like the shattered bottle of perfume, implying that he had come back in and cleaned up the mess he had made.

The blankets were a glorious feeling as he helped you into bed, wrapping his arms around you.

“M’sorry.” Rafe whispered, falling asleep with you in his arms. You were quick to follow, escaping reality to sleep.

The sun shined through your window, just as bright as the moon was the night before. Your boyfriend laid next to you, kissing your arms softly. The gentle movements woke you up, and once he realized this, he began to apologize.

“Baby I’m so sorry.” He whispered, holding your chin to lock your gaze on him, “I overreacted.” “I’m sorry too.” You responded, tearing up and collapsing into his arms, “I broke your trust. I should’ve just talked to you.” “Shh.. s’okay.” Rafe reassured, his hands playing with your hair subconsciously, “I let my anger get the best of me. I shouldn’t have.”

 You laid in his arms, feeling more alive than you did with the pouges the night before. “Let me make it up to you?” Rafe whispered, pulling you up and kissing your neck gently. You giggled before gasping at his cautious hickeys.

His hand wandered to the hem of your panties, playing with them to tease you. Your anticipatory moans lead him forward, getting on top of your desperate body.

“Rafe.. please..” You mumbled, grabbing out for him.

“Be patient, love.” He whispered, kissing down your legs after stripping you of your panties and top.

Your lips met one last time before you felt his fingers softly rub circles into your clit. You moaned out for him, holding onto his bicep for any kind of stability. 

“R-rafe..” You whimpered.

“So wet f’me.. swear you get sexier every day. Just don’t wanna share my girl.” He mumbled, kissing your neck.

“Close..” Your eyes rolled back, dumb on his fingers alone.

“No baby..” Rafe chuckled as you whined at the loss of his hand, “You’re going to cum on me, yeah?” The moan you cried out was pornographic as he slowly dragged his hard cock through your walls.

“Always so fuckin’ tight.” He groaned, fucking you slowly and deep. Rafe felt your every clench and spasm, speeding his pace up with ease.

“Too- too much..!” You cried, drunk off of pleasure as he fucked you on his cock.

“No baby.. you got it. Be good.” He whispered, feeling you coming closer and closer to edge, “So perfect.. like you were fuckin’ made f’me.” 

“Close!” You cried out, the rest of your mind consumed with the pleasure he was fucking into you. Your body trembled as you came, shaking underneath him and clenching around his cock. He groaned, gripping your hair and burying his face into the crook of your neck as he came inside of you.

Rolling off of you, Rafe laid lazily beside you. He turned his head after a few minutes, kissing you on the cheek and getting up from the bed, despite your lazy protests.

“Gotta get you cleaned up..” He said, his tone soft and careful as he wiped you down with a warm cloth.

Rafe showered your spent body in kisses before pulling you up and carrying you downstairs to the couch, kicking the forgotten cap of your broken perfume bottle under the dresser.

“Gotta get you new perfume, hm?” He said, kissing your cheek and letting you snuggle into his lap on the couch.

Rafe turned on the TV, resuming the same movie from last night. You groaned, rolling your eyes and burying your face in his bare chest.

“You love me.” Rafe said with a chuckle, kissing the top of your head.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵