cw: fluff, slightly suggestive, drinking implied, this is just cutie, not really proofread, possessive rafe kinda?
a/n: this was way longer than i meant it to be LMAO but yaassss
you wore the tiniest mini skirt tight around your bum, a pretty little top that pressed your boobs together just right, and kitten heels to complete the fit— along with your usual jewelry, small clutch that only kept makeup and a digi, and sunglasses hanging from your top. your makeup was absolutely flawless, gloss shining across your plump lips and highlighter sprinkled upon your cheekbones and nose.
once rafe and you started dating, you both kind of stopped going to parties altogether. the time for that was replaced with trips out of the country, lavish date nights, and late nights spent binging sitcoms.
so when kelce, rafe’s best friend, begged you guys to pop out at his end of summer function— you knew you had to show up and show out. and rafe? he was just excited to be there by your side too.
rafe was sat at the edge of your bed, eyes glued to your figure. jaw dropped, a small smirk, and a scrunch between his eyebrows. a lucky man.
“mkay, all done! how do i look?” you spin once, giving a pose and pout.
chuckling and speechless, his hands practically yank you into him and found a comfortable spot, squeezing your ass.
“baby, you look so damn hot,” he looks up at you in disbelief, still groping the flesh of your bottom like a fein.
“it’s not too much?” you look down at yourself and brush out a wrinkle in your top.
“of course it is. too much for those trust fund kooks to see. god, i just wanna keep you here. no one else should get to see ya like this. so so fuckin’ perfect,” he kisses at your arms and trailing to your jaw, pulling you inward against him.
“thank you,” you giggled, holding his head against your chest.
a small step back, he stands up with you and makes you do one more little twirl first before leaving your room.
and just as you’re about to head out the door, you’re already pleading with him to take instagram photos of you.
“rafe, pleaseeee it’ll be real quick. here get the digi,” taking your clutch from him, you dig into it for your digital camera and hand it to him.
“don’t forget what i taught you!” you also shove your phone at him, forcing him to place everything else at the table by the door.
he doesn’t even try to argue—never does, really—even if you were supposed to be early to kelce’s party to pregame.
rafe had one hand holding your phone and the other had your digi pinched between his fingers, switching hands every 30 seconds.
hitting every pose you knew, rafe was clicking away and in awe of your presence. he just cheers you on, trying to get candid laughs and cheeky smiles out of you.
stuff like yes pose for the camera baby, my girl’s a damn model, and look at that beautiful face.
“does this look good?”
he simply hums in agreement.
“promise?” you mutter, running your fingers through your hair to give it more volume.
“yes, i promise. absolutely stunning. keep doing that one— aw yeah, there’s my baby’s pretty face.” he just stands there, grinning like an idiot.
you even moved from the stairs, to the front porch, and finally beside his sleek black car just for these photos. though rafe pretended to be annoyed by playing photographer, the truth was he loved every second of watching you in your element— looking as painlessly hot as you always do.
“you look so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” he gives a shit-eating asshole smug. “all mine later to f-”
you immediately stop posing and step over, snatching your phone and digi from him.
“alright, that’s enough. let’s go.” rolling your eyes when he just laughs wickedly, slapping your butt as you walk past.
opening the car door for you, he takes your hand to help you in, holding back his laughter.
and later at the party, you make your friends take photos of you guys together. no matter how you pose him, he still sneaks his hand onto your butt or over your breast, a bold claim to anyone watching that you were his, and he was yours.
a/n: if i'm being completely honest, i wrote this cus my dog will be all over my house, but i call him once and he'll sleep by me. anyway, this was really cute. i got war flashbacks writing ab the workout— "rollers" NO!! enjoy :P
you were laid out comfortably in rafe's bed and doomscrolling on your phone. rafe, however, was constantly on the move. like he just would not stay put in the house.
like today for instance— one minute, he's sleeping on the couch. the next, he's making a protein shake and lifting in the gym. and then, he's doing work on his laptop by the pool.
but one thing about rafe? he will always come to you the second you call his name. just drops whatever he's doing and makes his way back to you.
"rafe?" and that's really all it takes.
no other words need to be exchanged, only comfortable expressions and the understanding that you wanted him near you. like if you put him in the same room as a lovesick puppy, you would not be able to tell the difference.
he walks into the room with a big ol' smile on his face. you carelessly toss your phone onto the nightstand, opening your arms wide.
he jumps into them and practically melts into your body like some damn quicksand. your arms just engulfing him, nearly suffocating him in your embrace.
"whatcha been doing? i was just looking at purses online and literally in the span of an hour— your snoring, the blender, then your workout playlist blaring through the vents, and for some reason... your clicking on the keyboard. from the poolside." you laugh, rubbing his shoulders and pressing kisses to his slightly sweaty head.
he lets out a soft laugh, shoulders lifting in a casual shrug as he joins in with you, "can't a man be productive?"
you give a small shake of your head, and he tilts his own, silently asking what’s on your mind.
"no, like, can't my man be counterproductive with me?" you groan against his buzzed hair.
"sweetheart, you’re lucky i’m not dragging you through another core session. you did it with me once and swore off working out together for good," he leans back just enough to shoot you a playful look.
"you tried to kill me, baby!"
"rollouts, deadlifts, and hip bridges. not exactly murderous," he corrects you.
"and every time i couldn't do a rollout, you smacked my butt. and not in a good way! it was taunting. you, rafe cameron, are a bully," a pout forms on your face, pushing his away but his grip tightens around you.
"alright, alright. i'll stay here with you for the rest of the day. might lose my abs though..." he pauses, clearly thinking hard. you raise a brow. "unless you wanna watch me do core. i won't make you do anything, angel."
you practically jolt up, standing up on the bed like a soldier.
"okay, let's go. core time, baby!"
rafe snorts and tosses you over his shoulder, hopping off the bed and heading downstairs to the gym.
"you wanna sit on my back when i do planks?" he runs his hand over the back of your thigh with a growing smirk.
— bf!rafe just being
protective of his girl ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗
cw: fluff, a lil jealous/territorial rafe moment
a/n: made this based off a reel i saw the other day, just gave it a little more thought. i. must. write. more. pogue. content. like or reblog if you likeyyy 🤙 and what you’d like to see!
night life in the obx was kind of… boring. so when rafe offered to take you, sarah, and kie to the mainland for a night out, you didn’t hesitate. his one request? bring some guy company. you knew he meant topper or kelce, but instead—
“yeah, john b and jj can come too,” you grin, fully aware he barely tolerates them.
he opens his mouth to protest but just sighs and bites his tongue.
i mean, you did give in to the request. fair trade, right?
the club you were heading to was throwing a costume party. you didn’t have much to work with, but you pulled something together: cat ears, a black corset, the tiniest matching skirt, and thigh-high boots. not a cutesy black cat—the hottest black cat. kind of like catwoman.
rafe never cared much about what you wore. you always asked if it was too much, if he even liked it. his answer never changed. “it’s all good, baby. i can fight.” followed by kisses and an endless string of compliments that made your head spin.
after a long, cramped drive...
you’re squished in the backseat of rafe’s truck between sarah and kie. sarah’s deer antlers keep bumping the roof, and kie won’t stop adjusting her mario overalls.
everyone cheers when the club finally comes into view—then groans in sync at the sight of the massive line out front.
rafe pulls into a lot across the street, parking like a man on a mission. in the passenger seat, jj straightens his green luigi hat, while john b’s camo vest is already halfway sliding off.
you lean forward between the seats, resting your chin near rafe’s shoulder. “hey, do you guys mind waiting in line while we fix our makeup and hair?”
he hands you the keys without looking. “yeah, yeah. we’ll be watchin’ ya,” he mutters.
he’s not really in costume—just his usual kook attire: dark slacks, a fitted black polo, and a sleek watch.
“i told you to be batman,” you tease, eyeing his outfit.
he shrugs. “what? i am batman. bruce wayne.”
you roll your eyes. he smirks, knowing he wins.
the boys get out first, stretching and grumbling about the cold. john b and jj are shirtless under their costumes—something about it being more the vibe. jj swings open the door for you girls to get out after. the second they leave, you all dive back into final touch-up mode.
you check your reflection in the rearview mirror, fixing your cat ears with a smirk. “can’t believe we actually pulled these together last minute…”
“jj literally had mario and luigi hats lying around his house,” kie says, blotting her lip combo.
“my deer antlers are from a costume i wore when i was thirteen. space buns just make it look a lot less tragic,” sarah adds, dusting more highlighter across her cheekbones.
you finish with your powder and everyone piles out of the truck.
as you’re heading toward the club line, a random guy with a mini mic and a cameraman stops in front of you.
“hey! can i ask you a few questions for a youtube video?” he grins, mic already up.
ooo this oughta be fun, you think. “sure,” you nod eagerly, glancing back at sarah and kie, who are already giggling.
“what’s your name?”
you tell him, and he repeats it before moving on. “what’s something you wouldn’t want your future husband to know about you?”
you smile confidently, tilting your head. “nothing, ’cause i’m perfect. beautiful. and amazing.”
kie laughs in front of you, and sarah whistles.
you don’t even notice that rafe and jj have wandered on over until rafe speaks up.
“yo, what’s this?” he asks, stepping up next to the youtuber.
“just an interview,” the guy says quickly, eyes going wide as jj joins him, arms crossed and unimpressed.
you open your mouth to say something else, but then rafe’s hand slides across your chest— landing just over your breast. not groping, just possessive. casual, almost, like it belonged there. he uses the motion to guide you away, hand lingering just long enough to make a point.
“yeah, just doing an interview…” the youtuber repeats nervously, looking at jj.
“mhm. okay.” rafe gives him a tight smile and nod. he then pats the guy’s chest twice—firm but not too aggressive. just enough.
jj claps the cameraman’s shoulder and steers sarah and kie away too. rafe slides his hand into yours as you walk toward the line.
“you were really going to flirt just for content?” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in it.
you glance up at him, grinning. “not seriously, but maybe just a little.” he squeezes your hand, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
you all rejoin john b at the end of the line. the music’s thumping from inside the club already, lights pulsing across the street, and your cat ears catch the glow from a passing car. rafe stands behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped lazily around your waist.
bruce wayne, you think to yourself, smiling. yeah, sure.
