✶ ﹕ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ 𓈒 rafe is just a damaged little boy deep down, but now he has his darling to make it all better ʬʬ ⊹ׂ fluff ◌ ˖ ⋮ 𝓞𝐇, 𝓨𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝓢𝐎 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 💬
You wake to the creak of the floor and then notice that the bed is cold beside you and empty so you blink against the dim light, the lamp still glowing softly but shadows move across the walls—tall, twitchy. You sit up slowly, the oversized collar of Rafe’s shirt slipping down your shoulder.
He’s pacing. Again. Barefoot and trembling like there’s something under his skin trying to claw its way out. His hands run through his hair again and again, rough and fast, and his breathing—shallow, uneven. There’s a wildness in his eyes. Not anger. Not rage but just raw panic. Like his thoughts have cornered him in a cage.
He doesn’t see you at first. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere darker. Then he turns, and his eyes land on you. And he breaks. Again. He stumbles forward, dragging a shaky hand down his face, and points to his chest with an open palm. ❛ Right here, ❜ he chokes out, voice cracked. ❛ It hurts. All the fucking’ time, angel. ❜
You scramble from the bed, reaching him just before he sinks to his knees. He looks up at you with glassy eyes, like he’s begging for forgiveness you haven’t even asked for. ❛ I’ve done shit—bad shit. Stuff I can’t ever take back. It’s in me. It doesn’t leave. ❜ He presses his fist hard to his sternum. ❛ I don’t sleep. I can’t. It’s like there’s something rotten in my chest. I try to be good for you, I swear, but baby… ❜
❛ My dad used to look at me like I hung the moon, y’know? ❜ he whispers, staring somewhere past your shoulder ❛ When I was little. Before I fucked everything up ❜ A broken laugh leaves him, all empty and humorless. ❛ Then I got older and suddenly everythin’ I did was wrong; not smart enough, not careful enough, not good enough ever again ❜
You feel his jaw tighten beneath your hand ❛ I kept trying, angel. Jesus, I tried so fuckin’ hard to make him proud of me. Every stupid thing I ever did was just… me wanting him to look at me the way he used to ❜ His eyes squeeze shut. ❛ But after a while he only looked at me like I was a problem to fix, a disappointment and when someone tells you that enough times as a kid, it gets stuck in your head. Starts feelin’ all true. ❜
You pull him closer instantly, cradling his face like something precious, something hurt. ❛ Rafe, look at me. ❜ His eyes lift slowly to yours, red-rimmed and terrified. ❛ I love you. ❜ The words come soft but certain, settling over him like warmth after years in the cold. ❛ Not because you’re perfect. Not because you fixed yourself. Just because you’re you. ❜
He trails off, his voice shattered, eyes shining wet. You drop to your knees in front of him, take his face in your hands, and kiss his forehead. ❛ You don’t have to be perfect. Just stay.. let me hold you. ❜ He leans in like he’s starving for it. For you. His arms wrap around your waist tightly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, and he exhales like he’s finally breathing again.
You guide him back into bed, limb by limb, coaxing him under the blanket, curling your body around his like armour. He whispers so faintly it almost gets lost against your skin: ❛ Don’t let go ❜ and you don’t, you never will.. your sweet boy.
✶ ﹕ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ 𓈒 rafe is just a damaged little boy deep down, but now he has his darling to make it all better ʬʬ ⊹ׂ fluff ◌ ˖ ⋮ 𝓞𝐇, 𝓨𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝓢𝐎 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 💬
You wake to the creak of the floor and then notice that the bed is cold beside you and empty so you blink against the dim light, the lamp still glowing softly but shadows move across the walls—tall, twitchy. You sit up slowly, the oversized collar of Rafe’s shirt slipping down your shoulder.
He’s pacing. Again. Barefoot and trembling like there’s something under his skin trying to claw its way out. His hands run through his hair again and again, rough and fast, and his breathing—shallow, uneven. There’s a wildness in his eyes. Not anger. Not rage but just raw panic. Like his thoughts have cornered him in a cage.
He doesn’t see you at first. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere darker. Then he turns, and his eyes land on you. And he breaks. Again. He stumbles forward, dragging a shaky hand down his face, and points to his chest with an open palm. ❛ Right here, ❜ he chokes out, voice cracked. ❛ It hurts. All the fucking’ time, angel. ❜
You scramble from the bed, reaching him just before he sinks to his knees. He looks up at you with glassy eyes, like he’s begging for forgiveness you haven’t even asked for. ❛ I’ve done shit—bad shit. Stuff I can’t ever take back. It’s in me. It doesn’t leave. ❜ He presses his fist hard to his sternum. ❛ I don’t sleep. I can’t. It’s like there’s something rotten in my chest. I try to be good for you, I swear, but baby… ❜
❛ My dad used to look at me like I hung the moon, y’know? ❜ he whispers, staring somewhere past your shoulder ❛ When I was little. Before I fucked everything up ❜ A broken laugh leaves him, all empty and humorless. ❛ Then I got older and suddenly everythin’ I did was wrong; not smart enough, not careful enough, not good enough ever again ❜
You feel his jaw tighten beneath your hand ❛ I kept trying, angel. Jesus, I tried so fuckin’ hard to make him proud of me. Every stupid thing I ever did was just… me wanting him to look at me the way he used to ❜ His eyes squeeze shut. ❛ But after a while he only looked at me like I was a problem to fix, a disappointment and when someone tells you that enough times as a kid, it gets stuck in your head. Starts feelin’ all true. ❜
You pull him closer instantly, cradling his face like something precious, something hurt. ❛ Rafe, look at me. ❜ His eyes lift slowly to yours, red-rimmed and terrified. ❛ I love you. ❜ The words come soft but certain, settling over him like warmth after years in the cold. ❛ Not because you’re perfect. Not because you fixed yourself. Just because you’re you. ❜
He trails off, his voice shattered, eyes shining wet. You drop to your knees in front of him, take his face in your hands, and kiss his forehead. ❛ You don’t have to be perfect. Just stay.. let me hold you. ❜ He leans in like he’s starving for it. For you. His arms wrap around your waist tightly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, and he exhales like he’s finally breathing again.
You guide him back into bed, limb by limb, coaxing him under the blanket, curling your body around his like armour. He whispers so faintly it almost gets lost against your skin: ❛ Don’t let go ❜ and you don’t, you never will.. your sweet boy.
✶ ﹕ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ 𓈒 rafe is just a damaged little boy deep down, but now he has his darling to make it all better ʬʬ ⊹ׂ fluff ◌ ˖ ⋮ 𝓞𝐇, 𝓨𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝓢𝐎 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 💬
You wake to the creak of the floor and then notice that the bed is cold beside you and empty so you blink against the dim light, the lamp still glowing softly but shadows move across the walls—tall, twitchy. You sit up slowly, the oversized collar of Rafe’s shirt slipping down your shoulder.
He’s pacing. Again. Barefoot and trembling like there’s something under his skin trying to claw its way out. His hands run through his hair again and again, rough and fast, and his breathing—shallow, uneven. There’s a wildness in his eyes. Not anger. Not rage but just raw panic. Like his thoughts have cornered him in a cage.
He doesn’t see you at first. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere darker. Then he turns, and his eyes land on you. And he breaks. Again. He stumbles forward, dragging a shaky hand down his face, and points to his chest with an open palm. ❛ Right here, ❜ he chokes out, voice cracked. ❛ It hurts. All the fucking’ time, angel. ❜
You scramble from the bed, reaching him just before he sinks to his knees. He looks up at you with glassy eyes, like he’s begging for forgiveness you haven’t even asked for. ❛ I’ve done shit—bad shit. Stuff I can’t ever take back. It’s in me. It doesn’t leave. ❜ He presses his fist hard to his sternum. ❛ I don’t sleep. I can’t. It’s like there’s something rotten in my chest. I try to be good for you, I swear, but baby… ❜
❛ My dad used to look at me like I hung the moon, y’know? ❜ he whispers, staring somewhere past your shoulder ❛ When I was little. Before I fucked everything up ❜ A broken laugh leaves him, all empty and humorless. ❛ Then I got older and suddenly everythin’ I did was wrong; not smart enough, not careful enough, not good enough ever again ❜
You feel his jaw tighten beneath your hand ❛ I kept trying, angel. Jesus, I tried so fuckin’ hard to make him proud of me. Every stupid thing I ever did was just… me wanting him to look at me the way he used to ❜ His eyes squeeze shut. ❛ But after a while he only looked at me like I was a problem to fix, a disappointment and when someone tells you that enough times as a kid, it gets stuck in your head. Starts feelin’ all true. ❜
You pull him closer instantly, cradling his face like something precious, something hurt. ❛ Rafe, look at me. ❜ His eyes lift slowly to yours, red-rimmed and terrified. ❛ I love you. ❜ The words come soft but certain, settling over him like warmth after years in the cold. ❛ Not because you’re perfect. Not because you fixed yourself. Just because you’re you. ❜
He trails off, his voice shattered, eyes shining wet. You drop to your knees in front of him, take his face in your hands, and kiss his forehead. ❛ You don’t have to be perfect. Just stay.. let me hold you. ❜ He leans in like he’s starving for it. For you. His arms wrap around your waist tightly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, and he exhales like he’s finally breathing again.
You guide him back into bed, limb by limb, coaxing him under the blanket, curling your body around his like armour. He whispers so faintly it almost gets lost against your skin: ❛ Don’t let go ❜ and you don’t, you never will.. your sweet boy.
currently watching: rewatching true blood and ncis
current obsession: alexander skarsgård & AKOTSK
last google search: what did they call a temper tantrum in asoiaf
currently working on: the second chapter of my daeron au
🏷️ no pressure tags! @rottenbites @userhotd @lilahthedoll @bellesreverie @pensfairy @dewypout @deertaur @dolcefloral @doeeyedcrucifix @deerpains + anyone who would like to join
﹕ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ 𓈒 where rafe needs kisses, no matter who's watching ( or telling you guys to stop ) suggestive content and making out ◌ ˖ ﹙ 𐓟ll works here ✶
The way Rafe's fingers graze your bare thigh, slow and absent, like he’s memorising the texture of your skin sends heat throughout you. Right now you’re splayed across Rafe but on Barry’s couch, your body weightless over him, hoodie hiding the mess underneath—your bra long forgotten, his hand slowly sliding higher as the trailer lights hum faintly overhead, catching the shine in his pretty eyes every time he looks at you like he’s starving.
His voice is gravel and honey when he whispers against your neck: ❛ You don’t even know what you do to me, angel. I swear, one look at you and I forget how to breathe. ❜ He presses a kiss just below your jaw, then another, lower, his tongue warm, the suction deliberate, drawing a gasp from your lips as he sinks a blooming hickey into the delicate skin. His hand cups your boob, squeezing gently under the fabric, thumb brushing your nipple, slow and aching.
You feel like you’re unravelling, nerves alight, breath shallow. His chest rises under your palm. ❛ All mine, ❜ he murmurs, reverent. ❛ Mine to hold, mine to wreck. ❜ You bury your face in his neck. You’re giggling, breathless but there are definitely butterflies clawing at your ribs like they’ve never known this kind of flight. Then Barry slams the front door.. ❛ I know y’all aren’t feelin’ each other up on my damn couch again! ❜
You squeak and try to pull your hoodie down but Rafe just chuckles, nosing at your jaw. He smirks against your skin. ❛ We’re bonding. ❜ ❛ You’re going to be bonding with the back of my hand if I see one more of y’all’s little dry-humpin’ sessions in my living room, Cameron! ❜ You giggle, hiding in Rafe's hoodie. He shifts, hand staying firmly beneath the fabric, eyes smug. ❛ Don’t look at him, ❜ he murmurs. ❛ Look at me, pretty girl. ❜ Barry groans like it’s killing him slowly (It is)
❛ Sorry we love each other. ❜ ❛ That isn’t love—it's disgusting Cameron! Get your hands outta her sweatshirt before I toss y’all in the yard like stray dogs! ❜ Rafe smirks but obeys with no urgency, fingers dragging slowly as he withdraws. Barry storms into the kitchen muttering, ❛ I need a priest and a fuckin’ exorcist. ❜
❛ seriously, keep it PG or I’m hosin’ y’all down like cats in heat. ❜ he shouts from the other room and you can only manage to giggle, bury your face in Rafe’s neck, feel his chest rumble with silent laughter while his fingers trace lazy hearts on your spine and Barry just watches, chain-smoking, pretending he’s annoyed but never once looking away from the way Rafe holds you like you’re the only thing keeping the world from cracking open and then two hours later? You’re both asleep again. Lips kiss-bitten, hickey blooming on your neck like a promise, his hand resting under your hoodie like it belongs there. Barry throws a blanket over you and grumbles, ❛ Hell. They’re going to name babies on my damn couch. ❜
✶ ﹕ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ 𓈒 where rafe needs kisses, no matter who's watching ( or telling you guys to stop ) ʬʬ ⊹ׂ suggestive content and making out ◌ ˖ ⋮ 𝓞𝐇, 𝓨𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝓢𝐎 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 💬
The way Rafe's fingers graze your bare thigh, slow and absent, like he’s memorising the texture of your skin sends heat throughout you. Right now you’re splayed across Rafe but on Barry’s couch, your body weightless over him, hoodie hiding the mess underneath—your bra long forgotten, his hand slowly sliding higher as the trailer lights hum faintly overhead, catching the shine in his pretty eyes every time he looks at you like he’s starving.
His voice is gravel and honey when he whispers against your neck: ❛ You don’t even know what you do to me, angel. I swear, one look at you and I forget how to breathe. ❜ He presses a kiss just below your jaw, then another, lower, his tongue warm, the suction deliberate, drawing a gasp from your lips as he sinks a blooming hickey into the delicate skin. His hand cups your boob, squeezing gently under the fabric, thumb brushing your nipple, slow and aching.
You feel like you’re unravelling, nerves alight, breath shallow. His chest rises under your palm. ❛ All mine, ❜ he murmurs, reverent. ❛ Mine to hold, mine to wreck. ❜ You bury your face in his neck. You’re giggling, breathless but there are definitely butterflies clawing at your ribs like they’ve never known this kind of flight. Then Barry slams the front door.. ❛ I know y’all aren’t feelin’ each other up on my damn couch again! ❜
You squeak and try to pull your hoodie down but Rafe just chuckles, nosing at your jaw. He smirks against your skin. ❛ We’re bonding. ❜ ❛ You’re going to be bonding with the back of my hand if I see one more of y’all’s little dry-humpin’ sessions in my living room, Cameron! ❜ You giggle, hiding in Rafe's hoodie. He shifts, hand staying firmly beneath the fabric, eyes smug. ❛ Don’t look at him, ❜ he murmurs. ❛ Look at me, pretty girl. ❜ Barry groans like it’s killing him slowly (It is)
❛ Sorry we love each other. ❜ ❛ That isn’t love—it's disgusting Cameron! Get your hands outta her sweatshirt before I toss y’all in the yard like stray dogs! ❜ Rafe smirks but obeys with no urgency, fingers dragging slowly as he withdraws. Barry storms into the kitchen muttering, ❛ I need a priest and a fuckin’ exorcist. ❜
❛ seriously, keep it PG or I’m hosin’ y’all down like cats in heat. ❜ he shouts from the other room and you can only manage to giggle, bury your face in Rafe’s neck, feel his chest rumble with silent laughter while his fingers trace lazy hearts on your spine and Barry just watches, chain-smoking, pretending he’s annoyed but never once looking away from the way Rafe holds you like you’re the only thing keeping the world from cracking open and then two hours later? You’re both asleep again. Lips kiss-bitten, hickey blooming on your neck like a promise, his hand resting under your hoodie like it belongs there. Barry throws a blanket over you and grumbles, ❛ Hell. They’re going to name babies on my damn couch. ❜
﹕ NERD!CHRIS STURNIOLO ⊹ 𓈒 physics is hard for chris to concentrate on when you’re grinding on him until he’s a complete mess eighteen plus content ◌ ˖ ﹙𐓟ll works here ✶
The desk lamp cast a warm, uneven glow over Chris’s physics textbook, pages open to dense blocks of equations and diagrams that looked more like alien script than science. His glasses were fogged at the edges from how intently he’d been staring, breath steady and quiet as he traced a finger along a line of text, mumbling fragments under his breath: “...compactified dimensions... Calabi-Yau... yeah, that tracks.” His hair stuck up in soft, chaotic tufts where he’d run his hands through it too many times, and the faint scent of his vanilla body wash lingered on his hoodie.
You’d slipped in quietly, heart already thudding at how focused he looked, so lost in his own head, so unfairly pretty when he was trying hard. Without asking, you stepped between his knees, then lifted one leg over, settling onto his lap until your thighs bracketed his hips and your chest brushed his. The chair gave a small creak.
Chris blinked fast, startled. "Baby—hey—" His voice cracked immediately, cheeks flushing a deep, instant pink that spread down his neck. He clutched the textbook tighter, like it was a lifeline. “I—I’m kinda in the weeds with string theory right now. The quiz is tomorrow, and I still don’t get the holographic—”
You didn’t let him finish. You leaned in and pressed your lips to the warm spot just below his ear, soft and slow. His breath hitched hard. You rolled your hips in deliberate, lazy circles that dragged the heat of you right over the sudden, thickening hardness in his sweatpants.
The book shook in his grip. "Fuck—wait—sweetheart—" He sounded wrecked already, his voice pitching up. “I need to finish this chapter, or I’m screwed—” but you still deliver another kiss to his throat that's open-mouthed, lingering. Your fingers slid into his messy hair and tugged lightly, tilting his head back. A quiet, broken whimper slipped out of him. The textbook slipped from his fingers and thudded to the carpet.
His hands flew to your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear. His hips jerked up once—sharp, helpless—chasing the friction. “Shit—sorry—I didn’t mean—” He shoved his glasses higher with shaky fingers, lenses still fogged, eyes wide and glassy “You just feel so fucking good—I can’t—”
You kissed him properly then, deep and filthy, tongue sliding against his in slow, wet drags that made his whole body shudder. He opened for you like he was starving mouth soft and desperate, sucking at your tongue with needy little pulls, kissing back as if this single moment was the only thing he’d ever truly wanted. His hips jerked again in all short, frantic and helpless little thrusts that rocked the chair beneath you both, the wood creaking in time with his ragged breathing. Through the thin layers of fabric you could feel every thick, throbbing inch of him—hot and leaking, the damp spot already spreading across his sweatpants, so hard it had to be painful, twitching against your core with every grind.
“I’m sorry—fuck, baby, I’m trying so hard—” he gasped between messy kisses, voice cracking and splintering like he was coming apart at the seams. “Your hip god, the way you move—please, please don’t stop, I can’t—I need—”
You rolled down harder, slower, and deliberately, dragging your soaked heat over the rigid length of him until the friction made his eyes roll back behind fogged glasses. His grip on your waist turned frantic—fingers digging in, then flexing open like he didn’t know whether to hold you still or beg you to ruin him more. High, broken whimpers poured from his throat—pathetically sweet, climbing higher and more desperate with every slow circle of your hips. His thighs trembled under you; his breath hitched into soft, sobbing moans he couldn’t swallow down.
Then his whole body locked, spine arching, head dropping hard to your shoulder, glasses sliding crooked down his nose as a choked, wrecked sound tore out of him. Heat bloomed sudden and filthy between you—thick pulses of cum soaking through his boxers in hot, messy spurts, seeping warm and slick against your bare thighs, drenching the front of his sweats until the fabric clung obscenely. His hips stuttered through it, grinding up into you in shallow, helpless jerks, milking every last tremor while he clung like he’d shatter if he let go.
Afterward he didn’t move, just wrapped his arms tight around your middle, face buried deep in the crook of your neck, chest heaving as he breathed you in like oxygen. His lips brushed your skin in tiny, trembling kisses, soft and reverent even as his body still twitched with aftershocks. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were glassy and dazed, pupils blown wide behind smudged lenses, cheeks flushed a deep, humiliated scarlet that only made him look more wrecked.
“Sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse and small, barely audible. “That was… so fucking fast.. I couldn't even hold it."
You slid your fingers into his damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead slowly and gently. He leaned into the touch like a kitten starving for affection, eyes fluttering shut, a tiny, shaky exhale slipping past his swollen lips. “Worth it?” you murmured, thumb tracing the curve of his flushed cheek.
He huffed the softest, breathiest laugh—still trembling—and pressed the tenderest kiss to the corner of your jaw, lingering there like he was afraid to pull away. “Worth failing every class I’ve got,” he breathed, thumbs stroking slow, worshipful circles over your sides. “Worth anything if it means you keep touching me like that.”
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