Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
SYNOPSIS & WC─•❥[7.4k] During your sophomore spring semester of college, you and Rafe navigate a volatile, codependent relationship
WARNING(S) & A/N─•❥ swearing, mentions of past suicide attempt, substance abuse, mental illness, toxic relationship, co-dependency, not sure how i feel abt this
part one
YOU were a sophomore now, nearly two years into a psychology degree that you initially chose just to understand the mess of your own mind—and his.
But college didn’t have the same rules as Kildare. There were no Pogues or Kooks here—there were just kids like you trying to survive early lectures, cheap food, and the freedom of being entirely on your own. The circles you had spent your whole life keeping separate from began to bleed into one another.
Topper and Kelce had followed Rafe down to school, neither having a real personality without him. But now, they sat at the same tables in dive bars as Kat and Janae, your roommates. And when your friends watched you and Rafe together, they finally began to understand. Understand why the two of you were so inseparable.
They saw it in the way Rafe didn't have to put on his typical show when you were in the room. They saw it in the way his entire posture shifted—the tightness of his broad shoulders dropping the second you slid into the booth beside him. He was different now, less unpredictable. The dark circles that used to carve themselves under his eyes throughout high school had faded and he had swapped the white lines on coffee tables for hours in the gym, channeling the rage that Ward had gifted him.
He looked older, bigger, his jawline sharper, but his eyes were calmer.
Most of the time anyway.
You were doing better, too. At least, on the surface. You were getting out more, you went to the beach, you went to thrift stores, and you didn't spend days on end staring blankly at the ceiling of your dorm room while the world moved on without you, mindlessly flipping through the limited ways of making your mother even the least bit proud. You were social and you felt alive. For the first time in a long time.
But you were both still deeply flawed underneath it all.
The truth was, the distance hadn't healed the scars.
Rafe was still a slave to his father's voice. Every time a text from Ward popped up on his phone, or every time his dad called to lecture him, his progress crumbled. The gym wasn't enough then, and he would slide right back into a bottle of whatever, drinking until his words slurred and he'd forgotten about whatever his father spat at him that day.
And you? You had stopped taking your meds. You hated the way they made you feel like you were living underwater—how it flattened the peaks and valleys of your emotions until you were nothing but a shell of whatever you called ‘yourself’. The exact shell your mother loved. But she wasn’t here. So, you dropped the pills in the trash every time a new prescription was mailed, replacing them with something more recreational. Weed didn't make you numb, but it made the sharp edges of the world fuzzy enough that they didn't cut you when you bumped against them.
You kept it hidden from him for a while, knowing Rafe cared for you, probably more than himself. Because he was dependent on you. If you were okay, then so was he. But you couldn't keep anything hidden from Rafe for long. Especially, when your dealer quits.
The argument happened one evening in your dorm room. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your fingers nervously tapping against your kneecaps, while Rafe paced the length of the floor.
"No," Rafe said, his voice flat. He didn't look at you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray gym shorts. "No, I'm not getting it for you."
You let out a sharp laugh, sitting up straighter. "Are you serious, Rafe? It’s literally just a text.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m just asking you to grab me an eighth. It's not a big deal..."
"It is a big deal," he snapped, finally stopping his pacing to glare down at you. "You're supposed to be taking your meds. The ones the doctor gave you."
You stood up, stepping directly into his space. "They make me feel like a fucking zombie. I can't think, I can't..." You huffed, trailing off. "The weed actually helps me sleep at night.” You snarled, turning away from him. “Why are you being like this? You’ll get anything for anyone else, but not for your best friend? You’d buy a bag for Kelce or Topper without a single question, but the second I ask, you turn into some kind of moral saint?"
"Because Kelce and Topper don't—" Rafe yelled, his jaw twitching as he took a step closer, towering over you as he cut himself off, emphasizing his words to you as if you were a child. "You're trying to replace medication with weed, and you think I'm just gonna sit back and let you do that? You think I'm gonna be the one who hands it to you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was in a therapy session, right now," you spat, your vision blurring with a sudden rush of angry tears. "You replace much needed therapy with a bottle every single time your dad calls but you're gonna lecture me about smoking? What's the fucking difference?"
Rafe turned, his face turning a dark shade of crimson, your words clearly striking a nerve. The mention of his father hurt, and for a second, the air between you was so tense.
"The difference," Rafe started, his voice dangerously low. "is that I don't care if I destroy myself. But I care if you do."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should work on that," You snapped, shooting the boy a sharp look. "Worry about your fucking self..."
He stared at you, his breathing heavy, a look of bitter defeat washed over his features. He yanked his hands out of his pockets, turning on his heel.
"You want it so bad? Get your own shit," he muttered, marching across the small room, grabbing the doorknob, and yanking it open. A second later, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him with a force that rattled the posters on your walls.
You stood in the silence of your room, your heart pounding with your hands balled into fists at your sides.
"Get my own shit?" you muttered, stomping around your room. "Fine."
IT took you less than twenty-four hours to find a new source. In a college town, finding marijuana wasn't exactly a hard task. You asked a guy in one of your classes, who pointed you toward a sophomore named Dominic.
Dominic was the exact opposite of Rafe. He was easygoing and alarmingly laid-back, and he lived in an off-campus apartment that smelled of incense and take-out. He had curly brown hair that fell into his eyes, a lazy smile, and an effortless charm.
The first time you went to his place to buy, you expected a quick, awkward transaction. Instead, Dominic handed you a glass of water, sat down on his worn couch, and asked you about yourself.
"Psychology?" he smiled, rolling a joint. "Dangerous.” He hummed. “You're gonna start analyzing me, aren't you?"
"Maybe," you murmured, letting the unfamiliar ease of the room settle over you. "Or maybe I just wanna figure out why everyone is so messed up."
"Fair enough," Dominic laughed, lighting up and offering it to you.
And over the next few weeks, Dominic went from your dealer to your friend. You found yourself walking over to his apartment even when you didn't need anything. He was cool because he didn't know your past, or anything about you really. Only what you cared to share. With Dominic, you could just be a normal college girl, laughing at stupid reels and smoking on his balcony while the sun went down.
Though, Rafe and you eventually made up, because you always did. The separation never lasted more than a few days before you were dragged back into each other's orbit. A muttered apology from him in the parking lot of the gym, a quiet apology from you, and you were back to sitting side-by-side in bars with your friends.
But you didn't tell him about Dominic.
And you definitely didn't tell him you were still smoking.
THAT revelation happened weeks later at a house party. The house belonged to some senior lacrosse players, and it was packed to the brim, the air inside suffocating, the bass from the speakers vibrating violently through the floorboards.
You had arrived with your entire group—Topper, Kelce, Kat, Janae, and Rafe. For the first hour, everything felt normal. Rafe stayed close to you, his large hand occasionally resting on the small of your back to guide you through the dense crowd, a barrier between you and the sweaty bodies of strangers. He was drinking a beer, looking relaxed, laughing at something Topper was saying.
But then, the house became too much. The walls felt like they were closing in, the noise turned into a nagging buzz in your ears and, suddenly, you needed air.
You slipped away while Rafe was distracted, navigating the crowded hallway until you found the back exit leading to a dimly lit side yard. The night air hit your skin, a much appreciated relief.
"Hey, you."
A voice caught you off guard. You turned to see Dominic sitting on an upturned crate near the overgrown bushes, a glowing ember hovering between his fingers. A relaxed smile spread across your face as you walked over to him.
"Hey," you sat down on the low concrete step beside him. "Didn't expect you were gonna be here. I didn’t think these things were your scene."
"I go where the crowds are, gotta follow the money." Dominic murmured, taking a drag before handing the joint to you. "You look like you could use a hit."
You sighed, taking it gratefully and bringing it to your lips. You inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs.
But inside the house, Rafe’s entire demeanor had changed the second he realized you were gone. He turned around, his eyes scanning the sea of faces, his chest tightening with that panic that always gripped him when you were nowhere to be found.
"Hey, you see where she went?" Rafe asked, cutting off Kelce mid-sentence as he was talking to some girl.
"Who?” He asked, Rafe cocking an impatient eyebrow. “Oh, she probably went to the bathroom, man, chill," Kelce muttered, taking a sip of his drink and returning to his convo.
But Rafe couldn’t. He pushed past everyone as he checked the kitchen, the hallways, his irritation and anxiety rising with every second that passed.
He threw open the back door, stepping out into the shadows of the side yard, his eyes darting around until they locked onto the corner by the bushes, his blood running entirely cold.
There you were, sitting in the dark, your head tilted back against the brick wall, a plume of grey smoke escaping your lips. And next to you was a guy he had never seen before in his life.
He marched across the grass, his face contorted into a terrifying expression of fury. Before you could even register the sound of footsteps, your head turning mere inches in his direction, a large hand descended into your space, violently snatching the joint right out from between your fingers.
"What the fuck?!" you gasped, your eyes flying open as you looked up.
Rafe stood over you, chest heaving with his jaw clenched. He dropped the joint onto the dirt, crushing it beneath the sole of his shoe.
Dominic blinked, thoroughly high and completely caught off guard by the sudden outburst from the guy in front of him. He looked between Rafe’s glare and your furious expression, tilting his head in confusion.
"Whoa, man...," Dominic muttered, holding his hands up defensively as he looked at you, his voice lazy. "Is he your boyfriend or somethin’?"
The question hung in the air, neither you nor Rafe saying a word. You both just sighed, looking at Dominic, before your eyes snapped to each other.
Rafe’s chest rose and fell, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came out.
You broke the stare first, your face hardening into a look of annoyance. You didn't want to do this here. You didn't want a scene in front of hundreds of people. Hell, you didn’t want to do this at all.
"Dick," you muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt off your clothes. You didn't look at Rafe as you brushed right past him, heading down the dark gravel driveway toward the street, wanting nothing more than to leave.
"Hey!” Rafe called, following behind. “Stop!"
His voice boomed down the empty street. You kept your pace fast, your heels clicking sharply against the asphalt, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You could hear his heavy footsteps catching up to you.
Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your upper arm. His grip wasn't meant to hurt, but it was firm, heavy, manhandling you to stop and look at him.
His touch was the last straw as you whipped around, pushing hard at his chest with both hands, forcing him back a step.
"Get off me!" you shrieked, your voice trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and frustration.
"Then stop walking away from me!" he shouted back, stepping right back into your space, his face inches from yours under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. "What the hell were you doing? And who the fuck was that guy—"
"His name is Dominic, and he's my friend." you fired back. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Your friend? The guy selling you drugs is your friend?" Rafe barked. He grabbed your shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, his eyes wild.
“What're you, an informant?" You shot back. "Yeah, he is, Rafe. I am allowed to have those outside of you.” You retorted, snatching away from him. “You’re making a big deal of nothing—"
“What the fuck is ‘nothing’ to you, exactly?” He cut you off, pressing his fingers to his temple. “You have clinical depression.” He emphasized, your eyes going wide. “Or do you forget that? What if the weed makes it worse—"
"Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “and keep your voice down! There are people everywhere, Rafe! Anyone could hear you—"
"I don't give a shit!" he told you, though he lowered his pitch slightly, his chest heaving as he leaned into your space. "...Look, I'm scared that, one day, when you come down from a high, it’ll be worse for you than it is for most people. I know you think you're just having fun, but you're... you're playing with fire, and you're doing it with some random dude—"
"Oh, look at you," you laughed bitterly. "You're the last person to talk to me about drugs. Who kept you in line for years? I did! So don't you stand there and act like you have some moral high ground over me smoking a joint!"
Rafe huffed, a frustrated sound escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away for a second before snapping his gaze back to you, his eyes narrowing.
"Fine. Whatever. You want to talk about the past? Great," he sneered, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "But what about now? What about that Dominic guy? You're hanging out with random guys now? Is that what we're doing?"
"Why do you care so much who I hang out with?" you challenged, crossing your arms. "You hate when I hang out with guys, period. Every time a guy even breathes in my direction, you look like you want to kill him."
Rafe didn't deny it, but he didn't address your words either. "I don't know what's going on with you lately. You're…careless."
"I'm careless?" you let out a sharp laugh. "Because I'm actually trying to live my life the way I want? You think you're some kind of saint now just because you quit sniffing lines? News flash—you're not."
"And I did it because you asked!" Rafe snapped, rendering you completely silent. He stared at you, his chest heaving, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Exactly," He continued, his voice cracking slightly as he stepped closer, his hands hovering near your face before dropping back to his sides. "So why can't you just do the same for me when all I'm trying to do is look out for you? I changed everything because you told me we had enough problems. I stopped the coke because you asked me to. Why can't you just listen to me for once?"
You stared at him, your throat tight, a wave of guilt fighting with your pride. You narrowed your eyes, trying to harden your heart against the look of desperation in his eyes. "You listen to me one time and all of a sudden, what, I owe you?" you scoffed, your voice trembling.
"I listen to you all the time—" he fired back, exasperated.
"Half," you corrected sharply.
"I do whatever you want all the time!" Rafe shouted, his arms gesturing wildly between the two of you.
The silence settled over again, neither of you speaking—just heaving in front of each other. He was right, and you knew it. Since the moment you moved to college, Rafe had been almost a completely different person than who he’d become. He had done the impossible—conquered his demons all because you had looked at him with tears in your eyes and asked him to. But, right now, he was entirely unwilling to admit the deeper truth— that he couldn't stomach the sight of you with other men.
He hated the way guys had been flocking toward you recently, attracted to the bright, social light you were finally letting show. It upset him, selfishly beyond words, because he liked to be the only one who knew how to guide you through the dark.
Rafe let out a long, shaky breath, the fight draining out of him, leaving only exhaustion.
"Look," he muttered, looking down at his sneakers before locking his eyes onto yours. "Fine. If you want the weed so bad... I'll get it for you. From my dealer. I'll buy it, I'll bring it to you. But…promise me you’ll stop talking to that guy.” Rafe requested. “I don't want you getting laced or some shit.” He defended. “Deal?"
You stared at him, stunned by the sudden compromise, but more so by the lengths he would go to just to remove another man from your life.
"Fine, I'll take the weed from your guy," you said softly, your voice small. "But Dominic is my friend, Rafe. And you can't just dictate who I talk to."
You didn't wait for his response, turning around and walking back toward the house to rejoin the party, leaving him standing alone under the streetlamp, his fists clenched deep in his pockets.
WEEKS passed, and the ‘compromise’ did nothing to calm Rafe’s jealousy. If anything, it made it worse.
True to his word, he dropped a small plastic baggie on your desk every two weeks, never asking questions, his face flat whenever he did it.
And despite the conversation, you didn't completely cut Dominic off. He was in your major, your classes, and you saw him in the courtyard in passing.
One afternoon, Rafe was walking across the campus quad after a workout, a gym bag slung over his shoulder, when his eyes locked onto the stone benches near the library.
You were sitting in the sunlight, your head thrown back as a laugh escaped your lips. And next to you was Dominic, leaning over, showing you something on his phone, his shoulder brushing against yours.
Rafe didn't even register the movement of his own legs as he stormed across the grass, his face thunderous. Before you could finish your sentence, Rafe’s large hand gripped your elbow, pulling you up from the bench with jarring force. It wasn’t harsh or painful, but firm enough that you could tell he was upset.
"Hey," Rafe said, his voice dropping. "We gotta go.”
“What, why—”
“Topper needs help with his truck.”
“Topper's truck got towed last night—”
"He got it back. It...won't start."
"What the hell does that have to do with m—"
“Now."
"Rafe, what the hell?" you stumbled, pulling your arm out of his grip, shooting an embarrassed glance at Dominic who was now several feet away and whose smile had instantly vanished.
"Nice seeing you, man," Rafe shot a cold look the boy’s way as he practically dragged you down the concrete path, away from the benches.
"Stop it!" you yanked yourself away once you were far enough into the shadows. "What is wrong with you? I was just talking to him!"
"I told you I don't trust that guy," Rafe growled, his jaw ticking as he loomed over you. "You said you’d stay away from him."
“I actually explicitly remember not agreeing to that,” you hissed. "Okay, seriously, give me the real reason for all of this, Rafe," you pushed, stepping closer, staring directly into his eyes, demanding the truth that had been hovering between you for two years. "You don’t know him enough to not trust him. So, what is it, really?”
“Exactly. I don’t know him at all—”
“Say the real reason you don't want me around him. Say the real reason you don’t want me around any guy.” You pleaded. “Just say it."
Rafe stared down at you with his lips parted and his chest heaving, the words trapping themselves in his throat. His eyes darted down to your lips, a look flashing across his features before he forced it down, his face hardening. He couldn't say it. To say it would mean ruining everything.
"...I just don't trust him," he muttered, looking away.
You let out a disappointed sigh. "Right,” your tongue prodded the inside of your cheek. “Whatever. Well, you'll just have to get over it then." You turned and walked away, leaving him alone.
A week later, Rafe met Sofia— a junior, and a beautiful girl with dark hair and a bright smile. And she didn't know the version of Rafe Cameron you did. She just saw a broad-shouldered, breathtaking, handsome guy with money, a hung smile, and a nice truck.
It happened at a house party that you had skipped in favor of studying for a midterm.
They flirted for hours, made out on the couch in the middle of the living room, Rafe doing it half-drunk with his eyes open for a split second, scanning the crowd as if he were looking for someone who wasn't even there.
But Sofia clung to him after that night.
She began showing up at the diner where your group ate breakfast. She inserted herself into the booths, sitting next to Rafe with her manicured hand resting casually on his thigh.
And your demeanor surrounding their presence shifted almost instantly.
You didn't make a scene. You never did. Instead, you became uncharacteristically cold. Your other friends weren’t used to it, but Rafe was. Whenever Sofia spoke, you stared at your phone, giving short, dry responses that made the atmosphere noticeably awkward.
Rafe tried to corner you about it after breakfast one morning, catching you by his truck.
"What’s up with you?" he said, blocking your path. "You been acting weird since Sofia started hanging with us."
"Nothing’s ‘up with me’," you said, your voice dripping with annoyance as you looked up at him. "And no one’s worried about your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend," Rafe stepped closer, his voice dropping, desperate. "Why do you even care?” He pressed, but you avoided his gaze, biting your lip. “...Why would it matter?"
You looked at him, your eyes flat, hiding the burning jealousy that was eating your chest alive. You didn't answer his question. You just forced an empty smile, patted his chest, and walked right past him.
THE breaking point happened on a crowded night in one of the bars you all frequented. Rafe was at the pool tables with Topper and Kelce, and Sofia had followed you and your friends into the girls' bathroom, cornering you by the mirrors while you were fixing your hair as Kat and Janae left, not without weary glances back at you.
Sofia leaned against the sink, turning to look at you with a curious, slightly insecure look.
"Hey," Sofia started, running a hand through her hair. "I know you and I don’t really, uh, talk, but...can I ask you something?” she asked, laughing nervously. “Since... you know, you and Rafe are like childhood best friends and all?"
You stopped adjusting your hair, your eyes locking onto her reflection in the glass. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the countertop. "Yeah?"
"...Am I his type?" Sofia asked, her voice dropping into a hopeful pitch. "Like... he's sweet when we're alone, but then he just gets so distant. And I really like him, and…” she trailed off. “I guess I’m asking…do you think he wants something real? Like, a real relationship?"
A sudden spike of something venomous sparked in your chest. The image of her hand on his thigh, the thought of his lips on hers at that party—it stripped away your restraint, or whatever was left of it. You turned around slowly, crossing your arms, your face nonchalant, feigning casual indifference.
"Sofia," you said, your voice entirely casual. "You're really pretty and sweet, but... you're not really Rafe's type."
Sofia’s smile faltered, her brow furrowing. "I’m not?"
"It's not even you, really. It's just, Rafe doesn't really do... serious," you shrugged, turning back to the mirror to apply a layer of lip gloss. "He likes to have fun and move on to the next thing. I’ve known him almost all my life and that’s just how he is.” You shrugged. “Honestly, it would probably be best if you just dropped him now before you get hurt. Plus, he doesn't seem to think you guys are super serious anyway. At least not from what he told me..."
Sofia stood there, her face draining of color as your words systematically dismantled her confidence.
"Oh," Sofia choked out, her eyes welling with tears. "I... I didn't know."
"Yeah," you gave her a tight smile, sliding your lip gloss into your purse. "Just thought you should know.”
"I, well...thank you, I guess." She said, sniffling.
You planted a hand on her shoulder as you moved to leave with a pitiful smile. You walked out of the bathroom, leaving her alone, your heart hammering with a sick sense of satisfaction. Not because you hurt her feelings. But because you knew you'd be giving Rafe a taste of his own medicine.
THE consequences arrived at two o'clock in the morning.
You were lying in your bed, the room dark, when a sudden banging rattled your dorm door. You jumped, eyebrows pinching as you slid out of bed, yanking the door open.
You sighed, rolling your eyes at the sight of Rafe standing in the hallway, his face twisted and his breathing ragged. He stepped into your room without an invitation, slamming the door behind him so hard the frame groaned.
"What the fuck did you say to Sofia?" he snapped, turning on you instantly.
You shrugged, walking back to your bed and sitting down, pulling the blanket over your legs, looking completely unphased. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't pull that shit," Rafe hissed. "She just called me, crying her eyes out, breaking things off. She said you told her she wasn't my type and that I told you we weren’t serious. Why would you say that shit to her?"
"Because it's the truth?" you shot back, sitting up. "That’s what you told me, so that’s what I told her." You said like it was the most casual thing in the world. "You didn’t care about her, Rafe. Why are you acting like I ruined some epic love story?"
"It doesn't matter if I care about her or not," Rafe stepped closer to the bed, his hands clenched into tight fists. "It's the fact that you went out of your way to ruin it! You had no right to tell her that—"
"Oh, I had no right?" you laughed, a bitter sound as you stood up from the bed, facing him down. "What about you? What about every single guy who tries to talk to me?" You cocked an eyebrow. "The guy from my stats class you hovered over at the library until he was too terrified to ask for my notes? Or the guy at the bar last weekend who asked for my number that you stared down until he left the booth? Or even Dominic?” You spat. “You scare them off until you’re the only guy left! You do the exact same thing to me—"
"T-that's different!" Rafe yelled, his face inches from yours as you both danced furiously around the 'why' of your behavior.
"How is that different?" you shrieked.
"Because I'm…protecting you!" Rafe shot back, his voice breaking. "I don't think you should be with anyone right now, alright? You have a lot of shit goin’ on, you can't handle a relationship!"
"And you can?" you fired back, the words cutting like razor blades. "Rafe, you're a functional alcoholic who can't handle a single text from his father! You're just as fucked up as I am!" You stepped closer, your breathing shallow, heart breaking into a thousand pieces as you looked into his eyes, the truth screaming between the inches of space left between your lips. "So, are you saving them from my 'baggage'," you whispered, your voice shaking violently as the tears finally spilled over your eyelashes. "...Or are you actually just saving me for yourself?"
Rafe froze, his jaw loosening slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.
The question crashed and burned the illusion of denial you’d be holding onto for years. The silence that followed was suffocating and terrifyingly cold. Rafe stared at you, his chest rising and falling, his lips trembling slightly as the implication of your words stripped away every single layer of denial he had used to protect himself since he met you.
He looked caught, terrified, and entirely overwhelmed.
But he didn't answer. He couldn't.
Rafe turned around, grabbed the doorknob, and walked out into the hallway, leaving you alone in the quiet room.
And for the next four days, the silence lasted.
It was the longest you had ever gone without speaking to each other, voluntarily, in your entire lives. You didn't text him, he didn't text you. You sat on opposite sides of the diner during group breakfasts, ignoring each other's existence completely, while Topper, Kelce, Kat, and Janae watched wondering what the hell could’ve possibly happened for the two of you to not speak.
You both spent hours staring at your phones late at night, your thumbs hovering over each other's contact names, debating the text, before locking your screens and throwing them onto the mattress, too stubborn to break the ice.
BUT then came a Saturday night.
You had gone to a frat party with Kat and Janae, determined to drown the ache in your chest with cheap liquor. By midnight, the plan had succeeded. Entirely too well.
The jungle juice was pure alcohol, and you were completely wasted, unable to even stand straight on your heels as you leaned against the walls, the world spinning.
Your friends weren't doing much better, and realizing none of you could drive or even navigate an Uber app, and with their phones dead, Kat slid down the hallway wall, pulled out your phone, and dialed the only person she knew would always answer for you.
Rafe was lying on the couch in his campus apartment, staring blankly at the TV when his phone buzzed. He picked it up instantly, his heart jumping when he saw your name.
"Hello?" he said, his voice tense.
"Rafe..." Kat slurred into the speaker, the loud bass of the party thumping in the background, and his shoulders fell at the sound of her voice. "You gotta come get us. We're at…” She slurred out the name of the house, her own head pounding. “We're all really wasted and she... she can't even stand up. Hold on, I’m gonna—"
Rafe didn't even hang up the phone as he heard Kat puking on the other side. He shot up, grabbed his keys, and sprinted out the door and down the stairs to his truck, his heart hammering. The anger from four days ago evaporated like nothing.
He arrived at the frat house ten minutes later, pushing through the crowds of drunk college kids like a hurricane. He found Kat and Janae in the upstairs hallway, supporting you between them. Your head was hanging low, your eyes glassy, your heels dragging on the floor.
"I got her," Rafe muttered, his face dead serious as he easily lifted you into his arms, your body heavy, your head instantly rolling into the crook of his neck. He looked at Kat and Janae. "C’mon, get in the truck."
He drove back to the campus dorms first, the silence in the car tense. He helped Kat and Janae out, carrying them to their door, before returning to the truck where you were slumped in the passenger seat.
Rafe looked at you—your face that had a light sheen of sweat, your frizzy hair. He couldn't leave you alone in your dorm room like this. He didn't trust you not to get sick or fall.
So, he drove you back to his apartment.
He carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, gently placing your limp form onto his mattress. You groaned, rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling with hazy eyes.
"The room is spinning..." you whispered, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips.
Rafe didn't say a word. He sat at the foot of the bed, his large hands reaching down to gently unlace the straps of your high heels, sliding them off your feet and setting them neatly on the floor. He stood up, walked into the bathroom, and returned with a damp washcloth.
He sat on the edge of the mattress beside you, leaning over. His movements were tender as he used the damp cloth to gently wipe the smudged makeup and glitter off your face.
"You're wasted," Rafe muttered softly, his voice heavy with frustration as he wiped a streak of mascara from under your eye. "You know a lot of the kids at this college are from Kildare? Anything you do could easily get back to your mom."
"I don't care," you mumbled, your eyes closing as the warm cloth touched your skin. "If I’m lucky, she’ll kill me."
Rafe froze. The washcloth remained pressed against your cheek, his fingers tightening. His face turned incredibly tense, his eyes locking onto yours with complete seriousness.
"Don't say shit like that," he whispered, his voice trembling as his face twisted. "And I'm serious. Don't you ever say that shit to me. Ever again."
The reminder of that night always flared between you. Rafe was starting to think it affected him more than it did you.
You opened your eyes, looking up into his face, your drunken state stripping away all of your defenses, leaving nothing but curiosity from your last argument.
"Why do you care?" you pressed, reaching up with a hand, your fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down slightly as you tried to sit up.
Rafe sighed. "Because you're my best friend, believe it or not. No matter how much you piss me off—"
"No, not *hiccup* that," you waved him off mid sentence. "Tell me the real reason why you don’t want me around anyone?" you slurred.
Rafe let out a long, defeated sigh, his forehead dropping down until it was nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"...You already know why," he whispered, his voice a soft surrender. "And I don't wanna do this tonight."
You stared at him, the alcohol slowing your brain but amplifying the ache in your chest. You let out a quiet, drunken sigh, your fingers loosening on his shirt.
"Did you *hiccup* fuck Sofia?" you mumbled, the insecurity ripping out of you before you could stop it.
Rafe blinked, taken completely aback by the question, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Did you sleep with her?" you deadpanned, rolling your eyes and looking away from him, your voice small. "It's fine if you did... it's not like it matters, considering you've fucked other people... I just... I want to know—"
"No," Rafe said firmly, his voice cracking slightly as he grabbed your chin, forcing your face back to his. "No, I didn't."
"...Why?" you whispered, your eyes wide.
"Because," he started, debating his next words. "I haven't had sex with anyone," Rafe confessed, the truth pouring out of him like blood from an open wound.
You laughed in your drunken state. "You're lying,"
He looked down, his jaw tightening. "I've hooked up with people, touched up on girls at parties when I was drunk and trying to forget... but I haven't actually slept with anyone. At all."
"...You're not lying." your face fell. "...Why?" you asked again, your voice a tiny gasp.
Rafe went completely silent. He couldn't say the words. He couldn't tell you that every time he closed his eyes with another girl, his brain just showed him your face. He couldn't tell you that he felt like he belonged to you, even if you were both too broken to admit it.
"I'll tell you when you're sober." He ended the conversation, gently pulling the blanket up over your shoulders, tucking you into his bed as moved to stand up, wanting to sleep on the couch to give you space, but your hand shot out from beneath the covers, your fingers locking tightly around his wrist.
"Stay," you begged, looking up at him through the dark with an earnestness that shattered his chest. "Please? Just for tonight."
Rafe stared down at your fingers on his wrist, the image of that night of banquet flashing through his mind—the way you had detached his fingers from your hair. He looked at your glassy eyes, heard the faint slur in your voice, and he knew the boundaries were too blurred. He couldn't cross them. Not like this. Not while you were using alcohol to escape the reality of your questions.
"I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking.
He gently detached your fingers from his wrist, placing your hand back under the warm blanket. He turned around, walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him, leaving you to fall asleep.
THE next morning, the sunlight was blinding.
It cut through the cracks of the blinds in Rafe’s bedroom, triggering your headache that was bound to make an appearance no matter what. You sat up, groaning, your tongue dry as you yawned.
You walked out into the small kitchen, your bare feet quiet on the linoleum but Rafe was already awake. He was standing by the counter, wearing nothing but sweatpants, his broad back to you as he poured a glass of water.
"Good morning," you murmured, your voice raspy. You were used to bouncing back from your arguments, and you only remembered snippets of last night—the makeup wipe, the ride home.
"Morning," Rafe said. He didn't turn around. His voice was flat, distant.
You walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal, trying to shake off the awkward tension. "My head is literally splitting open.” you groaned. “I had way too much of that jungle juice, or whatever the fuck they were calling it..."
"Yeah, well, you're not drinking it anymore," Rafe said, finally turning around to face you. His eyes were dark, absent of any of the tenderness from last night, his jaw set into a hard line. "And I'm not getting you weed anymore, either."
You froze, the cereal spoon clinking sharply against the porcelain bowl. You looked up at him, your irritation flaring instantly. "We're back to this again?"
"I'm dead serious," Rafe said, stepping closer, leaning his hands against the kitchen counter. "You were saying some crazy shit last night—"
"I was drunk." you defended, your voice rising as you slammed the cereal box onto the counter. "Everyone says stupid things when they're drunk, it couldn’t have been that bad. Besides, I probably didn’t mean anything by it—"
"Yeah, that's the problem." Rafe retorted, frustratd.
"Oh, so you can drink your problems away but I do it for fun and you try to cut me off?" you yelled back, stepping directly into his space. "You're a hypocrite."
"Call me whatever you want. You’ve called me worse—" he shrugged, his chest heaving as he stared down at you.
"Why the fuck do you care so much?!" you protested, the words ripping out of your throat.
The question hit Rafe hard. His face contorted, a flash of hurt crossing his features for a split second before he put his walls back up, his eyes turning to ice. The stupidity of the question burned his blood.
"It doesn't matter why," Rafe said, his voice dropping. "You’re done. I'm not getting you weed. I'm not letting you drink.” He started, jamming a finger into your sternum. “You're gonna call your doctor, and you're gonna start taking your meds again. And if you find someone else to get drugs or alcohol for you,” He paused, contemplating his next words. “I won't hesitate to call your mom and tell her everything."
You stared at him, fixing him with a challenging, skeptical look, narrowing your eyes. "...You wouldn't."
"Try me," Rafe whispered, dead serious. "I don’t care if she hates me, or you, I'll do it. I'll call her, and I'll tell her everything.” He threatened.
A surge of fury took over your limbs—your teeth clenching so hard your jaw ached, your chest shrinking. You let your cereal bowl hit the counter, the milk splashing over the edge, before turning on your heel and storming back into his bedroom.
"Fine,” you hissed. “Fuck you.” You started grabbing your heels, your purse, and your belongings from last night.
Rafe followed you into the room, easily catching up as he tried to reason with you. "I’m not doing this to try and control you, I—Just listen to me for a second—"
You ignored him entirely, continuing to snatch your stuff up.
"Move. I don't know when you got so uptight but I'm sick of you acting like you're my dad or something." you scoffed. "You're not some redeemed individual, Rafe! So, stop trying to fucking crucify every thing I do—" you muttered, pushing past him as he stood in the doorway when Rafe’s restraint finally snapped. He lunged forward, his large hands wrapping around your arms with an overwhelming force that forced you to stop.
"Calm down!" Rafe ordered, pinning you back against the bedroom wall as your things fell to the floor.
He loomed over you, his chest rising and falling violently against yours, his eyes wild with tears, his entire body shaking.
"You make it so damn difficult for people to give a shit about you!" Rafe spat, the tears finally spilling over his eyelashes, hot and fast down his cheekbones.
You stopped struggling, your breath catching in your throat.
"I'm not perfect, alright? I know that!" Rafe yelled, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "But I did everything you ever asked me to do! I've been trying to be easier... I've been trying to cut down on the drinking, trying to stop making an ass of myself at events when we go home... I did it all for you! I've been trying to make things easier so you wouldn't always have to worry about me and yourself!"
He stopped, his breathing ragged, his forehead dropping down to rest heavily against your shoulder.
"Fuck, I did it because I love you," Rafe whispered into your neck, the truth slipping out.
The silence that settled over the bedroom was more breathtaking than anything you’d ever experienced.
You stood pinned against the wall, your arms hanging limp at your sides. Your heart had stopped entirely, the blood freezing in your veins. The words hung in the air like a knife dangling from the ceiling. You were caught entirely off guard, your eyes welling with tears.
"Rafe..." you whispered softly, your voice trembling so violently you could barely form his name.
Rafe lifted his head, his eyes searching yours. "Don't," he choked out, his voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't you dare tell me I don't. Because I do. I've loved you since I was eight and I've loved you every single day since—"
A sudden, overwhelming wave of panic slammed into your chest and walls felt like they were closing in, the air leaving your lungs. You loved him too, you knew you did. But the realization didn't bring comfort.
Because neither of you knew how to handle something so pure without breaking it.
"No..." you choked out, shaking your head frantically as you pushed hard against his chest, violently knocking his hands off your shoulders. “Rafe,” you started, speaking like you had to force air out of your lungs, holding back tears. “...I don’t think either of us even knows what love looks like. Not the good kind, anyway, so…” you continued, choking down your emotions. “How the hell could we love each other?"
The words were the truth of your existence, and Rafe flinched as if you had stabbed him in the chest, his face turning entirely pale, his hands dropping limply back to his sides. The look of heartbreak that washed over his features was the most agonizing thing you had ever had to look at.
You didn't wait for him to speak, couldn't take his words for another second. You dropped your eyes, scooped your shoes and purse up from the floor with trembling fingers, and ran out of his bedroom, slamming the front door of his apartment behind you, and sprinting down the stairs with tears streaming hot and fast down your cheeks.
summary: Rafe "buys" y/n's virginity online and they spend a week together, in which they sleep together and get closer than they initially had planned.
warnings: fluffy, age difference (reader: 24, Rafe: 29), smut, loss of virginity, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), handjob, fingering, shower sex, (potential) size kink, making out, miscommunication, angsty
guys i am so exited about this! a she fell first but he fell harder series, reader had always had a crush on rafe but its not until after high school when he realizes what he’d been missing.
! PLEASE READ !
a few weeks ago someone recommended this to me and said it was incredible but the original account doesn't exist anymore and the fics are gone, BUT! i scoured the depths of tumblr and found reposts of every chapter and some extras!
⚓︎ prologue ⚓︎
ch. 1
ch. 2
ch. 3
ch. 4
ch. 5 pt. 1
ch. 5 pt. 2
ch. 6 pt. 1
ch. 6 pt. 2
ch. 7
ch. 8 pt. 1
ch. 8 pt. 2
ch. 9 pt. 1
ch. 9 pt. 2
ch. 9 pt. 3
Extras⋆.˚𓇼
high school flashback
hoping
i am fairly certain that this is all of it, if you know about additional parts please message me! also this took me very long lol so id appreciate a like if you found this helpful! Enjoy!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings — MDNI; EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT; NOT A LIGHT READ; MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (reader 😔), mentions of murder/suicide, abusive relationship/DV, gun use (almost), swearing, manipulation/coercion, abusive!ex!rafe, dark!rafe, literally too much to name so just pls don’t read if u don’t like dark fics bc this is DARK. like dark dark.
summary — you end things with rafe after things escalate and he gets physical with you one night. if only you knew, there was only one way out of a relationship with rafe cameron…
a/n — so sorry this took FOREVER to the person who requested it. kind of rushed through to finish it so ignore any mistakes or anything. also never wrote a death scene before so bare with me 😫
& THANK YOU FOR 700 FOLLOWERS 😫 i’m so so grateful to have come across this sweet lil community and i loveee writing for you guys. pls read w/ caution but if u do read, i hope u enjoy alsjdididn that sounds so bad but YK WHAT I MEAN LOL LOVE U GUYS
pro tip: listen to romantic homicide by d4vd while u read 😮💨
Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest, muscles tight as he shifted nervously in the seat of his truck.
His gaze continuously darted from your ring in his hands, up to the light flooding through your bedroom window.
He wished he was parking his truck for anything other than dropping off the last teather he had to you… but here he was clutching your mom’s ring, so tiny in his hand, compared to how bulky it looked on your dainty finger.
By this point, he’d lost track of how much time he’d been loitering outside, waiting to text you… not that it mattered. Time was on his side.
According to social media, your parents were in Ibiza for the weekend, leaving you to watch over the home…
You didn’t want your parents to go. But who were you to deny them a second honeymoon that the pair so greatly deserved? They’d been reluctant to leave you, too, but the trip was already booked before your nasty breakup. Before you met the side of your ex that the entire town tried to warn you about.
The start of your relationship with Rafe could only be compared to that from a dream, or a movie. You were constantly showered with gifts, from a new phone to designer clothes or fancy jewelry. The trips were endless, his family always taking the yacht or the jet somewhere to getaway for a couple of days.
And space was…nonexistant. On the off chance that you weren’t together physically, it seemed like Rafe’s texts, calls and random pop-ups never seemed to let up.
The gifts only did so much, since you came from money, too. But no families’ wealth and assets could even hold a candle to that of the Cameron’s.
And such a grand fortune almost always paired with power, influence, notoriety… and if being the eldest son of the most powerful family on the island was all you knew, you might end up being just like Rafe Cameron, too.
You might also end up way in over your head in a relationship like Rafe Cameron, too.
Rafe had always wanted love. He’d never admit it, of course, that’s not what men do. But he’d always longed for a love that could be his with no conditions.
His own dad only liked him when he could help him, particularly with things only Rafe would risk his freedom to do, just hoping for an ounce of approval in return.
Rose… well, Rose never liked him, and she’d be the first to own up to her hatred for the boy.
Wheezie used to like Rafe, but after his falling out with their sister, a seed of resentment was even planted in the youngest Cameron, too.
And Sarah… didn’t matter. She never liked Rafe. She was always against him, even when they were kids.
But you…you loved him. You had no problem saying it, showing it, letting everyone else know.
You were a beacon of light in what Rafe had previously deemed to be a cruel, dark, cold world. You’d taught him how to show and recieve genuine affection, something he had no real recollections of, as far back as his memory could stretch.
The night you decided to dim the light of the relationship, Rafe felt blindsided. He felt betrayed, hurt, double-crossed. He’d played the final scenes of your relationship in his head everyday since.
He always wanted to do right by you. He wanted to protect you, love you, trust you…but trust was never something Rafe really knew much about.
He never meant to take things as far as he did. He wanted to believe you when you insisted the guy at the club was just a long-time family friend, ‘like a cousin, babe.’
But he saw it. He was there. The guy was too close to you, you were too comfortable letting him invade your space. You obviously knew him, you already admitted it. The family friend bullshit was surely just a ruse.
He’d snapped. He did, and he knew it. He never should’ve thrown things at you, put his hands on you, but the whole altercation lasted all of 2 minutes… surely, you were just being dramatic. Surely, it didn’t warrant a breakup.
You, on the other hand, tried to block that night from your memory completely. But each diversion of your eyes to one of the bruises or cuts littering your skin was a harsh reminder. You had to close your eyes every time, wincing at the pain you’d felt, and cringing at your inability to stand up for yourself.
But how could you be blamed? You were scared.
…Just like now, when the vibration of your phone led your eyes to a text message from a familiar number.
Maybe: Rafe — I’m here.
Rafe was already chewing on his fingernails before the text even delivered, nerves taking over. His breathing was heavy and arrhythmic. He could hardly sit still. He decided the lines he snorted when he first parked weren’t enough, so Rafe laid out another, much larger one, inhaling it off of the dash. His nose burned as the powder rushed through it, but it didn’t compare to the burn in his chest. In his heart.
How did things get to this point?
Convinced that you were the one who poked the bear, Rafe hadn’t even seen the breakup coming. From the moment he met you, he was no longer able to comprehend or accept a life without you in it. His brain couldn’t even fathom a day where you wouldn’t be his. His whole life, he never had to ask permission, and therefore seldom ever heard any rendition of the word ‘no’.
That’s why he hoped you wouldn’t try to shoo him away after getting your ring back. He’d do anything to make sure you didn’t.
He just wanted to see you. Talk to you. He wanted you to welcome him into your house, accept his apology, and tell him you love him no matter what and you want to be with him forever. Assure him that you overreacted, that you never should’ve left him, and you never would again.
Just 5 minutes, that’s all he needed.
And he hoped you would give him the chance. He needed you to. Because Rafe wasn’t sure what he would do if things went any way but his.
You sent Rafe a thumbs up as you slipped on your house shoes. Normally, you’d never wear them outside, and Rafe knew that, too. You hoped maybe the shoes would be the subtle hint he needed to know you didn’t want to spend long outside…because you didn’t want to spend long with him.
If the ring wasn’t a family heirloom, you would’ve honestly just let Rafe keep it to spare seeing him again.
But you needed it back, and part of you also thought maybe this could be the assurance Rafe needed to know that you were serious, and you wouldn’t be changing your mind.
As soon as you made it to the top of the stairs, you could see a street light illuminating a familiar truck across the street.
Slowly, you placed a hand on the railing and started down the stairs.
You were shaking. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the banister on your descent.
Your legs even felt a bit wobbly, relying on the railing more than you normally would to get up or down the stairs.
Why did you feel so uneasy?
Meanwhile, in the car, a pit was forming in Rafe’s stomach too.
He couldn’t imagine you doing anything besides taking him back…so why did he still feel a shred of doubt?
Maybe the coke was influencing his already chaotic mind.
He loved you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to make you happy.
He wanted to… grab his gun?
What the fuck?
Rafe didn’t even realize he’d fetched the weapon from the middle console, too lost in a sea of dark thoughts.
He immediately flinched away, dropping it down onto his lap. He was thankful it didn’t go off. He didn’t want to bring a gun just to talk to you…
Did he?
No. Of course he fucking didn’t.
…So why he still slipped the cold metal in the back of his waistband, tucking his shirt over to conceal it just in case, was beyond him.
Rafe climbed out of the truck, ring in hand as he started towards your front porch.
He was standing at the top of the steps, weight shifting from one foot to another when you slowly pulled the door open.
He could’ve sworn your sweet, floral scent hit his nose before you even put your hand on the knob.
You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup. Even with your baggy silk pajama set and your…house shoes.
That can’t be a good sign. You only slipped those on when you knew you were just running out to grab something, like your lip gloss from your car or a package from a delivery driver.
…Or a ring from your ex-boyfriend.
Rafe worked to ignore the tightening of his chest and the beads of sweat forming on his palms that he tried not to ball into fists at the realization that you didn’t seem to plan on doing much talking.
You wanted to get your ring, and you wanted to get rid of him.
The arm that opened the door joined the other in wrapping around your frame as the wood swung open to reveal your ex-boyfriend.
He immediately looked away after only a moment of eye contact. He almost looked just as nervous as you were.
It was hard to deny his charm…Rafe always looked good, never had to try.
If only looks were everything.
Your nerves drove you to break the silence. “Hi, Rafe…”
Blue eyes shot up to yours again. “H-hey, Y/N/N.”
You could see him figeting with your ring in one hand, the other rubbed over the back of his neck and shoulder.
“You look nice.”
You shifted nervously, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down gently. “Thank you… and thanks for bringing my ring by.”
Rafe let his head and gaze fall down, eyes focusing in on the gold ring you mentioned. “Yeah, uh, yeah,” Fuck. He had to ask now. “Listen, um, I was kind of hoping we could… you know, we could like, talk maybe?” He scratched the back of his head. “For a minute? Like-like inside?” His words were riddled with random pauses and ‘uh’s’ and ‘um’s’.
He could tell you were nervous. That wasn’t his goal, but hell, he was nervous too.
“I…I don’t know, Rafe, I-“
“Please, just,” He watched you pull into yourself at his sudden interruption, so he pulled back. “Just… I just wanna talk. I’m not gonna…I’m not going to hurt you.”
Leave it to Rafe to tug at your broken heartstrings, even after he’d been the one to do the damage.
Reluctantly, you stepped back through the threshold, standing off to the side just enough to allow Rafe the space he needed to enter.
But you didn’t close the door.
Instead, you spun around, keeping Rafe in your sight with one hand still resting on the door knob.
“Listen, Y/N, I-I know what I did was…wasn’t right, okay? I…It was-it was fucked up, I know that.”
You nodded, leaning into the door and offering him the silence he needed to continue.
“I don’t, I can’t…I can’t do this, without you, Y/N/N. I feel like I can’t, I can’t even breathe without you. Nobody gets me like-like you do.”
You could feel your heart strings being yanked on again.
Especially when the light from outside glistened perfectly on the tear that slid down Rafe’s cheek. You realized his eyes were glossed over, and his hands were shaking.
“Rafe…”
“I just…I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He was swiping his hands over his head and face aggresively.
“It’s okay, Rafe.” You offered, gently. His eyes immediately shot up to yours, a look of surprise on his face. It was mixed with a bit of…relief?
“R-really?” He questioned, so low you almost couldn’t hear him.
“Yeah. I…I accept your apology.”
A mountain was lifted off of the boy’s shoulders. He could feel his muscles slowly untense for the first time he left his house that night. No… for the first time since you walked out on him.
“Wow…” he mumbled to himself. A small smile even tugged at the corners of his lips.
“…But I still mean what I said, Rafe. I…” you swallowed your nerves. “I don’t think I wanna change my mind…”
You were reluctant to meet Rafe’s gaze again, worried for what expression you might find. You prayed your words wouldn’t make him too mad.
But when you looked up, Rafe looked anything but mad. He looked…hurt. Disappointed. In you or in himself, you couldn’t be too sure.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke.
You don’t know what posessed you, but you found yourself reaching for Rafe’s arms, redirecting them from the back of his head, to you instead. You pulled him into you, draping your arms around his torso and tucking your head into his chest.
It took him a second to wrap his arms around you too. The wave of comfort that washed over him was instant. And dangerous. Because Rafe’s dark thoughts pulled his focus far past the intoxicating scent of your hair under his nose, the feel of your soft skin brushing against his. It pulled him to the realization that there was no way in hell you were going to deprive him of this. No way he would be able to let you wrap your arms around someone else the way you were around him now.
The intimate embrace had been comforting for you too, until you shifted slightly, and felt the graze of something hard on your forearm.
“What is…” you mumbled lowly, fingers tracing over the area again, and you didn’t need to see it for the placement and feel to confirm what Rafe was concealing.
You immediately scrambled away from him, pushing off of his chest and clutching the open door again. “W-why would you bring that?”
Your mouth went dry. You tried to steady your body as it started to tremble, desperate to conceal anymore alarm from Rafe. You hoped you hadn’t already shown too much fear. You didn’t want to set him off.
And for a good reason.
“Hey, no-no it’s not…it’s not like that, okay?” Rafe’s hands up shot up defensively in the air as if to say, ‘I’m no threat to you’. He could tell you still felt threatened, though.
He slowly reached one arm back, fishing under his shirt and grabbing the gun. He kneeled to the floor, placing the weapon down before kicking it away from him.
“I’m not gonna hurt you…I-I promise.”
The absence of saliva in your mouth made it difficult to swallow, as did the lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe Rafe. You wanted to feel sorry for him. You did feel sorry for him. But why did he come to your house with a gun? Suddenly, you didn’t want to talk anymore.
“I-I’m heading to bed soon, anyway,” you started, nervously. “Maybe you should go…”
“Y/N/N, please,” He took an eager step towards you. You shrunk in on yourself, prompting him to retreat.
“Rafe…you should go.” You tried again. You hoped the way you held your breath as you pressed yourself impossibly further into the door wasn’t noticeable.
He should go?
Rafe’s eyes darted wildly between yours. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to welcome him in, check… forgive him, check… so why couldn’t you take him back? And why was he so inclined to not take no for an answer?
Pure cocaine, mixed with a jealousy that was even more pure, more potent, could do that.
You’d openly admitted that you didn’t want him. In fact, you wanted him to leave.
But Rafe didn’t care to respect your wishes. It was rare that he cared about anyone’s wishes, aside from his own.
He made a mistake. Why did you have to be so unfair to him? And then so unwilling to hear him out, give him a chance to explain his side of things?
Rafe’s brain could only deny the reality. He physically couldn’t see his world spinning without you in the center. He wouldn’t.
Rafe was convinced that you didn’t really want him to leave. You were scared, understandable. But you loved him…right?
Right. You had a dangerous amount of love for your ex.
Both of you knew it. Rafe loved you too, but his love was more than dangerous…
Rafe’s love, was deadly.
You didn’t even see him do it, but suddenly Rafe had cleared the space between you. He towered over your figure, fingers curling around your neck.
You breath hitched in your throat at his close proximity. You’d asked him to widen the gap between the two of you, forever, not close it.
Even the soft hold had you shifting your feet, trying to hold back the urge to push him away as not to set him off.
When you felt his grip tighten though, your hands rushed to his, scratching and clawing at his skin.
When your nails didn’t work, you fished behind you, knocking things off the table as you struggled to get your hands on something, anything that could be used to your advantage in the moment.
As soon as you felt your fingers curl successfully around a cold, heavy object, you wasted no time swinging your arm around and knocking it right into the side of Rafe’s head.
The first gasp of air seemed to burn your lungs more than the absence of air had.
You took off immediately, clumsily running through the house towards the back door. You were crying, hardly able to catch your breath.
“Shit!” Rafe yelled, hand met with a wet sensation when his fingers lightly inspected the side of his head you’d struck.
He took only a moment to regain his composure.
And now, he was pissed.
More than pissed. Rafe was infuriated. He couldn’t even recall a time he’d felt so engulfed in a rage this deep. Not even after the worst beating from his dad. Not even after Barry turned him into the police.
He took off after you, not even bothering to run. He could still hear you knocking things over as you stumbled towards the back exit.
His chest was puffed out, heaving, and his broad shoulders made him look even bigger as he stormed towards the backyard.
As soon as he was close enough, Rafe used both hands to shove you violently to the ground, watching as you tripped over your own feet down the rest of the stairs you hadn’t yet descended.
Your head bounced off of the grass, and you cried out in pain.
You managed to roll onto your back just in time for Rafe to throw himself on top of you. A large hand clasped over your mouth, Rafe eager to keep you quiet and avoid any nosey neighbors.
…It was a little too late. A porch light flipped on in the corner of his eye, at the house neighboring your privacy fence.
He turned back to you.
“Shut up,” he seethed, struggling to keep both your limbs and voice contained underneath him. “Just-just shut up.”
He looked like a monster towering over you, a knee on either side of you forcing your legs closed beneath him.
Your sobs were uncontrollable, muffled beneath his hand as you shook your head vigorously.
“Can you, can you please stop, Y/N, please!” His voice was laced with desperation. He wasn’t just begging you to save the relationship anymore. He was begging you to save yourself.
He tried to shush you, masking both your mouth and nose to do so.
When it didn’t work, his hands unconsciously slipped down to your throat.
He wasn’t thinking logically. He didn’t comprehend that going from covering your mouth to choking you meant completely cutting off your air, taking a chance of killing you.
All he knew was he had a problem. He needed to shut you up. His only method of action wasn’t working, so his body moved into fight or flight mode, hands manuvering to your throat all on their own account.
You sputtered and struggled to free your airways from Rafe’s iron grip. He seemed to have a newfound strength out of nowhere. Like all of his efforts were focused on channeling his anger through his hands, and your throat was the outlet.
And that’s because any emotion Rafe had previously felt, had shut down. He wasn’t even sure if what was left could be called anger, without being a huge understatement.
Rafe was… enraged. Inconsolably, inexpicably enraged. He blacked out.
Literally. His mind was fuzzy, his vision grew just the same. It was almost like darkness took over, and he was no longer able to control himself.
And he looked scary. Veins protruding from his forehead, his neck, his arms as he flexed every muscle he had to drain you of your air.
Rafe didn’t realize he was choking you, didn’t comprehend it was an action that could only be taken so far before it became irreversible.
You struggled hard, forcing Rafe to exert more energy than he’d assumed it would take.
Because Rafe knew, from the moment you walked out on him, things would only go one of two ways.
Either you would forgive him, choose to stay with him, help him get better, grow together.
…Or, you would deny him the chance to redeem himself. And in turn, you’d deny yourself the chance to make it to another day.
The gun was only a prop. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to shoot you. It was too messy, too inhumane.
He didn’t bring it to shoot you, no, but to scare you.
And it worked.
You were scared. Shaking, trembling, writhing around underneath him, you were so scared that your face even started to drain of color, he noticed.
His eyes fell to your lips, which seemed to be a mixture of red and a pale shade of purple almost, now.
At least they weren’t moving, he thought.
He’d hoped things would go much differently when he first got your text, asking for your ring.
He’d planned everything out, scripted it all together.
But he fucked up. He shouldn’t have been so aggresive, so quick to resort to violence with you, the person he loved more than anything that walked the Earth. After all, that’s the reason you left him in the first place. He just couldn’t see things that way.
But Rafe knew there was no way you would forgive him after this. No chance you would want to be with him after he just inflicted so much pain and force on you, the thing that prompted you to leave him in the first place.
He’d been going crazy without you. Not seeing you, hearing from you, proved to affect him worse than a day or two without cocaine did.
You left him alone, trapped by himself with nothing but his thoughts.
And boy, were they dark.
Of course, Rafe thought about your kiss, your lips on his, your beautiful body, your hair that he loved to pull and play with.
But more than that, he thought about what he would do to get back at you for leaving him. All the ways he could hurt you for hurting him.
The thoughts consumed him.
It was a terrible place to be, really, trapped in your mind because the reality you wish you had only existed in your head anymore.
It was almost as scary as walking into a storm that you didn’t even know was coming.
Had you known the things Rafe thought about while you were away, you never would’ve asked for your ring back.
You valued your life more than some stupid family ring.
An overwhelming ringing took over your ears just as clouds started to take over your vision.
Slowly, your grip on his wrists weakened, as did your will to fight back.
A deep, strained breath pulled from the back of your throat. Your last one.
It was so pronounced, the sound shattered the wall of darkness clouding Rafe’s eyes and mind, grounding him back to the current moment.
When he came to, the first thing he registered was the sound of his erratic breathing, blaring through the otherwise silent air.
Next came the strain he felt on his muscles all across the board.
Specifically, his hands.
His eyes dropped to the extremeties, and he noticed his fingers were curled inwards at the knuckles, almost…stuck. Like they’d been wrapped around something for too long.
And they had been.
His eyes blurred his hands in front of him, instead focusing in on the figure underneath them.
You laid at his knees, completely silent, and completely still.
Grimly silent.
Eerily still.
“Y/N-“ his voice came out nothing but a squeak of air when he tried your name the first time.
He paused. His eyes never left you.
He cleared his throat lowly. “Y/N?”
Hesitantly, he tapped on your arm with one hand. “Y/N/N?”
Rafe ignored the way his hands started to shake.
He ignored the wet beads he felt starting to cascade down his cheeks.
“Y/N, wake up,” Somehow, he managed to grow impatient at the lack of response he was getting from your still body.
“Come on,” he nudged you again through tears, this time a bit harsher.
He’d come to, but his mind was now convincing him that you didn’t want to answer him. Just like you didn’t want to talk to him earlier.
You didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted him to give you your ring, and go.
…And the realization hit them that he didn’t do either of those things.
In fact, when he pulled the ring from his pocket and held it to your finger, he couldn’t help but notice now how the light blue gem sparkling in the middle of the ring wasn’t too far off from the color of your skin.
Instantly, his hand fell weak. He dropped the ring, shuddering as it clattered onto the floor beside you.
“Shit…” he drawled out, hands flying up to run through his hair and rest on the back of his head.
He almost lost his balance trying to lean on only the balls of his feet to hold himself up. “S-shit…”
He dared to bring two fingers to your neck, planting them reluctantly in the crook underneath your jaw.
He could’ve sworn his body went as cold as yours felt when he didn’t feel not the first thump of your pulse.
His eyes fell shut, and he moved his hand to clasp over one of yours.
His head hung low, tears sliding down profusely, beading on your silk pajama top.
“I’m sorry, Y/N/N…”
More than crying now, he was sobbing.
“I’m so, so s-sorry baby.” He placed a kiss to your cold hand, letting the warmth of his lips linger for a moment.
Your tiny hand felt so cold, and in that moment, he only wanted to warm it up.
He wanted to warm both of them up.
He wanted to warm all of you up.
But it was too late.
He’d sealed your fate. He’d never be able to feel your warmth again.
As obvious as it was that you were gone, something about the entire thing still didn’t feel real to Rafe.
He just couldn’t understand how things had deviated so far off of the plan he had set, from the reality he’d planned in his head.
But the crescendo of sirens slowly cutting through his sobs confirmed the reality he was in… the reality that he now existed in a world that you no longer did.
And he didn’t want to exist in that world.
Rafe stole one last look at you, eyes closed, almost like you were sleeping. You looked so… peaceful. The kind of peace you could never find at the hands of Rafe Cameron…while you were alive, anyway.
Rafe placed a final kiss to your hand, then to your forehead, then your lips. He mumbled stutters of apologies and requests for forgiveness. First to you, and then to a higher power.
He slowly stood to his feet, eyes never deviating away from you until he made it through the threshold of the house.
He scanned the room for something, a sharp exhale mixing with the approaching sirens when his eyes landed on it.
Rafe slowly trudged to the corner of the room, bending at the waist to retrieve a cold, metal object from the floor.
He was a sobbing, sniffling mess as he wrapped his fingers around the gun.
The sirens grew closer, as did red and blue lights.
Rafe let out another exhale. His hands were shaking, his head was pounding, his arms burned from your nails clawing at him, his legs felt weak as he struggled to hold himself upright, the weight of the world threatening to buckle his knees.
“I-I’m sorry, Y/N…” his voice was barely above a whisper as he mumbled to himself. He hoped you could hear him, wherever you were. He hoped you would make things easy, just forgive him when he asked this time.
His hand and lip quivered uncontrollably as he raised the heavy object higher. A series of chills erupted down his spine when the barrel met his temple.
He shook his head, moving it instead to rest underneath his chin, pointed upward.
If he was going to do this, he had to make sure he wasn’t one of those idiots that survived somehow.
He couldn’t survive in a world without you. He wouldn’t. So he knew he couldn’t miss.
His eyes fell shut again, both hands wrapped around the trigger, ready to pull.
“Freeze!”
“Wha- ah!” Rafe’s eyes shot open at the booming voice, just before a real boom filled the air. Suddenly, he was left with a burning sensation in his shoulder, and an empty hand, as the gun clattered to the floor.
“Fuck!” Rafe yelled out, voice hoarse from his cries. He sank to his knees, not because of the demands the officers that swarmed the house were now screaming at him, but because the pain he felt, both physically and emotionally, was too much.
He couldn’t fight back anymore.
All he could do was struggle to catch his breath, mumbling incoherent apologies and lines as police swarmed him, picking his his fate out for him, the same way he’d picked out yours.
summary → After Reader confesses her love Rafe Cameron rejects her because she’s a Pogue. A year later she discovers he’s engaged to Sofia, but when they unexpectedly meet again at the races the tension between them makes Rafe realize he may have made the biggest mistake of his life
warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, arguments, drinking, toxic family dynamics, engagement drama
A/N → A lot of you really wanted a part 2 so here it is! Let me know in the comments if there are any mistakes. I hope you like it!
English is not my native language!!
Rafe barely remembered getting home that night. One second he was standing beside the track watching your taillight disappear into the dark, and the next he was pulling into the long Cameron driveway with his knuckles white against the steering wheel
The house lights glowed warm against the night sky, perfect, expensive, empty. He turned off the engine but didn’t move
Your voice kept replaying in his head “Good luck with the wedding Cameron” The ring on his finger suddenly felt too tight. He stared at it for a long moment before ripping it off and tossing it onto the passenger seat. The metallic clink echoed through the truck
“Fuck” He dragged both hands down his face because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He had done everything right, everything Ward wanted, everything Figure Eight expected. Sofia was perfect, sweet, good. The kind of girl people congratulated you for choosing. Not a girl from the Cut who raced dirt bikes and looked at him like she could see every ugly part of him anyway, but the second he saw you again tonight—It was over. Maybe it always had been
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
Inside the house voices drifted from the kitchen.
Ward, Rose, Sofia.
Rafe shut the truck door harder than necessary before walking in. The second Sofia saw him she smiled “There you are”
He forced something that almost looked like a smile back
“You disappeared tonight” she said walking over “I thought you were coming with us after the fundraiser”
“Changed my mind”
Ward looked up from the kitchen island already studying him too closely “You were out at the races?”
Rafe grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge “Yeah”
Ward’s expression darkened immediately “Jesus Christ Rafe you’re engaged now. You need to stop wasting your time around those people”
Those people, funny
A year ago he probably would’ve said the same thing. Now hearing it made irritation crawl under his skin “I was just watching” Rafe muttered
Sofia walked over beside him resting a hand lightly against his arm “Well, at least you’re home now”
Rafe looked down at her hand then slowly pulled his arm away. It was subtle but Sofia noticed, do did Ward
The kitchen went quiet
“What’s your problem?” Ward asked sharply
“Nothing” Rafe twisted the water bottle cap hard enough that plastic cracked slightly beneath his grip. His patience was hanging by a thread already “I said I’m fine”
Ward scoffed “You start acting like this every time you go near the Cut”
Rafe laughed once under his breath
“You got something to say?” Ward asked
Rafe looked at him finally, for a second Sofia visibly tensed because there was something unstable in his expression now “You ever get tired?” Rafe asked quietly
Ward frowned “Of what?”
“Controlling every damn thing”
The room fell silent, Sofia looked between them nervously, Rose immediately stopped pretending not to listen
Ward’s voice dropped colder “Watch your tone”
“There it is” Rafe muttered shaking his head “God forbid I do one thing you don’t approve of”
Ward stepped forward slightly “Everything you have is because of this family”
Rafe barked out a laugh. Family.
His chest suddenly felt too tight to breathe in because all he could think about was you standing beside your bike tonight looking at his engagement ring like it physically hurt you and somehow he’d caused that
Ward kept talking but Rafe barely heard him anymore. Something inside him had been unraveling since the second you walked away again.
And now he finally snapped “I can’t do this”
Ward stopped “Excuse me?”
Rafe looked exhausted suddenly, completely exhausted “The wedding”
Sofia went still, Ward’s face hardened instantly “What about it?”
Rafe looked toward Sofia now, really looked at her but she looked confused, nervous, hopeful and guilt punched straight through him because she didn’t deserve this. None of this was her fault but marrying her while loving someone else? That would destroy her eventually
“I can’t marry you”
The words landed like a bomb in the kitchen and Sofia’s face went white instantly
Ward stared at him like he’d lost his mind “What the hell are you talking about?”
Rafe dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once across the kitchen “I tried, alright? I tried to want this”
“Rafe—” Sofia whispered
“I’m sorry”
And the worst part was—he meant it
Ward slammed a hand against the counter hard enough to make Sofia and Rose jump “You do not get to humiliate this family because of some emotional breakdown”
Rafe’s jaw tightened instantly “This isn’t about the family”
Ward scoffed “You’re throwing away your future over some girl from the Cut?”
Rafe stepped forward now anger flashing hot in his eyes “You don’t know a damn thing about her”
“And you do?”
“Yes”
The answer came without hesitation. Ward went quiet for half a second probably because it was the most certain he’d sounded in months. Rafe looked toward Sofia again, softer this time “I’m— sorry”
Her eyes were glassy now, hhurt and embarrassed all at once.
She quietly took off her engagement ring and placed it on the counter beside Ward and suddenly the entire kitchen felt unbearably silent
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
Meanwhile across the Cut—You sat on the hood of John B’s van while JJ talked loudly about tonight’s races like nothing in the world mattered. Kiara sat beside you quietly watching your expression
“You okay?” she asked eventually and you nodded automatically
She snorted “Liar”
You stared down at your hands because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop hearing his voice in your head
“And I regret that every single day” God. Why now? Why after a whole year?
Sarah climbed onto the hood beside you holding two beers. She handed you one carefully “You saw him tonight”
It wasn’t a question
You sighed softly “Yeah...”
Sarah went quiet for a moment “He’s miserable, you know?”
You laughed humorlessly “That sounds like a Rafe problem”
“Maybe” She looked out toward the water “But I’ve known Rafe my whole life” Her voice softened slightly “And I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you”
Your chest tightened painfully but before you could answer headlights suddenly appeared down the road leading into the Cut.
JJ frowned immediately “Who the hell—”
The truck came into view a second later, Rafe’s truck.
Your stomach dropped instantly.
The truck barely stopped before Rafe climbed out and the second everyone saw his face—the energy shifted because he looked completely wrecked. Like his entire world had just burned down around him.
Rafe’s eyes found yours immediately across the yard, only yours. Then he said the last thing you ever expected to hear
summary: you've heard the rumors about Rafe. aggressive on the ice and a sweettalker to any girl he lays eyes on. what happens when his next target is you?
wc: 2.5k
warnings: 18+ eventual smut/fwb, but this will be a series
a/n: inspired by my college experience since it's been almost a year since graduation! but Rafe is so much more fun and interesting ~
banner by @uzmacchiato
Where you sit in class at college usually determined where you would sit for most of the year, so it was a very important decision. Usually, you would pick a seat next to a girl who looked friendly. Rarely, you would sit next to a guy if he was incredibly hot. But unfortunately today, you were early.
The classroom had three tables arranged like a U. Chairs sat outside of the table, 15 total. Small class, but that was expected. It was only an hour, and supposed to be an easy A. It was basically a class on study skills. Time management, focus, motivation. A good way to boost your GPA.
But you were early enough that only one person was in the room. He was seated right in front of you, at the first table, his short hair dyed blue like he was fully committed to supporting the Duke Blue Devils. It felt wrong to sit far away from the only other person in the room, so you took a seat next to him, relieved when he smiled warmly at you.
The rest of the class filed in slowly, an almost even mix of girls and guys. One of the last to arrive sauntered in, taking a seat beside the guy next to you. They fist bumped, clearly recognizing each other. And you couldn’t help but notice he looked familiar. You’d definitely seen those piercing blue eyes before. But where?
The professor introduced herself as Ms. Smith. A boring name for an easy class, but she seemed very sweet. Her voice was soft as she called out attendance. You almost missed it when she called out your name. She moved through the short list quickly.
“Ah, Rafe Cameron?” She widened her warm brown eyes, searching the room.
“Present.” The boy with the blue eyes muttered. Rafe. That’s right. He was the hockey player the girls in your dorm talked about. Well, they talked about a lot of the hockey players, but you had been to a few games last year and remembered him well. He was a forward. Aggressive, mouthy, fast, and very, very, good. And apparently very good in bed. You quickly looked away from him, like he'd catch you staring.
“Alright, I want you to introduce yourself to the people to your left and right. Take a minute to get to know each other.” Ms. Smith announced, taking a seat at her desk on the other side of the room.
“Hi, I’m Evan.” The blue haired boy next to you spoke before it could get awkward. You introduced yourself, mentioning your major in finance. He tells you he hasn’t picked a major yet, but he’s a freshman playing soccer at Duke.
Next up was the girl to your left, her dark curly hair piled into a messy bun. Her green eyes were striking against her tan skin. She tells you her name is Meghan, a sophomore in communications.
Ms. Smith starts her lecture on time management, her voice the perfect cadence to lull you to sleep. You would have, if it weren’t for the athlete boys next to you chattering under their breath and chuckling at every little thing. Evan seemed nice enough, but you’d heard enough about male athletes to want nothing to do with them. Egotistical assholes who only cared about themselves. No thanks.
Ms. Smith had other plans, though. She divided the class up into their first group assignment, pointing out every other person. That paired you up with none other than Rafe Cameron. And knowing that he was the only hockey player you remembered by name, he probably had an ego the size of North Carolina.
Rafe introduces himself to you with a casual confidence that you envy, like he doesn’t expect you to know who he is but he wouldn’t be surprised if you did. He takes a moment to learn your name, and then oddly enough, he gets started on the assignment. You expected some goofing off with his buddies, or a complete disinterest altogether. But he takes charge, asking for your input now and then.
At the end of class, it feels like it will be easy enough to get an A and that you made the right decision signing up. The rest of the week, you focus on your new routine for the semester. When to get coffee between classes. The café you like to eat at that still takes your student card and is cheaper than the dining hall, even if it’s a bit further away.
You had no intention of including Rafe Cameron in your routine, but he seemed to have other ideas. Any time Ms. Smith suggested pairing up for class, he would corral you and Evan before either of you could speak. His excuse was that there had to be one group of three with the 15 students, so it might as well be you three. Nevermind the fact that you had wanted to get to know Meghan a little.
Two weeks later, you tried to be quick when Ms. Smith asks you to pair up. You turned to Meghan, hoping she would turn to face you, when someone to your right cleared their throat. You turn to Evan, who looked at you sheepishly. Rafe, on the other hand, was faking a pout.
“Not gonna join us, partner?” He accused.
“I-” You looked over at Meghan, who was already pairing up to the blonde girl who always sat next to her. “Don’t you have a hockey friend you’d rather have in the group?” You nod at the ginger guy next to Rafe.
“Holiday? He’s my roommate. I see enough of him.” Rafe shrugs. Holiday. So, the guy with orange hair came from a hockey family. His dad definitely played: Roger Holiday. Maybe his grandpa, too, if you remembered right. You could bet his ego was worse than Rafe’s.
“Fine.” You say, crossing your arms. You give Evan a gentle smile, not wanting him to think your irritation was at him. The assignment was simple enough, and as soon as class was dismissed, you nearly sprinted to Meghan to chat with her. You hadn’t been out yet, and were craving a night out with some girls.
Lucky for you, Meghan agrees, and the two of you hit the bars on Friday night. Your roommate and few other girls from class are supposed to meet up with you at the only club on campus later, but you take Meghan to your favorite bar. It has a ton of retro arcade games, and you used to come here whenever you visited your older brothers before they graduated.
“Wanna play against me?” You ask Meghan, sticking some tokens in for the Mortal Kombat game.
“Um, sure,” She smiles hesitantly. “It’s like boxing, right?”
“Yeah. Those buttons say what they do when you press ‘em. But no pressure.” You tell her, sifting through the characters.
“Oh! The hockey team is here!” She practically squeals, turning her head to the entrance.
“Nice.” You comment, picking Kitana as your player.
“You’ve been talking to Rafe, right? He’s so cute.” She gushes, and you finally glance away from the screen. Meghan’s actually blushing, her cheeks matching the lip gloss she had put on.
“Uh,” You stammer, her enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Not really.”
“Oh, come on! He always picks you as his partner in class.”
“He picks me and Evan.” You remind her, shrugging.
“Well, I saw him make a big stink when you tried to match up with someone else.” She wags her eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “If you won’t talk to them, I will. I’ve got a bit of crush. Is it okay if I go say hi?” Her green eyes widen, glancing back at the screen for a second. You could tell she didn’t seem super interested in playing video games, and didn’t want to keep her from talking to any boys she liked.
“Yeah, go for it! Good luck!” You try to match her enthusiasm, and she grins before sauntering off. You turn back to your game, choosing to go against the computer this round. You were rusty anyway. You get into a rhythm, starting another match when a voice interrupts you.
“Now, what kind of guy would leave a pretty girl like you all by yourself at this game?”
You freeze. You knew that voice.
Sure enough, when you turn your head, Rafe Cameron is standing behind you. For a moment, he seems taken aback, like he didn’t fully recognize you in a full face of makeup. But then his smirk returns. His eyes quickly skim your outfit, and you try to stand a little taller and more confidently.
“Hey, partner. Mind if I join you?” He asks, nodding at the game.
“Sure.” You take a moment to let the computer win before adding some tokens for another match.
You can feel adrenaline starting to simmer under your skin. Growing up with two brothers had made you competitive, or you were born that way and never grew out of it with them around. You could feel your fingers tense in anticipation as Rafe chose his character. After an excruciatingly long time deliberating, he chose Sub Zero. You picked Kitana again, going with your most comfortable.
At the start of the first round, you landed a couple hits off the bat, getting your confidence up. Rafe cursed under his breath, noticing that you were all in. He cleared his throat, and landed a few kicks. You blocked one, and started to attack again.
“Jesus, do you just button mash?” Rafe commented, voice low.
“What?” You scoff. “I know what buttons I’m pressing.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not button mashing.” He replies, and your focus is so thrown off that he wins the round.
“You bitch.” You mutter, glaring at him.
“Watch your language.” He smirks, getting ready for the next round.
This time, you force yourself not to be distracted by him. He tries to make a few more comments, but you ignore him and win that round, and then the next. With the match won, you look up at him in satisfaction. You expect him to look angry or annoyed, but his bright blue eyes are glinting like you just stepped up to the challenge.
“My turf next.” He nods his head over to the air hockey table.
“Shouldn’t that be an easy win for you?” You raise a brow.
“Why don’t you find out? Unless you’re too much of a pussy.”
“Please, don’t say that.” You roll your eyes.
“Chicken.” He counters.
“You’re on, but I need to buy some more tokens.”
“I can-” He starts before you cut him off.
“Nope. I do not want to owe you in any way.” With that, you walk over to the token machine, eyes scanning for Meghan. She’s talking to another hockey player, a super tall one with tanned skin. When she catches your eye, she gives you a thumbs up, and you can’t help but smile. Once you scan your card and grab the tokens, you start to make your way back until shrill laughter stops you in your tracks.
A group of girls have surrounded Rafe at the air hockey table, all trying to talk to him and fiddling with the pieces of the game. They’re all fairly tipsy, but clearly happy to have run into a hockey player that they know. You find yourself standing there, tokens in hand as you hear some of them ask if they can play the game with him. And honestly, they’re stunning. Beautiful, confident girls that Rafe would probably be more than happy to drop you for. You start to head back to Mortal Kombat when you hear Rafe speak up.
“Actually, I was playing with her.”
You turn to Rafe, meeting his eyes as the gaggle of fangirls stares at you. He tilts his chin up, as if urging you to ignore them and come back. And for some reason, you do. The girls get flustered, saying goodbye to both of you and wishing him a good night as they scurry away. And then it’s just you two, facing off over the air hockey table.
Unsurprisingly, Rafe wins all three rounds. He’s too quick, his reflexes too fast. It’s not even close, and if he weren’t an athlete you’d be a little embarrassed. You roll your eyes when he celebrates like he just won the rival game in overtime.
“Okay, ready to get back to your teammates?” You try to bring him back to reality.
“What? No. They don’t give a shit. They’re down to leave without me.” He says dismissively.
“Watch your language.” You retort, and that gleam in his eyes is back.
“Besides, partner, we’re now 1 to 1 at these games. We gotta play at least one more to see the real winner.”
“Fine. Pick a game that’s not basically what you do for a living.” You tease, secretly loving the challenge. He pretends to be annoyed at you, shaking his head. Walking around the arcade, he slows in front of the basketball hoops. What he doesn’t know is that you played for a few years. Not good enough to be a college athlete, but good enough for high school. You try to play it off and act nervous.
“How about this one?” Rafe’s smile grows.
“I don’t know…” You trail off, pretending to scan the arcade.
“We’re doing this one. Give me the tokens or I’m buying.” He insists, and you do everything you can to hold back a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker.
You make the most shots each round easily, giggling at Rafe’s grunts of frustration. You shrug as if it was an accident, as if you got lucky. But he’s not buying it, his mouth set in a thin line.
“That how you wanna play, partner?” He growls in a way that makes your cheeks flush, and you work to keep your composure.
“It’s only fair. You made me play air hockey.” You bat your lashes, playing innocent. “Looks like I win.”
“Nah,” He shakes his head, marching up to a racing car game that’s nearly enclosed. “One more. Let’s go.”
“Rafe,” You hesitate, looking back at Meghan. She seemed fine talking to the other boys, and some of the girls from class had shown up. But you weren’t planning on ignoring them all night.
“What, afraid you’ll lose?” He already knows that’ll get under your skin. Of course it does. You sigh, taking a seat at the racecar next to him. Dropping in the tokens, you wait for him to pick a race course, but he’s just looking at you.
His blue eyes are still confident, amused, determined. But he doesn’t say anything. It’s like he’s finally taking you in now that you’ve both paused. Suddenly, you’re aware of how close together you two are in this stupid arcade game. And suddenly, it feels too hot, his gaze too intense, yet you can’t look away.
A loud smack on the back of the racecar seats startles you both. You turn to see some of the hockey boys peering in, and you try to look as unassuming and normal as possible.
“Cameron!” One of them calls. “Let’s go. Reyes is looking for you.” “Ah, shit. Sorry.” Rafe says to you, chuckling as he slides out of the racecar seat. “This isn’t over, okay? Find me tonight.” He leaves you with a wink.
Summary: Being in love with Rafe Cameron wasn't an original experience. Him being in love with you? That definitely is. How many ways are there for someone so in love with you to fuck up? Ask him.
Pairing: College!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Trope: Best Friends Brother to Friends to Something to Enemies to ???
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.
𝘼/𝙉: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!
“Her.”
Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”
Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.”
“And?”
“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.
“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.”
“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??”
Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him.
That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies” money. Yeah, they didn’t pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.
Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.
“Well, what about that one?”
Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through.
Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.
You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.
“Who is she?”
“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.
“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.
“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”
“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”
Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any.
Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable.
He licks his lips.
“How long?”
“Huh?”
He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.
Topper raises an eyebrow.
“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”
Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”
They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—
“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and—
“A week.”
“Mm?”
“A week to fuck her. With proof.”
Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it.
“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”
“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.
“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”
Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.
You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.
He’d have fun ruining you.
***
“You sure do love reading, don’t you?”
It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.
You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.
“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”
Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…”
“You find books more interesting than people?”
“Huh?”
He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug.
“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—
“Are you making fun of me?”
You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes.
“What?”
You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.”
“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds.
“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”
Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more.
“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.
“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”
“I’ll be your friend.”
He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive.
You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too.
“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”
“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.
It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that.
“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.
“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.
“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means…
“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.
You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?”
He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right.
“You could call it studying.”
You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing.
“What’s your name, homeschool?”
You tell him.
He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”
You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it.
Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could.
That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.
***
Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.
You’re alone. As usual.
“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.
“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.”
“What’re you up to today?”
“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”
He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?
“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect.
“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”
He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way.
“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”
“Friends?” You don’t have any.
“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”
Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.”
Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.
He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.
“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”
Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue.
“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”
He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…
“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.
“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.
“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”
“Say it. Now.”
You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.”
The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this.
“Huh. Is that so?”
“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”
Rafe nods, “Hmm.”
“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“
“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”
You blink, “What?”
He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”
“It’s not that–”
“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”
He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.
“I asked you a question, homeschool.”
“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”
“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.
“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”
He stops, allows you to catch up.
“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”
“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”
You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”
“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”
*
Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…
”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.
“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.
“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”
He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.
Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.
“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.
“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.
“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”
“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”
You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”
He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”
You look aghast, “No! I would never–”
“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”
“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”
“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”
You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.
“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”
“Thank you.”
“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.
“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”
He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.
He nods, “You look pretty.”
Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”
He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.
*
On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.
“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.
Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.
“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.
“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”
Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”
He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.
“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”
Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.
“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.
“No?”
“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”
Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.
“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.
You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”
“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.
“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”
The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.
“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.
You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”
You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”
He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.
Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.
“Rafe?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”
That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”
You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”
“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.
“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.
“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”
It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.
“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”
He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.
“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.
“Wow, that was cool!”
“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”
Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.
He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.
“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”
He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”
That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.
He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.
He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…
He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.
*
On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.
“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”
You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.
“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”
Rafe grins, “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”
He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.
“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”
You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.
“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”
But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.
“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.
Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”
“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”
He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”
“You sure about that?”
He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”
Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.
All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.
You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.
*
Rafe: Hey.
Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?
He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.
Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.
Rafe: What are you up to?
A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.
Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?
It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.
He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.
“H-Hello?”
“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”
He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?
“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”
A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”
“What like vacuuming and shit?”
“Yes.”
Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.
He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.
“Uh, Rafe?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.
A pause.
“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”
“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”
“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.
He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.
“I’d rather speak to you than them.”
“That’s not true, Rafe.”
“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”
“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”
“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.
“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”
“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”
“You’re funny, Rafe.”
You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.
“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.
“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”
He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.
“A-Are you still there?”
“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–
“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.
“Rafe?”
He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.
“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.
“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”
“Like, uh, at your house?”
“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”
That just makes him even more determined to be your first.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”
“Rafe…”
He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.
“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”
That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.
“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.
“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”
*
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”
Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.
“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.
“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.
“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”
Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”
Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”
“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”
“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”
“What?”
Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”
“Well, yeah, but –”
“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”
“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”
Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.
He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”
Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”
Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.
“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”
“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”
That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”
Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.
He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.
That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.
“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”
“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.
You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”
“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”
He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.
“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.
“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”
“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.
He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.
You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.
“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.
Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.
Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”
Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”
He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”
“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”
He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.
“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.
You blink, “Um, water?”
He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”
“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”
“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”
You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.
“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.
“People have been talking about me to you?”
“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”
He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.
“Do you always drink after school?”
“Huh?”
“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”
“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”
He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.
Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.
“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”
Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”
He shrugs, “A few.”
You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”
“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.
“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”
Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.
“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”
You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”
“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”
He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.
“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.
You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”
“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”
“Hey!”
He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.
You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”
Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”
You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”
Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”
Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”
He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.
Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”
He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”
He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.
He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”
Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”
He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.
“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”
Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…
“There. Comfy?”
“Well, I guess, but…”
He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.
He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.
And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.
When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.
“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”
Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”
“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”
Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.
Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.
He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.
And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.
“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”
“Rafe, maybe not too much–”
“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.
“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.
“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”
He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.
Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”
You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”
“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.
It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.
Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.
“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.
“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”
He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–
“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”
He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”
He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”
Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”
Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.
“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.
It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.
“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”
Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.
“That’s okay,” he says.
You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”
Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.
You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”
Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.
Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”
He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”
“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”
Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.
He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.
“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”
What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.
“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.
Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.
You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.
Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.
Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.
*
Kelce: One day left, loverboy.
Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.
Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.
Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.
He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.
That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.
Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.
How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.
The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.
He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–
His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.
“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”
“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”
“I’m scared.”
You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.
“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”
He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”
“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”
“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”
“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”
They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.
“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”
“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”
He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”
“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”
Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.
“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”
Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.
“Rafe! You came!”
You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.
“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.
At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.
“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”
It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.
“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.
“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.
“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”
“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”
He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.
You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.
Despite everything, his dick hardens.
“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”
He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”
You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”
You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.
He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.
He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.
“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”
“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”
“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.
“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”
You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”
He smirks, “I could distract you.”
“H-How?”
He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.
“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.
“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”
You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.
“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”
“H-Huh–”
“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”
You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”
It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.
He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.
Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.
“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”
He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”
“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”
“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”
Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”
He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”
“Y-You.”
“Yeah. And who’s older?”
“You are.”
“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”
You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.
Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.
He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.
He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.
“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.
“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”
“Stand up, baby.”
You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.
You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.
“Take your leggings off.”
You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.
You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.
“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”
“Wh-What?”
“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.
“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”
“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”
He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.
“Stand up straight, look at me again.”
You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.
“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.
Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.
And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.
His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.
“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”
You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”
God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.
“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”
“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?
Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.
You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.
“You have an accident, princess?”
You look absolutely aghast, “No!”
Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.
“Oh my God–”
He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”
“What?”
“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”
For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”
“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”
He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”
He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.
“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”
Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.
Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.
“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”
“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”
Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.
“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.
Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.
“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.
“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–
You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.
And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.
“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”
Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.
“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”
“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”
He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.
“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”
You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”
“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”
It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.
He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.
But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.
“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”
Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.
“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.
“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”
He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”
You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”
“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”
Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.
He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.
“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.
You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”
He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.
“Take it out.”
“N-No!”
He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”
“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”
“Well, yes, but–”
“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”
You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”
He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”
As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”
You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”
“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”
You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.
“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”
You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”
“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”
In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.
“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”
“I am?”
“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.
“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.
Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”
“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.
“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.
“Yeah?”
Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”
God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.
Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.
“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”
‘I don’t know.”
SMACK.
Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”
“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”
“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”
You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”
“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.
You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.
“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”
He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.
“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.
But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.
“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”
It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.
“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.
“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”
‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”
“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”
Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.
“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.
“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”
“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”
“But it hurts!”
“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”
A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”
“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”
“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.
Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”
You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”
“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”
You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”
He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.
“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”
You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.
“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.
“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”
You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.
“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”
“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“
You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.
“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”
All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.
It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.
Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.
“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”
The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”
He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.
That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.
“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”
“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”
“Nooo…”
He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.
“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…
He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…
“Rafe, I… please…”
“Baby…”
His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–
“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”
“Fuck.”
Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.
He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”
“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“Y-You’re not mad?”
He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.
“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”
“You pr-promise?”
“I promise.”
He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.
You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.
The wind laughs and laughs all night.
*
The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.
Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.
Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.
He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.
Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.
He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.
What the fuck did that mean?
His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.
That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?
Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.
Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.
Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?
“You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.
*
“There he is! The loverboy himself!”
His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.
“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”
“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”
Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”
He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.
He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.
“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”
“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.
“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.
“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”
“Then show us. That was the deal.”
He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.
“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.
“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”
Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”
He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.
“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”
He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.
And immediately locks eyes with you.
And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.
“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.
A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.
Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.
And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.
𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)
Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?
Should reader forgive Rafe?
Favourite scene/part?
Anyways, that's it. Now I'll anxiously wait to see what you guys think. PLEASE PLEASE consider reblogging this fic if you plan on liking it and want me to continue it. Thanks so much for all your support when I posted the sneak peek. I hope this lived up to your expectations! <3
pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader
summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?
a/n: hey guys :) this is actually my first time ever writing something so this is lowkey kinda scary. BUT, I really really wanted to write a slow burn between Rafe and his best friend, cause I can see that happening, who doesn't want that anyways? If it works, this'll deffo be a series cause I have a whole concept behind it, guess we're going to have to wait and see. The pictures are taken off pinterest so credit to whoever's they are.
(may have suggested bi!reader, see if you can spot it)
warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, sexual innuendo's, someone throwing up, just Rafe being whipped for his bsf
The classroom was bright, colourful colouring cladded the walls, the blue-tack melting slowly in the sticky heat. Rafe sat by himself, struggling to tie his shoes, his father insisted he wore them and learnt to do them himself, his mother however sceptical complied, trying to teach her sweet boy how to do them before they left the house. His face was scrunched in concentration, but no matter how hard he tried, the laces wouldn’t cooperate.
“Do you need help?” The quiet voice rang out from across the boy, the young girl kneeling beside him. He looked up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I can’t do it,” he muttered angrily, glancing at the messy knot he’d made on his shoe. She smiled, her pigtails bouncing as she leaned closer.
“It’s okay. I can show you.” Gently, she untangled the laces, her fingers tugging at the blue strings as they came apart. Explaining each step as she worked she focused on the shoe.
“First, you make bunny ears…” She continued telling the story her babysitter taught her as she learnt to tie up the strings into little bows.
“Thanks,” Rafe said sheepishly, looking at her with a small smile on her face, the girl reminded him of his mom, she was... nice.
“You’re welcome,” she replied cheerfully, standing up, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels, her red gingham dress swaying along with her movement.
“Wanna play blocks with me now?” He nodded eagerly, taking her hand. Together, they walked over to the small table, the awkwardness of moments ago replaced with a newfound connection.
“I'm Y/n” she chirped out as she stacked the pink bricks into a little house, the boy looked up from where he’d built his wall of blue blocks.
“Rafe.” He mumbled out, she peered over at him as he worked, his tongue poking out of his mouth slightly in concentration. She reached her finger out pushing the wall playfully, the blue bricks bashing brutally to the table, the boy looked up to her.
Y/n and Rafe, the names often not heard separately, weaved through the thick crowd of teens, every corner of the house filled, whilst the music thumped loudly against the walls, making their way into the kitchen of the beachside villa.
"You know, I’m kind of a big deal round here" He playfully murmured to her, the girl looking at him with a mocked serious expression on her face as she poured the liqueur into the red plastic cup, trying to scout out any kind of mixer within the rubbish on the counter. "Oh yeah? In what universe?" She pressed as she leant over, grabbing the half empty sprite bottle of the counter.
"This one. I mean, you’re talking to me, so clearly, I’m doing something right." With a grin that only grew wider, the boy shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter between them. Y/n rolled her eyes trying to stifle her laugh, "You’re so full of yourself." He grinned clearly unfazed; "And yet, here you are, still listening."
She shook her head at his bad attempt of flirting with her, hand reaching out to shove his shoulder. That’s just the kind of dynamic their relationship had and she couldn't help the sweet warming feeling in her chest that appeared whenever they joked around like this. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer as he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer.
"You love it."
“You’re right.”
She shrugged as she turned to him, the boy standing behind her, now leaning back against the counter as he looked at her. The small kitchen was buzzing full of Kooks and Pogues alike, however no one interrupted them, who would be stupid enough to get between the Kook Princess and her best friend. He smirked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes darted around the room at all the people, but rested back on the girl.
"I tend to be right a lot of the time." He spoke out as he looked down at her studying her face, her cheeks were slightly flushed, he could tell it was from the alcohol, the girl now nursing her second cup, when did she even finish her first?
“Yeah I think 14 years of friendship has taught me that.” she rolled her eyes playfully at the boy, their friendship never wavering in all the years they’d known each other, he was her favourite person- that was for sure. He nodded his head in amusement at her; “And I think it also taught you that I’m the smartest person you know.” He leaned down closer to her while a smirk slipped its way slyly onto her lips.
“I don’t know bout that...” She raised her brow at him teasingly. He shook his head, chuckle slipping past his lips, “Oh yeah? Name someone smarter than me.” She tapped her cup against the bottom of her lip, the pink gloss transferring onto the plastic causing it to sparkle in the lights of the kitchen, “Let’s see... me?” He let out another laugh at her response.
“Nice try. But that’s not true.” He pushed his body off the counter and stood up straight, looking y/n up and down, with a cocky grin
“Hey!” She defended as she placed her empty cup down onto the counter. “Last time I checked it was me who knew how to tie laces first, so can I get a little credit here Cameron!?” He put his hands up in defence, laughter tumbling past his lips again, “Whoa Whoa Whoa! I’m not questioning your mobility skills, cause rumour has it your fingers work pretty well…” He took a step closer to the girl, “But in the brains department, I’m much smarter than you, princess.” She rolled her eyes at his subtle comment about her sexcapades as she shoved his shoulder, “Whateverrrr asshole.” She sings songs out as she turns around to refill her cup.
He shook his head at the girl's attitude, one that he's found comforting over the years. He walked up so he was standing next to her leaning in close to her ear and spoke in a quiet voice, “There’s no shame in admitting that I’m smarter than you, y’know.” He smirked as he looked down at her, and tried to ignore how good her perfume smelled to him, was it new? It definitely was.
“Mmhmm” she hummed out refusing to accept his statement, she enjoyed pushing his buttons anyways.
He sighed amused at y/n’s stubbornness, even though it annoyed him a bit, “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn huh?” He leaned in a bit closer so his arms were holding him up, placed against the counter right next to the girl's hand which was wrapped around her now full cup.
“So you do think I’m a brat!” She exclaimed eyes wide, gasping in mock offence with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as their conversation from earlier resurfaced, the argument raising between her, Rafe, Toper and Kelce a few days ago. He couldn’t help but smile at her response,
“Yeah you are. The most spoiled, bitchiest, brattiest princess to ever curse Figure 8.”
“The fuck, am I a witch or something, why am I cursing?” She laughed out loudly, the alcohol in her bloodstream affecting her humour. She rested her head against his shoulder as she tried to regain her composure, giggles passing her lips. He smiled amused at her response, a shiver going down his spine as she leaned against him. He was a weak man, but only when it came to y/n, and even the simple touch of her head on his shoulder made him want to pull her closer.
…what the fuck are you thinking?
"I take it the alcohol is getting to you huh?” He asked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” She shook her head as she lifted it upright away from his shoulder. He looked down at the girl, noticing her rosy cheeks, "Uh huh, that's why your face's red then?" He teased her, knowing she hated when people pointed out when she was drunk, even back when they used to sneak out to drink the stolen bottle of whiskey from y/n’s father’s office on the beach in the late hours of the night.
“Yeah well you’re high!” she spoke out defensively in a matter of fact tone as she pointed to his pupils, blown wide from the line he’d taken in the bathroom not all that long ago. The boy knew she didn’t necessarily approve of his so-called ‘habit’, always droning on about how it was bad for him. He rolled his eyes at her snarky comment, “I’m barely even that high anymore. Just a little buzzed now.” She placed her hand on her chest as she spoke, as though she was making a sincere oath, “Well I’m perfectly fine.” He couldn't help but find her dramatic nature endearing, it must’ve been why they'd managed to stay friends for so long, she never took any of his shit- as she liked to call it.
“Besides, Rose invited us round to yours tomorrow for dinner, remember..?” She tilted her head as she referred to the joint dinner which was held monthly between both their families, insisted by both their fathers who claimed it was, ‘a great way to keep business natural’. Y/n dreaded the evening every month, the dinner filled with talks of money, success and reputation, if Rafe wasn’t there then she’s sure she’d surely try to gauge her eyes out with Rose’s pristinely polished silver forks. He had to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling at her tipsy state, it entertained him that she was trying so hard to prove that she was sober.
“Yeah I remember princess.” His eyes flicked to the hand on your chest and he swallowed before his eyes went back to her own, “You’re gonna have a hangover tomorrow, you know that?”
Has this top always been so low cut...
“No I won’t” She dismissed as she rolled her eyes at him, lifting her cup again in a cheer towards him finally bringing it to her lips, the liquid burning her throat as it slid down.
Rafe pushed past the guy, his gags muffled by the loud music as he bent over throwing up into the potted palm near the front door of the house, sighing out through his nose. Where was this girl? Fucking tequila shots set him up, and now he was stuck in an almost empty house as people flooded out saying their goodbyes, occasional person trying to grab his attention as he walked straight past them.
“Hey Matt!”
He yelled out grabbing the boys attention who turned to him walking over to meet Rafe who was walking towards him. Hand coming down onto his back to greet him he spoke,
“Hey great party man, have you seen y/n?”
The boy nodded, slurring his own words, evidently y/n not being the only one who took part in the drinking competition tonight. “Yeah I uh- the dining room man,” was all he managed to mutter out before being called from the other side of the house, his girlfriend coming around the corner yelling something - about how some guy had gotten stuck in his cat's litter box? He let out a loud groan squeezing his eyes shut before turning to Rafe and patting him on the arm in a goodbye. The dining room. He walked through the house pushing past a couple, who he was pretty sure were about to fuck against the hallway wall, muttering a firm ‘move’ as he walked past them. The music still pounded loudly from the speakers littered around the house, walking through hall he called out,
“Y/n?”
Walking through the doorway he saw the girl, standing on the table, arm raised above her head happily as she sang out.
Is that a wooden spoon?
“I just wanna live in this moment foooreverrrr...”
She sang out, her words were slurred as she swayed her hips around running her hand down her body as she tried to perform the song blasting through the speakers, her limbs uncoordinated causing her to stumble slightly, catching herself before she toppled off the edge of the table. Rafe sucked the air in through his teeth holding his breath, watching the girl teeter on the edge of the table before she stabilized herself. The lights of the room caught on the small crystal sequins of her top, causing glittering sparkles to reflect onto the walls as she swayed around the table. He walked over to her, the girl noticing his footsteps towards her turning towards him, dropping to her knees on the hard dark mahogany wood as she sang out to him now, ever so enthusiastically.
“Started giving up on the word foreverrrrr!!!!” She was so incredibly off tune as she ran her hands through her now messy hair, but he couldn’t help but be entertained as she pointed out to him passionately, gripping the wooden spoon lifting it up to her lips.
“Until you gave up heaven so we could be toooogetheeerrrr” She wobbled on top of the table, the boy rushing forwards arms out in case she dropped off the edge of the rounded surface. Her hand reached out running down his chest as she sang to him still holding up the wooden spoon to her lips as though she was performing a one woman show.
“You’re my angel, angel baby angel… you’re my angel baby” The girl's hands ran up to his hair as she messed it up, the boy groaning at her actions as she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, spoon dropping to the floor with a clatter. “Okay y/n.” He spoke rolling his eyes at her drunken antics, trying to coax her down from the table. Standing just in front of her, he looked up, seeing her swaying back and forth, he couldn’t deny the concern that she would lose balance and fall off - wouldn’t be the first time. “Okay angel, you’ve gotta get off of that table before you hurt yourself.” He said as he grabbed her hips as he played along with her singing, what was this song anyways? She complied as she held onto his shoulders, still humming along to the song slowly to herself.
He smiled as she hummed along to the song, he loved this side of her, she was always so reserved and in control of herself but right now she was so free and playful and
Seriously?
It was different from how she held herself usually, her family causing her to always hold herself to such a high standard, he preferred when she'd just relax. He kept his hands on her hips as he let out a small laugh pulling her down, “You’re singing is truly terrible, you know that right?”
“Whatever” she spoke back as she stood up straight swaying slightly. “If Topper and Kelce were here they’d sing with me…” She spoke out slowly, intoxication evident in her movements
“What’s this shitty song anyways? He spoke out hands on the girl's shoulders leading her out the room towards the doors to leave, mumbling a small ‘watch it’ guiding her around a broken vase on the floor.
“Shitty song!?” she gasped out, offense evident in her tone. “Don’t do Troye Sivan like that!” she said defensively.
“Who?” He continued as he guided her towards the steps of the patio, she stopped turning to him with a frown on her face, he had to stifle his laugh as she tried to defend the song, she was so worked up about it in her drunken state.
“Sorry princess, I didn’t know you were such a hardcore fan of, what was it Trevor?” looking down at her with a smirk, his grip kept on her hips as he waited for her response, guiding her down the stairs slowly, knowing her luck she’d slip and twist her ankle.
“Troye Sivan!" she exclaimed annoyed at him, "He’s so fine.” Y/n slurred out as she stepped down the patio slowly holding onto the handrail and looking down at the steps, he couldn’t hold back his laugh, watching her drunken mind struggle to keep up with what she was saying and doing.
“Is that so? I thought you only had eyes for me” He teased, he knew you were just being playful from the alcohol, but deep down a part of him wanted to see how you would respond to his teasing.
What was in that coke today...
“Oh but Rafey- he’s queer.” She spoke out sadly as though someone had ripped her heart out and stomped over it, stumbling slightly on their way to Rafe's car, her hand holding onto his arm for stability. His heart patted faster in his chest at the childhood nickname of his, seeming to have stuck with her from their early days. He held her slightly closer, hand slipping down her back resting on her waist to help keep her steady, as she hummed out at his movement. He let out a breathy chuckle at her saddened response,
“And isn’t that a shame.” He teased as he helped guide her to the passenger door to his car, opening up the door and setting her down onto the seat, her hand reaching out, holding onto his polo shirt to pull him closer to her, the boy moving forwards with his brow raised,
“Yes?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck as she mumbled out almost incoherently, fingers running through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He found himself gritting his teeth slightly at her gentle ministrations, that prickling feeling creeping up his spine as he reached his arm around resting it on her back.
“Thanks for helping me, my angel baby.” Her hand reached up fingers now brushing against his cheeks, which were subtly flushed. His hand held onto her own, pulling it away as he sighed out, she was ever so touchy when she got drunk, he’d noticed that when they were younger and since then vowed to always be the one to get her after a night out, God forbid someone took advantage of that, his body heated up uncomfortably at the thought.
“You’re gonna be fucked tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself that to her as she slumped back into the seat, still humming along to the tune of the song, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the dash of his car, having to pull his eyes away from her shutting the door.
WARNINGS: Non-Con, loss of virginity, depression, mentions of blood, semi-public sex, underage drinking, non canon ages, Carrera!reader, Rafe is an asshole with a capital A
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
summary: Rafe Cameron never thought of himself as the hunting type, but the more you hid, the more he wanted to find you.
⭑
You curled up in the corner of the couch with your knees pulled to your chest as you faintly registered the conversation happening around you. You tried to engage enough to be considered present, but it was hard, and you didn’t think you were fooling anyone. You were positive that you hadn’t been fooling anyone for weeks, and when you glanced up you weren’t surprised to catch Kiara’s eye.
She was worried about you.
You never would’ve known if she hadn’t cornered you last week, not-so-subtly subtly trying to pry information from you to determine what had triggered this change in demeanor. You’d stupidly thought that you were behaving normally, somehow convincing yourself that you weren’t acting differently, at all. After all, you still hung out with your friends and laughed at their jokes and smiled whenever JJ showed you the fish he caught.
“You just seem…” Kiara shook her head. “…kind of spacey, I guess. Like you’re here, but…you’re not.”
That was what she’d said to you when you’d unconvincingly asked her what she meant.
You recalled letting out a near silent scoff, the realization washing over you that you weren’t doing as good of a job as you thought. It made you wonder how long the other girl had noticed without saying anything, and then, that only made you wonder about the rest of your friends too. Granted, Kiara was your sister, so she was bound to notice more than they did, but you’d also never written her off as the most observant.
Especially now that so much of her time was taken up by JJ.
So…if she noticed…
You swallowed, unable to sit here and put in more effort to appear somewhat happy. You couldn’t deal with Kiara’s periodic glances as well as wondering what they were saying about you when you weren’t around. You knew it wouldn’t be anything bad, but you suddenly felt like the elephant in the room. Even more so when all eyes focused on you the very second you started to stand.
“I think I’m gonna go home,” you said, shaking your head the moment Kiara started to stand too. “All I had today was an iced coffee, and it’s finally catching up to me, I think.”
“Even more reason to stay,” Pope told you, and you sent him a small smile.
“Even more reason to go lie down in my bed,” you chuckled.
When your eyes met Kiara’s, she stood anyway, a sigh leaving her as she reached for her keys.
“Well, I’m at least driving you.”
Her tone left little room for argument, and choosing to pick your battles, you simply gave her a small thanks. You waved everyone else bye after putting on your shoes, and you didn’t need to look over to know that your sister was staring at you as she walked at your side.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you? I mean, if you’re not feeling good someone should be home with you. Mom and dad are at The Wreck.”
“I’m literally just feeling a little lightheaded,” you assured her as you got in. “It’s nothing some noodles can’t fix.”
She didn’t look all that convinced, but she bit her tongue to whatever was clearly on her mind. The ride back home was pretty quiet outside of you flickering between stations here and there, and Kiara’s lack of protest over it clued you in on just how worried about you she was. Its why you weren’t surprised when you were prevented from hopping out the moment she parked in front of the house.
She’d reached out to you to stop you, and there was an unsure look flickering over her face. You could see that she was contemplating how to say whatever it was she was going to say, and eventually she just sighed.
“I know that I haven’t been available as much ever since JJ and I started dating,” she slowly started, eyeing you. “…but you know that if you ever want to talk, I’d blow him off in a heartbeat, right?”
You gave her a small smile.
“I know.”
She still didn’t look satisfied, probably hoping this would be an opportunity to really talk about whatever she wondered was going on with you. When it was clear you weren’t going to give her what she wanted, she merely pressed her lips together with a nod. She gave you a soft ‘okay’ before reluctantly unlocking the vehicle. You didn’t look back once you made it inside, but you didn’t need to to know she hadn’t driven off right away.
The sound reached your ears when she finally did.
You pressed your back to the wall the minute you were finally alone, and you stared at the wall before you for what felt like a long time before it eventually started to blur. Once the first tear escaped, the rest quickly followed, and your lips trembled as you roughly wiped your face. Your gaze rested on the family pictures on the wall, focusing on your smiling face in particular, and you wondered if you’d ever smile like that again.
You would never in a million years tell Kiara what was wrong. Not because you didn’t trust her and not because she wouldn’t believe you, but because you should’ve known better. You should’ve fucking known better, and instead of listening to what you knew, you ignored every instinct inside of you just to be nice. It was bad enough that two people in this world knew just how stupid and naïve you could be.
You didn’t think you could handle any more than that.
With a choked sob, you slid to the floor, head tilted back as you gazed at the ceiling. It was the same ceiling throughout the whole house, same color and all, and you found that gazing at it—as you’d done that night—brought you some comfort. It was all that had filled your vision when you’d felt more and more detached from your body, eyes tracing every inch of it as he’d pinned your wrists to your bed.
Staring at it calmed you, the sight of it much more enjoyable without Rafe Cameron’s heavy breathing in your ear.
“You want to hear something funny?”
The voice just at your ear was low, but the suddenness of it startled you, nonetheless, and when you turned, a familiar face was greeting you with a grin. His perfect teeth were winking at you as you slowly turned to fully face him, equal parts cautious and curious. Your grip on the red cup in your hand tightened for a half a second before you took a step back, thankful that no one was behind you to bump into.
“I was just at the beach,” the older guy said, leaning in so you could hear him. “…and your sister said you were at home because you’re in trouble.”
You felt all color drain from your face at his words, and by the look on his own face when he pulled back, he knew the exact effect they had on you.
“…but yet, here you are.”
Rafe Cameron looked nothing short of like the cat who caught the canary as he leaned his hand on the couch you both were standing next to. He had a drink of his own in his hand—although his wasn’t nearly as empty as yours—and his head was tilted as he eyed you. You watched him tilt his cup up to his lips, those blue eyes of his holding your gaze over the rim as his words—and what they meant—floated between you.
You scoffed at him.
“Kie would never talk to you,” was your best response, and you didn’t like the way his smirk grew.
“I never said she did,” he haughtily replied. “Only that she said it…and I heard her.”
Accepting that you’d been caught, you rolled your eyes, and the oldest Cameron only chuckled.
“You can relax, Carrera,” he drawled, laughing again before taking another sip. “Do I look like I care if Kie’s baby sister wants to sneak out to a party she has no business being at?”
“I’m not a baby,” the words flew out before you could stop them.
Of course, that didn’t need to be said, but despite the fact that you were only one year younger than Kiara and your friends, they had a moderately annoying habit of treating like you were a child. You suspected it was because Kiara always acted like she was much older than you than she actually was. The girl was twenty, not twenty-nine, and her behavior had long rubbed off.
You didn’t know if you liked the onceover Rafe gave you, blue gaze slowly taking you in from your hair all the way down to your platform flip flops and back.
“No shit,” he said matter-of-factly and leaning in, a crooked smile on his pink lips as he shook his head. “…but you’re two years younger than me, so unfortunately, that makes you a tad more childish than I am.”
“Rafe Cameron? Childish? Never,” you sarcastically said to him just before finishing your drink.
Rafe seemed to be really entertained by you for some reason, and when you lowered your hand, his gaze fell to your cup. When his eyes met yours again, he threw you a playful smirk.
“Do you want another drink?”
You held his gaze for a few seconds more before glancing away, eyes taking in the party that you weren’t supposed to be at. It wasn’t like your parents could actually legally stop you from walking out of their house and going to any party you wanted, but considering you were still at home with no means of independence whatsoever, you didn’t see the appeal in blatantly disrespecting them. Especially since you deserved your lashings for mishandling money they gave you.
You were starting to think you’d pushed your luck enough.
“I’m not even supposed to be here,” you told Rafe, throwing him a sheepish look. “I should probably go home.”
Rafe didn’t immediately respond to that, only staring at you for a moment before eventually nodding. You watched him take another swallow of beer, his eyes still on yours.
“You got a ride?” he wondered.
“Yeah.”
You answered too quick, and Rafe tilted his head at you, giving you a look that let you know he didn’t buy that.
“Really. Who?”
All of your friends were currently at the beach with your sister, and Rafe already knew that none of them knew you were even here. When you sighed in defeat, Rafe’s smirk grew, the corner of his lips pulling upwards.
“Fine, I walked…and I’ll walk back,” you told him with a shrug.
“Mm mmm,” Rafe hummed with a shake of his head as he downed the rest of his drink. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
He took your empty cup, and along with his, set them both down on a nearby table. You hesitated as he dug in his pocket for his keys, lips parting as you mulled over if this was what you wanted to do. It wouldn’t be the first time you walked back home from a party no one knew you were at. Granted, thankfully nothing had ever happened, but you didn’t know. It could finally be the night your luck ran out.
Nothing hardly happened on this side of the island much, anyway, but you started to feel silly for contemplating turning down a perfectly fine ride home. Rafe could be kind of an asshole, but nothing worse than the average Kook you encountered on a regular basis. Besides, even though you were far from friends, it wasn’t like you didn’t know him. You were literally best friends with his sister.
“Are you sure?” you asked him. “I really don’t mind walking.”
Rafe chuckled at you like he thought you were cute, and he gently touched your arm as he guided you through the full house. His chest grazed your back as he remained close, keeping you steady and on track to the door.
“Walking home in Kildare County on a Saturday night?” he wondered in your ear. “Never mind the drunk drivers, but you never know what creep might come along and just pluck you off the street.”
You scoffed at him, and Rafe’s laugh was in your ear as he led you outside.
“Is it bad?” Kiara wondered, looking between your face and your plate. “If dad’s off his A-game tonight, you can tell me.”
Pope and JJ chuckled at that, and you merely shook your head, pushing your food around before sitting up.
“No, I…” you licked your lips. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”
When your eyes met Kiara’s, she was frowning, and you could tell that a small lecture about your eating habits was on the tip of her tongue when Sarah spoke up.
“It’s not good to eat so much on an empty stomach, anyway,” Sarah jumped in, throwing Kiara a look before smiling at you. “Just take your time.”
You appreciated that, and you sat back in your seat as Cleo asked John B. something about a noise his van was apparently making earlier. By the uptick in conversation at the table, you got the sense that the noise had some crazy story attached, and you tried to listen—you really did—but your mind kept floating somewhere else entirely, and when a familiar face flashed behind your eyes, you desperately craved a drink.
You had just set your empty water glass down when you heard a voice that might as well had been a bucket of ice for you. Your gaze was glued to the table as you froze, fingers grazing the glass, and even though you told yourself you were imagining things, your heart wouldn’t slow down. It felt like it was going to jump straight out of your throat, doubly so when the voice became so much clearer.
“I told you she’d be here.”
That haughty drawl made your hair stand on end, and you were so glad that your head was down so that no one could see the way your eyes watered. Sarah made a noise of disapproval, and you shared her sentiments completely. He wasn’t alone, Kelce and Topper’s voices reaching your ears too, and as much as you wanted to be anywhere but here…
You couldn’t move.
You were completely frozen in your seat, pinned down by some invisible force that wouldn’t allow you to get up and get as far away from Rafe Cameron as possible. You’d done a good job of avoiding him for damn near two months—avoiding any party or outing he might be at—but you were running out of excuses as to why you wanted to stay home or why you didn’t want to take advantage of a free meal at your parents’ restaurant.
You reached up to wipe your face just as he spoke again…closer this time.
“Rose said whenever you’re done doing…” he paused. “…whatever it is you’re doing to come straight home.”
You didn’t need to look up to know that small sneer was on his face. You could almost picture it, those blue eyes sparkling and those nostrils of his flared—almost in disgust. It was a very vivid expression, one you recalled being on the receiving end of when you begged him to stop. He’d looked at you like you didn’t have the right to even find the audacity to ask him such a thing.
“Did you ask what she wanted?”
Rafe didn’t answer, but the barked laugh that left his lips was answer enough.
You blinked at the table, still so…still, and some part of you—an irrational part—wondered that if you remained still, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t see you. Maybe he wouldn’t acknowledge you. Even if he didn’t do it with his words, you didn’t know if you could handle being on the receiving end of that blue gaze.
However, the way that your skin suddenly pricked told you that your efforts were in vain.
“Lunch on the house with your friends?” he wondered to Sarah no doubt. “That’s cute.”
He dragged it out in a mockingly condescending way. After a beat of silence, you heard Rafe hum.
“I’d hurry up if I were you,” he advised. “Rose made it seem like it was urgent.”
You heard him walking, and it sounded like he and his friends were making their way towards the counter.
“Nice to see you all again. JJ, Cleo…”
He was slowly acknowledging everyone at the table, and you felt bile rising in your throat at the realization. The feeling became even worse once it became clear that Rafe was saving you for last, and your stomach violently turned when his lips finally curled around your name.
“Y/N.”
You felt light—too light—and where you once even felt maybe too cold you now felt overheated. Sarah was complaining about his lingering presence when you finally glanced up, hating the way your name fell from his tongue. You were unsurprised to meet his gaze, and if you thought for a moment that Rafe would look at you in a way that was anything like indifference or contentment…you were wrong.
It happened so fast as Sarah shooed him away. There was a glint in Rafe’s eyes when they looked into yours, and it was a look that spoke volumes. A small smirk danced along his lips, and there was nothing content about it. It said so many things without Rafe uttering a single word, doubly so when he gave you a quick onceover. Rafe had only said your name, but you understood him loud and clear.
We both know I had you and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
The moment he was at the counter with Topper and Kelce, you finally found the strength to move…and you used all of it to stumble to your feet and out of The Wreck. Kiara was quick to follow you out of the restaurant, on your heels just in time to witness you throwing up what little you ate all over the pavement. Her gasp was barely registered as your stomach heaved again, and you could hear that it was no longer just your sister with you.
“Cheese on bread,” you heard Cleo say in shock. “Pope, go get a napkin or something.”
By the time he came back, there wasn’t anything left in your stomach, and you thanked him as you took it. Kiara’s eyes were wide and concerned when you looked at her, wiping your mouth and tongue.
“Are you okay? Was it…the food? You barely ate anything,” she added, and you shook your head.
“My stomach’s been a little upset all day. Maybe Sarah was right, and I ate too much and too fast.”
Your words came out a bit slurred, and you noted how hot and lightheaded you felt. You remembered that vomiting dehydrated you, and Kiara seemed to remember the same thing, reaching for her keys.
“We should get you home,” she finally said, turning to glance at your friends. “We’ll see you guys later.”
You frowned at her when she pushed you towards her car.
“Kie, I’ll be fine. You can come back after you drop me off,” you told her, gesturing to them.
She merely gave you a look as you both slid into the vehicle. You could tell that she didn’t agree with that suggestion at all, but there was also something in her dark gaze that gave you pause. Worry clouded her face as she pulled out of the parking lot, and you found yourself eyeing her. Kiara was never one to keep her thoughts to herself when she clearly had something serious she wanted to say.
You were put out of your misery halfway to your house.
“Are you pregnant?”
Somehow that was the last thing you expected to hear her blurt out, and her concerned gaze met your wide one. While not entirely impossible, you were almost one hundred percent sure that you weren’t, and you gave her a ridiculous look.
“What? No!”
“Don’t…! Don’t look at me like that, alright? That’s not a crazy question-.”
“That’s not a crazy question…” you repeated, sounding more like a statement.
“No, it’s not,” she doubled down, looking between you and the road. “Not when you’ve been acting strange for two months! You’re not really here and I feel like we barely see you now and then today…”
She shrugged.
“You threw up in the middle of the day despite the fact that you’d barely eaten a thing.”
“…and you don’t think I’d be eating a lot more if I was pregnant?”
Kiara seemed to think that over, sitting back in her seat with a sigh. Her hands were tight on the wheel, and you could see her accepting how crazy that seemed. She roughly exhaled.
“Well, something’s wrong with you,” she forced out, sounding defeated, and you weren’t able to hold her gaze when she looked over. “I’ve been trying to be a good sister and just…let you know you can come to me in your own time.”
You wrapped your arms around yourself.
“…but I’m getting scared.”
Her voice was small, and you didn’t have a good response to that. Denying that anything was wrong would just insult her intelligence and probably make her worry more. You swallowed, fighting back tears and wondering how you could ever tell her what happened. You barely even wanted to think about it—despite how much it plagued your thoughts—let alone actually talking about it.
You didn’t know how to even begin to tell Kiara that your friend’s brother had raped you…in your own house…in your own bed, no less. You couldn’t stomach walking her through what happened that night and its eventual horrifying end. You didn’t know how to tell her that you’d been so stupid…and you especially didn’t know how to tell her that Rafe Cameron was walking around like he wasn’t even somewhat remorseful about what he did.
…but instead proud.
You didn’t know how to voice any of that, so when she parked, you were quick to be the first one out. You fixed her with a look that was meant to reassure her, but you didn’t know if you pulled it off. Gazing into Kiara’s eyes, you lied straight to her face with a small smile.
“I promise, it’s nothing.”
You didn’t give her the chance to respond, making your way up the driveway.
You’d been standing at the top of the stairs for a minute too long when your mom called for you again. When she’d called you down the first time, you hadn’t even considered what it could be for, just acting on instinct and pulling yourself out of bed. You hadn’t given much thought to the fact that you’d heard her answer the door only moments before. However, the moment you reached the top of the stairs, you’d tried to tell yourself that you were imagining that voice.
That hauntingly familiar voice.
His soft laugh reached your ears at something your mom said, and the sound of it brought tears to your eyes. Like at The Wreck only just the other day, you found it hard to move. Your hand was on the staircase and one foot was already on the step below, but you were finding it so hard to will yourself to move—to act like everything was normal.
To act like Rafe Cameron wasn’t in your house.
Again.
“I wonder if she’s…” your mom trailed off when she rounded the corner, face lighting up at the sight of you. “There she is! Come on, you’ll never believe it.”
Her presence—and her hand reaching for yours—gave you the strength to finally put one foot in front of the other. The whole ordeal felt like an out of body experience, your lips parted and eyes fearful as she led you into the living room, forcing you to come face to face with those blue eyes yet again. There was a grin on his lips as he stood by your door. To your mom, it was charming.
It was predatory to you.
“You will never believe what Rafe found,” she said, sounding so pleased.
When the other guy held his hand out…you wanted to be sick.
“It was just there…at the beach,” his smooth voice explained, and you were certain now more than ever.
You were going to be sick.
When your gaze lifted to meet Rafe’s, finally pulling your eyes away from your wallet, your heart sank. Your mom was going on a tangent in thanking him while you had yet to utter a single word. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to push him into the street, and you couldn’t even fix your mind to take the damned thing.
Rafe didn’t find your wallet on any beach.
You knew it, and he knew it.
He’d taken it the night he raped you.
Despite how terrified you were, you couldn’t break the gaze. Why? Why was he doing this? The oldest Cameron had gotten exactly what he wanted from you, so what did he get out of this? It wasn’t enough that he broke your trust and violated you, but now he meant to torment you too? You hadn’t even told a soul what he did. You hadn’t gone to the police, done a rape kit or anything, he got away with it, so what was the point of all this?
Beyond the despair and confusion, you could feel a hint of anger flaring within you, and that small flare must have made itself visible through your eyes…because the look Rafe gave you had you taking a step back. Your mom noticed, and she rubbed your back.
“Everything’s in there,” she assured you. “I know we got you a new one and everything, but at least you can know it found its way into good hands.”
Both her and Rafe chuckled at that, and your lips parted as you stared at him.
The look that Rafe had given you… For that brief moment when you felt a hint of anger, just a smidgen, the look in those blue eyes had made your blood run cold. There was a crooked smile on his lips and a softness to his visage, but Rafe’s eyes had told an entirely different story. There had been a glint in his gaze—a challenge—like he was almost itching to see what you would try and do to him.
At your mom’s urging—and with shaky hands—you hesitantly reached out to take your wallet, careful to avoid touching his fingers. You didn’t even recall thanking him, but you must have, because Rafe looked you over with a quickness your mom missed, that smile of his growing when your eyes met again.
“You’re welcome,” he slowly responded, almost dragging the words out in that smooth baritone.
“Rafe, would you like something to drink before you go?” your mom offered, and both of your minds seemed to go to the same place.
Tears kissed your eyes as her steps traveled to the kitchen, and Rafe full on grinned, briefly pulling his lip between his teeth as he brushed past you. You leaned away from him as he grazed you, and you didn’t imagine the way he’d turned his head to keep his eyes on you as he did.
“Just some water, thanks.”
Those words made your knees buckle, and you reached out, struggling to safely sit down on the couch. Your wallet fell from your hands as you heard him compliment her on the house, and the more he talked, the more your stomach churned.
“It’s so bright and cozy in here,” he praised. “I almost wish Y/N would lose her wallet again just so I have an excuse to come back.”
Wholly unamused by whatever he was doing, your tears spilled over, and you didn’t bother to make your exit known as you stood and stumbled through the front door.
“Hey, you mind if I can get some water?” Rafe said to you the moment he parked in your driveway, turning to you with a small smile. “I drank more than I thought I did, and I kind of want to sober up a little before I get back on the road.”
Your brows rose at that, stupidly under the impression that Rafe only had one beer, but there was no telling just how long he’d been at the party before bumping into you. You probably should’ve asked, and even though you knew Kiara—and maybe even your parents—wouldn’t approve of inviting a guy inside the empty house on a Saturday night, Rafe had driven you home. The least you could do was give him some water to make him feel better about driving.
“No, yeah, that’s fine.”
Rafe got out after you did, following behind you as you took your keys out. Saturday nights meant a packed restaurant, so you weren’t expecting anyone home for another few hours at the least. It wouldn’t take any time at all to give Rafe something to drink and send him on his way.
“It’s quiet in here,” he commented as you tossed your keys on the table by the door.
“The Wreck on a Saturday? Both of my parents kind of need to be there for that madness.”
Rafe amusingly agreed, and when you reached for a glass from the dishwasher, you glanced over to find Rafe’s gaze on you.
“What…?”
He was leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. You only just paid attention to his shirt and the way it pulled against him with every movement.
“Never pegged you as the type to sneak out. Seems more like Kie, to be honest.”
His comment made you laugh, and you tilted your head at him when you handed him the glass.
“One of us is just better at it,” you teased. “Besides, I snuck out for an hour and a half at the most. It barely counts.”
Rafe simply eyed you as he drank the water you gave him. You felt a tad awkward being alone with Rafe in your house, but it was only because you guys were far from friends, and you couldn’t recall a time you’d ever even had an actual conversation with him.
“I’m surprised you went to some Kook party,” he hummed, lowering his arm. “What? No boyfriend on The Cut you wanted to meet up with?”
Rafe’s gaze was so intense as he held eye contact, and it was then that you realized you didn’t think you’d ever been on the receiving end of it before. At least…not for an extended period of time like this. Having all of his attention felt strange.
“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t really date.”
Rafe blinked at you, folding his arms again as he tilted his head. There was a curious twinkle in his eye, and you didn’t miss the way he ran his gaze over your face.
“Why not?” he wondered with a frown.
“Um,” you said, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling. “…because a lot of you are assholes.”
Rafe laughed with you, nodding his head.
“That’s fair,” he admitted. “…and smart. A lot of guys wouldn’t know what to do with you, anyway.”
You gave a chuckle at that, not because you found it funny, but because you didn’t know how to respond. Your gaze traveled to his empty glass while his remained on you, and a silence descended between you that reminded you he shouldn’t be here.
“Do you want another before you go?” you asked him, trying to politely kick him out.
There was a faint smile on his pink lips as he stared at you, and when he handed it to you, the corner of his lips twitched.
“That’s sweet of you…”
His fingers brushed yours when you took the empty glass, and you could feel his gaze on your back when you made your way to the sink. Your own gaze was on the faucet, and you were thinking about the shower you were going to take when you felt something brush against your arm. The feel startled you, and the glass fell in the sink when you jumped.
You hadn’t heard Rafe move, so you were shocked that he was so close.
“What are you…?”
Your words died in the air when the blond kissed you, his lips covering yours so expertly that you might’ve appreciated the opportunity under different circumstances. When you reached up to push at his chest, Rafe only responded by backing you up against the fridge. The only way to get your words out was to turn your head.
“Rafe, what…? Stop,” you gasped, pushing at his chest.
You liked to think that he was more drunk than either of you realized, but when he reached up to grab your hand, holding you against him as he pulled his face away, that mocking grin on his lips told you otherwise.
“Why?” he asked you like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
You ducked your head when he tried to kiss you again, harshly pushing at his chest, now, but Rafe was just as strong as he looked. When his lips met yours again, this kiss was rougher, and an uncomfortable gasp escaped you when one of his hands found the side of your neck. His teeth nipped at your lip, and following his lead, you bit him. Hard.
Blood welled on his lip when he snatched himself away from you, and the look he fixed you with broke you out of your momentary stupor. Your heart sank low in your chest, something in you screaming at you that Rafe wasn’t joking, and he wasn’t just trying to get handsy.
“Rafe, I think you should leave.”
Your words amused him, and he laughed to himself.
“…and if I don’t want to?”
You swallowed, and his eyes zeroed in on the movement.
“I’m serious,” you told him, voice cracking. “I want you to leave.”
Again, your demand clearly tickled him, and you realized then that this wasn’t going to work this way.
You made it as far as the hallway before his hand fisted your shirt, yanking you back so hard that the fabric pulled against your throat. The wind was knocked out of you when your back roughly collided with his chest, and once he got his arm around you, the door became farther and farther away.
“Rafe, you’re not funny,” you said to him, panicked and out of breath as you fought to get his hands off of you. “Rafe!”
Deep down, some part of you wanted it to be a joke gone too far, that maybe if he heard how scared you were then he would stop. To your horror though, Rafe seemed to like the fear in your voice, pinning you to the wall as he leaned in to press sloppy kisses to your neck. He was kissing you and yanking you up the stairs, and that only made your panic grow.
You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until your vision—and Rafe along with it—grew blurry. Your face felt cold as the air hit your wet skin, and in that moment, oddly enough, you were furious that yours and Kiara’s room doors were labeled because Rafe knew exactly which one to force you in. Your stomach turned at the thought of this taking place in your room.
Your safe space.
When it became clear that you wouldn’t be able to get away by fighting him off, you screamed.
Rafe had you pinned to your bed at this point, and he didn’t like the sound, fighting to cover your mouth. With one hand free, he could still pull at your clothes—the dress you’d warn to the party literally being ripped off of you. Everything was happening too fast, your mind fighting to understand how you’d just been downstairs getting him water not even fifteen minutes ago.
“Rafe, please,” you tearfully begged him, pushing against him and hitting him despite the little damage it was doing. “Get off, get off, please!”
The light from the hallway cast onto his face, and so you didn’t miss the sneer Rafe gave you. You didn’t miss the way his lip curled over his teeth, a look passing over his face like he couldn’t believe you dared to ask that of him. He even let out a soft laugh. He pushed against your chest as he reached between you, painfully holding you down, and your legs kicked around him, nails drawing blood on his arm.
You felt like you were having a panic attack when you felt the tip of him graze you. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and Rafe didn’t kiss you again until he was inside of you, taking full advantage of your shock and agony. You felt frozen, eyes squeezed shut as the pain between your legs became unbearable, and when he tasted the inside of your mouth, you noted that there was hardly a hint of alcohol in his.
You sat behind some stranger’s car, arms wrapped around your knees as you fought to catch your breath. The sounds of the party on the beach reached you all the way to the parking lot, and you wondered why you fought so hard to act normal when nothing was normal. You weren’t okay, and it was growing increasingly more difficult to pretend you were.
You just wanted Kiara and your friends to stop worrying.
You hadn’t expected to see Rafe of all people on the beach when you joined the festivities. He tended to prefer a fancy house party with coke and other party favors. One look at him had you stopping in your tracks, and you’d made sure to look elsewhere before Cleo could notice.
“You okay?” she’d asked you, and unable to come up with a believable lie, you just told her you’d be right back.
That had to have been at least twenty minutes ago, and no matter how many times you started to, you couldn’t bring yourself to get up. Rafe was tormenting you…and you didn’t know why. You hadn’t missed the slight curve of his lips when your eyes briefly met his before you left the crowd. Before… Before you just thought that he’d sunk to a new low, just being an asshole about what he did. Now though…
Now, you were sure that he was seeking you out.
…but you didn’t understand why.
After that God awful day at your house, you rarely left it. Any annoyance your mom still had over that abrupt departure, it had long faded the more you holed away in your room staring at your wall. There were only so many excuses you could make, only so many times you could say you just didn’t feel good before someone demanded you go see a doctor.
Out of excuses—and just wanting to ease everyone’s worry—you tagged along tonight…and now you regretted it.
You didn’t know how to go back out there and pretend like he wasn’t in the crowd—watching you, no doubt. You wouldn’t be able to relax for a second, too busy looking over your shoulder and avoiding Rafe Cameron at all costs. You pressed your hand to your mouth, struggling to breathe as you cried and telling yourself that you had to do something because if they weren’t already, your friends would be looking for you soon.
With difficulty, you pushed yourself to your feet, thankful the car was an older model whose alarm didn’t go off at any mere touch. You didn’t know what excuse you were going to give to Kiara who’d no doubt been informed by Cleo that you’d been gone for too long. You wiped your face, and you told yourself that if anyone questioned it, you’d just claim you’d had some bad food that made you sick.
“Cute dress.”
No other voice could shatter any amount of composure you’d built up like that one. It was like being doused in cold water, all train of thought lost and only able to focus on how freezing and miserable you were. You didn’t even attempt to convince yourself you’d imagined it this time because you knew without a doubt now that Rafe was going out of his way to torture you about that night.
When you finally looked over, the man in question was leaning against someone else’s car. He was sprawled against it like it was his, and upon closer inspection, you recognized it as Topper’s jeep. You wrapped your arms around yourself at the sight of him, and you wondered just how long he’d been there…watching you.
“Rough night?” he quietly wondered, eyes raking over your frame, and you shuddered under his scrutiny.
“Leave me alone, Rafe,” you breathed, moving to go back to the beach when he blocked your path.
You tried to get around him, but Rafe wasn’t having it.
“Woah, hey, I just want to talk,” he laughed, reaching out to you.
You stumbled back away from him, fearfully eyeing him. You weren’t quite as alone with him as you were before, but it was just enough for Rafe to do whatever he wanted should he find himself determined enough.
“What could I possibly want to talk about with you?” you breathed. “…and what could you possibly have to say to me?”
You continued before he could say anything.
“We both know you’re not sorry,” you choked out. “You’ve done nothing but make my life hell…and I don’t know why because you got what you wanted.”
Trying to get by him only resulted in him reaching for you again, and so you reached for your phone. Rafe’s hand followed yours, and so as soon as your hand was around your phone, his was around your hand, and the fight over the device was quick. Tears of anger kissed your eyes when he held it out of reach, and your breathing was heavy when he leaned in.
His nose touched yours, and in your efforts to back away, you backed right into the car.
His eyes flickered between yours, and the more you leaned back, the more Rafe followed until he was practically on top of you. He shifted, and you both felt and saw both of his hands come down on either side of you to rest on the vehicle, effectively caging you in. He was so close that you could faintly smell the cologne he put on before he left the house, and when his gaze lowered to your lips, your heart sank.
You pushed at his chest, but Rafe wasn’t budging.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get you alone?” he murmured.
His words made you freeze, and your eyes widened.
“…and I guess that’s my fault,” he said with a shrug. “You’re always…in the house or…with your friends, now.”
He leaned in some more despite the pressure you put against his chest.
“You make it so difficult to get you by yourself, now,” he continued with a small smirk. “So, all I’ve been able to do is just dream about that night…instead of reliving it.”
His hand on your face had you jerking away, hands pushing against his chest as he leaned in to kiss you. You made a noise of protest, and Rafe only shushed you, lips grazing yours. One of his hands completely dug into your hip at your attempt to scoot back on the car.
“Relax,” he whispered in what was probably meant to be a soothing manner. “Just relax.”
One of his hands was behind your neck, the other kneading into your upper thigh when he kissed you. He swallowed any noise you attempted to make, and like before, Rafe didn’t seem to care that you didn’t want this.
“You should’ve told me you were a virgin before I fucked you,” he murmured against your lips, smiling into the kiss. “I would’ve been nicer about it.”
The reminder of the blood that night made more tears spill over, and you were in awe that Rafe saw that night as something to look back on with the idea of fun while it had completely turned your life upside down…but maybe that was the fun part for him. He had to know how much what he did affected you.
He wouldn’t stop kissing you—wouldn’t let you make a sound—and when the hand on your thigh settled itself on your back, you tripped over your feet when he pulled you away from the car. You could hear your phone going off wherever Rafe had abandoned it, and you had no doubt that all of your friends and Kiara were looking for you.
Unfortunately, Rafe was forcing you into the back of Topper’s jeep.
Your hand was on the opposite door handle as soon as you were inside the vehicle, but with one successful yank back, Rafe climbed over you and closed it. You heard the resounding click of the locks, and you pushed against the seat when you felt Rafe lips trailing along the side of your neck.
“I didn’t get what I wanted,” he whispered against your skin, making you tremble. “…because I still want it.”
Rafe had you completely pinned between him and the seat, and your struggle grew frantic when you felt how hard he was against the back of your thigh. One of Rafe’s hands snaked its way underneath you, circling around your throat as he left kisses along your skin. His other hand was trailing along your frame, and when it started to push at your dress, the hand around your neck tightened.
You could barely breathe properly now…let alone scream.
Rafe’s breathing was heavy, evident in the way his chest heaved against your back. It didn’t stop him from pulling your head back and kissing you though, all the while releasing himself, the sound of his zipper loud in the otherwise car. Your friends were long gone from your mind, now, with your only focus on how you were going to handle this again.
Tears kissed your face as you reached up to pull at Rafe’s hand, but his grip was tight, and your grip started to slip the moment you felt him press the head of his cock into you. Your toes curled, body going still as memories of the last time flashed behind your eyes. Your underwear pulled over his hand, his fist keeping them completely pushed to the side as he slowly pushed his way into you.
“Just like I remember,” he purred against your ear once he’d pushed his cock into you to the hilt.
His movements had you gripping the seat of Topper’s Jeep, your feet kicking back at the door. His thrusts were slow, reminiscent of the last time, but unlike now, Rafe had only slowed his pace then once he saw the faint blood on his cock. Now, you didn’t know if he’d meant what he said earlier about being gentler or if he was simply trying to savor it.
When his hand finally let your throat go, you greedily sucked in air, but your relief was short-lived when his whole arm found its way around your neck. You had no choice but to hold onto it as he snapped his hips against you, the slow plunge of his cock forcing a whine from you. Rafe’s forehead rested on the back of yours, and you could both feel and hear how much he was enjoying this.
“I almost didn’t want to leave that night,” he breathed, a gasp escaping when he curved his hips against you. “I could’ve fucked you all night.”
The inside of the Jeep was filled with the sound of your reluctant moans and Rafe’s heavy breathing and words. You could feel your body becoming lighter and lighter, and you knew it had nothing to do with Rafe’s arm around your neck. The feel of his thrusts became easier to bear, and like that night, you found your gaze focusing on the door…just as you’d done with the ceiling.
The knowledge that he hadn’t just been tormenting you but had been seeking you out for a reason left you feeling a little numb. The whole reason you hadn’t done a thing about it in the first place was because you just wanted to avoid Rafe Cameron at all costs. He was violent and terrifying, and those two things had scared you into simply scrubbing yourself raw that night before crying yourself to sleep. You thought that he’d gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone.
…but you never considered that it wasn’t about the sex or the power, at all.
It was about you in particular and the power he wanted over you, the gratification he wanted from you.
It was why he boldly acknowledged you knowing exactly how terrified you were of him. It was why Rafe dared to enter your home once again, knowing exactly what the sight of him in there would do to you. It was why he taunted you and challenged you to even dare to retaliate. You didn’t know if Rafe was just some bully who decided you were it, or perhaps something just a tad more sinister.
When he flipped you onto your back, he didn’t like the blank look in your eyes.
“Uh uh, look at me,” he softly demanded, lightly tapping your cheek. “Look right at me.”
When you refocused on his face, more tears spilled over, and you were sure Rafe liked the sight of them. He leaned down with a hand on your throat, your knees to your chest and your feet resting against his stomach as he leaned over you, stuffing you full of his cock. The sound of it sliding into you over and over again was loud in the vehicle.
Your eyes were on Rafe’s, and his blue gaze never left you, lips parting as he watched your face. He slowed his hips down, thrusting into you at a languid pace, and when you clenched around him, a slow smile danced along his lips—crooked and taunting. He studied your face like he was fascinated by it, and you were reminded of that night at the party.
He’d looked like the cat who caught the canary. In your own house, he’d reminded you of a wolf toying with some poor deer before putting it out of its misery when you looked back on it. Every time your eyes had met his in public—including now—Rafe looked like nothing would be more fun than taking you between his teeth.
As he continued to fuck you in the back of his best friend’s car, you had the realization that around Rafe Cameron, you very much felt like prey, and the man on top of you had long come to that same conclusion before you did.
…and he’d pounced the moment your back was turned.
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, more warnings to come. 18+ only, mdni.
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.
𝘼/𝙉: This is just a sneak peak of a new Rafe fic I’m working on— I just want to see if anyone would be interested if I was to post it! Do let me know if it’s any good and tag any Rafe blogs you think might enjoy this! (as I suspect I don’t have many Rafe fans following me haha)
“Her.”
Rafe looks over to the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”
Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.”
“And?”
“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.
“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.”
“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??”
Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends gape at him in disbelief like a bunch of gormless losers. He often wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him.
That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies’ money. Yeah, they didn’t peak his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.
Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.
“Well, what about that one?”
Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single sorry slut he’d ran through.
Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.
You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.
“Who is she?”
“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.
“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.
“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”
“I heard she was homeschooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”
Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any.
Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable.
He licks his lips.
“How long?”
“Huh?”
He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?”
Topper raises an eyebrow.
“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”
Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”
They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet he can tell you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—
“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and—
“A week.”
“Mm?”
“A week to fuck her. With proof.”
Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it.
“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”
“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.
“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”
Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little college freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.
You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss yet. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.
He’d have fun ruining you.
AGAIN, this is just a sneak peak! let me know what you think!! i’m not quite sure if i want to post a rafe fic since my followers/blog are not really rafe centric but i thought i’d give it a try if there’s enough interest!!!
summary: dating rafe cameron was an absolute bliss. yet apparently, it didn't take rafe long to find a replacement for you; same hair, same smile, same voice. just older, more elegant, and a more mature style of living. things went messy when you riled each other up during a dinner party. that night, you made sure to remind him of the mess he left when he went away.
content: angsty smut with 1,5k worth of plot/build-up, ex!switchy!rafe x dom!reader, reader mentioned as pervy, equally trashy-mouthed rafe and reader, subby!rafe, slight dryhumping, unprotected p in v, blow&handjob, cheating, almost caught
a/n: first smut content i've done 🤞
How do you put the love you two had into words? There's truly no words mankind could ever make up to explain how deep and devoted your love was to him. You were willing to give him your heart and soul if you could, you were convinced he was too. Well, to be exact, at least he used to be. Everything was so perfect. He adored and spoiled you all day every day. Looked at you like you were the center of the universe, his world orbiting around you as do yours with him.
Now, every turn in Figure Eight will always lead you back to the same view; Rafe and his somehow always dolled up doggone girlfriend. Sometimes you wish you had it in you to convince yourself that he's only dating her to look good, solely for image purposes. That at the very least, he's not in love.
But when you saw his eyes, it turned out his eyes saw only hers.
A totally unoriginal older version of you, just wiser, more level-headed, poised, trophy wife material. She was anything but the perverted you that went down on Rafe in the middle of a shitty movie in a dark theater. An absolute goddamn priss, she was; something the Rafe you knew wouldn't even bat an eye towards back then. What made you want to throw up even more was that at some point, they seemed somewhat cute and sweet together.
So of course it clawed on your chest when you had to sit across them during a dinner party held by Ward in Tannyhill for your families- which, very unfortunately have been friends for the longest time. Didn't even bother to acknowledge the obvious tension between you and his eldest son ever since the break up. Actually, barely acknowledged you. Even your own old man.
Your dad looks over towards Rafe's girl, "So you have four younger siblings?" He asked, smiling politely, just a tad impressed, "You must know how to run a household then."
As she nodded her head and smiled sweetly, responding with that eloquent way of speaking, you rolled your eyes, scoffing just faintly– which earned you a nudge on the arm by Sarah, who was sat beside you. "What?" You huff, "Babysitting's no life or death situation." You murmured to her, glancing back to the girl with squinted eyes, one of your eyebrows raising judgmentally at her.
That priss excuse of a woman was too caught up with the conversation she was having with both Rafe's and your parents to notice the judgy look smothered across your face towards her. That being said, Rafe however, did notice you. In fact, he noticed you all night long, if only you weren't too focused judging and silently mocking the girl under his arm.
Rafe's eyes followed your fingers as you picked a grape carefully, visibly searching and picking for crunchy ones as you usually do, then the way your fingers just slightly graced your lips as you place the grape into your mouth. When his girl talked to him, he could only let out a small mumbled "Mm?... Sounds great, babe", barely sparing her a glance.
Ward then looked over your way, "Your daughter... Is she ready to take over your company? Is she even capable?"
A scoff, louder now, escaped your lips once again. "'Scuse you?" You raise an eyebrow, offended by the doubt lingering in his voice, it was always clear Ward saw you as a mere reckless young woman back when you were dating Rafe. "What kind of a question is that anyways? Are you waiting for my dad to retire and die?"
Your dad tried to cover for you, eyes widening in panic, "She's just a little moody right now—"
"Well your business partner is rather loony, dad." You munch on another grape. That blunt insult caused all heads to turn your way now.
Rafe snorted mockingly, "Nice." He murmured.
Your head snapped towards his way, seeing the realization on his face that perhaps he murmured a little too loud, yet his lazy grin lingers on. You tilt your head and squint your eyes, "I don't think you were invited to the conversation, prig."
His eyes turned sharp at the nickname you gave him, "Watch your mouth." He pointed his finger at you. "I'm here at the same table and you were literally talking to my dad like a fucking brat."
"Sorry to offend the wrinkly older brat!"
"The fuck is your problem?!"
Ward let out a grunt and rolled his eyes along with your dad in sync, both clearly had enough of you and Rafe. You turn to them, "Sorry Ward, I don't usually forget my manners right at your face, but your son's an absolute dickhead and I'm over it." You spat.
Riled up, Rafe took his arm off his girl's shoulders, who looked at him in confusion and tried to tug on his sleeve, "Then do get over it, sweetheart. Unless you're all talk."
Your eyes dart back towards him, sharp and raged. "Oh I fucking will."
Silence then came across the whole table, the tension lingering on in the air and causing an awkward moment for quite literally everyone; Wheezie and Sarah trying to distract themselves by eating, Rose and your mom sharing looks, Rafe's girl still trying to change his attention, Ward fuming with irritation while your dad looked at him apologetically.
"I need fresh air." "Gonna get some air."
The two of you looked at each other the moment you stood up from your seats at the dinner table at the same time with the exact same reason. You scoff, stomping your feet the way out of the dining room with murmured words under your breath in annoyance, followed by Rafe and his little grunts. The rest of the families watched silently till you're both eventually out of sight.
"Real nice, following me around now?" Rafe said as he brush past you to go up the stairs ahead of you.
A sarcastic laugh rumbles through you, eyes squinting as you follow his steps up the stairs. "Excuse you? Ego never has and never will shrink, I presumed?" You say.
Rafe gave you a glance before focusing on his steps again, "You are following me now though." He pointed out as he made his way towards his bedroom door, the one you can still remember slipping out of every single night you decided to do something stupid together.
You follow him into that very room, door swinging shut behind you both, giving you the same amount of privacy you both always needed back then. "Because you're taunting me. You know damn well you are, Cameron."
"Am I? Or are you being delusional?" He shot you a sarcastic and mocking grin over his shoulder. "Still mad about her, huh?"
The fact that he even had the nerves to casually mention it bluntly was even worse than that stupid fucking grin on that idiotic kissable lips off his that you cant wait to rip off his disgustingly gorgeous face. He seemed so unfazed by the fact that he's arguing with his long term ex in the bedroom that was practically a museum of your memories. Your chest burned, heart set on flames by the same person that have been messing with your head for months now.
Sometimes you wonder if he even took the break-up seriously or just merely an end of a phase.
Rafe turned around to you as he took of his suit jacket and tossed it to a chair, "Have you not moved on?" He asked, eyes unable to be read this time. "What, you didn't do hook-ups to heal the wound or something?" He let out a long sigh as if he was sick of you clinging onto the past.
"I did."
You did. You had fucked men lovelessly just to try to numb the pain. Men who are a far cry from Rafe, who might just convince you how foolish thinking of Rafe again and again truly is. And god, every time you scratched your nails down another man's back, you fucking hoped he feels it. Maybe then he'll know he's not the only one capable of making you moan.
That being said, hearing your answer, Rafe paused and crossed his arms, "Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, jaw clenching as if that honest answer to his own question was infuriating himself, "Did it feel good?"
The fucking audacity. You didn't know what made him think he have the right to ask that to you. Not when he walked out the door and left you in the cold first. You didn't know whether you were imagining the jealousy glimmering in his eyes either, but damn did it make you feel good. Rafe himself was trying hard to hide it, chin tilted up in that egotistical way of Rafe Cameron.
You test the waters; pushing off the wall you were previously leaning against before slowly stepping closer to that wretched ex-boyfriend of yours, head tilting as you raise an eyebrow and whisper into his ear, breath hot against the shell of his ear that made his heart race just fast enough, "Is it even ever bad when it's with me?"
Then, almost out of old-instincts, his hand came up to rest on your hip, his palm large, warm, and familiar. Definitely familiar.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" You asked due to the sudden touch, clearly still enraged.
Rafe let his eyes wander your face, from the flame of fury in ignited in your eyes, the creased eyebrows, the lips he remembered being his favorite taste, all the way to the tiniest beauty marks that he missed. His voice came out in a harsh whisper, as if he was angry at himself for whatever it is that was coming soon.
"Something I really shouldn't."
A grunt escaped his throat in a way that told you he was letting go, his other hand flying straight to cup the back of your head as his lips were slammed right onto yours, eyes shut tight as the hand previously on your hip now roamed to the small of your back, feeling you right through the fabric of your dress.
His lips moved urgently, as if he was in a hurry or rather impatient to taste more than your lipstick-covered lips.
It was disgustingly familiar. Moreover, the way he even dared to lay his lips upon yours after leaving you in the dust was incredibly outrageous.
One of your hands flew to the back of his neck, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck while your other hand reached for his tie, tugging and loosening it from his collar. He was starting to look more and more like the Rafe you used to know; pathetic, idiotic, messy, and filled with desire and determination.
"You're disgusting." You rasped against his mouth as you felt his filthy fingers hooking themselves on the hem of your dress, pulling it up just slowly but with impatience waiting to burst out of his pants.
That dirty grin came to be displayed across his lips yet again the moment he laid you down on his bed, "Sure, but I don't see you tryinna leave." He pointed out in a whisper as he painted the flushed skin of your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses, hands pulling you dress over your thighs to bunch at your waist, fingers roaming your thighs and squeezing desperately at the flesh.
A breathless scoff escaped your throat as you grab at his arms, leg going over his hip to take control and eventually flip the two of you over.
"Not until you realize what you did." You positioned your body perfectly on his lap, soaked panties grinding on the tent forming in the trousers that cling to his legs, pulling out a breathy sigh from his lips, obviously holding back a moan.
Buttons after buttons were taken off from his shirt, revealing the smooth surface of the chest that was a nest for your head to rest in years ago. "Fuck.." He grabbed your hips, eyes widening just the slightest at your movement on his bricked up cock through the layers of fabric, "And what did I do, huh...?" He huffed out a laugh as he grunt and thrust up to catch you by surprise.
Breath hitched, your eyes only showed more anger towards him, hands unbuckling his belt with ease. "You really don't know?" You asked, leaning down to mouth at his jaw, just near his ear to whisper close,
"Well, you oughta fucking know."
Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, jaw clenching and heart pounding. Your voice and body making it crystal clear to him that you weren't doing this simply because you miss him. You wanted to express the resentment still lingering like a disease in your heart.
"...Sure thing, sweetheart." He choked out with a hesitant chuckle, hands ready to flip your positions once again. Except this time, you were quick to grab his hands off your hips and pin them on both sides of his face.
You let out a laugh right against his neck, "Oh, Rafe..." You sighed, amused by how much control you felt over him, "Why don't you be the one that sit still and look pretty now?" You say, tongue dripping with sarcasm.
Slowly, your body lowered down on the bed till your head was right above his crotch, hands already zipping off his trousers and tugging on them and his boxers at once till you were able to toss them aside to the floor, meeting his flushed cock that was practically aching with precum leaking from the tip already.
Amused by the sight, you clicked your tongue and gently wrap your fingers around his length, "Hurts, huh?" You mumble against the tip, tongue slipping out just to sweep up his precum, pulling out the smallest moan from him and a slight nod of his head, "Doesn't compare to how you hurt me then though." That's when your lips finally wrapped themselves around his girthy cock, just at the tip while you jerk off the rest of the length with your hand.
A grunt slipped past his lips, a hand instinctively flying to the back of your head with his fingers gripping the strands of your hair as he try to thrust up into your mouth to steal back the dominance, which failed as your hands were keeping his hips down. God, he tasted exactly like how you hoped he didn't; exactly like the past.
And you felt precisely like what he forced himself to think his girl would feel like; a filthy, chaotic mess.
A breathier moan then slip out, fingers gripping tighter. "Ah- shit..." He whimpered, head thrown back on the pillow, "Shit shit shit... I fucking can't... It's been awhile..."
You pull away from his cock to actually laugh at it, "Awhile? Miss Perfect doesn't fuck you?"
"She... tries... but she doesn't blow me at all..."
An even much crueler laugh rumbled through your chest, mocking his apparent misery with that boring priss, "Now that's hurtful." You cackled. Your hand pumped his cock faster suddenly to catch him off guard while you kept on snickering, especially at the pathetic look painted across his annoyingly beautiful face.
His eyebrows were furrowed, bangs falling messily and starting to get damp from all the sweat building up due to the new heat in the air of his bedroom, eyes going back and forth from looking down at you and rolling to the back of his head every now and then, meanwhile his chest was heaving up and down, heartbeat louder than regularly. He was gorgeous like that, but he was also an idiot that ruined you.
Rafe let out a groan the moment your hands release his hips, allowing him to thrust up into your hand, only for you to suddenly pull your hand away from his cock, which you felt was ready to burst any moment from now.
He wince at the loss, "I was so close! Fuck you!" He managed to let out.
"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow as your hand reach behind your back to unzip your dress, tossing the piece of fabric aside along with your panties. "Let's test that theory."
In a mere second, you were back on his lap- only this time, no fabric was acting as a barricade between your heat and his own, your hand holding his tip just to line him up to your entrance and guide him in; not that you needed much time to do so, you were practically skilled in doing precisely that from all the dirty rendezvous you've done before.
The moment you were completely sat on his cock, Rafe let out a strangled moan, head completely thrown back and revealing the surface of his neck; the perfect canvas for your lips.
Within seconds, his neck became red with your lipstick-kiss marks all over it. But he barely paid attention, too infatuated by the warm feeling of your cunt hugging his length.
His arms came up to wrap around your waist while you move your hips, grinding at first until you started to practically bounce on him, the sound of skins slapping filling up the entire bedroom, both of you too distracted to even think about whether the sound would slip out of the walls or not, not to mention the sound of the bedframe starting to creak each time your movement's speed accelerates.
"Oh fuck..." He whimpered, listening close to your soft sighs of pleasure that were like music into his ears, "Oh don't stop... please don't ever stop..." He pleaded, trying to thrust up into you but felt too weak to even do so.
You let out a breathy moan the moment his cock started hitting just the right spot, "Tell me, Rafe..." You breathed into his ear, mouth pressed right onto his earlobe, "Do you think of me when you fuck her...?" You asked, droopy eyes staring at his facial expressions.
He could barely keep eye contact with you despite trying desperately to maintain it, chest heaving as pathetic noises escapes his throat.
"Do you hear my voice when she moans your–" a moan slipped through your lips mid-sentence, fingers dugged into his skin, "fuck... your name? Or do you feel my lips when you kiss her...? My body when you touch her all around...?" Your hand reach up to cup his chin, tilting it up with your thumb dragging across his bottom lip.
"Every fuckin' time..." He finally confessed, a complete moaning mess, hips mindlessly going up and down to meet yours every now and then, "can't fuckin' forget you, baby..."
A cracked laugh was what left your lips at his answer, hands gripping and pinning his onto the sheets as your hips moved even faster, "Don't baby me, dickhead..." You whispered with a quiet moan.
Just when his lips part to let out yet another moan, the two of you flinched and slowed down the moment you both heard two knocks on the wooden surface of his bedroom door, followed by a soft and sickeningly sweet voice on the other side that obviously belonged to his girlfriend,
"Rafey...? What're you doing...?"
Rafe's heart drop, eyes widening in panic as your hand flew to his lips to muffle out his moan. You could hear his heart beating even louder now, it somehow amused the hell out of you to see him so panicked and scared. A lazy grin takes over your lips as you lean back down to whisper into his ear, "Well?" You ask, slowly releasing his mouth, "Answer her or I will."
But no matter how much he tried to get his voice out of his throat, it was difficult considering you were still moving on his cock- though slower now, the bed still creaking too loud that it should technically be difficult for his girlfriend to not get suspicious. Unless she was a bimbo too.
"I..." Rafe's fingers gripped your hand as he spoke louder for her to hear, "I'm not- not in the mood, babe! Just- please go!" His eyes stayed on yours, breathing heavily and just silently (or rather not so silently) begging for her to leave already.
"Okay." She responded casually, "I love you."
"Yeah..." Rafe breathed, "I love you too."
But this time, he was saying it while looking right into your eyes.
His voice soft and vulnerable, walls crumbled down completely.
The moment she left the door, you let out a mocking scoff at his face, "You sure do, pal..." You breathed out with a huffed out chuckle while fastening your pace, chasing both of your releases.
Rafe's jaw was slack, eyes droopy and set on yours only as his hips rock up against yours, weakly now from the lack of energy he have left. "So close... so so close... fuck.." He whimpered, the grip he had on your hand tightening even more now, signaling how truly close he was. You could see it in his facial expression as well, he was truly desperate to catch that relieving feeling of shooting his load.
Your breath hitch as you keep the same pace and movement that hits your spot just right, raising your hips and sinking back down while leaning down to breathlessly whisper to him, "Prove it to me then."
It didn't take long for him to prove it, apparently.
His hand led yours to cover his mouth in order to muffle out his loud, desperate moan the moment his hips shot up with his load painting your insides white, eventually inviting your own pleasure to be released, grinding down on him with softer moans and sighs. He was still mindlessly moving his hips just weakly while your back was arching with pleasure as warmth filled your insides- not in the lovey dovey way, unfortunately. In your eyes, he would always be the boy who left you for a mere pretty face.
Though still shaky from that one hell of a literal ride, you took all the strength you got to get off him and the mess you've both laid in his bed like old times right away. You barely spared him another glance before slipping back into your dress and panties as well as the pair of heels you've previously kicked off your feet.
Rafe looked up, confused and closed to being knocked out, "Wait..." He grunted as he rests on his elbows to watch you tidy your appearance, out of breath and still panting, "Where the fuck are you going?"
You let out a sigh, "Where do you think, Cameron?" You ask over your shoulder, "Not like I was gonna stay."
"But I thought-" He bit his tongue, eyebrows stitched together, feeling a sense of fury and betrayal, "You can't leave me. Not now. Not with this mess." He said, it was unclear whether he was referring to the messy and damp sheets or the unspoken feelings still lingering from him to you- to which he hoped you also still have. Even if just a pinch.
"Well you thought wrong."
You didn't look back at him, but you could feel him glare into the back of your head as well as hear the small hurt scoff he let out.
"After all, that makes us even, right?" You asked, finally turning around, hands on your hips, "You left me in such a mess. Now you can't even handle the same?" You scoffed, eyes gazing down at him in such disgust that it practically hurt him. "Grow up, Rafe. Maybe then you'll realize that you should worry more about how big your ego is and not about how much holes your small dick can fit in."
And when you shut the door behind you quietly that night, Rafe still felt your palm under his. It wasn't sweet like it would've been back then, rather bitter and cruel.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ this was a request i recently got! so many of my readers seem to miss this pairing but yall never send detailed requests! i love them sm and wanna write for them more.
PERVERT READER જ⁀➴ ♥︎ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ ࣪ ˖
for someone who didn't live exactly the best lifestyle, being a college student who lived mostly off of instant ramen and dining hall food that partied semi-regularly, you miraculously never seemed to get sick, aside from the occasional hangover. the last time you even got sick was when you were fifteen.
but one morning, as your phone rung with your morning alarm, there was a heaviness in your bones you hadn't felt in years, your head almost feeling as if it was detached from your body.
your arm felt like it was being weighed down by an anvil as you lifted it up to reach for your phone, managing to turn your alarm off, lying back and watching the ceiling spin before your eyes started feeling too heavy to keep them open.
moments later, you were startled awake by the sound of someone banging on your door, but instead of the morning sun that had greeted you, you were faced with a room that was mostly filled with darkness. you groaned, hurling one of your throw pillows at the door, only for you to hear a familiar voice calling your name from the other side of the door.
you were wobbly on your feet as you got out of bed, clutching the bunny plushie your boyfriend won for you at a fair, your head spinning as you held onto the walls of your dorm room, making your way to the door, pulling it open to have your dark dorm room be flooded with light that made the pain in your head worse, raising your hand to shield your eyes rafe's figure blurry in front of you, "i was so worried, i've been calling you the- what's wrong?"
you turned around, slouching towards your bed as your boyfriend plugged in the fairy lights you had set up in your room, much less stressful than the LED lamp hanging on your ceiling. "think 'm sick…" you mumbled as you collapsed back down on the bed, rafe closing the door behind him as he followed you to the bed, his brows knitting together with worry as he brought his hand to your forehead. "you're burning up..." rafe mumbled. "have you taken any medication?"
rafe's face was blurry, your throat too dry for proper words to leave your lips, so you simply shook your head. "i'll be right back." rafe leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, "you'll be okay."
you weren't sure how long rafe was gone, fading back into unconsciousness, waking up when you heard your room door open and close, seeing rafe's figure enter, making his way to your bed and sitting down at the edge of it, "can you sit up for me?" he spoke softly, a whine of protest leaving your dry lips.
rafe propped up one of your pillows, helping you sit up in bed, a pill on the palm of his hand and a glass of water in his other hand, "here's some tylenol."
you took the pill, putting it into your mouth as rafe brought the glass of water to your lips, helping you wash down the medication before placing it down on your nightstand. "you'll be alright." rafe spoke softly as he brushed back some of the hair that had stuck to your forehead from sweat.
he took the ice bag he'd wrapped a towel around, bringing it to your forehead, a hiss of surprise leaving your lips, "this'll help your fever go down."
"'s cold..." you mumbled as rafe settled down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss on top of your head, "i'll keep you warm." "no... y'can't stay... i'll get you sick..." you mumbled through small coughs.
"shhh..." rafe stroked your head, "i don't care. let me take care of you." letting out a soft hum, you nuzzled into his embrace, your eyes starting to feel heavy again.
it took a few days for your fever to pass you and for you to slowly start feeling better, rafe staying by your side the entire time, taking care of you.
but on the first day you felt up to going back to your lessons, rafe hadn't answered any of the texts you sent him, and you already knew what was going on.
after your classes had finished, you went to a restaurant nearby, picking up soup, starting to make your way towards the boys' dormitory with a few other supplies you'd picked up on the way, knocking on rafe's door.
"rafe! it's me!" you called out, and after a short moment, rafe opened the door, hood pulled up over his head, his face pale white and a sheen of sweat coating it, pronounced bags under his blurry eyes. "i told you that you'd get sick." you tsked, leading rafe back to his bed, helping him lie back down.
"you really wanna pull the 'i told you so' card?" rafe let out a dry chuckle as you handed him a tylenol, helping him wash it down. "i'm a bit of a dickhead like that." you sat down at the edge of his bed and smiled softly, brushing hair away from his face as you placed a cold towel on his forehead. "i brought soup. i can feed it to you, but i will not do it like birds do."
"gross." rafe let out another dry chuckle, taking your hand in his, "thank you."
"don't thank me. just let me take care of you." you brought your lips to his forehead, pressing a soft kiss there before starting to dig through the takeout bag, taking out a bowl of vegetable soup and the plastic spoon that came with it. when you opened the container, you could still see steam floating away from it, scooping some with the black spoon and blowing on it gently.
"mmhm? you gonna take-" cough "-care of me forever?" rafe let out a another dry chuckle.
"until we're old and grey." you rolled your eyes as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, "now open your mouth, or i'm eating all the soup myself."
"you could use more vegetables." rafe smiled weakly, and you forced the soup into his mouth when it was open, "hothothot!"
"there's your vegetables." you smiled, but suddenly, rafe pulled you into his arms, a small squeal leaving your lips, "y'know, patients don't usually cuddle their nurses." you tease, pecking rafe's cheek.
"patients also don't usually love their nurses." rafe squeezed you, his eyes blurry as he looked at you, his voice scratchy, "but i love you anyway."
"and... i love you too." you smiled, stroking rafe's cheek as you settled in next to him on his bed, "i guess the soup can cool down for a bit." you moved your hand to his chest, tracing the indent of rafe's collarbones, "i'll always take care of you." you whispered.
"we'll always take care of each other." rafe mumbled, pressing a weak kiss to your jaw. "you're the only thing that will make me feel better."
"can i show you my last surprise?" you smiled, rafe letting out a huff of a laugh as you pulled your laptop out of your bag, placing it in front of you, and opening it with your fingerprint, a random website popping up.
"what's... what's this?" rafe furrowed his brows.
"star wars new hope."
"you don't like star wars." rafe chuckled dryly.
"but i like you. and it's a good way for me to get you to eat your soup. now focus." you kissed his cheek, pressing the space bar on your laptop before nuzzling into your boyfriend.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. reader is just a sweet little cutiepatootie and rafe's an asshole, angst, comfort, misogyny, slut shaming, basically boys being boys. this is supposed to be part two of my old bsf!rafe fic (which i will rewrite before reuploading) but i got too excited so enjoy !
“a girl like that’s an easy fuck, if you ask me.”
topper and kelce dissolve into laughter, too blind drunk to even compose themselves or contain their obnoxious mentalities.
“please, you were enjoying it.”
rafe scoffs. “no the fuck i wasn’t.”
“oh yeah? then why the hell didn’t you push her away?” kelce presses on, a provoking grin playing on his lips.
“dude, i tried to but she kept coming back, getting all over me like some fuckin’ slut.”
your mouth shapes into a deeper frown, not even the slightest bit enjoying this conversation.
this is why you hate coming to parties with rafe.
as far as anyone can judge, you’re his best friend. but he certainly has a way of concealing parts of himself from you, only conveniently revealing them when he’s around the boys. and this conversation is a tough example of that.
the party died down an hour ago, and you’re itching to leave. aside from the few who blacked out before they could make it home, you’re the only ones left at topper’s house, seated in the living room across from each other.
rafe promised he’d be the one to drive you back home, but you’re beginning to wonder if he’s even in the right mind to fulfill that promise.
“and the way she was fucking dressed. s’like the bitch just wanted the whole world to see—”
your brows pinch together, your eyes instinctively dropping to your thighs. shame oddly infiltrates your mind when you notice the hem of your sundress wrinkled a little higher above them.
“rafe…”
“like bro, we can see your fuckin’ rack. we get it.” the boys continue shaking with laughter.
“rafe.” you try to elbow his side to get his attention.
“swear to god, this happens every week. they just spawn everywhere like clones or some shit. don’t they ever get tired?”
“god, rafe! you don’t have to be such a dick.”
warmth disappears from his side as you abruptly spring up and leave the room, their laughter melting away altogether.
rafe’s mouth is left ajar as his stare narrows at the doorway you disappeared through, like he’s half expecting you to return in a second. topper and kelce exchange knowing glances, lips slowly curving into seemingly conspiratorial smiles.
when the sound of your footsteps disappears entirely, his gaze shifts back to the two of them. he shakes his head and mouths, “what the fuck?”
all he gets in return is a shrug from kelce, but topper tips his chin toward the doorway, silently urging him to follow after you. thankfully, he doesn’t need to be told twice.
he pushes his hair back and adjusts the backward cap on his head as he walks down the hallway. he finds you in the kitchen, your back turned to him while you sip from a glass of water.
the air suddenly feels much cooler, brutally biting into his skin. he knows it’s unlike you to cuss because, compared to him, you don’t get angry. your heart is too soft to even let the violent emotion take root. the rare occasions he sees you express any of it are when he knows he’s truly fucked up.
but his pride still lingers even as he tries to swallow it down. “the hell was that?”
you swiftly turn to face him, revealing the simmering expression contorting your pretty little face. he fucking hates it, especially knowing it’s because of him that you’re upset, disappointed—whatever it is. even when inebriated, rafe wishes you didn’t look at him like that.
“i just—i hate the way you talk about her. she might be insufferable, but you don’t have to be so… so…” he braces himself for you to repeat the same word you used against him earlier. “soooo… mean!”
rafe blinks at you.
“i really don’t get it, rafe. you do this all the time. you know, you don’t have to put on a show just because you’re around the boys.”
“the f—i… i wasn’t putting on a goddamn show. i was just—”
“then how come you’re not like this when it’s just me?” your anger begins to subside, morphing into hurt. “you always act like you’re someone else when they’re around, and it’s making me question who i’m really even friends with.”
friends. funny you call him that when it’s not the way he thinks of you at all. and it certainly isn’t the way he looks at you.
your brows draw together, the inner corners lifting in a way that makes your face crumple softly. it’s impossible to overlook the sadness sitting heavy beneath your eyes.
rafe’s gaze drops to your mouth, to the faint tremble in that stubborn little pout. the sight of it is enough to make him want to instinctively curl his fingers around his hair.
he’s able to handle you cussing him out, but he can’t for the life of him handle that look. it makes his chest feel tight, instantly draining any trace of alcohol from his system. you’re looking at him like he’s someone you don’t recognize and it fucking scares him.
“alright, fine, okay? you’re right.” he surrenders, closing the distance between the two of you, not even sure why himself, but for some reason his body moves with a mind of its own. his arms pull you into an embrace. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”
your face buries into his chest while he repeats the apology.
he doesn’t understand why the urge to hold you is so overwhelming, only that it is. like if he loosens his grip even for a second, you might slip out of his hands entirely.
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
sugurugetos
origamiaround
areudirty
gracieabrams
germansingergirl
amandla
andulkaphoto
