#dark rafe

You were a virgin before dating Rafe. Sex never really was your interest, so he taught you everything you needed to know, he opened this horizon for you. It started normal, at first, with him talking you through it, preparing you beforehand, pampering you with kisses, even though he was rough with his thrusts, then, he opened up to you about edging, restraining, things you knew boys like him watched on their computers late at night.

You were quite skeptical, but then, knowing he takes care of you, and enjoying sex with him, you thought what is the harm in it. You ended up liking his ministrations, maybe Rafe's plan of turning you into his perfect doll for his desires was working, maybe it was your desire of being a good girlfriend for him. But, when he mentioned CNC, you freaked out. It sounded bad, scary at first, so Rafe explained that it's just the normal sex you two had, but in a forest or in the marsh. Wild. Sexy.

You trusted him, and you wanted Rafe to be pleased by you, so, with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nodded your head at his suggestion.

That is how you ended up bolting through the willows, heavy breath and wild hair. You hated it already, not knowing where Rafe was, you were sweating and didn't feel sexy or hot at all. Quite the opposite.

When his hand fisted into your hair from behind, you whimpered.

Your back hit his rock-hard chest as he wrapped his bicep around your throat.

"R-Rafe...'m not sure I wa-want this anymore", you choked, exhaling, somehow relieved that this uncomfortable experience would end.

Rafe, however, did not bulge. For three uncomfortable seconds, even his breath steadied, then, he curled his bicep, tightening the chokehold, and pushed your face into the trunk of a three.

You whined, trying to elbow him, but were frozen in place when you felt his hardness poke at you. How could your boyfriend be turned on by you in this state?

Your cheeks were soaked with tears and sweat and your glossy lips with snot and hair sticked to them. But, apparently, Rafe liked that so much, that he fucked you.

Did not stop when you whispered him to stop, did not stop when you cried out in pain, did not stop as you tried to squeeze him out, he was relentless. "You're doin' so good f'me", he praised in your ear. "Be still, don't you want this to be finished quickly?"

When he finally came, you felt your whole body going numb and collapsing in the mud. He pampered you with kisses and pecks, just as he did everytime, except this time, you tried to pull away and cry until no tears would be left.

@highonmarvel @essraxi @jennifrchck

Your smile, the sound of your laughter, the moles and marks on your skin, the way your lips move when you say his name.

So he did what any other man would, he talked to you, asked you things he already knew about, praised you.

Asked you to be his.

Then the fifth time came—the first time since he asked you out, the first time since you told him no— and he only had one voice inside his head, the devil whispering in his ear, I'm gonna make her mine.

All mine.

The very same night, he had you sprawled out on his bed, hands cuffed to the headboard, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed and whimpered, begging him to let you go.

Why would he? You're his. And he always takes care of his toys— even when he breaks them, he cares.

He licks a slow, long stripe down your neck, humming at the taste of raw fear on his tongue. His calloused hands roam over your soft skin, the way you kept squirming and writhing underneath him doing nothing but arouse him further.

Pausing just over your mound, he takes a long, tortuous moment just to flash a perfect smile at you. He was about to take what was his, and he would enjoy every. single. fucking. second.

His fingers swipe over your slit, and a shudder passes through your body. You were wet. Embarrassingly so. All because of the man in front of you.

You shut close your eyes, trying to escape, trying to wake up from this nightmare, but each soft circle over your throbbing clit made it harder to do so. Each pathetic mewl that left your swollen lips made you realise.

You really were his.

And all you had now was him.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: @sassandscribbles @highonmarvel @hopeonmars

Sometimes you wondered if he’d chosen you for that reason—if he saw the darkness in you and called it home. His perfect match. A killer’s dream girl.

The fear sat in your chest right beside the want and the ache.

The thought of ending things with JJ, of him digging into Rafe’s past out of spite made your stomach twist. What would he find if he looked too close? Would he question what you kept buried?

Summer tried to make you forget him but it didn’t. You dreamed of him too vividly—his voice a low drawl in your ear, saying your name like he’d been holding it back for years. The way his body moved with yours. The way he kissed you with a hunger that left you craving more.

And just when you thought you’d read him all wrong, he reminded you you hadn’t.

📱Rafe Cameron: i miss you

📱Rafe Cameron: tell me you miss me

📱Rafe Cameron: ive been thinking about you

You told yourself you were done with him. That whatever happened last year should stay buried. But that first frat party of the year—God, you should’ve known better.

He saw you the second you walked in, JJ’s arm looped tight around your waist like a warning to everyone else. Rafe didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched you from across the room with that stare that always burned a little too long.

You told JJ you needed a minute and slipped away, heart pounding as you searched for Rafe.

But when you found him, his mouth was already on someone else’s.

Some faceless girl in a lace top, with her hands in his hair, and his body pressed close. You turned before he saw you watching, forcing your legs to move away even though you wanted to make a scene and let him know you were watching.

But why would JJ Maybank’s girl give a shit, right? He didn't belong to you. You made it outside before the tears did, and your phone buzzed.

📱Rafe Cameron: why'd you leave?

📱Your Name: you looked busy

📱Rafe Cameron: busy?? you're joking that meant nothing.

📱Your Name: doesn’t matter if it meant something Rafe. whatever this was it’s done.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, popping up again before vanishing as tears pooled in your eyes, heels slapping against the pavement as you charged forward, going anywhere but back there. Three bubbles again, your breath held as they lingered a little longer this time.

📱Rafe Cameron: its not.

After that, you tried to avoid him but he made it impossible.

Watching you from across the quad. Standing by his car outside your building. Lingering after class just long enough to bump into you by accident—where you went he was.

At first it was unnerving—but soon it stopped feeling like fear. You’d be lying if you said a part of you didn’t like it. The attention. The quiet pull of knowing you were still the one he couldn’t stop orbiting.

Mid-October, you saw him in the library, half-hidden, a wall of books between you—that familiar prickle down your spine you always had.

“Gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?” His voice slid through the shelves, low and amused.

You smiled despite yourself, avoiding his gaze. “You following me, Cameron?”

“Never stopped,” he murmured. “You said you needed space. I gave you as much as I could.”

“I never said that,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on the books. “I said whatever was happening between us was done.”

He huffed a soft laugh that sounded nothing like amusement.

“And I told you—it’s not.” Your hand reached for a book, but his fingers caught yours first, pinning them in place. “Look at me.”

When your eyes met through the gap in the shelves, something in your chest gave. His thumb brushed your knuckles, slow and steady.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“For what?” You murmured back, and just like he always did he softened at the sound of your voice and the weight of your gaze.

“Kissin’ that girl—”

“Beth,” you correct him quickly—just enough to let him know you’d looked into it yourself.

“Sure,” he mumbled, like it didn’t matter.

“It’s fine, Rafe. You can see people… You can do whatever you want. I mean, I have a boyfriend.”

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face like he was reading every lie. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” He murmured. “Or is that what you tell him?”

The question didn’t just linger with you… It haunted you and stayed with you through your lectures, your sleepless nights, your quiet moments alone when your phone buzzed and your heart stuttered, getting caught, wishing it was him instead of JJ.

Then came the next frat party.

Then came the texts.

📱Rafe Cameron: you look so damn good

📱Rafe Cameron: upstairs now

Seven words. That’s all it took for the thin band of your restraint to snap.

You found him, and before you could breathe his mouth was on yours—hungry, reckless, the kind of kiss that burned through months of denial.

His hands gripped your hips like he was reclaiming you—dragging you up against him until the space between you vanished completely.

“Never make me wait that long again,” he rasped against your lips, each word rough and bitter.

“Rafe—”

His hand slid to your throat—not cruel, just firm—pulse pattering under his thumb.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathed. “I need to hear you say it—”

“I missed you,” you whispered, voice breaking and hoarse. “I miss you.”

He exhaled sharply, forehead dropping to yours. “You drive me insane,” he muttered. “A year, baby. A fucking year.”

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

He stilled, eyes narrowing just slightly. “No?”

“I just… I thought it was safer this way.”

“Safer?” He repeated, a whisper of a laugh under his breath.

You hesitated, unsure of how to approach this, not wanting to break the silence you swore to yourself you’d keep.

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” you mumble timidly.

His mouth twitched, brushing against your lips. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe… You know that.”

“Rafe—”

“Safe from who?” He asked quietly. “Why?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I was scared about JJ. I don’t know. I was worried about what he’d do if he ever found out about us.”

“Maybank,” he muttered his frat brother’s name, sounding foreign in his mouth. “You mean your casual boyfriend, JJ Maybank?” He let out a low, humorless laugh. “The fuck are you worried about him for?”

“I don't know,” you whisper.

You swallowed hard, unsure if he meant that night or something else entirely.

“You know… I don’t understand how anybody could be casual about you.” His voice hummed across your lips, using his hold to pull you closer. “I've never been subtle. JJ suggested it. He let me in the room that night. He knew how I felt about you. That’s on him,” he said softly. “Not me. And definitely not fucking you.”

“Okay…”

“That the only reason why you're worried, pretty? Just worried he’ll find out I never got over you? That I can't stop thinking about you? That it's gonna be you and me?”

Rafe pulled back enough just to look in your eyes—doll-like and wide—keeping his secret held close to your chest like a test you weren't willing to fail. He nodded, mouth curling just slightly—like claiming you was never in question; like he was proud.

He leaned in again, voice rough and tender. “Don’t make me wait like that again, baby. I’m not built for it.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You’re sorry? You’re cruel.” His grip softened on your throat as he corrected you, thumb tracing your lower lip.

The air between you tightened, humming with everything unsaid. Your chest rose against his, breath shallow, hearts thudding in the same rhythm.

“Something needs to change,” you whispered.

“Change?” He breathed, dipping in to kiss you softly. “Just tell me what you want, pretty girl. I’ll give you every goddamn thing.”

“I can’t keep doing this behind his back,” you murmured. “It’s wrong.”

Rafe nodded slowly, thumb tracing your jaw. “Then don’t. Let me take care of it.”

“Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “You won’t have to worry about Maybank. I’ll handle it. So I’m gonna ask you one more time—what do you want?”

“You.”

“Knew it,” he murmured. “Thought I was the only one losing my fuckin’ mind.”

AMC Theater | 7 days until Halloween…

JJ’s arm wraps snug around you as he slides the movie tickets into his back pocket, lips brushing your temple with a feather-light kiss.

“Maybank.”

That single word cuts through the noise—smooth, confident, unmistakably Rafe.

Your stomach sinks because like clockwork, across the street, in front of the bar, there he stands with a beer bottle in his hand and a joint between his lips; arm wrapped around a beautiful girl with her hand rested on his chest as she laughs at something Kelce says.

You want to hate her for being there, but here you are, those four little words from the night before vanishing into thin air because clearly nothing has changed.

Rafe sees you, you know he does. His eyes are unreadable; fake warmth softening his face, and if you didn’t know him better you’d think he was honestly happy to see his best friend and his girl…

Your chest tightens as JJ pulls you closer, greeting him, promising to catch up with Rafe and the boys later.

The two of you disappear into the blur of the theatre. JJ squeezes your hand, tugging you toward the concession stand. The theater buzzes; bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as the crowd filters deeper inside.

You try to focus—to laugh at something JJ mutters but you can’t stop replaying the moment: Rafe’s face, the look that stabbed you right through the heart.

“Fuck!” You gasp as someone jumps out at you with a Ghostface mask pulled over his head.

“Jumpy tonight, huh?” He bullies. “Next week’s gonna be better than that. You excited?”

“Mhmm… Are you?” You ask.

“Free labor?” He snorts, like it’s ridiculous. “Nah. Just excited to scare the shit out of people at the Haunted House.” His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “You gonna come by while I’m workin’, pretty girl? Got you a week pass.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you smile, lips wrapping around your straw, taking a sip.

“We’re all gonna be masked up. You gonna get all hot and bothered like you did last year?” He taunts, making your cheeks burn at the understatement of the century. “C’mon, sweetness. I know you love that shit.”

JJ tugs you along, the two of you shuffling down the steps, trying to find a pair of open seats. And as you do, someone jumps out again, making popcorn fly from the tub like confetti.

“Goddamn, you’re wound tight,” he laughs, brushing a stray popcorn kernel from your hair.

A pair of police officers greet everyone that passes through the door; half-assed pats at their pockets and a quick once-over to check if that prop dagger really pokes.

It's eerie. You weren’t here last year, but you remember the news coverage from where you sat safe and sound with JJ on the couch last year—the panic, the footage of police lights flashing against the theater’s glass doors, blood on the tile where people tripped trying to get out.

A man stabbed in the bathroom—a woman found in the back row before anyone realized the screams weren’t part of the movie.

You wrap your arm a little tighter around JJ’s arm out of instinct—the worry in your body language is crystal-clear enough for JJ to notice, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.

‘Cause who says there won’t be a sequel?

The theater hums around you—laughter, whispers, the swell of the previews—but all you can hear is the thump of your own pulse. You shift, pretending to reach for popcorn, but really your fingers are searching for your phone.

Even through the panic, something in you still pulls back to Rafe. A missed Instagram notification from a few minutes before–Rafe Cameron.

Curiosity wins and you open it up, the brunette from earlier leans into him, her perfect body wrapped in a red and white nurse's costume. His hand rests on the latex painted over her hip as she presses a plastic thermometer to his lips.

📸 @/fratpotus001

💬 caption | the nurse says I’m hot. guess nothing’s changed.

Your heart aches; jealousy and anger bloom and blossom into something wicked.

The contact alone had you fuming—the shameless public display of affection—only touching, but still. Every time you’d gotten close, something interrupted: footsteps in the hallway, JJ calling, the world never quite letting you fall apart in peace. Maybe that’s what made this so much worse.

‘Something needs to change.’ You’d said it yourself and now he’s using it as a joke.

You scroll to your DM’s from earlier in the day, needing proof of the version of him that felt real.

📸 Your Name: help me pick one?

You sent him three pictures: a bunny, a devil, and a nurse. The same costume that girl had on, thrown back in your face like a cruel joke from the universe.

📸 Rafe Cameron: All three. Fuck baby I'm so lucky. You look stunning.

📸 Rafe Cameron: criminal to send me these in class now I'm just daydreaming about us fucking

📸 Your Name: Maybe I got one more I know you’ll love.

📸 Rafe Cameron: no fuckin way show me

📸 Your Name: Nope 🩷 You’ll have to wait

📸 Rafe Cameron: I'm on my knees

📸 Rafe Cameron: Cat?

📸 Rafe Cameron: witch?

📸 Rafe Cameron: Cheerleader?

📸 Your Name: Wouldn’t you like to know

📸 Rafe Cameron: obviously. Stop playin with me

📸 Rafe Cameron: Fuck you’re killing me.

📸 Your Name: well you told me I was cruel so

📸 Rafe Cameron: never beating those allegations. Send me a preview you love teasin me cmon

You pointed the camera low, lifting your cheer skirt just enough to tease your upper thigh and a little skin, a pair of white tube socks with pink accents, and matching pink heels.

📸 Rafe Cameron: Im so fucking obsessed with you

📸 Rafe Cameron: where are you? I'm coming and getting you

📸 Your Name: I'm at the mall with JJ he's just getting me a coffee

📸 Rafe Cameron: fuck that shit made me sick

📸 Your Name: I’m sorry

📸 Rafe Cameron: you’re good baby. just hold tight for me alright?

📸 Rafe Cameron: i’m fixing it

📸 Rafe Cameron: not letting another year pass by i’m getting whats mine

📸 Your Name: okay baby 💕

📸 Rafe Cameron: love when you call me that

You blink at the old timestamp—that frozen version of him that no one else sees, so sweet it hurts. Now he’s letting another girl touch him, laughing for the camera.

Your fingers move before you can think it through, backing out of the DMs to face the image again, hit with that same bitter taste in your mouth. Double-tap. No comment. One small red heart glaring back at you.

You counter his petty attack with something simple—something you know will sting. You lift your phone, framing the shot just right: your hand curled around JJ’s thick bicep, the corner of his smile and his dimple caught on camera; hair so perfectly mussed you know Rafe’ll only assume it from your fingers running through it. No text caption, just a black heart and a knife.

And, post.

Five, four, three, New Notification: Rafe Cameron…

It takes less than five seconds before Rafe likes it—too fast to be a coincidence—his thumb hovering, just waiting to remind you he’s still watching.

You look up at the screen as the lights fall low, your phone dimming with it. JJ softens in his seat, snuggling a little closer, fresh off a conversation with one of his frat brothers he didn’t see walking in.

You look down at your phone one last time, moving to your messages, pulling up the last conversation with Rafe. The text chain, previously paired down from private conversations the two of you had shared over the last couple of days to a simple request for you to tell JJ to call him back.

📱Rafe Cameron: 💬

Three dots pop up as you see him start to type.

Gone.

Three dots again.

Gone.

Your pulse stutters ‘cause he’s there. He’s saying something, thinking better of it, before he words whatever it is that’s meant for you.

You’re holding your breath when it stops for good.

JJ adjusts in his seat, tugging his phone out of his back pocket, looking down at the screen. “Cameron says they’re going to Cowboys. Wants us to swing by after. Sounds good?”

You nod, forcing a smile you don’t feel, because you can read the situation clearly. He’d started to text you, then he changed his mind. A finishing move for the moment.

You sink lower in your seat, feeling it all; jealousy, anger, regret, yearning, guilt.

“Everything okay?” JJ murmurs, lips brushing your ear as he leans in.

“Fine,” you say.

He presses a kiss against your cheek. This should be all you need, present in this moment with him, and still, you’d trade it all to know what Rafe almost said.

The title slashes red across the screen, Stab: Frat Row. The crowd whoops and whistles, a drunk roar coming from the seats.

On-screen, the camera glides down a street—their street. You’ve walked it a hundred times after midnight, heels catching on cracked sidewalks, laughter spilling from doorways. Then it zooms in on the Delta Sigma Phi house.

The boys’ house. The sight of it, close enough that it makes your stomach turn; the glowing Greek letters welcoming partygoers dressed in Halloween costumes as they stumbled in and out.

It’s uncanny. Like someone stole a slice of your memory. Your chest tightens, fingers curling around the armrest. You tell yourself it’s a movie, but the unease twists deep in your guts.

“Damn, that’s creepy as fuck,” JJ mutters through a mouth of popcorn, feeling it too.

On-screen, the shot drifts through the door—beer pong table, couples grinding, all of it too exact. The actress moves up the stairs, and your stomach knots.

She steps slowly, past couples and drunk frat brothers ‘til she’s alone, looking like a helpless bunny in her Playboy costume as she yells for Easton.

The door creaks. A dark figure flickers past the corner of the frame—she doesn’t see it, but you do, and your pulse spikes.

The music builds, growing more sinister by the second; but your eyes are pulled away from the screen. Movement… Something shifts in your periphery.

You look left—a man staggers into the aisle, shirt speckled red. He sways like he’s drunk, clutching the seatbacks for balance as he walks in front of the screen.

“Sit down, asshole!” Someone jeers, pelting him with popcorn.

“Move. You're blockin’ the screen!” Another heckles, kernels of popcorn bouncing off his weak body onto the floor.

But you can’t laugh. Because where his hand drags over the fabric, something darker trails after it. A slick shine under the light as he reveals more and more red.

Someone stands up, attempting to take care of it himself. But he turns, the bone-white mask and the glint of his dagger makes the blood drain from your face.

“Do it!” Someone hollers, drunk and sloppy as the figure lifts the knife to his throat, catching the boy by the shoulder, slicing the blade clean across his neck.

The sound’s a wet rip—the scream from his throat gurgles with blood as it sprays hot across the aisle. He collapses in a grotesque heap on the floor.

Everything catches up with you as your pulse spikes because the spray looks too heavy—the collapse too final. Laughter snaps off mid-note.

“We gotta get out of here,” you stammer as you push out of your seat as the man lies unmoving; blood spreads on the carpet as the ghost-faced monster breathes ragged above him.

A string of curses and disbelief precedes the screams that rip through the theater; hands shoving as people fight for the exit.

“JJ!” You shout as his fingers slip from yours, the avalanche of people pulling you with it, dragging you up the stairs, nearly losing your footing as bodies crush past.

“JJ!” You scream again, voice hoarse, but he’s already gone. The doors fling open and the crowd pours into the lobby. You’re hauled with the crowd, lungs locked, vision tunneling. You claw for your phone. It rings once—voicemail.

“Come on, Jayj,” you whimper, catching his voicemail again. You swallow the lump in your throat, struggling for a breath as you press your thumb down, calling for Rafe instead.

“The fuck do you want?” His voice cuts sharp and bitter through the speaker.

“Rafe—”

“You gonna bitch me out about, Grace? You see me with her and decide to finally make that change, princess? That it?”

“Rafe, please—”

“Unbelievable,” he spits. “That fucking Instagram post? Are you trying to kill me? Do I mean nothing to you? Did last night mean nothing? I'm only out with her ‘cause I’m embarrassed, alright? Pride’s gone. You happy?”

“Rafe!” Your scream crackles through the speaker, raw and desperate for him to listen.

He stops mid-rant; voice trailing off like he finally hears you. Like he really hears you.

The silence makes your blood run cold as the chaos surges around you. And for one breathless second you’re ridden with the thought—was it him? Was he under the mask, standing by that screen, and now he’s pretending.

You listen a little closer but it’s all there: the bar noise, the club music, laughter. The sirens scream on your end of the phone, making it next to impossible to hear.

“Hey—Hey, baby. You okay?” His voice changes. “—Where are you?”

“AMC,” you sob. “I can't—I can't find JJ. Everybody started running and I—I lost him.”

“Running?” He asks, and you can already hear in his voice that he's moving through a crowd of his own.

“Somebody died…” your voice squeaks out but he quickly pushes past that.

“And you’re alone?” His voice tightens and you can hear the disappointment and anger twisted into it.

“Yeah—”

“Maybank lost you? Left you?” His rage bursts through. “You fuckin’ kidding me?” You can hear the footsteps on the other end of the phone, Rafe’s feet pounding against the sidewalk; his breathing short and sharp. “Stay on the fucking phone with me. You hear me? Stay on. I'm almost there.”

The crowd thins, the night air hits your skin—and then he’s there. You turn around and he collides into you, his big body covering you from the commotion, arms holding you close.

“Rafe—” You whimper with tear-filled eyes as his lips claim yours. You gasp into your kiss; Rafe swallowing the sound as his lips tremble against yours.

He pulls back enough that his eyes scan your face, looking you over protectively as his hands hold your cheeks, bringing you in for another breathless kiss.

“M’sorry for talkin’ to you like that—I was angry. I wasn’t listening,” he mumbles gently between soft kisses.

“Baby!” You hear JJ holler for you—your body drifting away from Rafe’s as the ambulance shielding you pulls away.

“Don’t worry about me, okay? We’ll—We’ll figure it out,” Rafe mutters through gritted teeth, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, baby,” JJ pants as he runs across the street. He pulls you in tight, a mirror image of Rafe’s reaction a moment before. And the contact makes you feel like you’re fighting air again, caught between the boy who should have you and the boy that does…

Both calling you baby.

He presses kisses to your forehead, taking a moment to calm down with you in his arms, whispering I’m sorrys between sharp breaths.

Rafe’s still there. His sharp jaw set hard, blue eyes burning hotter than you’ve ever seen before.

And in that moment, your worry shifts… Maybe it wasn’t JJ you had to worry about at all.

Maybe it was the boy who kissed you like a lover, and stared at him like prey.

🔪 part 2 👻

Rafe lets out a low, incredulous laugh that's nothing like amusement. He steps towards you, each step deliberate. “Don't start with that bullshit. You think I'm fucking stupid?”

You flinch. “I panicked, okay? I didn't-”

“Panicked?” He cuts you off sharply. “You panicked so you lied to my fucking face?!” His voice spikes, bouncing off the walls.

“I'm sorry,” you say quickly. “I-I didn't even know how to tell you.”

“Who else knows?” His eyes are blazing now, blue but storm dark.

Your mouth opens, closes. “Sarah. She was there when I took the test. Nobody else.”

“How long have you known?”

“I didn't. I literally just found out.”

“And you thought I didn't deserve to be the first to know?” His voice is raw now, not yelling but worse, tight with betrayal.

“I wasn't sure!” You're crying before you realise. “I just-I didn't know, Rafe. Please calm down.”

He steps closer. Another step and you're bacled against the dresser. His shadow swallows you. “Calm down? You've been sick for days and didn't think to tell me? You run around with Sarah instead?!"

“Please,” you whisper. “Can I at least get dressed before we do this?”

Rafe glares, then yanks a black t-shirt from the back of his chair and throws it at you. “Fine. But don't think this conversation is over.”

You turn your back, dropping the towel and slipping it over your head, pulling it down over trembling hands. Your hoodie and leggins are crumpled on the floor, forgotten.

When you face him again, his chest is heaving, the pregnancy test still clutched in his fist.

“I'm not marrying you in three months' time.” he says flatly.

You blink, stunned. “Wait-what? What do you mean?”

“I mean we're not waiting.” His eyes glitter. “We're getting married as soon as possible.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He takes another step forward. “You're not running with my child. You're not making decisions without me. We're doing this now.”

Your pulse hammers in your ears. “Rafe-this is crazy. We're not ready. I'm not ready-”

“You think I'm going to sit back while you decide when to tell me things? While you disappear to ”talk" to other people? No. This ends now."

He paces the room, hands digging into his hair, then back to pointing at you with the test. “Do you even understand what this means? This isn't some game. This is our life.”

“I know!” you shout back, tears streaking down your face. “I know, okay? I didn't plan this either!”

He stops pacing and spins to face you. “Then you should be standing with me, not against me.” His voice drops lower, softer but deadlier. “We're going to handle this together. You're mine. This baby's mine. We're a family now. And I'm not waiting around for your doubts to catch up.”

Your back hits the wall. He's close enough that you can smell his soap, feel the heat rolling off him. His hands land on either side of your head, boxing you in without touching.

“Do you hear me?” he asks, voice vibrating against the walls.

You nod skakily. “Yes. I hear you.”

He closes his eyes, breathes hard through his nose, and then steps back, his whole body still tense. “We'll talk about the wedding later. I'm thinking eloping. Something quick. Something no one can stop.”

“Rafe…” Your voice breaks. “Please slow down. We can figure this out, but we can't just-”

He cuts you off with a look so sharp it silences you mid sentence. “No more running,” he says. “No more secrets.”

For a long moment the only sound in the room is your breathing, the faint hum of the AC, and the soft click of the pregnancy test as he sets it down on the dresser.

“Get some rest.” he says finally, turning away, though his shoulders stay rigid. “We're going to talk more tonight.”

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

it’s immediately clear that they know rafe, maybe from the station, maybe from one of the bars in town. either way, they greet him by name.

“everything alright here, rafe?”

“everything’s fine,” he says, “just a little disagreement.” he rubs the back of his neck, like he’s the victim. “my girl just got a bit worked up, lost her temper.”

the officers glance at you, not with sympathy, but with judgement. things are already in his favor, because rafe has brought you up at work before when the other guys talk about their wives and girlfriends. they’ve heard all about the problems rafe has to put up with at home.

you haven’t even said a word yet, but you can already feel that it’s you against all threeof them. men who wear the same badge as rafe and speak the same language, men who protect each other before they’d protect you.

when you do try to step forward and say something, rafe’s hand is already raising, his voice louder than yours. “she’s been having a rough time. anxiety, medication changes and stuff. she did sratch me up pretty good, too.”

rafe speaks casually to them, knowing exactly what to say to paint you as the problem.

the taller officer glances at the red marks on rafe’s skin, then at you.

your voice is shaky as you try to will yourself to speak, “he…he grabbed me first. he—,”

“she’s confused,” rafe interrupts, tone steady and authoritative. the story’s written before you can even tell your side.

“miss,” one of the officers begins, “we understand things get heated between couples, but putting your hands on someone? that’s not how adults handle conflict.” 

you open your mouth to speak, but the other one cuts in, “you’re lucky rafe doesn’t press charges.” he nods towards the pink scratches on rafe’s cheek as if they’re claw marks from an animal, “that could be a domestic battery charge, easy. jail time. and trust me, the courts don’t go easy on that stuff anymore.”

they speak to you like a little kid being scolded for doing something wrong, and you feel so helpless. your bottom lip trembles and you look to rafe, but he doesn’t say anything. he just stands tall in the living room, chin up, arms crossed in a way that shows he’s calm and knows he’s in control.

you’re practically shrunk in on yourself, anxiously fidgeting, eyes puffy and watery.

“i can get her to calm down, she’s not a threat or anything.” rafe’s words are so smooth, they don’t even question it. he’s one of them, he’s credible.

“alright,” one officer says, “just keep it down, don’t wanna get called back.”

“of course,” rafe says with a nod, “thanks for coming out.”

as soon as they’re gone, he’s chuckling and shaking his head in a mocking way.

“i told you,” he says, “didn’t i? didn’t i tell you how this would go?”

you don’t say anything, you just wipe the fresh tears as they fall, eyes cast down.

“you don’t know anything about the law. you think you do, but you don’t. you’re lucky i didn’t let them take you in,” he says.

but you don’t feel lucky. you just feel humiliated, and silenced.