Rafe Cameron X Black!reader - Tumblr Posts

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

bambi eyes In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues. (dd/lg)

yours to tame  In which the Moon Goddess cruelly picks Rafe Cameron to be your soulmate. (werewolf!au) 

homestead In which you reach rock bottom after JJ gets arrested and your first love returns to save the day.

drabbles

dark!rafe + noncon + mouth fingering + face f*cking

dark!gymbro!rafe + noncon

dark!rafe + noncon + doggystyle

dark!rafe + implied kidnpping + playing with rafe's hands

soft!dark!rafe + implied kidnapping + dd/lg

GIRL U IS EATING DOWN😝😝

bambi eyes (6) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, DUBCON, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression. little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

In which your Daddy finally takes you to the country club.

masterlist

You were reading—slowly but surely. You took each sentence of the chapter book word by word, sounding out each syllable until it made sense to you. With a pink highlighter, you marked over every word you didn’t know the meaning of. You’d ask Rafe about those later or spend some time flipping through the dictionary. You flipped around in the cloud of linens you called a bed, attempting to find another comfortable position. You were reading about a girl with cat-like superpowers and the adventures she went on with her pet cats. 

Lana had told you about all the stray cats she feeds out by her house and how a lot of them will let her pet them once they’ve been around her long enough. You’ve been doing your absolute best to stay on Rafe’s good side, knowing the next thing you’d ask him was if he’d let you get a cat. You knew there were plenty out there that needed good homes, just like you did at one point. 

You didn’t ask him to take you anywhere unless he invited you. And after that lady had that outburst at the grocery store with him, his invites became less frequent. Every week, he took you to ballet practice and straight home. You reminded yourself to be grateful even for that experience since it kept your boredom at bay. When your Daddy called, you came straight away. When he told you to stay in your room, you stayed. When he held your wrist so hard that they bruised, you kept tears from escaping your eyes. When he brought you a present, you thanked him with your words and happily with your mouth. 

A knock at your door caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t ever need to respond with “come in,” as the knock was just a warning that he was coming in, not a request. Rafe eyed you, the crinkles in his eyes letting you know he needed sleep before he looked down at his expensive gold watch. “If I’m not mistaken, I was invited to a one-o’clock tea party and lunch, and my host has yet to retrieve me.”

You palmed your face, your cheeks heating up. “I lost track of time, sorry.” You closed your book, stood, and straightened out your short gingham dress, “Everything should be ready though. Bunny is dressed. I just need help carrying all the guests.”

Before you could leave your book on the bed, Rafe said, “Bring it. I want you to read me somethin’.”

You agreed although the idea made you nervous. You grabbed Bunny, who was dressed in a matching gingham outfit, and then directed Rafe over to your mountain of stuffed animals. Impressively, he grabbed the six stuffed animals in one fell swoop, “Got ‘em, let’s go.”

Now that it was starting to get nicer outside, Lana suggested turning your tea parties into picnics on the front lawn. She’d laid out a floral linen sheet and placed a beautiful flower centerpiece in the middle, along with a wicker basket. You took your stuffed animals one by one from Rafe’s hand, placing them perfectly along the edge of the sheet, “And you sit here, Daddy,” You directed him and waited for him to get comfortable, “I’ll go get the sweet tea and finger sandwiches!” 

“Don’t run!” Rafe shouted after you as you hurried back into Tannyhill. As soon as you were out of his line of sight, you picked up your speed, looking to find Lana. 

You found Lana in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the array of desserts, “These look beautiful, Lana!” You exclaimed as she finished piping pink icing onto the cupcakes. You opened the fridge to grab the pitcher of sweet tea. “Did you make sure to add extra lemons? He really likes extra lemons-“ 

“Yes, I did, I know,” Lana responded, “Don’t be so worried, it’s just Rafe.” 

You set the pitcher on the counter, taking a deep breath, “He wants to hear me read my book, Lana.”

“So? You’ve been doing so well in our lessons! You sound great to me when you’re reading and you’re only going to get better. The long, fancy words will come later,” She lifted the tray of sandwiches and desserts and you took it into your hands, “You’re a smart girl.” 

“I am?” Lana smiled warmly, making sure you were carefully holding both the pitcher and tray. 

“Yes, you are,” She assured you, “Go enjoy your lunch. Afterward, you’ll help me with the laundry, right?”

You beamed back at her, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” 

When you made your way back to the front lawn, Rafe was where you left him but his phone was pressed to his ear. As soon as he saw you, he said, “---Everyone has dirt. Everyone has a weakness. Find it. I gotta go, I really don’t want to hear about this shit again.”  You carefully set down the tray and pitcher, Rafe having intense conversations over the phone having become very natural to you. 

Rafe let out an annoyed breath, setting his phone down, “Doesn’t it look delicious, Daddy?” You asked, cutting through the tension. 

Rafe nodded, “It does. This is the highlight of my day,” He admitted, “You’re the highlight of my day, Bambi.” 

Your nervousness slowly turned into eagerness as Rafe looked at you. He always looked at you like you were something precious, even if you felt the opposite, and you found that you could easily be yourself around him. Although it seemed you were figuring out who you were every day that you were at Tannyhill. 

You poured Rafe’s drink into an antique-looking glass, one that Lana had entrusted you with taking care of, “Made just how you like it,” You handed it to him and promptly began to hand out the rest of the dishware, making sure Bunny and your stuffed animals had tiny replicas of them. With small tongs, you carefully placed sandwiches on your and Rafe’s plates, “I like pickles now. They aren’t so bad.”

“Oh, thank God,” Rafe responded with his mouth full, already halfway through his first sandwich, “I was really worried there for a second.”

You giggled, “You were worried?”

“I was as soon as you tried one and said you didn’t like it,” Rafe said, which made you laugh more, “This just confirms you’re perfect. And open-minded. And beautiful.”

“Me liking pickles means that I’m beautiful.” You were trying to follow his logic, your cheeks heated in embarrassment, but he interrupted you with a messy kiss.

As you finished up lunch, you found yourself entangled with Rafe, your legs over his lap and leaning against his chest as you opened up your book. You hoped starting with chapter one would make it easier, knowing you’d read it at least five times this morning. Luckily, you now had someone who could tell you the meaning of the words you had the most trouble with. Rafe used the strategy of not only defining the word but using it in an example sentence. 

“Ill-u-min-ate.”

“Every time you walk into a room, you illuminate it with your beauty.” 

“Haz-ar-dous.”

“It would be very hazardous to get between me and my Bambi.”

“Fuh-ruh-strat-ed.”

“Seeing you naked gets me extremely frustrated.”

“I thought you said it meant to angry,” You countered, and you could feel him grinning. 

“Words can mean different things,” He spoke cryptically, “Hey, you know, I’m really impressed with your reading, Bambi.”

You straightened up and turned to look at him, “You mean it?”

“I’m really proud of you,” he nodded. “I wasn’t sure if Lana could help you all on her own, but I think you’re making good progress.” 

You wrapped your arms around him, immediately needing to physically express your satisfaction, your weight effectively toppling the two of you over. Pride was a new feeling that you were getting used to. “Does this mean I could go to a real school? Like in the movies? Maybe law school? Like Elle Woods?” You straddled Rafe, his hands gently exploring the backs of your thighs.

“Are you talking about Legally Blonde?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, his eyes undoubtedly flashing to a past memory, probably related to his sisters, “Did Lana show you that?”

“It was really good,” You nodded, “How far away is Stanford?”

“Far,” Rafe stated, and you got the feeling he wasn’t explaining as much as he could, “Let’s not  — uh, let’s focus on just reading a chapter book. Once you’re reading like Shakespeare and shit, we can talk about college.” 

“Okay,” You agreed, pressing your nose to his, “How many books do I have to read before we get a kitty cat, Daddy?”

“I see what you did there,” Rafe stared you down. You gave him a mischievous look as you pressed your lower half closer to his. “I think Daddy’s going to need a lot of convincing on that idea as well.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Rafe’s fingers trailing over your panties, “What can I do to convince you, Rafey?”

You saw the lust in his eyes. That was one nickname he seemed to like even more than Daddy. “Slide those panties to the side and take Daddy’s cock out.”

“But the guards–” You rushed out, and Rafe’s grip tightened on your thighs. 

“You didn’t seem to mind when you climbed on top of me,” Rafe countered, “C’mon, you have to finish what you started, little girl.”

After those words, you tried to ignore the idea of one of Rafe’s men catching a glimpse of what the two of you were doing. You did as Rafe said but as timidly and covertly as possible, sliding your panties to the side and then undoing his zipper. Like Rafe had taught you before, you spit into your hand, rubbing the liquid against your hole and using the rest to lubricate his tip. 

You looked Rafe in the eyes before he could command you to, and Rafe gave you the same proud look that he had on his face when he complimented your reading skills. Rafe sat up on his hands, and as you placed him against your entrance, you made sure the skirt of your gingham dress was fully covering your ass. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly enveloped every inch of him. 

You whimpered into his ear, already feeling overwhelmed. Your thighs burned as you tried to move up and down his length, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing it wrong. You and Rafe didn’t often have sex in this position, and if you did, Rafe would just end up pinning your hips in place and thrusting up into you. In this position, you were almost in complete control, and it made each sensation feel even more heightened. 

“Grind into me,” Rafe spoke huskily, “It’ll feel better that way.”

You started to roll your hips against him, and instantly you felt something building within you. With that motion, you could feel your clit rubbing against him. As you controlled the speed and how deep he was inside of you, you adjusted it entirely to your liking, and it surprised you how good you made yourself feel, “You gonna make yourself cum on my cock, Bambi?”

You gave him a shaky nod, “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

You whimpered into his ear, suddenly burning up even though you were directly under the sun. “Thank you, thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. “Thank you, Rafey.”

“Look at you,” Rafe said, “My grateful little girl is squeezing me so good. Keep going, baby.”

Rafe squeezed you tightly in his arms like he was hugging you as you felt him fill your insides. “Fuck,” Rafe grunted in your ear, “Didn’t know you were so good at that.”

Rafe was doing something he promised himself he’d never do. 

Maybe this would’ve been an option at the beginning of their relationship when he wasn’t so attached. The idea of doing this now … every fiber of his being was telling him that this was wrong. “Everybody has a weakness. You told me that, right? I did some digging. Some super fucking deep digging,” Barry had started. 

Atlantic Crest Properties is one of Cameron Development’s biggest rivals both on the island and the mainland. Nathaniel Sterling, the CEO, was one of Ward’s closest friends, but since his death, Rafe had struggled to maintain Nathan’s favor. In fact, he disliked Rafe so much that he was purposely starting to poach Cameron Development’s construction laborers and spreading misinformation about the company’s financial status. 

Rafe had worked hard to dig the company out of debt, and Sterling was preventing future investors from giving the company a chance, “There’s this high-end bar on the mainland that he always visits, placed called the Platinum Parlor. This guy is there every weekend, at least. One of my boys tells me that the place is basically a front for a swingers club. They won’t let you in unless you’re a member, and there’s like secret codes you use to, you know, get access to what you’re looking for.”

“Get to the point, please.”

“Basically, he’s a freak. He always asks for a girl named Venus. My boy was telling me this, and I realized I knew that girl; she used to buy from me. I rode over there looking for her before her shift started, and I offered her some powder for some information. She couldn’t tell me everything, but he’s shown her videos of him doing some stuff, and he always asks that she wear pigtails, a plaid skirt, glasses, the whole school-girl look …” Rafe listened as Barry delved further into all the debauchery he’d heard. 

“...what are you implying, Barry?”

“I’m trying to say you have the perfect tool to solve yo’ problem. This is the only thing the dude gets off on, and I know his wife ain’t home dressing up for him. You have the most innocent girl in the world, and she actually likes wearing her hair in pigtails.”

“I know you’re not telling me I should let him fuck her–”

“No, no, Rafe! I’m saying that you can let him think that he can for as long as you need him to. That’s your in.”

“Fuck, I don’t wanna do that.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done, country club.”

Barry was right about that. 

You liked the way the Kooks dressed, and they all seemed to exude happiness. They matched and coordinated every piece of their outfits, and even the ones playing sports had at least one piece of expensive-looking jewelry on. 

Rafe’s black polo and khaki shorts were nicely pressed, and he looked every bit like a seasoned golfer. He also gripped the golf cart’s wheel in one hand, carefully and quickly navigating the expansive green course. 

After you made your first stop, Rafe started by showing you the basics of acting as his caddy. He pointed at the clubs he would most likely be using and made you practice grabbing them. He also placed you in charge of keeping up the scorecard, slowly explaining all the numbers you were meant to help keep track of. You quickly learned this was a more complicated game than you imagined, and you weren’t sure how much fun it would actually be to play it.

Still, you were overjoyed that Rafe had even invited you out of the house to the country club, of all places. You spent a total of two hours deciding what to wear that morning until Rafe ultimately made the decision for you, choosing a short-sleeve, collared white dress. He also helped you tame your hair into two high ponytails wrapped in pink bows. As soon as you saw how cute you looked, you made sure to ask Rafe if they made golf dresses in Bunny’s size. 

You watched intently as Rafe stepped up to the first tee, positioning his feet and adjusting his grip on the club with practiced ease. With a smooth swing, he sent the ball soaring through the air, landing neatly on the fairway with a satisfying thud.

“Wow,” Your mouth hung open as you watched, “That was amazing, Rafey!”

“You wanna try it?” 

Hands behind your back, you nervously stepped closer, “Relax,” Rafe said, “I’m gonna help you.”

The actual golf club was much heavier than you were expecting and probably too tall for you, but Rafe adjusted your position accordingly. You felt him pressed against your back, his strong arms enveloping your frame and his hands wrapped around yours. “You’re always going to start with a tight grip, and then it’s all about your stance.” Rafe placed his leg between yours, kicking your feet apart until they were about shoulder-lengths apart, “Bend your knees for me, sweet girl.” 

“This feels … hazardous,” You tried and you felt Rafe’s chest vibrate as he chuckled. 

He stepped back from you, “Try bizarre,” You nodded, mouthing the word quietly, but kept your stance, “But you look great. Now, for the backswing. When you swing, you’re going to keep your arms straight and shoulders relaxed, and I want you to turn your upper half until the club is all the way back.”

You tried to follow his list of instructions, but Rafe ended up grabbing ahold of you again to demonstrate the motion, “You’re going to let the club flow naturally through the ball,” He guided you until you were ready to entirely give it a go, “You got this, Bambi.”

You obeyed Rafe’s final instruction and were surprised that you actually hit the ball, although it landed about five feet in front of you. “Look!” you jumped from excitement. 

“You did it,” Rafe grinned, “Wanna try again?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice trailed off as another golf cart approached. Instinctively, you closed the gap between you and Rafe. 

“Mr. Cameron!” An older gray-haired man, maybe in his 50s, approached, grin hidden partially by a thick mustache, “So lovely of you to grace this fine club with your presence after so many years.”

His deep and commanding voice soon matched his stature as he climbed out of the cart. A shorter, younger man was riding in the passenger side. A gold name tag was pinned to the left side of his chest. “Mr. Sterling,” Rafe greeted back, and you looked up to see a tight, slightly painful grin on his lips. “From what I’ve heard, you frequent this place a little too much. Do they have a reserved parking spot for you yet?”

Mr. Sterling let out a pinched laugh.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” 

It was then that the tall man made deep, soul-searching eye contact with you, “Bambi, this is Nathaniel Sterling. He owns Atlantic Crest Properties, which operates here on the island. Nathaniel, this is my girlfriend, Bambi.”

Nathaniel reached out a hand, and you officially felt you’d been thrown into the spotlight. You hadn’t interacted with anyone outside of Tannyhill or your ballet class. Rafe nodded slightly, signaling that it was okay to accept his hand. The man’s grip was strong and calloused.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bambi,” He greeted you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly, “You do work like Rafe does?”

“Oh, yes, and much better, sweetheart,” You smiled, believing he was trying to make a joke, “I saw your swing on the way up. With some more practice, I can see you becoming a pretty good player.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened. 

“Rafe’s gonna have to get you your own set of clubs,” Nathaniel smirked. “Or maybe you can have my daughter’s since she only uses them sparingly anymore.”

“That would be–” The words came out faster than you could stop them, “That’s a really kind offer, Mr. Sterling.” 

You looked up at Rafe, excited by the offer, “I’m sure I can afford a new set,” Rafe stated. 

“Anyways,” Mr. Sterling coughed to clear the tension, “If the two of you aren’t too exhausted after your game, you should join me at the Steakhouse for an early dinner. Why waste the opportunity for us to catch up.”

You got a similar feeling to when you were around Barry and Rafe, like the two of them were having a conversation with their eyes. Mr. Sterling seemed intimidating, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to see more of this place. 

“Sound good,” Rafe agreed, which you were grateful for, “We’ll see you there.”

After playing a few more holes and Rafe finishing your crash course on golf, he started showing you around. There were two Olympic-sized pools, a spa, daycare, and gym, and they even offered horse rides along the beach on special occasions. The two of you explored a women’s boutique—well, you explored it while Rafe had a conversation over the phone with Barry. You noticed Mr. Sterling’s name come up a few times but became distracted when you saw the perfect dress. 

Although you thought Rafe might say it was too fancy for dinner, Rafe immediately called the attendant over so you could try it on. It was princess style, with short sleeves tied with cream-colored ribbons and a skirt flowing out in three tiers. The attendant helped you into the corset, and you were practically locked in by the time you showed Rafe. 

He was already leaning against the payment counter, black card in hand. “We’ll take it; she’s going to wear it out,” he said as you twirled around. “You want anything else?”

“No,” You spoke breathlessly. “This is perfect. Thank you, Rafe!”

Rafe entwined his fingers with yours and held your hand throughout the entire walk to the restaurant. You found Mr. Sterling waiting for you at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with large windows on either side of him that looked out onto the beach. As he waved you over, Rafe leaned down to whisper to you, “You don’t have to say anything or answer any question you don't want to.” 

“Okay,” You said softly, knowing he was just looking out for you. 

“Rafe, Bambi,” He said as the two of you approached. You took the seat closest to the window after Rafe pulled it open for you, “How was the rest of your game?”

Despite the words he just told you, Rafe looked at you first as if he wanted you to answer, “It was really good,” You replied, trying to maintain a certain level of confidence, “I learned a lot and, uhm, the weather was just really perfect today.”

“I agree, it’s a beautiful day, and let me also say how beautiful you look in your dress, Bambi,” You had to glance away, a reflexive gesture to hide the embarrassed gesture that reached your face. You smiled despite the fact that your face was trembling, “It’s new?”

“Y-Yes, thank you. That’s—" You remembered the menu sitting on the table in front of you, and then you realized you were far too nervous at that moment to try to read it. “Do they have ice cream here?” you blurted out. 

Rafe’s lips parted, but Nathaniel interrupted, “I think you’ll be quite happy with the dessert selection. Order whatever you like,” You felt Rafe’s hands suddenly on your thigh. He was trying to hide how tense was, but it wasn’t working. 

When the waiter approached, Rafe ordered for you, which you were grateful for: chicken fingers, mac and cheese, and apple juice. He then went ahead and ordered you a dessert called strawberry crunch ice cream cake. 

Rafe and Nathaniel bantered for a while about business and things related to Kildare that you didn’t fully understand. For the most part, you focused on enjoying your food and addressing Nathaniel whenever he addressed you. Some of your nervousness washed away because the man seemed to smile and laugh in reaction to every word that you said as if you were the most amusing thing in the world. 

Halfway through the dinner, you leaned over to whisper in Rafe’s ear. 

“I need to go potty.”

Rafe nodded before pointing across the restaurant where he knew the bathroom was, “It’s over there. Go straight there and come back, please,” Rafe felt you squeeze his hand before you got up from your seat. 

Usually, he’d love to watch you walk away, but his eyes were entirely fixed on Nathaniel, who was watching you intently. 

“She’s quite … cute,” the man said sincerely, as if he were thinking deeply. “She’s so pure … hard to believe she was a whore when you found her.”

Rafe squinted, nodding his head, “She was never a whore, Nathaniel.”

“She knows how to fuck, doesn’t she?” 

“She comes from unfortunate circumstances, yes, but I’d appreciate it – greatly – if you didn’t call her that,” Rafe tone was sharp as he leaned closer, elbows on the table, “I really want to work something out with you, Nathaniel, but you’re not going to treat me like I’m just Ward’s son. I want something from you, and you want something from me. I’ll respect you if you treat me the same.”

“You’ve grown attached,” Nathaniel seemed to brush off Rafe’s intensity, “I apologize. Really, I’ve spent a short time with her, and I’m already quite enamored. I admire you, Rafe. You’ve trained her quite nicely.”

“She’s a good girl,” Rafe tried to set his emotions aside, and the feelings he had about you that seemed to make him go crazy. He needed to be cold. He needed to be the Rafe who’s able to pull a trigger and not feel any remorse, “She’s under tight lock and key. She’s under my watch, and I know exactly where she is 24/7.”

“Cameras?” Nathaniel’s interest peaked. 

“In her playroom,” Rafe shrugged.

“Huh,” The man’s jaw clicked, “I want pictures and videos, at the very least.”

This is what Rafe wanted but he couldn’t help but feel pause. The man in front of him was desperate. He could own Nathaniel with the knowledge he was giving up and the secrets that you could probably draw from in. It was dangerous involving you, but what Barry said was true, you were going to open doors for him. 

“At the very least?”

“Yeah, everything after that we can negotiate.”

Rafe could only think for a minute because you were happily skipping back towards the table. Your hands were cradled together, open towards him and holding peppermints, “Look, Rafe, they had a whole bowl of free mints in the bathroom,” You chirped, “I’m going to save some of these for Lana if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s fine.” Rafe smiled at you. “I was just telling Nathaniel about the amazing tea parties you like to throw.”

As you plopped down in your seat, your princess-style dress puffing up and then deflating like a balloon, your eyes widened. “It’s really fun!” you added. “Next time, I want to paint tea-cup handles. You should come, Mr. Sterling. Is that okay?”

The two men exchanged glances before Nathaniel narrowed his eyes back on you, running a hand over his face to smooth down his mustache, “That sounds delightful, sweetheart.”

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Drew Starky : exist

Me:

Drew Starky : exist

Me:

tell me lies

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, themes of murder and grief, gaslighting, use of a gun, angst, betrayal, forced relationship, pregnancy, dark!rafe cameron x peterkin!reader

Summary: The murder of your mom leads to the downward spiral of your life. You couldn't have wished for a more supportive boyfriend to help you through it. Retrospectively you should have. l wc: 3.6k

Notes: I've been cravinggg this mf trope, i love when he reeks of desperation, what can i say? also the second section of this is lightly inspired by my sweet @softcoreparadise ifykyk.

18+ ONLY. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

“Y/n what the- what are you doing?!”

Your heart races beyond compare at the given situation. Not in a million years would you have guessed that you’d be in a predicament like this.

The wet sleeve of your hoodie clings to your arm as your finger trembles over the trigger. Droplets of water trickle down the barrel, reminding you of just how lucky you were to dig it out of the water before he could catch up to you.

The road’s dark, aside from the light shining from his truck. You can feel subtle warmth along your backside, radiating from the engine, while his headlights cast a spotlight on him.

“Are you crazy?” He stares at you wide eyed. “You- you’re serious right now? You’re trusting Pogues over me now? You can’t see that they’re fucking lying to you y/n!? It’s what they do!” 

“Rafe please!”

He steps a foot closer and instinctually you straighten your arms out, tightening your grip on the barrel. You squeeze your eyes shut for a split second yet the warm droplets still manage to fall down your face. 

How could you have known that today would end like this? All because you happened to be picking up food from the wreck at the same time they were there.

You had been sitting at a table, patiently waiting for your order to be called out, when you were ambushed by the five of them. After a few preposterous sentences came from their mouths you were getting up out of your seat, and walking away from them with the purest look of disgust.

You didn’t know why they would go out of their way to say something like that to you. You didn’t have a problem with them. Your boyfriend did, but you had always been cordial to them. The jarring interaction with them had you understanding that they didn't even deserve that. What they said- no accused your boyfriend of was low even for them.

You’re well aware that Rafe isn’t an angel, but alluding to him being involved with your mom’s murder? It was more than foul. It was downright sick.

Later that evening, when you were at Tannyhill, Rafe could tell something was off with you. After enough of his prying you confessed what happened. Initially you didn't want to tell him because it's still a sensitive subject for you. It had only been a couple months and it was still hard to talk about her.

Your lashes batted uncontrollably and you sniffled softly as you told him. When your mouth shut, he entirely flipped out. Not at you of course, but at the fact that they would say some shit like that.

Immediately he grabbed his keys and left the room. You followed him out and tried to stop him from doing something he’d regret, but his mind was already made up. You had no power in stopping him so what did you do?

You hopped into the passenger and pleaded with him.

He wasn’t having any of it though. The streets were a blur as he sped down the road. At some point he had reached over to the glove compartment, in front of you, and pulled out his gun.

You fully anticipated him getting violent but that was a little too far.

He fiddled with what you vaguely remember as the magazine, checking to see if it was loaded. When you expressed your concern he responded to you in a way that let you know he was dead set on hurting someone. 

A big part of your heart appreciated that he was so willing to defend you, but at the same time you didn't want anyone getting seriously hurt. No matter what they said to you.

You had never seen him that upset. You hated that it crossed your mind but he honestly looked as if he were ready to kill each and every one of them.

You didn’t realize you were crying until his hand brushed your thigh.

“Why are you treating me like I’m the bad guy?” He brought his fingers to his chest, frantically looking away from the road at you. “They- they disrespected you. While you’re grieving at that. You think I’m just gonna let that shit slide?”

“Can we please just go back. I don’t want this.” 

He shook his head, “Nah.” 

“Don’t I have a say?! Like you said I’m the one grieving! Shouldn’t it matter what I want!” 

“Listen to me" He squeezed your thigh, "If you let a pogue disrespect you and do fuckin nothing about it, they’ll get real comfortable doing that shit again.”

You frowned at how hellbent he was.

“If they got the balls to say that bullshit to your face, think about who else they're telling this- this story to. What if they tell Shoupe, hmm? You know how that looks for me?”

“Who cares?! You understand that this wouldn’t exactly help your case right?! It’s clearly some sick joke for them to get under your skin. And it’s fucking working.”

“My case? My case?!” He repeated your words back to you, glancing between you and the empty road.

“Yes! Your case!” 

No matter how silly or outlandish. You’re certain that out of respect for your mom Shoupe would investigate every lead he got. Not that he would believe them.

However, it would be an entirely different story if Rafe attacked them tonight. 

Then that’s when it dawned on you. Why did he even care if they told the cops? It wasn’t like he didn’t have a solid alibi.

“You’re acting as if they’re right or something” the words fell from your mouth without a thought, simply out of frustration. You knew you didn’t believe that, but by the way the vehicle abruptly stopped you couldn’t say the same for your boyfriend.  

“Get the fuck out.”

You turned in his direction, and it was like a stranger was staring back at you. You frowned deeply at him, and he added on to his previous words. 

“Don’t ever say some shit like that to me. I’m trying to defend you and-and you take their fucking side?!”

“I didn’t mean it like that! You should know that Rafe! You’re so blinded by wanting to teach them a lesson that you’re not considering how I feel. Why do you even care this much? Why cant you just drop it.” 

You unbuckled your seatbelt, readying yourself to get out the car, even though you knew damn well that he really didn't want you to leave.

He let out a huff before putting the gun on the dash. He reached out to you, gently cupping your chin. You were hesitant but eventually leaned into his touch. His lips met your forehead, before he pressed his head to yours, your noses brushed each others, and you closed your eyes feeling ok in this little moment. 

“I care this much because I love you.” You parted your lips at his stubborn defense, ready to tell him that if he cared he’d leave it alone. You tried to pull back but before you could his lips were on yours. His hand tugged you in at your jaw overwhelming you with his passion.

When he pulled away you sighed, and he noted you in all your frustrated glory. 

You were struggling to contain a rogue sniffle, when you felt him set the cold gun in your lap, “Hold onto it if it makes you feel better. I can get my point across without it.”

He put the car back in drive and you don’t know why you said what you did next, maybe because he still hadn’t dropped it. 

“Where were you Rafe. Tell me again.” He reeled back and tilted his head at you in shock. You felt dumb for asking but couldn't help it, “M'not saying that I doubt you. Just need you to tell me again so I don't feel fucking crazy.”

You knew where he was that day, but something in you was itching to be reaffirmed. You needed it so bad for some reason. 

His lips slowly parted, “I was crashing at Barry’s. Remember 'cause my dad kicked me out?” 

Your lip curled downward, you swore he told you that he was hiding out at the Glisson’s beach house. Your fingers steadied the cold gun on your thigh.

“No, you told me you were at the Glisson’s. I remember because you mentioned that they were in Sun Valley at the time.” 

He looked at you, and you looked at him and for a split moment there was this glint in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right I did stay there. I crashed earlier at Barry’s then went over there.”

Your mind began wondering then, replaying that look he gave you. 

“I guess that makes me feel… better” you tried to lie to yourself to feel better. It didn’t work though, specifically because you noticed how he let out a deep breath. Like it was a relief to hear you say that.

In that moment your mind wandered back to that glint in his eyes… 

That was when you put two and two together that maybe Rafe wasn’t so adamant on handling this because of you. Maybe it’s because he was really trying to protect himself. What if they were right, you thought.

That was when you looked at the lock, then the door handle. Without much further contemplation you swung it open and hurdled out the passenger side, clutching the gun in your hand. The ground hurt, and you definitely got some scrapes, but the adrenaline set in instantaneously. You got to your feet and ran into the brush, accidentally falling into a rain induced wetland. You lost the gun momentarily and retrieving it soaked the entirety of your sleeve in the process. 

Not far in the distance you heard him calling after you. Quick thinking had you praying that he left the truck running. You ran back to the road in hopes that he was too occupied with searching for you.

That’s how you ended up with Rafe now staring down the barrel of his own gun, at the hands of you. His girlfriend.

Tears trickle down your face.

“Did you kill her?” The words came out choked. Scared of what could be your reality.

“No! I didn’t kill her!” He exhales deeply, blue eyes frantically looking between yours. “C’mon this is ridiculous. Baby? Would you put the fucking gun down.”

“Why don’t I believe you.” You sniffled, voice uneven. “Make me believe you, Rafe.”

You love him, so why are you struggling so bad with the simple act of trusting his word. 

“These fucking pogues.” He mumbles under his breath, bringing his palms to his forehead as he begins pacing back and forth.

He turns his back to you with his hands on his head, and you continue to clutch the weapon. You guys stay still like this for a bit.

When he finally turns back around, you notice how his eyes are watery and he looks distraught. But worst of all he looks guilty.  

“No…”

"Listen you know that you mean everything to me, right? It- it was a mistake, it happened so fast.” Your stomach dropped beyond compare.

The click of the trigger was deafening, especially considering how no loud sound followed. 

Rafe’s eyes grew wide, then his brows immediately began to furrow. Anger washed over him as he practically lunged at you, trapping you between him and the hood of the vehicle.

He yanks the gun out of your hands, and immediately opens the mag releasing a heap of water and bullets onto the road.

His breaths were heavy but he managed to chuckle.

“If this didn’t happen to get wet, I would be laid out on the ground. You want to kill me y/n?” He was so serious now staring down at you as he caged you to the warm hood. “I tell you that you're everything to me, and you try to kill me.” He scoffs, "Didn't even give me a chance to explain, or-or fucking apologize?"

Your hand instantly connects with his face and you had no words aside from calling him a psychopath.

He touched you, held you, and took care of you as if he wasn’t responsible for your pain. 

“She was going to shoot my dad.” Your heart clenched at the full admission.

His hand gently grabs your face trying to get you to look at him, to force his perspective onto you. Your resistance is met with a much more harsh grip as he searches your eyes for god knows what. 

“I had to protect him” 

That broke you. Who’s he to say that protecting his father was worth taking your mothers life?

“Fuck you.” You choked out. You didn’t expect him to snake his arms around you in a hug, forcing you to sob into his chest.

You tried to push him off but too exhausted, and hurt and warn out you gave up. He held you for what felt like a painful eternity, then moved to cup your face. 

“I’m sorry. I am.”

“You disgust me. You...” You couldn't think of a word to describe how evil someone has to be to do this. It felt surreal.

“I love you” 

“You don’t love me.” You push at him feeling nauseous, but of course he doesn't move.

“I do. Come on y/n, you just attempted to kill me and here I am looking past it. Does that not show you anything?” 

“You killed my mom. Then played me for a fool. You lied to my face for months and pretended like everything was normal.” You couldn’t help the tears, and shakiness of your breath.

His lips brushed yours and you wanted to throw up. 

“I fucked up I know, but I’m gonna make-”

“You’re delusional and clinically fucking insane if you think that anything on earth could make this right. I want nothing to do with you.”

His jaw ticked at that, before nodding off to himself.

“That’s too fucking bad then.” He sighed before kissing your forehead and dragging you back to the passenger side. 

-

Five months later... 

“I’ve been patient haven't I?”

His ring clad hand encases your throat, while his other digs into the meat of your hip. He ruts into you like a man starved. “How much longer you gonna keep icing me out, hmm?” 

‘Icing out’ didn’t grasp the true gravity of your relationship, but of course he would describe it in such a way that reduces the gravity of everything that he'd done.  

You bat your eyes shut, at a particularly deep stroke, ignoring his dumb question.

Your monstrous hormones were to blame for the way you were dripping down onto the sheets. The bottom of your ass' damp with wetness as he pleases your walls. Even though you despise him, you can’t do anything about how well he knows your body. He cracked the code way before you knew he was a murderer.

He manages to bring you to an earth shattering release, for the second time tonight.

His hand moves from your hip to pin your hand near your head. His fingers intertwine with yours, but you don’t reciprocate the action. He buries his head between your neck kissing there, and sucking at the sensitive skin, likely leaving a mark as he slowly rocks into you.

“Why do you do that?” You groan, as he pulls away to look down at you.

“So everyone knows you’re mine” 

You roll your eyes at that and he brings his lips to your perked nipple, swirling his tongue against it.

You bite back a moan, “Everyone is well aware Rafe.”

He rubs the gold band that rests on your finger, before moving to spread his hand along your rounding belly. 

After that fated night, things changed within an instant. It was a blur honestly. Your hatred for Ward is level with the amount you hold for Rafe. Mainly, because he forced you to go to the courthouse with his son the day after the incident. Something about married couples not being able to testify against each other in court.

Rafe groaned at the feel of you sucking him in, “Can never be too sure”

The overstimulation was getting to you, like bad. His name slips from your mouth, a subtle plea for him to keep doing whatever the fuck he’s already doing down there.

“Can’t keep this shit up when the baby arrives.” His hand cradles your jaw, and his lips brush yours. 

“Good thing I have 5 more months.”

You whine out as his thumb connects with your bundle of nerves. His toying of your clit makes you become increasingly more vocal.

“Tell me you love me.” His lips ghost over yours and you tut out of annoyance, you hated when he did this.

You hadn't told him those three words since you found out what he did, and you had no plans on ever saying them again. You didn't even want to say it out of a lie, because that would be just enough for him, and he didn't deserve that kind of relief.

Often he would try to get you as vulnerable and fucked out as possible in some weird scheme to get you to say it. Like you'd slip up or something.

“Can you just fuck me, m’not in the mood for this Rafe.”

Your rejection only spurs him on, like usual, pace now calculatingly slow as he continues to stroke your bud with his thumb.

“That’s fine. You know why? Because somewhere in that cold heart of yours I know that you feel something for me.”

His hand caresses your stomach, and you’re all but seconds away from unraveling around him again.

“And if not, then at least you’re gonna love the little extension of me growing inside you.”

-

years later…

You can't lie, Rafe had changed a lot within these past two years. Bossed up and became a real man you could say. Would you give him that credit though? Absolutely not.

He made life as easy as it could be, given the circumstances. The only responsibility you have is being a mother. Which isn’t really a responsibility considering the fact that she’s everything to you. Your entire heart and soul. Sometimes you swore you could see hints of your mom in her.

You know that you’ll never forgive him, it was something you fully accepted and he still hadn’t. No matter how much things seemed perfect and domestic and ‘ok’, you still held her in your heart.

With that you wouldn’t classify him as a good man, but you can at least say that he is a good dad.

Sometimes things felt so normal that you momentarily forgot your situation. Other times he couldn’t help but remind you of his true nature, of being a persistent asshole. Like earlier this morning.

You’re sitting on the living room mat with your girl, watching her stack the colorful blocks. He comes into view, standing at the edge of the couch watching you two with the phone pressed to his ear.

Your toddler storms up and runs to cling to his leg, when she notices him.

“Daddy!”

“Figure it out, Its what I pay you for. If it's not handled by Monday I'm firing you. Got that?" He hangs up abrubdtly then picks her up in his arms, swaying her around. Before holding her against his chest.

He showers your daughter’s face with kisses, and the happy giggles coming from her bring a smile to your face.

“What were you and mommy doing angel?” he walks closer to you, as you knee up from the rug. Your hand naturally rests on your growing belly bump as you watch them.

“Building a castle!”

He looks down at it telling her that it was the best one he’s ever seen.

He rubs her cheek, “Are you excited to spend the weekend at granddad’s?”

She loudly expresses her sheer excitement following it up with, “Can you and mommy stay too!? It’s fun!”

You move closer to them, to fix one of her pigtails, “I wish baby”.

You really did mean that. You shot him a glare behind your daughter’s back. He sprung a trip on you this morning while you were brushing your teeth, saying that everything was already arranged.

“You see, mommy and I are celebrating this thing called an anniversary.”

“Ani-wha? what’s that?”

He chuckles brushing his hand over her hair “It reminds mommy and I how much we love each other. Isn’t that right?” he glances at you, and her head turns the same.

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Is it because daddy loves mommy more?”

You blink at that, shocked to hear that come from her, “Hey, where’d you get that idea missy?”

“Dunno” she stares back at you with a little pout.

Your rub her cheek, “There’s no need to think that baby”-and for the sake of your child, for the first time in forever did you say anything of the sort- “I love daddy. Don’t you worry princess.”

Her lips curl at that, and not wanting her to pick up on any hostility you give Rafe a soft kiss on the lips. Then a kiss to her cheek.

Immediately after you’ve dropped her off, you’re ripping him a new one.

“Did you put that in her head?”

“What? No.” He starts the truck.

You scoff, “I can’t believe you’d go that far to-“

“Hey! don’t accuse me for something I didn’t do. She’s two, she picks up on shit.”

“You’re saying this is my fault?”

“What I'm saying is that she’s got a brain of her own.”

You hum, at the realization that you were likely going to have to be more intentional, and play up your affections for her sake. She deserves a healthy environment. You huff out of irritation and his hand spreads over your belly.

"Relax, yeah? The stress isn't good for the baby. We’re gonna go on this trip, relax a little, and maybe you can get real familiar with the idea of loving me."

"Whatever"

"Hey, didn’t I tell you that you wouldn't be able to keep up with that shit forever.”

i'm so serious she will never love this man! she is stuck with him, that's it.

thanks for reading! I beg of you guys to leave some thoughts and feedback. they are highly appreciated and mean a lot + they encourage me to share more :(

words literally can’t describe how much i love this chapter and having a glimpse of rafe being soft with reader really warmed my heart, my favorite part yet

well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person. 

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top.  Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could. 

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it. 

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought. 

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss. 

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you. 

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air. 

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build. 

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought.  “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?” 

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash. 

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone. 

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever. 

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser. 

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress. 

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on. 

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated. 

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine. 

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together. 

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered. 

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why. 

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them. 

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings. 

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him. 

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced. 

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything. 

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them. 

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction. 

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand. 

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you. 

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?” 

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses. 

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid. 

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you. 

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck. 

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him. 

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting. 

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple. 

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting. 

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you. 

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment. 

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by. 

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights. 

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance. 

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef. 

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid. 

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible. 

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together. 

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine. 

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry. 

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food. 

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked. 

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him. 

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”. 

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away. 

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year? 

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair. 

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through,  “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration. 

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you. 

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life? 

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail.  Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows. 

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder. 

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed. 

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans. 

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?” 

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress. 

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

hope you enjoyed!!

well kept [1] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.8k

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

rafe cameron masterlist

The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasn’t beating down on you. Maybe you’d appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer. 

Charlotte was a big city you hadn’t fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where you’d been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than you’d ever see in your whole life. 

Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you weren’t working for ten straight hours. Somehow, you’d been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated. 

When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: “Hi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.”

She spoke curtly, “Twelfth floor,” She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.

“Th-Thank you,” You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You weren’t expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful you’d chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that you’d chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned. 

You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldn’t work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe you’d eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear he’d clearly spilled some, “You’re here about the Filing Clerk position?”

You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You weren’t sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, “Yes,” You smiled, “That’s mmm-me.”

He didn’t seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, “Great, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.”

Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, don’t get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it. 

When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your body’s posture. 

“So, tell me a little about your experience,” He started. 

“Well,” Breath in and slowly release, “I’ve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. I’m v-vvvv-very organized; that’s why I’ve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.”

“Organization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.”

Deep breath in. Start slowly. 

“I’m totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and I’m sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think it’s important to show a p-p-person that you’re listening, even if you c-c-can’t help them directly.”

He nodded, “People tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?”

“I like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,” Too fast. Slow down, “Sssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but it’s s-something I’m good at. And I’d like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.”

Andy’s lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, “Ms. Y/L/N, if you don’t mind me asking–”

“I have a stutter,” You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, “I have it managed, mostly. When I’m asked direct questions, or I’m especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. I’m interested in this job.”

Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.

“I appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but there’s no need to be confined to this office. I’ll show you around the building.”

You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role. 

Still, you felt small, like a child in an adult’s world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didn’t press it. You explained how you’d completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, you’d only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didn’t require you to take a public speaking class. 

You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin. 

His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, “That’s Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.”

Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, “Let’s continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that you’d receive an update in the next week about whether they’d chosen you. 

You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that you’d be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, “S-Sorry,” You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, “Ssss-so sss-sorry.”

Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameron’s eyes, “Careful,” He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator. 

The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, “Oh,” You breathed, “You’re going up.”

Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.

“Yeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.”

You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, “You’re new, I’m assuming.”

You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. “I interviewed today. File Clerk.” Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEO—he was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.

The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, “Ah, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,” he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, “Enjoy your ride down.” 

“B-Bye-” 

Shut up. 

You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again. 

 There went that small sliver of confidence.

You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you weren’t sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars. 

And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldn’t remember you all. 

You hoped you wouldn’t run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that you’d been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor. 

Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if she’d actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call. 

The twentieth floor. 

You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new job’s salary would soon replenish your funds. You’d be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.

When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?” 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you weren’t in the wrong place. 

“Follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldn’t help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. “You’ll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.”

“Wh-” Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, “Why?”

She didn’t respond, and there wasn’t time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room you’d ever seen.

The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andy’s view was nice … you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different character—moodier, more intimate, and even more private.

To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.

“Holy…” You spoke, as smooth as ever. 

To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the city’s infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him. 

His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame … you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.

"Mr. Cameron, your ten o’clock meeting," she said.

“Thank you, Eleanor. That’ll be all,” His voice was smooth and commanding, “Come sit, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldn’t help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that you’d learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it. 

He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, “I got a chance to look at your application and resume.”

Your eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded, “You never finished college. Why’s that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face, “I didn’t think I-I would b-b-be …I thought Mr. Speer would be here.”

“He works for me, doesn’t he?”

“Y-Yes-” “You want to work for my company, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you forget my original question?”

“N-No,” You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, “I …I-”

He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.

“I had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I …all throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were … not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I see,” He tapped his finger against his desk, “It took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professor’s were only passing me because of who I was.”

Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor. 

An ugly truth for an ugly truth.

 “Oh,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. 

“I’m saying this because it doesn’t matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesn’t matter to me what you think you deserve.”

“Okay,” You nodded, still unsure, “I don’t think think I deserve this job. But I want it.”

“How bad?” His lips pulled into a smirk. 

You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that you’d practiced, “I think I’m a really g-good fit for the–”

“No, what would you do?” He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, “Let’s say six months from now, you’re up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. It’s ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?”

There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that would’ve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question. 

Breathe in, let it out slowly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t understand.”

“If he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,” Rafe said, “I looked at the other applicants, they’re all more qualified, but you’re more beautiful. It’s a pattern I’m starting to notice with him.”

You couldn’t comprehend why he’d brought you here just to tear you down—to belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, “I-I made a mmm-mistake,” as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry,” He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, “Mr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and you’re free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Uhm,” You blinked, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

“I’m between assistants right now and I think you’d be a perfect fit,” His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile. 

Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole. 

“You want me to be your personal assistant?” You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter. 

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he echoed, looking amused, “I think you’re cute.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?” 

“Not just that,” he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You should’ve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat.  “I think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.” 

“A year?” You asked, feeling foolish immediately. 

“That’s almost triple what you make at your barista job.”

You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, “Yeah …”

“So, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?” The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the line—or work for one who’s offering to triple your salary?

“I’d love to give you more time to think it over,” he continued, glancing at his watch, “but I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. You’ll need to decide now.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, “Ninety-thousand.”

“You’re negotiating when you have no experience?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised. 

You nodded, although you were afraid you’d made a mistake. Now, you’d be escorted out by security. But you’d seen something in his eyes—something he wasn’t trying to deny. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted you.

“Eighty-five thousand,” he countered.

You paused, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You nodded again. “Great.”

He clapped his hands together, “W-When would I ssss-start?” 

“A week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.” 

“Wardrobe?” You echoed, bewildered. 

“I would’ve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,” he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, “That’ll be all.”

The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen. 

When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, “What happened to his last personal assistant?” You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts. 

“Mr. Cameron can be difficult to please,” She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, “Let me take your measurements.”

“Oh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,” you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.

“They’ll need to be exact,” You followed her behind the reception desk. 

You looked at her closer—voluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. He’d chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he saw in you.

Cute, he’d said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful. 

You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. “About this wardrobe I’ll be receiving…” you began cautiously.

“You’ll only wear what he picks out for you,” She said. 

Breathe. “That’s a little crazy, right?”

“Your job will ensure he has everything he needs—every hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, don’t you?” 

And you don’t look nice to look at right now.

“Will I have a desk?”

Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, “That one is yours, technically.”

“Technically?”

“Did he mention he works from home on Fridays?”

“No-”

“You’ll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said with a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll type this all up in an email for you.”

Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadn’t even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.

You could afford your own apartment. You wouldn’t leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like you’ve always wanted. That money would change your life. 

Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and you’d be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. You’d have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room. 

When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a woman’s professional work clothes. 

You couldn’t deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didn’t feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you wore one, you’d resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.

Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work? 

The man also brought in a trunk—an oversized, luxurious piece you couldn’t dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.

God, you thought despite the fact you didn’t believe in him. 

Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that. 

When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant. 

Below are some key points regarding your new position:

Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM

Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameron’s residence (Friday)

Responsibilities: 

You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameron’s daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them. 

You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameron’s travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels. 

You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.

You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameron’s personal and professional life. 

You will ensure all of Mr. Cameron’s personal needs are met. 

Salary: $85,000

Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.

Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.

A few tips for looking your best: 

Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameron’s preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if you’re uncomfortable wearing them. 

Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup. 

Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but you’re free to choose the color as long as it’s natural. 

Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished. 

Best regards,

Eleanor Thornton

Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron

Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

Be mine

Ok this is Rafe x Lampad reader, this isn't how they met but it will mention it among other things. This one is more about how they got "together." Hope yall like it!✌️

MDNI 18+

Tw: drugs mentioned/used, alcohol forced intimacy, implied sex/sexual things

Colorful lights blast out of the windows of a enormous house, loud music and chatter can be heard from outside. People adorn in little to no clothing dancing, drinking, and snorting mystery powder littered the rooms. Everyone was having fun, except one girl, she looked out of place. Dressed in all black with her skin showing only through lacy details. She stood in one of the many corners, solo cup in her black acrylic hands, frown on her face. She didn't want to come here, parties wasn't really her thing; too many people, too many loud sounds. But her new friend invited her, he was so kind to do so that she couldn't say no. She couldn't disappoint him so soon, only having been in OBX for 4 months and friends with him for 3, she can't mess this up.

𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳. "𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧? 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦"

He had told her to to stay here and that he would be back, that was over an hour ago. Did he leave? Is he hurt? What if this was a way to humiliate her and see her as a loyal 𝘥𝘰𝘨. No, he's not like that, he's kind and just went to talk to his friends. Or his girlfriend... She hopes that's not the case, but it's possible. Through this past entire month (y/n) realized that she developed a crush on Rafe. She knows it's wrong, such a kind guy tries to be her friend and she's thinking impure thoughts about him. How could she not, he's so kind and shows so much affection for her.

𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 (𝘺/𝘯) 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱. 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰. "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 (𝘺/𝘯) 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦?" 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬. (𝘠/𝘯)'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.

(Y/n) traced her lips and closed her eyes, not wanting the memory to leave just yet. Maybe he does like her, at least a little. Why would he invite her here? Maybe he wants liquid courage to tell her how he feels? Jolting out of her mind when she heard the sound of someone's laughter, his laughter. She quickly moves her head searching for him; not caring if she looks like a mad woman. When she finds him her black lipped smile fades, she saw him... with a girl... in his lap. She watch the scene before her, Rafe was laughing and whispering in a pretty brunettes ear. The brunette laughed hiding in his neck and seemingly kissed it. (Y/n) felt tears prick her eyes, threatening to run away with her black eye makeup. She left her spot becoming a blur of black as she tried to run out of the party apologizing to every person she ran into. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand...

(Y/n) laughed at the redheads joke; his name was... Conner? Brandon? Westly? She can't really remember, a little too drunk to think about it. This was the first party Rafe has ever taken her to. He told her that he will be right back, he had something to sell? She didn't know, but this handsome redhead walked up to her and offer her a drink. A touron, as Rafe would put it, the redhead had come with his family. He saw her and thought she was beautiful, even with her being covered in black from head to toe. She continued to giggle and talk to the guy happily, until she felt Rafe's arm lightly wrap around her neck. "What are you doing talking to my girl?"

She ran through the house the tears made true to the threats, her makeup now ruined. She runs into a random room, pacing as she tried to calm herself and stop the tears.

"Why would you do that Rafe?! You scared him off!" She pushed Rafe's arm off of her and looked away from him, arms crossed. The slither of his arms around her waist caused her cheeks to feel hot. Rafe lightly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him while his other had moved down to her hip. "You-you really don't understand what he was trying to do, but I-I do. I was protecting you and-and this is how you act?" All postive emotions wiped from his face, yet she could still get lost in his soft eyes.

A creak had come from the door had caused (y/n) to gasp. Her breathing stopped as tears continued to run down her face with her makeup. She turned to face the intruder of her heart breaking session, and it was the very person to break it. Before she could process what was happening, Rafe made quick strides to her and grabbed her face. His hands were warm and soft, looking into her red eyes seeing her messed up makeup. "What happened? Did someone say something mean to you?" How could she make him worry like this, how could she selfishly get upset with him. She was going off on her own just because of a probable misunderstanding. "I'm s-sorry I was a little overwhelmed and wanted a quiet place to rest..." She lied, she lied to him and she hopes he doesn't catch on. "Don't-don't lie to me (y/n), you know how-how much I hate lying." One of his hands slipped lower and stopped where her neck meets her shoulder. The sensation made her shiver, she knew she messed up by lying. Best to tell him the truth or things will escalate, like last time. "I... I saw you with a girl, she was sitting in your lap..." (y/n) closes her eyes ready to be laughed at. She knew it was ridiculous, she's acting like his girlfriend when they haven't been friends for more than 3 months. She really is crazy, because she was jealous she ran to cry for someone who she isn't even dating him. Before she could finish her self-deprecating thoughts she was pulled down onto Rafe's lap, when did he sit down? "There is that better? You gon-gonna stop crying now?" She did stop crying, but more so out of shock than being happy he 'completed her request.' She finally looks at him, really look at him, and she realized he's drunk. Or high but that didn't mattered, she felt like she was taking advantage of him. She had to get off of him, no matter how much she likes him she can't do this to him, but he wouldn't let go.

"She's so hot bro." The blonde commented as he looked at the lone girl dressed in black. "Come on Rafe, not only is she the sheriff's daughter but she's also must be an oddball. She's wearing all black in 80 degree weather!" Topper made his case and Kelce nodded along. Rafe looked at the girl, a million different things he could do to her raked his mind. Being the sheriff's daughter made it better. "Don't care she's gonna be mine and nothing is gonna change that." He got up, fixing his clothes and walked over to the girl a smirk plastered on his face.

She tries to get up, pushing his chest to move away from him. She can't make this worst, he's not himself and she's taking advantaged of his drunk state. But he wouldn't let go, his grip on her waist and hips growing tighter the more she moved. It almost hurts, "Rafe let go you're drunk!" She exclaimed, looking every which way to figure out how to leave his grip without hurting him. She wanted this but not like this; she wanted him to confess, go on some dates, and then maybe have this special moment alone. Not when they are at a party and when he's drunk or high. "Hey-Hey! Look at-at me, it's fine I've been wanting this since I saw you. I need you." He grabbed her face and pulled her closer to him, her chest pressed to his, lips only a centimeter apart.

"Are you really gonna try to do this Rafe?" Kelce questioned him as he took a line of coke. Sniffling the powder down him nose he looks at his friend. Is it really right to do such things to the girl he just met? "Yeah tonight she's gonna be mine whether she wants to or not."

Was he serious? Did he really mean what he's saying? He needs her? "Y-you don't mean that..." Whispering since she was so close, losing her voice with every breath she takes. Her thighs rest on either side of Rafe's waist caused everything to feel more intimate. Feeling his hand move from her hip to her inner thigh caused her breath to hitch, skirt riding up as she's shivering. Rafe looks down at her lips heavy breathing blowing on her face. "Yes I need you, I need you to be mine and only mine. Fuck-" He couldn't take it anymore, pulling her to his lips without asking her the important question. But does he really need to?

"Do you really like him (y/n)? Like it's Rafe..." Sarah had pulled the girl into her room not understanding what's going on with the two. Rafe had followed them listening in through the cracked door wanting to know the girls answer. "I... I don't know, maybe? Yes? He's so sweet and I can see myself being with him. But i don't think he likes me." She sighed pacing around the room. "Really? Rafe doesn't like you? He was just making bat shaped cookies with you!" (Y/n) makes a confused face. "Yea so?" Sarah looks at (y/n) like she's crazy. "IT'S MAY! HE DOESN'T EVEN DO THAT WITH WHEEZIE DURING HALLOWEEN!" Rafe walked away, a smile plastered on his face and idea left in his head.