LOOORRRDDD

LOOORRRDDD

More of Drew Starkey at the Milan show yesterday !! Omg🤭

This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune

blue eyes + bruises - pt. one - accidentally on purpose

↳PAIRING: doctor!rafe cameron x fem!!reader

↳SUMMARY: a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

↳ WARNINGS: mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, etc.

↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.

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Sarah doesn't have lunch often with her brother, but she does today, placing the responsibility of taking care of him on herself, as she always does. Her latest manifestation of this fact is you – her best friend since her college days. He doesn’t know it, but she’s coming to him with a proposition; your sweetness and his intelligence – she knows they’d meld together like a puzzle and that’s precisely why she’s set up a date between the two of you for this evening. She enters the hospital cafeteria slowly, spotting him from across the gigantic space. His shoulders are slumped and she clocks a limp in his step, instantly sure he’s been on his feet for far too long. She smiles softly as they lock eyes and notices his are far more sunken in than she’d like them to be; in fact, they almost resemble the dark black holes of a skull missing its skin and as he makes his way feverishly through the cafeteria line, she wonders if he’s okay. 

“Rafe – you look like you haven’t eaten in six days.” 

She scolded as the older Cameron made his way to the table and sat his tray down across from her. 

“I eat.” 

He grunted in response, rolling his blue orbs into the back of his head at her incessant need to pick him apart in the form of worry. This was why he didn’t return to North Carolina after college, after all. Though he couldn’t in part blame it all on his baby sister, the discontent of his father and the enthralling energy of the city had wooed him and his bride. 

“Yeah, okay, hot shot.” 

She replied, laughing, throwing a french fry in his direction.  

“You’re gonna be mad but I've promised your hand to someone for the evening.” 

She said, giggling. 

“Dammit, Sarah!” 

He replied, the huff that escaped like that of an agitated dog.  

“Come on, big brother! Please – she’s my sweet friend from college and she’s nice and shy and she –” 

“I don’t care. I’m not going.” 

Rafe interjected aggressively. 

“Well, too fucking bad. I already told her you agreed and I’d really hate it if you stood her up. It was like pulling teeth to get her to agree to even give you a chance.” 

“Too. Fucking. Bad.” 

He gritted out. 

“No – don’t play with me, I know you. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, but he isn’t cruel and it took a lot of convincing for her to come out anyways, so please.” 

Squinting her eyes in annoyance and shaking her head, she waged her war with him blatantly, tired of his bullshit only five minutes into the conversation in only a way that he could ignite.

“Tell that to Molly. She thinks I am.” 

He whispered. 

“No she didn’t – doesn’t.” 

She caught herself, two years later still not used to talking about her sister-in-law in past tense. 

“Just go – please. Get out of this hospital and those fucking ugly scrubs.” 

She pleaded, her soft blue eyes always something he had to give into. 

“Fine, Sarah, I’ll fucking go.” 

He growled, jerking his plate closer to him as he began munching on the chicken tenders that sat in front of him.

— 

Rafe was dreading this date, he didn’t know you or what you were even like and let’s be honest, he hasn’t dated in literal years, hasn’t even given it a thought. After Molly departed from him, he ate, slept, and breathed life in the hospital, too afraid to be in his home alone – too afraid the silence and lack of love would swallow him home; death by a thousand cuts. He felt like that was probably normal for the situation he had found himself in; divorce in the form of death. He stared at himself in the mirror of the locker room, being sure he was ready as his hand tousled through his unruly hair. 

“Sarah’s right – I do look like shit.” 

He muttered, suddenly wondering what this unknown woman would think of him.

 He made his way down the linoleum lined hallway and out of the hospital door a few moments later, the familiar red shine of ambulance lights just out of his peripheral and the screech of the alarm coming from the rig coming to a stop. He watched carefully as they pulled a young woman from the back, her limbs splinted and blood covering her. He wasn't sure what it was; fate or an uneasy stomach, these days he hardly had the capacity to tell the difference. But, whatever the force behind it, she pulled him toward her and as he got close, the date he had planned for suddenly slipped his mind. 

— 

Everything hurt – that was the first thing your brain registered as you pulled your eyes open, the sound of a siren and the beat of your heart blaring simultaneously in your ears. The siren was close, you could tell, but you seemed so distant from it at the same time, so far away and fleeting. You closed your eyes, the darkness overcoming you. It only felt like they had been closed for five seconds, but you were sure it had been longer as you heard the sound of a man’s voice and felt wind around you, signaling your brain that you were moving by the sound of rickety wheels beneath you. The man sounded handsome and kind, his voice deep as it bellowed in the air around you. 

“What do we got?” 

He asked with urgency, looking pointedly at the paramedics, a team of doctors surrounding him. 

“25 year old female, car accident. She went through the windshield – crush injuries, concussion, internal bleeding – she’s barely hanging on.” 

He gingerly nodded at the words of the paramedic and brought a pen light from his pocket, pulling your eyelids back and shining it into them. A groan escaped your lips at the intrusion. 

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

His voice penetrated your ears and for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain pulled your eyes open, fighting to get to whoever the voice belonged. As you took in the blue eyes that stood over you, you registered who the voice belonged to – sounds and words you could barely register coming from his mouth again. 

“I’m Dr. Rafe Cameron, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” 

He spoke, sliding his hand in yours, giving you a kind smile. 

“Can you squeeze my hand, for me?” 

Your senses weren’t intact, numbness infiltrated your being but you could feel his calloused hand as it slipped into yours and with all the energy that remained in your body, you squeezed his hand weakly. He smiled – bright and breathtakingly beautiful, teeth so perfectly in line that you were sure he had orthodontic work at some point. You noticed the crinkles by his eyes as his lips parted and his lips turned up. You suddenly regretted not shaving your legs this morning, taking in his handsomely sculpted jaw as he turned his head sideways, stretching his hands across you. You were unsure what was happening until you felt him unhooking the straps that you now realized were draped across your body, securing you to the bed you laid on.

“Move her on three – one, two, three.” 

He chanted out, voice bellowing as his words controlled the move of every person in the room. You weren’t sure what kind of doctor Rafe was, but you knew he was important, that he was a leader, as every nurse and bystander operated under his sole instruction. You closed your eyes as the hands of the people around you lifted you from one bed to another, the jostling of your body breaking through the heavy cloud of numbness and what started as a whimper but quickly turned into a full-fledged bloody murder scream escaped your lips. 

“Easy, sweetheart. I know it hurts.” 

His hands made their way to your hair, pushing the blood-stained strands away from your forehead. His touch was gentle and calming, you had never been touched by a doctor like this, you thought to yourself. 

“R-Rafe?” 

You croaked out, eyes pleading. 

“Hmm?”

He questioned with all his attention on you. His blue eyes raked over your form, studying your face, taking in the distress and the pain that laced it. 

“Gonna die?” 

You questioned, mumbling, incoherently and before he could even respond your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arching off the bed as you your body shook into a fit of convulsions. 

“She’s crashing!” 

One of the nurses yelled out.  

“We’ve got to get her to the OR now, get me a neuro consult and page Dr. Richardson, I have no doubt in my mind she’s hemorrhaging.” 

As soon as he muttered out the words, Rafe was straddling you on the gurney, legs on either side of your hips as his palms laid flat against your chest, fingers interlocking with each other as he violently, urgently pressed up and down in an attempt to restart your heart. 

“Not today, sweet girl. Not today.” 

He whispered, continuing chest compressions as the nurses and doctors wheeled the gurney the two of you were on into the operating room. 

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you're not his girlfriend

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, riding, angsty/sad ending, controlling rafe, drinking/partying, mention of physical violence, drug dealing, reader taking drugs/getting high

you’re not his girlfriend, but you do attend every party on rafes arm, his hand placed securely around your waist, giving warning looks to any man who stares a little too long at you, a little too long at your long legs in the short dress or your cleavage spilling out the top.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe saves the best of his stash for you, of course never making you pay. his eyes are possessive and lustful as you snort the line of coke off of his finger before collapsing into his body. he cares for you throughout your high, getting you whatever you need, talking to you, keeping you calm and happy.

you’re not his girlfriend, but spend hours riding his dick, bouncing and grinding after you convinced him to finally let you take control, his arms behind his head, a lazy grin on his face, watching your tits bounce with every movement, determined to make him cum as deep as possible inside of you. rafe only helps out when you cum, body shaking as he pushes you down onto his cock, cumming in time with you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when ward kicks him out of the house, you’re the first person he calls. he pretends hes doing it for you, eating the ice cream and watching the cheesy movies, but when you cuddle up in bed, your arms around him, you both know that all the comfort is for him to feel better, to feel at home.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when you are chatting with another guy at a party, rafe gets furious, pulling you away, about to deck him straight in the face when your hands wrap around his bicep, explaining that the guy is gay, and you weren't flirting. rafe doesn’t punch the guy, but does take you upstairs into the bathroom and fucks you against the sink.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when he has to go away for a week for some business with ward, he tasks topper with looking after you, adding kelce in as well, needing to make sure you were looked after, with strict warnings not to touch you or get too friendly. you’re nice to the boys, inviting them inside for lemonade, knowing they’ll follow whatever rafe says.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he moans into your ear about how much he loves your pussy as he’s thrusting into you, making a mess of your cunt, his cock splitting you in half as his hands grip your waist, leaving bruises on your skin from how tight he’s holding you, but you love the marks, physical reminders of his impact on you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but you hang out with his little sister wheezie, taking her on shopping sprees with rafes credit card and out to ice cream.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe invites you over for movie nights, cuddling close to you. he holds you throughout the night, for once not putting his hand down your pants as he strokes a hand over your hair absentmindedly, eyes on the screen.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he invites you as his date to midsummers, matching his tie with the color of your dress. he spins you around the dance floor and looks happy being there for once. 

you’re not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you get your favorite drink at a party, holding it for you when you go to dance with your girls, fingers twitching impatiently as you move on the dance floor under his watchful eyes, waiting for you to be back within reach. he lets out a breath of relief when you rejoin him, press yourself into his side and finish off your drink.

you’re not his girlfriend, even though you wrap your arms around him and kiss as his hips move slowly, his cock pushing gently in and out, slowly, deeply. he moans into your mouth, enjoying the slow and smooth motions of your bodies connecting, of being one.

you’re not his girlfriend, so you don’t say anything when you see him dancing with another girl.

you’re not his girlfriend when you watch him take her upstairs.

you’re not his girlfriend, but it doesn’t stop your heart from shattering.

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sleepy | jh86

✦ word count - 709

✦ summary - in which jack is a horndog, even when asleep.

✦ warnings - smut

✦ ava’s notes - first time posting my writing! i’m super nervous but super excited! i have other fics in the works but i’ve decided to post this first :) … i hope you guys enjoy!

MOST PEOPLE DREAM when sleeping.

Some even have nightmares. 

Jack? No…no…he fucks in his sleep. 

Ever since you moved in together into a new apartment, and shared the same bed every night, like clockwork, Jack would start to stir and press his semi-hard length into your sleeping body. 

You, of course, wake up because you’re used to it by now. And usually you wouldn’t mind, but he had invited you to join him and his family to spend the summer at the lake house. 

Who were you to say no?

You and his brothers were simply separated by thin walls that didn’t keep in any sounds. One day, you had heard Quinn and Luke arguing in Quinn’s bedroom, and you could make out every word that was said. 

But Jack? He wasn’t affected by the change in circumstances. No, he, yet again, subconsciously pulled you into his warm embrace and rutted his dick into your ass. 

His hot breath was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you from behind. Hands started to wander underneath your shirt - his shirt - until he felt the swell of your breasts. 

You could feel his cock slightly twitch from under his shorts. His hand eventually made its way lower…and lower until he reached the hem of your panties. 

Ditching your underwear, at least for sleeping, sounded like a great idea from now on. From how often he does this, they’re just an obstacle. 

You bit down on your lip and he shoved your panties to the side and started to rub on your clit. Without warning, Jack slipped a finger into your wet cunt and you lightly gasped. He smirked, and you could somehow feel it. 

You weren’t even sure if he was still asleep or awake at this point. His finger curled and he added another finger. It felt too good to stop, but you knew that if he continued, you’d end up caught and the relentless teasing would ensue. 

As one hand fondled your breasts, the other one was occupied with your pussy. 

“Shhhh,” he whispered. He had to have been awake by now. You tried to wiggle away, but with how strong he was, you only managed to somehow get his fingers even deeper. 

Jack rutted his hips against your ass yet again, and you could feel him thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he lowly whispered. 

“Jack,” you whispered out, but he ignored you. Repeating his name again, which seemed to turn him on even more, had him trying to get his boxers off. Once they were on the floor, Jack gently pulled his fingers out of you, and used your arousal as lube. 

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock line up with your entrance. As he stretched you out, you whimpered and covered your slack mouth with your hand. He just felt so good. 

“Shh baby, this house has thin walls. You gotta be quiet,” he purred out. His lips were sloppily kissing your neck and cheek while lazily thrusting into you. 

He kept hitting the right spot every time. You knew he was awake. 

“You need to keep quiet,” he moaned. His fingers left your breasts and dropped down to circle your tight bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, Jack. Feels so good,” you mewled out, blubbering about how he felt so good and don’t stop. 

He could feel your climax approaching rapidly, and his thrusts suddenly started to get more of a reaction out of you. 

You bowed your head down and started to let out a moan, but Jack covered your mouth with his extra hand and muffled your noises. 

“You wanna come?” Nod. “Come with me, baby. Come on my cock like the good girl you are.” And with that, you clenched around his cock. He followed shortly after, emptying himself before slowly pulling out. 

You turned to face him, and his eyes were droopy with a lazy, fucked out smile on his lips. Pecking his lips, you embraced him and he wrapped his arms around your back, nestling his head into your neck. 

Your eyes caught the time. 2:48. Rolling your eyes, you smiled softly and went back to sleep. 

(No one caught you two, you naughty little horndogs.)