Obx 3 - Tumblr Posts
Can someone explain what went down, or what they think went down between them? I loved there friendship, and it seems like they’re not friends anymore 😔
(I’ve watched the show since the beginning but I wasn’t apart/in the fandom.)
Also them doing that 18 month time jump, I didn’t like it. We missed so much shit between Big Jon and up to this scene. Some many questions.
Also I believe season four will be the last unfortunately. I also get the feeling that the plot of season 4 won’t be about the pirates/ships (how s3 ended)
only you
summary: a midnight meeting is never off the cards for him.
notes: i cranked this one out like two two weeks ago but i didnt get around to editing it... apologies! this is a continuation of my same person, same mistakes fic, as it concerns rafe with a gf and the reader being highschool fwb with him. features a masturbation kink, dirty talk, and a whole lot of nostalgia! enjoy my darlings, and dont forget to watch the fuck out of obx 3 (i finished it an hour ago and its 2:00 am my time and im not sure). feel free to talk to me about it ;)
tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count: 2213
It’s nearly 3 am when he shows up at your house, mind all over the place, and parks in your driveway. He knows your parents won’t be mad seeing his truck— they can’t help but love him. He slams the driver’s door shut and jogs around to the backyard, breathless in the cooler night air. The grassy shore two hundred or so yards from your house ripples with the harsh wind of early summer storms, and he wipes a hand at his forehead. It’s still hot.
Rounding the corner, he sees the metal basin that curves around one of your basement bedroom windows, and drops down onto the gravel that lies at the bottom.
You barely register the sound, fast asleep in your bed when he glances in at the dark room.
He digs around for a second in the gravel and finds the familiar curve of the window key and quickly unlocks the latch. Throwing it back down, he uses his arms to push up on the handle and slide it far enough so that he can crawl in.
You turn onto your back in your bed, and he nearly smiles at how you look. So calm, yet so stressed with your eyebrows drawn. But Rafe just hops into your air conditioned room clumsily, shoes quiet on the carpet, and nearly tips over into your desk. He turns to the window and closes it quietly.
He takes a moment to listen for any movement in the house. He knows your parent’s go to bed before midnight, so they’re sound asleep—he’s mainly worried about your brother. He was such a cock block in highschool.
You move in the sheets again and his attention is drawn back to you. You’re so peaceful. Oh, well.
“Y/N,” he whispers, and reaches to shake your leg. You lick your lips and burrow deeper into your pillow. “Y/N!” He raises his voice, glancing at your locked door.
“Hm,” is all that comes from your mouth, and your eyelids twitch.
“Fuck,” he curses to himself. Fine. Grabbing one of your ankles, he drags you to the foot of the bed.
“Hey!” You croak, startled awake, and blink furiously around. “Oh.” You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. There’s a handsome man at the foot of your bed.
“Hey,” he says, looking down at you, and his hand finds your shoulder. You’re dressed in soft shorts and a skimpy tank top in an effort to remain cool in this summer heat—it makes his heart thump against the wall of his chest.
“Why’re you here?” You ask, voice still groggy, and your skin erupts in goosebumps where his fingers move.
“I told you I’d come today.”
“Yeah, during the daytime.” Your eyebrows draw together and you push up onto a hand. “Not in the middle of the night.”
“Do you want me to leave?” His eyes stare down at yours. You look over him, liking the way those jeans and flannel shirt look on him. The crickets chirp outside, and you hear a branch moved by wind brush the side of your house. His hand migrates and a thumb rubs at the skin of your stomach, nudging the hem of your tank top up.
“No,” you finally settle on, and he steps closer to the bed.
“Okay,” he murmurs, and dips. Your lips connect, soft against soft, and you shiver. He smells like the sun and that car freshener he keeps in the glove compartment. His hands find your hair, cradling your head, and your body prickles at the touch. It’s so late, and he’s so warm— you just melt into him. You grip at the sides of his shirt and fall back onto your bed, taking him with you.
He grunts, pulling away from your mouth for a second, and follows you up the bed as you move closer to the headboard. He looks huge like this.
Your legs come together.
He bites his lip and with a hand on your knee moves them back apart. You settle with your shoulders against your pillow, and he leans down, between your legs once more, and kisses you.
“Rafe,” you mutter into his mouth, and he hums wordlessly in response. Your body is so soft and nice when you arch up into him that he forgets about anything besides you. You grab at his hand at your waist and drag it up your body, and when his thumb brushes your hardening nipple the crotch of his pants tightens. Fuck.
He pushes his knees into your bed, keeping your legs spread for him, and straightens. His large hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and he shrugs it off. The material of the shirt underneath nearly rips with how quick he takes it off. His skin is shiny and strong in the moonlight, and it takes all of your mental strength to not lean up and kiss all over his chest. That would mean you’re desperate to feel and touch him— and you’re definitely not. Between your legs definitely doesn’t ache terribly when he unbuttons his jeans.
“Please.” You lean up to him, sliding a warm hand around his shoulders, and bring him back down with you. He makes a noise when he feels your fingernails scrape his skin, but your mouth is back on his, so what reason is there to complain? His nose brushes your cheek when he pulls away to tug the tank top strap off of your shoulder, and you shudder in the cold air.
His thumb nudges your nipple back and forth, making your blood rush in your ears as your chest heaves, and he bows to catch it in his mouth. Rafe sucks, pink lips perfect just for this, and you arch up into him. The scent of body soap washes over him, and he just breathes you in. So sweet. He curls an arm around your waist, forcing your skin up against him, and you make a noise of contentment.
He mouths at your breast until he has you panting up into the night air, eyes closed, and then moves to the other. Your eyes open briefly and you slide a hand across his head, feeling his warm scalp and soft hair under your fingers.
He hums into your skin, nipple caught between his teeth, and you nearly cry out. But you hold back, wanting to save it. He pulls at it again, wanting to hear that pained noise you know he loves, and your heart skips a beat. You suck in a breath.
“So responsive,” he murmurs into you, and his gaze briefly moves to your face—his dick hardens even more.
“I’m impatient, Rafe,” you huff, petting his hair, and squeeze your thighs around him. “Please.”
“Needy,” he says more to himself than you, but pulls away to get a hand at the waistband of your shorts and move out of the way so he can rid you of them and get to what he’s actually been thinking about all day. He throws them over the edge of your bed and crowds you against the headboard again, mouth insistent upon yours as his fingers find your slick. Your thigh jerks when his pointer finger draws a line up your folds, and he just hums into your mouth. His thumb pushes into your clit, demanding, and his middle finger slides easily in. You clench around him, head thrown back into the pillow, and your eyes squeeze shut.
“Fucking wet,” he grits out through his teeth, digging his face into your neck. Your skin ripples with goosebumps at his hot breath on your throat, and he slides another finger in.
You’re so warm, so tight, so wet around him— it makes his heart smash into the cage of his ribs. It’s just like high school. You, sweet and perfect for him, and him, brooding and in the palm of your hand. He tried to not let you know that too much, though. Can’t let people around him know that he cares.
“So perfect.” His teeth nip the soft skin on your neck, and you grab a hand at his forearm, guiding him faster. He accedes, knowing what you want, and slips another finger in. You tingle and curve up into him, unused to the stretch, and the breath is stolen right from your throat.
His thumb slides off of your clit when you push it away. Your fingers replace his thumb, and he just tries to breathe. You know every fucking avenue to getting him to cum in his pants, and he’s really trying to avoid that outcome.
Your noises become higher in your throat, whinier, and he feels you start to pulse around him. His fingers push even deeper, going the perfect speed, and then you’re shaking and trying to both get away from and get closer to his hand.
He grabs at your hip and keeps you in one place, hand continuing, and you grab at him frantically.
“Too much, Rafe,” you cry, neck cramping at the angle you’d stretched it to for the longest time, but he continues on. Your blood is pumping so fast, so hard in your body, and the rush of orgasm fades into numb pleasure that makes you pulse around him.
“Come on, baby, I know you can.”
Your mind calls memories to the surface— memories of him pushing you past your limit, making you scream, cry. You loved it, and he only continued when you were nodding and shaking for him. Any inkling that you weren’t into it he was off of you. He was no stranger to felonies, such as drug distribution or grand theft auto, but he didn’t dare do anything that was a question of consent. Off the table.
“Your fingers are so—so big.” You ramble on, talking of good things only like the size of him and how he feels and tastes and smells, and his hips twitch where they're pressed to you. Fuck.
“So close, Y/N,” he pants into your ear, hips rolling steadily into your thigh and pelvis, and you feel his dick jump against you. “You’re so close.”
Your torso shakes with the effort and tension in your muscles, and he bites into your pillow.
“I fucking—,” you start, but you fling your head back into the pillow before you can finish. He really wishes he knew what you were going to say. “Yes, yes, yes—fuck!” You chant, and your hips twitch where they meet his hammering hand as you cum onto his fingers. He continues on for a little bit, loving the feel of you, but pulls his fingers out. They immediately push into his mouth and you take the moment to pull yourself together.
Sweat sticks the sheets to your back, beading at your forehead too, and you’re sure your face is flushed red. The room is undeniably hot, filled with the hot breath and energy palpable in the air. You’re sure it smells like sex, too.
Rafe catches your jaw in his hand and tilts you up for a kiss, lips hot and smooth against yours. As he settles into you again, your hand finds the crotch of his pants. He breaks away immediately, cursing and looking down at your fingers.
“Touch it,” you breathe, eyes locked on his. His wide, clear, blue eyes. “For me.”
Rafe’s large fingers push yours away and dig into his underwear, and his eyes close when his palm circles the tip of him. You look up at him, hands coming to your chest, and you cup your breasts. His eyes follow your fingers as they pinch your nipples. You back arches, and his hand around his dick pumps faster.
“You’re so good for me,” you say, as breathless as you can manage without sounding like a corny phone-sex operator, and his head cants back at your voice.
“Shit,” he gasps, mouth hanging open when he looks down. “O-Only you.” It’s more to himself, but your chest swells.
“Yeah?” You ask, and sit up. Your hands find his waist and his torso, and you lean up so his mouth is inches from yours. “Not your girlfriend?”
“Fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pink, and his eyes close when you trace his chest with a finger. “No. Not her. Never.”
You just hum, pleased, and curl a hand around his own to slow his hand. His hips twitch, fucking himself between your two hands, and his mouth opens in a “fuck” before he’s cumming right into your bare chest.
“Christ, Y/N,” he says, panting, and covers the upper half of his face with his forearm. His knees ache.
You rise clumsily from the bed and stumble into your bathroom, returning with the hand towel. You wipe at your chest and throw it back into the bathroom, careless.
“Are you staying?” You ask, nearing him, and lean one knee on the bed. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer in the darkness, lips pressed to your temple.
“I don’t think you could get me to leave your bed right now, sweetheart.” He smells like sweat and the remnants of cologne, and you breathe him in.
“I’m counting on it,” you whisper, and kiss him square on the mouth.
On a quest to reblog every single good anti jiara take
anyway when I say j*ara would ruin established characterization I’m not just talking about jj and kie like you’d have to do some shit to all of the characters for that to work and to be supported pope isn’t angry about it? okay. there’s no way he’s not fucking hurt over her using him and then moving on to jj, though. especially not since he saw how hard she fought against john b and sarah and found out about the john b/kie kiss in season one. and he doesn’t even know about the fact she threw them sleeping together in her mother’s face out of fucking spite.
john b supports it? fat fucking chance honestly. and not because he’s into kie or anything but because he’s known jj longer than any of them and he knows it’d be a fucking disaster of hurt feelings.
sarah supports it? MAYBE i could buy that she supports what makes the others happy but she also fucking knows what kie did with pope and she would have some reservations about that.
jj himself gave up on doing anything with kie a long time ago and you can’t convince me that one of the most loyal characters on the show is going to get with someone who just unceremoniously dumped his best friend????