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undercovercameron · 1 year

Text

same person, same mistakes

summary: coming home from college, you see the boy you never wanted to; and he's the same as he always was.

notes: i just wrote this literally so quick it was magical... there is rough sex, cheating, a semi-choking kink (as always), and mentions of drug use and literal alcohol use in this one! i'm also yet again noticing a pattern.... what is with me and bathroom sex? anyways i hope you people enjoy! consider this a favor, i'm preparing you all for rafe to have a love interest

tags: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2929

When you walked into the country club that night, you made a beeline for the bar. Your first year of college had not been treating you well, and you needed a drink. A strong one at that.

Your favorite bartender, a red-headed woman named Joey, was working that night. She made you a vodka soda just like how you liked ‘em: more vodka than soda and a shit ton of lime. An underage-drinking staple. But hey, you were only two years away from legality. It wasn’t that bad.

You drank it with your younger brother Landon by your side at the bar, watching him refresh Twitter for the status reports of the hockey game happening tonight.

“You want the NHL, Landon?” Joey asked, wiping up a ring of perspiration with a black rag at the now-empty tabletop to his right. “I can change it.”

“Yes, Joey, thank you,” Landon sighed, pocketing his phone, and swiveled around in his chair towards the TV mounted beside the bar. “Hey,” he said abruptly, and you hummed curiously in response. “Rafe is here.”

You crunched down onto the ice cube in your mouth, the easy smile on your lips hardening.

“Who is he with?” You ask, not turning to look, and focus in on the stack of paper coasters next to the mixing pads.

“Dunno. Some girl. She has black hair.”

The grip on your drink tightens.

“Nice,” you say through gritted teeth, gaze never wavering from the coasters.

Yes, Rafe Cameron had a girlfriend. She was some hotshot golfer from Northern Carolina. You saw her in your communications lecture sometimes, sitting in the front row next to her posse of badly self-tanned girls with shining smiles and alcohol problems. She had sat next to you on the first day, passing you the syllabus with a snarky look on her face, and you had decided to hate her right then and there. It was a simple hatred, nothing personal, but when she came back to the Outer Banks with Rafe’s hand in hers, it got personal.

Rafe was your highschool fling. He used to pick you up from school in his truck and you’d go out to the lighthouse or the beach by his house or his grandparents' summer home fifteen minutes away to hang out, have sex, or smoke. Usually all three. You two dated for nearly 10 months starting at the first semester of your senior year, and then he decided to break it off and focus on being a good son and good employee of his father’s. Whatever. Like he actually did anything of the sort— all he’d done while you were at college was hold his hand out to his father and snort coke with your hometown’s dealer.

And then he has a girlfriend. A beautiful girlfriend, but you’d never admit it. You wonder if she has a cocaine problem too.

You weren’t averse to drugs, no—in fact, you had a J with your breakfast nearly every day. But at least you weren’t dropping hundreds of dollars for fifteen minutes of a high every week. And at least you weren’t distracting yourself between the legs of a tall black-haired student athlete.

Maybe you were bitter.

“Two more,” says a breathless voice at the end of the bar, and you just let your eyes fall closed. Landon slaps at your arm without pulling his eyes from the TV, and you curse at him with a smack back. Asshole.

“Y/N?”

You breathe in through your nose. Okay. Don’t act like you recognize him.

You turn towards Rafe, a pleasantly blank look on your face, and purse your lips.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” His perfectly tan face splits in a grin, and he comes around the corner of the bar towards you two. “Hey, Landon.” He daps up your brother, that stupid look still on his face, and just stands and looks at you for a second. He puts his hands on his hips, and your gaze follows them for a second before moving back up to his face, whip-fast. You see him catch it, the corners of his lips tugging up further. He sighs. “I see the Xanax finally caught up to you.”

“Ha!” You blurt loudly, a mocking smile on your face, and you look down to your feet. “That’s actually pretty ironic, sweetheart. You’ve got a little something.” You look him in his eyes and wipe at your nostril. The grin drops from his face.

“Nice to see you again.” His tongue pushes at the spot between his teeth and his lip. “Just like old times. Still a bitch.”

“Still wasting your dad’s money.” You sip at your drink, lips around the straw. You catch him glance at them. Ha. Gotcha. “How’s, uh, Betsy King, over there?”

The black haired girl is sitting on the deck with her back to the bar, watching the hockey game on an outdoor TV. You watch her hair move in the wind for a moment, hating it.

“Easier than you, believe or not.” Rafe stares at you. You snort. This is fun, you suppose. Just like old times, like he said. Biting conversation and secret glances at each others’ mouths.

“Two whiskey sours?” Calls Joey from the end of the bar, eyebrows drawn when she doesn’t see her patron. Rafe glances back at you, chewing at his lip, but decides against whatever he was going to say. He just walks over and grabs his drinks and disappears back outside. You suck at the straw of your drink, coming up empty, and drop it onto the counter. Your head is buzzing. From the liquor, yes, but also from him. He makes you so angry—so stupidly and embarrassingly angry. That stupid face and stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid boat shoes.

“That was nice,” says Landon, still focused on the TV, but you see his head turn slightly when you sigh.

“Sorry.” You are, really. You’re supposed to be on your best behavior; it’s not every day your parents let you take your 16 year old brother to the country club to sit and watch you get drunker and drunker.

“Yeah.” He sounds annoyed, and you feel embarrassed.

You drain two more vodka sodas and call it a night. You spend your time staring at the array of liquors and mixers beneath you at the bar, making small talk with Joey about the island, and numbly watch the hockey players beat each other to death. Rafe comes back in for another drink an hour after your conversation, but you just ignore his eyes on your profile.

“I’m gonna go pee, and then we’ll leave.” You heave yourself off of the stool, wincing at your sore ass, and nearly stumble. Shit.

Landon says “okay”, eyes on his phone and texting, and you hobble towards the bathroom on steady feet. You avoid looking outside, knowing it will only aggravate you.

The bathroom door slams behind you, too heavy for its own good, and the motion sensor lights kick on. You pee, staring up at the ceiling, and try to will away the pounding in your head and rippling vision.

You scrub your hands after, desperate to rid them of the dirt and grime of your day, and try not to think about how you wish you could wash Rafe out of your life. You stare at yourself in the mirror with a paper towel between your hands.

The girl in the mirror looks tired. You poke a finger at a pimple on your forehead, frowning. You just sigh.

You turn towards the door and wrench it open, the smell of restaurant and something musky filling your nose before you step out, and you barely get a foot out the door. Two hands push at your abdomen, eerily familiar, and you stumble back into the bathroom with your eyebrows drawn in confusion.

Rafe clouds your vision and your smell, hard chest at eye-level, and he reaches behind him to lock the door.

You stare up at him, chest heaving and he looks down at you with those stormy eyes.

“You’re aggravating, you know that?” He says, sounding exasperated, and seizes your waist in one large hand, pulling you to him. His mouth finds yours, familiar, and you feel his fingers on your warm cheek. You hate to admit it but your heart thumps loudly in your chest when you taste him.

His other arm snakes around your hips and grabs at your ass. You fall into the hard counter of the sink vanity, and you hum pleasantly.

“What about—about her?” You barely pull away to say, breathless, and he just pulls you back to him with his with strong fingers entwined in your hair.

“Up,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you brace a hand on the sink and obey. He pushes between your legs and your arms wind around his neck. You just breathe each other in, blood pounding, pressed up against each other.

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, and you push it up to feel his skin. He’s hot. Your fingers crawl up his abdomen and press to the center of his stomach, feeling it heave and push against your fingertips. He nearly flinches away at your cold fingers but is drawn closer when you make a noise into his mouth that reminds him of that time in the lighthouse where you had left with bruises around your neck and he with an ache in his hips. His hair is smooth when you drag a hand up to feel it, newly blunt and choppy. You like it all the same.

His body has grown and matured while you’ve been gone. His shoulders are stronger, bulkier, and when you feel the flesh of his stomach it feels more alive. Like he’s been moving and working hard while you were gone. Maybe he has been. With her.

You pull away at the thought. He chases you, fingers at your jaw, but you back up into the wall. He licks at his lips, a dangerous look in his eyes. He doesn’t like when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“What’s her name?” You ask. He removes himself from your grasp, backing away. He drags a hand through his hair. When his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows are drawn and his lips screwed up as he chews at his lip.

“Allison.”

“Do you love her?”

He barks out a laugh when you ask, hands pressed to the counter on either side of you, head bowed.

“Love? Are you insane?” He looks back up at you, shaking his head. He heart skips a beat when he thinks of you two in high school, and then he thinks he might be insane.

“Well, I’m currently in a family bathroom at the Island Club with you, so maybe.” You try a smile, but it falls when your eyes meet again. He thinks for a second.

“You’d be in here with me even if I was fucking married to that girl.” He watches your expression change from somber to disbelieving.

“You think?” Your eyebrows raise, incredulous, and watch as he nears you again and bows down to your eye level. You like to think you’re not the affair-woman. Well, you guess you might be.

“I know so. Why do you think I told your brother to get you to come tonight?” His lips curl into a smirk.

You just stare at him. Manipulative, psychotic, deranged, possessive. He’s all of the above and more. He slipped the idea into your goody-two-shoes 16 year old brother’s head to bring you to a bar and fuck him, and it makes your heart drop to your stomach.

You grab at the collar of his shirt and tug him down to you. Your mouths connect with a hot breath into his mouth, and you arch up into him. His hands find your lower back and he drags you further from the wall, letting you carefully slide on the granite and fall onto your back.

His large hands fumble with your pants, popping the buttons, and you crane your neck to watch as he tugs them down your legs, panties following with a slip of his thumb. He ducks to kiss you again and you hear his belt jingle. His fingers tug your shirt up and over your bra, and he grabs at a breast tightly as he jerks you down once more and pushes his dick into you.

You cry out, fingers on his cheekbone, and arch up into him. He just hums into your mouth, liking the feeling of your muscles straining around him, and it feels just as good as it used to. Just as beautiful as you’ve always been.

“Rafe,” you start, a breath caught in your throat. His nose brushes yours and he looks into your wide eyes. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Rafe’s head falls, and he groans into your neck. Fuck, you’re so hot.

He grips your hips tight and pulls you away and then back, hips colliding with yours and prompting a pained noise from your mouth. He relishes in it.

He slaps a hand at the wall above your head, using it as tension, and his hips move along with yours like they’re supposed to. It’s an uncoordinated dance, soft flesh rippling against hard muscle, and he pants into your mouth with the strain.

“You feel so good,” he groans into your ear, and you squeeze around him in response. “Fuck.”

“Please,” you mumble, lips pressed haphazardly against his stubbly cheek. He smells so good. You curl an arm around his head, fingers brushing past his hair, and hold his head down by yours.

The bathroom is loud with breaths and the sounds your bodies make, lewd and hurried. He huffs into your neck when he feels a pinch in his back and adjusts you further from the wall quickly. Nearly your entire ass is hanging off of the edge, precarious, but you know he won’t let you drop. His fingers around your back fall and he pushes his hand between your legs, seeking what you know he’s always been good at paying attention to. His large thumb finds your clit immediately, strumming you open, and your head falls back.

“You’re on the pill still?” He asks, fingers tight, and you close your eyes.

“Implant,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, but slap a hand over your mouth. His thumb strokes you in quick circles, and you’re cumming onto him embarrassingly quickly. Your abdomen tenses and you curl up into him. You feel your legs warm and you tighten them around his back, wanting him deeper as you fade into pleasure.

He grins at that, but it fades when his eyes squeeze shut and he’s bowing to touch his forehead to your chest. He bites at the bunched-up material of your shirt and pushes himself as deep as possible—so far that you can feel the flesh of your stomach move. He cums into you then, the release washing over his whole body and coating him in a sheen, and he nearly collapses on top of you.

You two catch your breath, still connected, and he pants hot into your neck.

“Fuck.” You struggle to swallow, nearly choking on an inhale.

“Yeah.”

He rugs himself from you, wincing, and zips his pants back up. He offers you a hand and you take it, struggling to slide off of the counter and onto your shaky legs. He watches you slide your underwear back on, wiping his mouth, and enjoys the show. You get your pants back up but fumble with the button and zipper.

“I hate this,” you mumble, eyebrows furrowed, and just give up with a roll of your eyes.

“Here,” he half-chuckles, and easily zips you up and buttons you with nimble fingers. Fingers you know and love.

Wait.

Before you can think about that, he grabs your face in two hands and tilts you up to him, staring at your relaxed features. He admires you. And then he dips to kiss your mouth one final time, savoring how your lips move against him like they’re supposed to. Like they always have.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, breath cool on your lips, and you stare up at him with confused eyes.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’ll come over.” He shrugs, and reaches to unlock the door. It swings open, and he sweeps a hand to gesture for you to leave first. You pass the threshold, patting down your hair, and lock eyes with Allison when you emerge from the cove that has the entrance to the kitchen and the bathrooms. She looks confused.

Guilt washes over your body, making your blood prickle at your skin, and you swallow. You walk straight past her piercing gaze, feeling Rafe pass you and go straight for the deck. You grab your jacket from next to Landon and feel for the keys.

“Let’s go,” you say to your brother, voice quiet, and he nods. He follows you as you exit through the side door, heading for your parent’s SUV. You toss him the keys when you get to the passenger door and he secretly and silently fist pumps.

“Did you talk to Rafe?”

Landon asks when he gets buckled and starts the engine. You sling the seatbelt over your torso and click it into place.

“Yeah. He hasn’t changed.” You watch Rafe usher Allison out the side door, hand on her lower back, and you swallow. “Let’s go home.”

#obx #obx 3 #obx x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot

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ducksturniolo · 4 months

Text

drunk ☆ （ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟥 ）

its the first day back after holidays , chris and y/n decide to hang out .

⌗ chris sturniolo x reader

⌗ strangers ( now friends ) to lovers

⌗ mentions of injuries , chris has boner , i think thats it

CHRIS POV :

it’s been around a few days since i got drunk at that party.

usually, i would say i regret it. but waking up next to a pretty girl? naked? i didn’t regret a thing i did that night.

even if i don’t remember anything.

right now i was getting ready for school, holidays was over. it was time to go back.

for once, i was excited to go. it meant i could see y/n again.

“CHRISS!! ARE YOU READY”

i quickly slipped on my shoes and- where are my airpods?

“ONE SEC MOM”

i scurried through my room in a panic. fuck fuck fuckkk.

i needed my airpods. especially since i had to catch the bus today.

both drop-off and pick-up.

kms.

“YOUR AIRPODS ARE DOWN HERE HONEY”

mom knows me so well.

i hurried downstairs, meeting the face of my mom, holding my lunch in one hand, airpods in the other.

she kissed me on the cheek. “have a good day sweetie, love you”

“will do, love you to mom.”

i ran to matt and nick at the bus stop, only just making it before the bus arrived.

finding my seat, i sat kinda close to the back but not too much. the ‘cool’ kids back there were kinda annoying.

yes, i could easily become ‘part of their group’ but i didn’t want to, they were so rude and full of themselves.

i hung out with them the least i could, which was hard to do considering i’m on the lacrosse team with a bunch of those idiots.

pulling my airpods out of the case, i stuck them in my ears in hopes they wouldn’t try and talk to me.

i scrolled through my playlist, trying to find a good song.

nowadays (feat. landon cube) - lil skies

clicking on it, i turned the volume up and pressed my head against the window.

i felt the bus come to a stop.

with many other people, i stand from my seat and throw my bag over one shoulder.

my airpods still playing, i join the line and start walking toward the exit of the bus.

the halls were filled with people, scanning through them, i tried to find a familiar face.

where was she?

making my way to my locker, approaching it before i started getting ready for homeroom.

unsure if they were handing out a new time-table, i didn’t bother getting my books ready for the first 3 periods. i would just do it after homeroom.

i grabbed my laptop, pencil case and airpods, shoving them in my bag before rushing into homeroom.

“good morning chris”

“morning miss jayde”

greeting the teacher, i made my way to my seat, once again toward the back but not too far.

“students, today we are handing out new timetab-”

the teacher was cut off by someone bursting through the door.

“late again i see miss y/l/n”

i turned my eyes to look at-

it was her. but her arms were covered in bruises, legs too. and her face had a cut just below her cheekbone.

my eyes softened at the sight. disregarding the fact that i never even realised we had the same homeroom.

“sorry miss, it won’t happen again i swear”

how did the teacher not notice? not care?

i noticed her eyes scanning the room. her face lights up once she notices me, and the spare seat next to me.

she walked up to the desk next to mine, sitting down and putting her stuff on the floor before glancing over at me. a soft smile creeping up on her face.

i smiled back at her.

“brr-ing!!”

that was the bell.

miss jayde told everyone to take their timetables as we left the room.

my smile dropped. i really hope we had some classes together.

we walked down the hall, side by side. comparing our timetables.

she read out her first 3 periods “i have math first, then social studies and then chemistry.”

i then looked at mine “i have english and then.. social studies and chemistry!”

she smiled.

“okayy, so how about after first period we meet at the lockers near S-block”

i grinned at her suggestion. “sounds good, bye y/n”

“see you in social studies, chris.”

we then departed, both of us moving to our first class.

english was boring, it felt like the longest lesson of my life. why couldn’t it be over already?

i just wanted to see her.

all of a sudden my thoughts ran wild.

i imagined her beneath me while i was pounding into her, seeing her face as she came close to her climax.

or maybe she would look better on top of me, taking control as she rode my dick. edging me closer and closer until tears ran down my face.

fuck chris. you can’t be thinking this shit.

we fucked once. on accident. we were drunk. she probably sees us as only friends that made a stupid mistake.

that’s all.

i repeated that over and over through my mind.

but that didn’t make me want her any less.

i needed her.

my hard dick pressed firmly against the front of my pants. how i was meant to get through the rest of the day?

“brr-ing!”

fuck fuck fuck.

what do i do. there’s no way she won’t be able to see my massive boner. let alone everyone else in the hall to.

i had an idea. i would just take my jumper off and tie it around my waist. simple.

im literally a genius.

packing up my stuff. i made my way to where we promised to meet.

the lockers near S-block.

she wasn’t there. so i stood there, waiting for her arrival.

3 MINUTES LATER :

the girl still wasn’t here. her class wasn’t that far away. it was only around the corner. where was she?

then i saw her.

with kayden.

the biggest fuckboy in the history of them. they were walking, laughing, seems like they were having fun.

my heart dropped to my feet.

the pair walked up to me. kayden hugged her goodbye. making sure to slide his hands down her waist.

“seeya princess.”

she smiled, watching him as he walked away.

once he turned the corner she rolled her eyes.

“he’s soo annoying.”

i let out a light laugh. feeling a sense of relief.

she went to hug me, my eyes widened as i remembered the hard figure in my pants.

i kinda pushed her, giving her a side hug.

she looked up at me with a face of confusion before brushing it off. “ready to go?”

“of course.”

we walked in comfortable silence to class.

third period had just ended, it was time for lunch.

me and y/n gathered our things before walking down the hall, walking to the cafeteria.

both of us stopped at our lockers on our way, putting away our books before continuing.

we were, once again, walking in comfortable silence, that was until i spoke up.

“hey y/n”

she turned her head to look at me.

“yea chris?”

the way she was looking at me. fuck.

“um- did you- like want to sit with me at lunch? like with my brothers?”

why did she make me so nervous.

i felt like a 5th grader talking to a girl for the first time.

“sure, i would love to.”

i said nothing, just smiled at her.

we were in the line for the cafeteria.

“are you SURE you don’t want anything?” i asked her, again.

she chuckled lightly.

“yes chris, im sure.”

once we were out of the line, i had my food, y/n had nothing. she just followed behind me through the crowd.

her hand was gripped on the back of my shirt so she wouldn’t lose me.

it was kinda cute.

we made our way out of the large groups of people, i felt her hand let go of my shirt and noticed her catch up beside me.

once we approached her table, her eyes widened.

“matt?”

my brother looked up, his mouth dropped when his eye caught the girl beside me.

“y/n?”

☆ kanana speaks ☆

not me naming kayden after my failed talking stage ( he was a hoe ) lmfaoo

taglist: @spencerstits @mattsneezing @mattsaq

#kanana luvs u #kanana writes #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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