anitaxl - Tumblr blog

[anitaxl]

well kept [5] 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, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: even longer chapter :)

word count: 5.3k

In which Rafe presents you with his plan for your future and you question the true cost of his offer.

well kept masterlist

You breathed easy for the first time in a long while. You laughed, smiled, and your heart beat at a normal pace. You sipped your drink not from nervousness but from a desire to truly enjoy yourself. The evening was about fun and connection, and you were determined to embrace it.

The week following your cabin trip had been a deep pit of depression. Your friends, concerned by your obvious distress, had insisted you join them for the weekend. They only saw the stress of work weighing on you, Rafe’s hidden bruises were invisible to them. You had opted for jeans and a crop top, deliberately avoiding a dress that might reveal the lingering marks of his anger. 

It was an act of rebellion to wear something Rafe hadn’t picked out but it was freeing. It was time you accepted that he didn’t own you 24/7, he had no right to you two days out of the week.

You bought your friends drinks, a part of the new perk that came with having salary. You liked treating them but every swipe of your card reminded you of all you were putting up with to get it. 

What Rafe did to you, he did out of selfishness, no one who cared for you truly could treat you like he did. You certainly weren’t a couple like everyone in Rafe’s close circle assumed you were. You didn’t know much about relationships or what real love looked like, but you were certain of one thing: whatever you had with Rafe would never evolve into something warm and tender enough to be labeled as love. You were reclaiming some normalcy. Or at least, that was what you hoped for. 

The three of you had decided to move the party back to your apartment at 2 AM, and the city lights flickered like stars in the darkened sky. Imani, with her arm securely interlocked with yours, clung to you, her presence both comforting and grounding amidst the night’s chaos.

You squeezed into the backseat, chatter and laughter from the evening buzzed in your ears. Angel was making smalltalk with the driver because that was just the type of person she was. Closest to the window, you checked your phone for the first time all night. Three messages from Rafe. Your heart started to beat in the rattled way it had been, pressing against your ribcage in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. 

Two images of you. Outfits you’d sent him. Along with a message. 

For Monday and Tuesday. - R.C. 

Sent at ten the night before. Imani leaned closer and you locked your phone, shoving it between your legs. 

“He’s really texting you? It’s Saturday.”

“Sunday now,” You tried to not sound rattled as you met her eyes.

“Like that makes a difference,” You expected her tone to be light given the vodka on her breath and silly pop songs playing on the radio, “No wonder you’re going crazy.”

“Crazy?” You laughed but it came out hollow, “Y-You guys thought I was sad and now I’m going crazy?”

“Yes,” She spoke matter-of-factly, “And it’s strange that you won’t tell us anything about him.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” You said, realizing she wasn’t going to drop it.  You wondered if this was her plan, to get you drunk and then pry out all the gossip about your new boss.

“I’m really worried, Y/N,” She said, “You don’t have to tell us everything but at least … let us help. We can help, I promise.”

Angel tuned into the conversation, realizing it had gone serious, “Yeah, my Mom and Dad are literally cops, Y/N. Just say the word-” 

“I promise it’s not that serious, Angel,” you said, shaking your head. The idea of involving the police felt almost laughable given the magnitude of Rafe’s wealth and influence. “I told you g-g-g-guys, he’s just a demanding asshole.”

“If it’s not that serious than why has he been over at our apartment? If you’re not sleeping together or not dating?”

“It’s complicated,” You spoke robotically. 

“We want to be there for you,” Angel added. You wanted to believe that. If you told them the truth, you’d have to explain why you hadn’t walked away yet. Rafe had given you every reason to quit and yet here you were. 

“You guys are there for me. I-I-I appreciate this night so much. I’ve just b-b-b-been letting work consume me. You guys have pulled me out of my fog. This next wwww-week will be better because I’m actually taking care of myself.”

It was an excuse, a way to rationalize why you hadn’t walked away from Rafe yet. You started to believe it, convincing yourself that things would get better just because you were trying to take care of yourself now.

“Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he gets to have your body,” The world seemed to go quiet after Imani spoke those words. The music quieted and both you and Angel stared at her, the heavy silence enveloping the three of you. 

“She’s right, you know,” Angel said softly. 

How had she seen so clearly what you were trying to hide? Why were they prying into your life? You were an adult, after all. You should have the right to make your own decisions, however flawed they might seem to others. But their concern felt invasive, as if they were prying into a private struggle you were barely managing to keep under control.

Pity. 

Your best friends pitied you, “Oh, y-you’re not serious,” You smiled crazily, “He’s not …I’m nnn-n-not …you both have it so so wrong.”

They stared at you, trying to guage your reaction, but your heart and brain were going crazy. You couldn’t pick what emotion to convey because you were feeling all of them. 

“I’m drunk,” You rested your head back, “I’m so drunk.”

As the rideshare pulled up to your apartment building, you fumbled with your seatbelt, eager to escape the heavy conversation, “Y/N, we didn’t mean to upset you,” You heard Angel say at they followed you out of the car. 

“I’m okay. So okay.”

You wanted to hurry inside the lobby but felt a hand wrap around your arm, “Y/N,” Imani stopped you. 

You whipped your head around, panicked, “I’m fine. I sss-said I’m fine.”

“You boss’s car is parked over there.”

You followed her pointed finger, and your blood ran cold. There it was—Rafe’s sleek black car, parked conspicuously outside your building. “Wha—” you stammered, unable to process the sight of it, “Oh.”

“Why the fuck is he here?” Imani cursed. 

“I’ll meet you guys inside–”

“Go talk to him but we’re standing right here until you’re done,” Imani crossed her arms in front of her and gave you pointed look. 

“Angel,” You looked at you other friend, pleading. 

She shook her head, “We’re standing here, Y/N.”

“Fine,” You whispered. It was a quiet declaration of your frustration, a statement of your internal struggle. 

They didn’t trust you. You could take care of yourself. This would upset Rafe, you knew it would. You took a deep breath as you wandered towards the small parking lot beside your building. His bright truck lights shined against the brick of the building and you saw his arm resting outside the window, fingers drumming nervous on the frame. You pulled at your crop top, wanting to force it to be longer, as you got closer. 

“Y/N,” His voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge. 

Tonight, Rafe’s blue eyes were wild. Instead of the usual darkness you saw behind his pupils, you saw wildness. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his other hand was busy rubbing worried circles over his buzzed haircut, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen before.

“Rafe, wh-what are you doing out here?” You dropped the formalities. It felt wrong to address him with respect, more than it usually did, when he was sitting outside of your apartment at two in the morning. 

He looked you over once, before his door opened, and he climbed out. Dressed in a polo and khaki shorts, he left his car running, before he was standing in front of you. Only a foot away and already you weren’t breathing correctly. He moved closer but you said, “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Hurt, confused, he gave you a look you hadn’t seen before, “Why not?”

You gestured as subtly as you could, to your two friend who were settled under the awning that hung over your apartment buildings entrance, “My roommates are waiting for me.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, before his hands found his hips, “Right,” He nodded before he laughed, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel crazy tonight, you know?”

Yes, you knew. Now your crazy was starting to feel like nothing compared to whatever was building inside of your boss. He was different tonight, younger, and out of control, “What are you doing out here?” You asked again, “It’s two in the mmm-morning.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to show up like this. I just wanted to talk to you. I came earlier and you weren’t here and I … I started spiraling, you know? You’ve been out all night. I don’t like …I just felt fucking nervous.”

“Nervous b-because I went out with mmm-mmm-my friends?” Your words were cautious but you couldn’t help that your eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“I needed to see you.”

“You see me now,” You said, “What … what is it?”

Rafe took a breath, “I made a mistake at the cabin and I think, ever since then, you’ve been distant.”

You nodded as you tried to understand his meaning. He made a mistake when he spanked you with a belt, making two of his close acquaintances listen to you scream, and leaving you to cry yourself to sleep. The distance he now complained about was a direct result of his actions—a defense mechanism you’d put in place to protect yourself. And yet, here he was, expressing frustration over your response, as if your withdrawal was the real issue rather than his behavior.

“Rafe, honestly, this isn’t h-h-helping … I d-d-don’t know if I can handle this right now. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be,” You took a step back and you were comforted by the fact that he couldn’t take a step towards you. He wouldn’t make a scene, not in front of your roommates. Maybe you could forgive their intrusiveness. 

Rafe seemed to tense at your words and you watched as his eyes wandered down the sidewalk towards your friends, “Okay, uhm …they say something to you?” His voice carried a note of suspicion, as if their presence was somehow a direct affront to him.

“They’re my friends,” you replied tersely, hoping that would be the end of it. Of course your friends had expressed their concerns about him. 

“Okay,” Rafe said, his voice edged with frustration. “I just … I’m here because I want to fix things.”

“C-Can we talk about it on Monday, please?” You asked, “I’ve been-”

“You’ve been drinking,” He filled in your words, more unamused than before, “It’s not safe, little girl like you, only your friends to protect you … there’s lots of bad, bad people in this city.” 

The way he said "little girl" stung. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt more patronizing and condescending tonight.

“I can take care of myself,” you said firmly, taking another step back towards your building, trying to put more space between you and his imposing figure.

“Can you?” he taunted, the words heavy with mockery. “Alright, I’ll give you some space. You know what? Go ahead and take Monday off, you deserve it, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight,” You said before you turned away from him. You jumped when you heard his truck door slam close but you didn’t look back. 

Your friends, witnessing the tense exchange from the corner of the awning, approached you with concern written on their faces. Angel reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with worry.

“Fuck, that dude is crazy,” Imani said, “You have to quit. I’ll get another part time job. We both will while you look for something else. We’ll make it work.”

You should have cried in their arms, letting their comfort and love wash over you, but instead, all you felt was exhaustion and apathy. You didn’t have the energy to be comforted or to express your gratitude. Numb and drained, you trudged inside, your mind already longing for the softness of your pillow. Your friends followed quietly. 

Tuesday morning, your alarm didn’t wake you up. There was a pounding on your door before Imani stormed into your room. Heart racing, you lifted your head and checked your phone sitting on your side table. It was thirty minutes before your alarm was even supposed to go off, “What the-”

“Look!” Groggily, you sat up in your bed just as a crumpled white envelope was thrown at your chest. You held it up to the light trickling into your room from the window, and you easily saw red bold letters stamped across the top of the letter: EVICTION NOTICE. 

Without another thought, you ripped open the envelopement, “It’s probably a-a prank, Imani.”

“What is going on?” Angel stumbled into the room next, mouth full of foaming toothpaste. 

You held open the letter as you began to read carefully, “As per the terms of your lease agreement and in a-a-accordance with the state and local regulations, this letter serves as your official notice of eviction–”

“Fuck,” Imani cursed. 

“This decision has been mmmm-made in alignment with our current business strategy which includes renovating the apartment to increase its value and preparing the property for sale to a prospective buyer …”

“Someones buying our entire apartment building?” Angel asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is fucked,” Imani added. 

You continued reading, “The termination for your lease w-w-w-will be affected sixty days from the date of this notice. Please ensure thhh-that you vacate the premises by this date …”

You read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it. The signature at the bottom confirmed its legitimacy.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Imani sat down on the edge of your bed, head in the palm of her hands, “They can’t do this. It’s illegal! Where are we supposed to go?”

“Sixty days from now is right before the holidays start,” Angel leaned in the doorway, her eyes starting to well with tears, “I can’t go back home.”

Imani shook her head, “This apartment is my home.”

Determined, you climbed out of bed, pulling on the work clothes you had pre-selected. You kicked off your fuzzy socks, removed your bonnet, and began fixing your braids into a messy bun. “I’m going into the office,” you said resolutely. “I w-w-w-work for a real estate company. Rafe will know what to do. They can’t just do this. If anyone knows how to get out of this, he will.”

The two girls exchanged glances, their concern palpable. “We don’t need his help,” Imani said firmly.

“I don’t think I want it,” Angel added quietly.

You stared at them, incredulous. “He c-can help. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Y/N, is this really smart?” Angel asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“I can’t believe you guys. Get out, I’m getting ready,” you snapped, frustration rising. “Get out, now!”

As they left the room, their worried faces lingered in your mind, but you were focused on finding a solution.

Despite drunkenly conveying your uncertainties about your position with Rafe a few nights before, that morning, you were the epitome of perfection.  You wore exactly what he had chosen for you: a light blue dress embellished with sparkling sequins, pockets, and a Peter Pan collar. You even spent more than ten minutes putting on your makeup that morning, you looked flawless, more effort than you’d ever put in before.

You recited his entire schedule with only a slight stutter, had a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him at his desk, and arranged for lunch from one of his favorite restaurants. You allowed him to wrap his hand around your waist, to lean down and bury his face in your neck, to inhale your scent and press a gentle kiss against your skin.

It was like nothing had changed. Seeing Rafe outside of your apartment that night was frightening, a reminder of the presence he now had in your life, but you’d never seen him look so … desperate. Rafe Cameron was desperate for you, of all people. It dawned on you that perhaps there was room for negotiation. At the cabin, you had vehemently resisted his behavior, and his reaction had been explosively violent. But now, with him admitting to a mistake and showing a rare glimpse of vulnerability, you realized you might possess more leverage than you had previously imagined.

You spent the first few hours at work hyping yourself up to bring up the eviction notice to Rafe. All of his morning meetings went well and he didn’t have the usual cloud of darkness that was constantly over his head. When there was finally a lull in the day, you finally told him the news you’d learned that morning. However, his reaction made your face fall into a frown that you didn’t have the strength to correct.

“I’m not sure what the problem is. Don’t I pay you enough to be able to afford your own apartment?”

“My friends …” you began, struggling to find the right words. Mentioning your friends was wrong. You knew how he felt about the voices of reason in your life. 

“Right, your friends. What would you have me do?” His words continued to be indifferent and detached, as if he could want you so bad, but care nothing about the lives that were closest to you, “Offer them jobs? Pay for them to live as well?”

“No, that’s nnn-not what I mean,” It felt like he was purposefully miscontruing your words, and in turn, your character. Of course you didn’t expect for him to take care of your friends. Not letting him take advantage of the sea of emotions you were feeling, you recited your problem clearly, “I just want to know if you have any advice. For handling the situation. Something that’s in our control as tenants.”

“You don’t have much power at all, as tenants. You’re subject to the decisions made by the property management and the owners,” Before the reality of his words fully sunk in, he sighed, continuing, “You could look at your lease agreement and read it thoroughly to find any clauses that protect you. You could consult with a lawyer though that would be a pricy right to go down. You could talk to your landlord and try to get an extension to find a new place. That’s where I would start, sweetheart.”

Rafe’s hands folded together, looking up at you, as a smile graced his face. You nodded, “Okay,” You were grateful for a straight answer, but admittedly, you thought he would offer a better solution, “What should we look for in the lease? What would protect us?”

“Anything about early termination, language about renovations or changes in property management. Stipulations about how much notice is required before evicting you. If the landlord has violated any of those terms, it could be grounds for negotiation.”

“Huh,” you nodded, your heart filling with a small bit of hope, despite how out of reach some of his suggestions felt, “O-Okay, thank you. Yeah, I’ll t-t-talk to my roommates about it.”

“If it were me, I would be make sure I focused on my own safety and well being. You can’t really help your friends if you’re out on the street with them.” 

His words, rude and smart like always, stung but you didn’t dwell on them, “Thanks for the advice, sir.” 

For the rest of the morning, you shuffled between tasks and scrolling through your lease agreement. You searched it for the keywords that Rafe at mentioned and when that search wasn’t fruitful, you started to read it top to bottom. Your landlord was only required to give you sixty days notice for an eviction. You found absolutely nothing about property management changes. Hours passed and as lunchtime approach, you were sufficiently frustrated. 

You brought Rafe his lunch as he sat through a lunch time meeting but you made your way to the breakroom quickly afterwards.

Imani had called you a few time so you returned it. You’d texted your groupchat about all the steps that Rafe had mentioned. Imani had replied that he was probably withholding information. You weren’t quite sure why that idea hadn’t crossed your mind. 

“Hey, I still haven’t found anything–”

“Cameron Development is the one purchasing the apartment building, Y/N.”

Your heart sank and you plopped down on the breakroom’s leather couch with a heavy sigh, “Shit,” You whispered. 

“Shit is an understatement,” She replied, “Y/N, I’m starting to think you need to be really careful. Maybe we should go to the police.”

He’d lied to your face, unabashedly. 

"We'll talk about it later, I promise," You spoke before you hung up, not giving her a chance to argue.

It was much too late for careful. You should’ve ran after your first conversation with him but now … you were effectively trapped. Rafe had sex with you even when you didn’t want to. He hurt you and you held him for comfort after you. It had been weeks since you’d even felt like yourself. 

You leaned back to stare at the ceiling and you didn’t move for the next thirty minutes. Eleanor was the one who came to find you after you’d gone missing, “Y/N, Rafe’s been looking for you. What are you doing?”

“Did you know?” You asked her solemnly, your voice felt broken. 

She came to sit beside you and you felt her place a hand on your shoulder as she leaned closer, “Topper told me they rushed the deal. Offered twice the asking price. Said it was horrible idea, completely financially irresponsible, but Rafe insisted. ”

“Wh-What should I do?” You turned your head towards her, tears in your eyes, “I-I’ve never had sss-someone feel this way about me b-but th-this feels wrong.”

“What should you do?” She repeated, “I think he loves you.”

“L-Love?” You seemed to choke on the words. 

From what you could tell, it didn’t seem that Rafe was capable of loving anyone, “What does your gut tell you?”

This entire time, your gut had been telling you one thing, “T-To run?”

Even now, you were so unsure of yourself, “Makes sense, he’s suffocating you.”

You sat up in your spot, “Should I go now? Leave all my stuff? He p-paid for it, anyways.”

“I don’t think this is the time,” She squeezed your shoulder gently, her eyes soft as they fixed on you, “If you run, he’ll drag you back to his mansion kicking and screaming. Rafe just made this grand gesture to display his power. A huge fuck you to all the people you care about. He’s desperate. This is your time to get what you want from him. Tell him, you’re not going to be his little sex secretary anymore or follow him to the mountains, unless he changes.” 

“Y-You think he can change?”

“I didn’t think so before,” Eleanor said, her voice firm. “But now, seeing how desperate he is, I believe he’ll do anything to keep you.”

You could barely admit to yourself that part of you wished what she was saying was true. The notion that Rafe might have feelings for you, even if expressed through flawed and controlling actions, was both intoxicating and unsettling. Maybe you could take the bad with the good if the good started to outweigh the bad. But Rafe’s bad was more than bad. His soft gestures were often accompanied by demands and manipulations. 

There was no pros and cons list to be made. You looked at your situation objectively, Eleanor’s words having finally forced you to. If you ran, he’d come after you. If you ran, you’d have nothing. No apartment or salary to support yourself. You longed for a relationship where you felt safe and cared for and you wanted to live in a world where your friends were also taken care of. 

“I hope you’re not handling your personal business during workhours,” Rafe had said when you finally returned to the office. 

Ironic, given all the personal things you two had done together in that very office. 

“I’m not the one who made it personal,” You spoke easily, smoothly. 

You made your way to your desk. Your words seemed to bothered him but you didn’t glance at him long enough to take in his reaction. 

“And how did I make it personal?” You flipped through your personal calendar, taking a pen and marking down all of Rafe’s scheduled social events. 

“It’s not g-g-going to work. Using my friends to threaten me.”

“Oh?” That single word was dripping with venom.

“Just makes me think even www-worse of you. And I-I already had a poor opinion.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to look at him but you kept your eyes focused down, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your opinion of me?"

“B-Because I drive you crazy. Because I’m the one person y-you want to control completely.”

“Maybe I wanted to make things easier for you. Maybe I know that you’ll outgrow your little friends soon and you need a push in the right direction. You have friends in higher places now, you know that?”

“Y-You don’t like that they tell me to quit. That they know sss-somethings wrong with you.”

“You’re wrong,” He shot back.

“You’ve done a good job b-because now I can’t leave without losing everything,” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking. Finally, you turned your heads toward him. You saw the way his chair was towards you, the way his grip was tight on the armrests of his chair.

“Maybe I’ve been selfish.”

You scoffed at that, “You’ve mmm-made it clear that you don’t care about my needs or mmm-my feelings.”

“I know your feelings, sweetheart. You wear them so clearly,” Rafe replied, you could see it in his face that he was trying to keep his tone subdued He leaned foreward slightly, eyes as intense as ever, “Tell me what needs I haven’t tended to. Let me fix things, yeah?”

His offered seemed genuine and exactly what you were hoping for, weren’t you? 

“You really want to fix things?”

“Yeah,” He said like the crimes he’d committed against you were something that could remedied, “I can’t change what I don’t know.”

“It’s not just about what you’ve done wrong. It’s a-about how you handle things from now on,” You started, choosing your words carefully, “It’s about allowing mmm-mmme to set boundaries and respecting them.”

“Boundaries?” His head twisted to the side like he wasn’t entirely familiar with the term, “There’s multiple?”

“First, I want you t-to do what you can to remedy this apartment situation. Then, I don’t want you to ever bring my friends into this again.”

“Fine, I’ll get them another apartment. I’ll even throw in free rent.”

“No,” You shook your head, “You own the building which means you let us stay. No renovations.”

“I made an investment. I have to make a profit–”

“I’m serious,” You countered, “Y-Y-You made your point. You have all the mmm-money in the world and we have nothing in comparison.”

Rafe sighed, fingers tapping against his leg, “Okay, they stay but you come to live with me.”

“What? Why?” It was another layer of control, not a solution. 

“Your friends will want nothing to do with me or my help. If you continue to work for me, they won’t want anything to do with you either. If you want to maintain those relationships, some space would be better. Let them see you happy and they’ll come to their senses about our relationship.”

The implication of his words was clear. He was offering you a way to keep your friends, but it came with the price of further entangling your life with his. It felt like a manipulative trade-off.  You thought about the way he had manipulated you before, using your friends as leverage, and it made you wary of his intentions.

“I won’t say yes right now,” You decided, “Sss-sss-since we’re talking about living situations. Next year, I want to stay in Charlotte.”

“That won’t work.”

What had Eleanor told you to do? Had she forgotten how stubborn he was? 

“Y-You’re asking me to move across the state with you. I-It’s t-t-t-to much. There will have to be another arrangement.”

“Hmm, I won’t say yes right now,” he repeated your wording with an edge of mockery. You scowled, feeling the frustration build up inside you.

“You just sss-said you wanted to fix things.”

“My intentions … my intentions are to leave the city and spend the next few years settling down. I’m getting to a certain age and I’ve been thinking about, you know, getting married and having kids. It feels like the right time,” The information is a shock to you, not the thought of Rafe wanting a wife and kids, but knowing immediately he was implying that you’d be filling that role, “It’s a beautiful area. I wouldn’t expect you to continue your role there. You’d fully be a stay-at home wife, you could pursue any hobbies you wanted, and of course you’d have access to even more money than I’ve been paying you.”

Rafe began to paint a picture of a gilded cage. On the surface, it was tempting: a life of comfort, stability, and freedom from financial worries. But the price was your independence and autonomy. The thought of becoming a stay-at-home wife, completely reliant on him and cut off from your own life in Charlotte, was suffocating.

“What if I d-d-don’t want that life? W-What if I want my own career?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he leaned back in his chair, “What career do you want? I’ll give it to you. You can do practically anything from home these days. If you want to spend the first years doing that, fine, I’m not expecting kids right away.”

You hadn’t realized it but your breath was starting to quicken. You placed a hand over your chest, all of that resolve you had going into the conversation starting to fade away, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Rafe seemed to talk to himself, “Hey, hey, calm down.” 

Your breath came out in quick shallow breaths. Rafe’s proposal pressed down on you as the room started to spin. You felt his arms around you before you could fall from your chair, “Eleanor, I need you here,” You heard clearly. For the next moments, you could only hear their muffled talking. You remembered seeing both of them, panicked look on Eleanor’s face, a hand rubbing down your back. Rafe was talking to you, his eyes trained on you intently. You remembered a glass of water coming to your lips and you tilted your head back, welcoming the liquid, thinking it might quell the fire inside your mind. 

Though your thoughts still raced, the room’s spinning slowed down, and the you heard Rafe dsay, “It’ll help you feel better.”

He stayed with you, rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your thighs, “Thank you,” You whispered though you hated that you found comfort in his touch. A wave of drowsiness overcame you and despite your best efforts to stay alert, you felt yourself lean forward until you were fully in Rafe’s arms, “Rafe–”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Rest,” Rafe murmured, his voice soft and reassuring as he held you close.

This got too long, gonna have to make another part! Pls pls pls reblog and let me know your thoughts and predictions!

[anitaxl]

[anitaxl]

Hello, I am Malak Muhammad from the Gaza Strip, a mother of three children. I hope you will reblog my message. I hope you can help me donate or spread the word about my campaign https://www.tumblr.com/malokamohamed?source=share

https://www.gofundme.com/f/95gn2-urgent-relief-help-my-family-evacuate

🙏🙏🙏🥺

Of course

[anitaxl]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that i converted into a makeshift part 6.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content.

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Blessed

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[anitaxl]

how you can help palestine

*i regularly update this post with any new info i find so please always reblog the original post*

Donations

donations currently reaching gaza:

‼️ help buy e-sims for people in gaza

donate to get food packages to gaza - care for gaza

donate direct aid to gaza - ehab rida (longtime activist and volunteer, has been carrying out donations and humanitarian projects in gaza since 2021)

palestine children's relief fund

world food programme

aid to gaza - taawon/bank of palestine

help gaza’s children

female hygiene kits for gaza - pious project

donate to UNRWA

urgent humanitarian aid to palestinians - anera

medical aid for palestinians

urgent support for medical professionals in gaza

gaza evacs and prosthetics - raindove (link to donations in their bio)

donate to ahmed (@/90-ghost on tumblr)

he is born, raised and based in gaza. please help him reach his goal of $50K to get his family to safety across the rafah border into egypt. as of right now… it’s $7.5K per person to evacuate gaza.

help journalist yousef escape gaza to treat his cancer

help mohamed evacuate gaza to get treatment for himself and his daughter

support palestinians: buy a keffiyeh from the last and only factory in palestine - hirbawi

secondary donations:

click to donate - arab.org

emergency relief for gaza - pious projects

palestine red crescent society

save palestine - islamic relief canada

send medical supplies to gaza - palestinian american medical association

help bring down israel's weapon trade - palaction

donate for the recovery of hisham awartani

one of the three palestinian students shot by a racist in vermont for wearing kufiyas and speaking arabic. hisham’s injuries have left him paralysed from below the chest.

Petitions

‼️ urge icj to invite gazan journalists to testify

international cultural workers to strike from german cultural institutions for their complicity in oppressing palestinians and promoting genocide - strike germany

petition to investigate war crimes committed by israeli military

demand ceasefire - amnesty international

open call for immediate ceasefire

american government call for immediate ceasefire

american government to stop funding israeli military

ceasefire and increase humanitarian assistance - oxfam au

petition to get canva to address their pro-israel stance

invoke the genocide convention to call for ceasefire in gaza - world beyond war

suspend israel from international sports - diem25

UK to expel israeli ambassador - change.org

gaza healthcare workers for nobel peace prize - change.org

teachers around the world demand ceasefire - teachers for palestine

president whitten: reinstate samia halaby retrospective NOW - action network

demand the immediate release of mansour shouman

location specific petitions

gaza call for lasting ceasefire - oxfam (UK)

end israeli occupation - parliament uk (UK)

email your MP - medical aid for palestine (UK)

protect gaza civilians - islamic relief (UK)

stop fuelling genocide - action network (USA)

@ biden: call for ceasefire now - move on (USA)

ceasefirenow.com - jewishvoiceofpeace (USA)

call congress and demand a ceasefire - uscpr (USA - they provide a script of what you should say, so don't worry about it)

note: you can call everyday. they tally the number of calls per issue. so more calls = higher chance for them to take action. p.s. you mainly go to voicemail so don’t worry about phone call anxiety. fight through it just this once please.

no forced displacement! - action network

australia call on israel to stop attacking palestinians - apan (AUS)

immediate ceasefire and increase in humanitarian aid in gaza - actionaid (AUS)

email your MPs - stand with palestine (AUS)

‼️ australian senate to investigate australian citizens in the IDF for war crimes allegations - fpm (AUS)

‼️ arms embargo on israel - cjpme (CANADA)

sign to send letter to MP for ceasefire - nccm (CANADA)

ceasefire now! - ijv (CANADA)

call on your local mayor and council to demand ceasefire - LeadNow (CANADA)

cessez-le-feu et un couloir humanitaire - le mouvement (FRANCE)

écrivez aux député-es et sénateurs-trices - association france palestine solidarité (FRANCE)

write to your député - assemblée nationale (FRANCE)

skydda civilbefolkningen i gaza! - mittskifte (SWEDEN)

singaporeans call for immediate ceasefire (SIN)

contact your elected reps and demand a ceasefire (GERMANY)

write to the EU demanding a ceasefire (EUROPE)

template of letters you can send (EU)

guide on how to contact your MPs in EU

p.s. if the template is outdated, just use it as a guide and add a few sentences here and there that reflect the current situation. i can’t find any recent templates so :/ at least this is something

multiple actions you can take to help palestine - plant een olifbloom (NETHERLANDS)

includes: links for donations, emails to MP, emails to media, links to petitions and demonstrations

den haag, maak nú werk van vrede in israël/Palestina - the right forum (NETHERLANDS)

māori call for palestine - ourActionStation (NZ)

deem israeli actions as war crimes - NZ parliament/pāremata aotearoa (NZ)

basta ao genocídio em Gaza! - awaaz (BRAZIL)

globo e grande mídia, parem de desumanizar civis palestinos - the intercept (BRAZIL)

manifesto ao governo brasileiro - petição pública (BRAZIL)

Campaigns

‼️ justice for palestine

reach out to countries to back up south africa’s invoke genocide convention at the ICJ

‼️ international criminal court

submit evidences of israeli war crimes

friends of al-aqsa

❥ UK-specific

urge your MP to speak up for palestine

hands off al-aqsa

stop administrative detention

petition for UK to stop arming israel

❥ International

boycott puma — email them to end their partnership with israel

boycott coca-cola

islamic relief canada

urge your MP to rally for ceasefire

decolonise palestine

poster campaign to raise awareness on the war crimes being committed against palestinians

text/call campaign for people living in USA

text RESIST @ 50409 to send a letter to your representatives to pass HR3103–a bill that prohibits tax dollars from going to israel

download 5Calls app to contact members of your congress | (more info)

fax campaign for people in the USA

go on this website to send 5 free faxes per day

here’s a link to a pre-written fax copy you can download to send (the first link on the linktree)

here’s a video that explains how to fax your senator (it’s very easy and all you need is a valid email address)

‼️ BDS movement

get involved in boycotting companies associated with israel

palestine diaspora network

global strike guide - join the global strike!

please let me know if you have any more links. i will add them in. and please reblog the original post!!

UPCOMING PROTESTS

PALESTINIAN LITERATURE READING LIST

PALESTINIAN BUSINESSES

-last updated 11/3/24-

[anitaxl]

I get it, I really do, but I feel like ppl w decision paralysis related to Gazans are also suffering from a kind of non-malignant egotism

"who do I decide to give it to? everyone needs help! I can't help them all!"

You're not the only person they're asking!!!!!

If you choose one person to help that day, a bunch of other ppl choose others

stopping to overthink your inflated importance as an individual versus one in many is what's giving you paralysis

the more you burden yourself as an incapable hero the less you all act as a group-- which is the exact answer you're looking for

fkn close your eyes, scroll on OOB and donate to whoever you click on first

you're not god, it's not your job to save everyone

JUST DO SOMETHING

[anitaxl]

out of bounds (part three)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | part two

» masterlist

Zach regrets coming to your cabin last night.

Not because your boss stopped by. Early this morning, he ran into Ruby and she didn’t even mention catching you together after hours. She doesn’t suspect a thing.

He should’ve known that she wouldn’t think he was breaking any rules. He has a reputation for being responsible.

He regrets coming over because now, when he sees you from across the loud dining hall at breakfast, he can’t reign in his rushing thoughts about last night.

You’d stood over him as he sat and his hands were on his knees, nearly brushing against your legs, and it wouldn’t have taken much effort at all to run his palms over your thighs as your fingertips ghosted over his face.

You looking down at him like that, having full control over him, stirred something deep in his core. The way you touched him was innocent, but it made his body tense with desire. You were so close to him, your presence so intoxicating.

He fell asleep thinking about your time alone in your cabin, but instead of remembering the reality of you stepping away, he imagined you straddling him in the chair he was sitting in, pressing your lips against his, and giving him permission to run his hands over your curves.

Zach looks down at his plate. He’s sure he’s blushing. It’s insane how fast his mind has run away from him. His longing for you is starting to feel like a need, like he might feel actual pain if he doesn’t get to touch you in some way.

But it’s not allowed. And besides, if it was, even though you’ve definitely been flirting with him, you might not even like him that much. Maybe if he asked if he could kiss you or touch you, you’d tense up and look at him with distaste. He’d hate to make you feel uncomfortable.

He clears his throat and tries to focus on work. Oliver is actually eating a decent amount for once. He’s still not really talking, but he seems a little more at ease.

Zach has to thank you for helping him figure out that apparently, the kid is very particular about his appetite. He’s excited he’ll have a chance to do so when you run morning drills together.

After breakfast, as scheduled, you approach the west field with your girls following closely behind, listening to them chatter about the weird dreams they had last night.

Seconds later, one of them calls your name.

“Yeah?”

“Who are we running drills with now?”

“Zach’s group,” you say. A couple of girls giggle.

“He’s so cute,” one of them says quietly. You look ahead. They obviously have a crush on him. So do you.

You’re kind of nervous to see him considering how tense things got last night, but when he spots you, he smiles, and it brushes away all your worry.

“About time,” Zach playfully scoffs when you reach him, his campers jogging up and down the pitch.

“What’d you wait, like two minutes?” you reply, dropping the bag of supplies you’re carrying.

“Hi, Zach,” one of your campers sing-songs, earning her friends’ laughter.

“Hi,” he says kindly. “You ready for some passing drills?”

You smile to yourself. He’s totally oblivious to the fact that he has almost every girl on this campground smitten.

After you finish setting up cones and soccer balls across the field, you stand next to Zach at the touchline. As the vet, he takes the lead, shouting instructions to the group of 18 kids.

You glance at him every so often, pretending you’re following along, when really, you’re thinking about last night. Every word and every touch you shared was light and friendly, but it was all over an undercurrent of tension.

You look out at the kids again, reminding yourself that you need to keep things professional, no matter how charming he is.

After the blow of Zach’s whistle, you walk along the line of campers practicing passing, arms crossed as you focus on their footwork. You offer compliments and suggestions as you pace up the field, and minutes later, you join Zach at the side again.

“So, is it working?” he asks. “Do you like soccer again?”

You smile. He remembers how you told him that part of the reason you came to work here was to rekindle your love for the sport.

Even though the job is tiring, you have enjoyed it quite a lot. It’s refreshing seeing kids get excited about soccer the same way you used to. It’s a good reminder of why you started playing.

“Yeah,” you say, your tone soft as you look out at the deep green pitch. “I came to the right place.”

Zach’s eyes trail over your profile. He couldn’t agree more.

A few minutes later, Oliver breaks out of the line and approaches you.

“Hey, buddy,” Zach says. He’s dreading that he’ll tell him he wants to sit out yet again.

“Can I have some water?” he asks. Zach realizes he’s looking up at you, clearly having found some comfort in you.

“Of course,” you say, fishing out a bottle from the cooler. “Did you like the waffles this morning?”

“Yeah,” he says timidly. “Thanks.”

“It was all Zach,” you say. “He’s the one who bought them and got up early to make them. I think you got the best counselor here.”

Oliver looks up at Zach with a small smile. It’s the first look of genuine happiness he’s seen on the boy’s face. After he drinks water, he rushes back out onto the field.

“I didn’t mean it,” you tease Zach. “You’re the worst.”

He laughs and resists the urge to playfully push your shoulder. Getting close to you is a bad idea, because he’ll only want more.

“You’re good with kids,” he says. He can’t help but think about you meeting his sister. He knows she’d like you. “Pretty sure that’s the first time he smiled since he got here.”

You were expecting him to tease you back, so the sincere compliment throws you. You meet his eyes, feeling the same sense of easy compatibility you felt last night.

The morning sun washes over his features in its orange glow. He’s so handsome that you almost forget you shouldn’t be staring.

“So, I’m better at this job than you are?” you say.

“Okay, whoa,” he replies. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“Did not.”

You share a moment of laughter, but once it fades, you don’t look away from each other. Your heart starts to speed up like it always does when he gazes at you.

It feels like an elephant in the room, what happened the last time you spoke, and you desperately want to clear the air.

“Everything good after last night? You seemed…” You don’t want to use the word nervous. And upset doesn’t feel right, either. You decide not to finish the sentence. “Did you talk to Ruby?”

“She didn’t think anything was up,” he tells you. You sigh in relief, glad your jobs and reputations aren’t in jeopardy. “I mean, not that anything was up.”

You slowly nod, not sure how to take his words. Maybe it really was all in your head. Maybe your feelings are totally unrequited.

Zach catches the way your lips twist. He immediately feels anxious. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. And he definitely doesn’t want you to think he feels nothing for you.

“I mean,” he stammers, “that’s not what I mean.”

His muscles lose some tension when he sees you crack a smile.

“So, what do you mean?” you ask.

Zach looks down, digging the tip of his sneaker into the grass simply to have something to do as nerves fill his body. You have a ridiculous effect on him.

“Just that we weren’t breaking any rules.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “But, uh, if there was a rule I’d break…”

Your skin flushes, butterflies going wild in your stomach. He’s saying it without saying it.

“Same,” you reply. His gaze darts up to you. A pink hue spreads over his cheeks.

You both just indirectly confessed your feelings for one another and there’s nothing you can do about it. You blink a few times as you gaze at him.

“God,” he mutters with a half-laugh. “Don’t do that.”

“I literally didn’t do anything.”

“You’re…” He sighs and crosses his arms. “Looking at me like that.”

You tear your eyes off of him, stifling your smile.

“Like a coworker, you mean?” you reply. “Professionally?”

He laughs again, unsure of how the hell he’s going to last the rest of the camp season wanting a girl and knowing she wants him back and having to pretend like none of that’s true.

After the passing drill, you work on defense with your campers while Zach works on offense with his, then switch. For the last drill, you set up games of two-on-two.

You’re winded when you’re behind the touchline again, having run a drill with every girl in your group in quick succession. You’re downing water when Zach jogs up to you.

“Hey, your…” he says, pointing down. “I’ll just do it.”

In a second, he’s on his knee in front of you, tying your loose shoelace. You swallow your water, looking down, wondering how nice it’d feel to have your fingers in his tousled hair.

“Thank you,” you say, still a bit breathless.

He looks up with a smile. Your stares linger and then he straightens, standing beside you. And you’re supposed to keep your distance from this man? It’ll be impossible.

The rest of the day is a tiring blur. After dinner, you find Ami to remind her that you’re on one of the overnight shifts, so if she wants to see Malcolm after hours, your cabin will be free.

You only really do it for Zach’s sake so that he doesn’t get kicked out of his cabin again. Before you head over to one of the girls’ cabins to sleep, you text him: just so you know, i made sure ami knows i’m on an overnight so if she needs an empty cabin tonight, it won’t be yours.

Zach replies a few minutes later: You’re the best.

Then, a second text from him comes in: Professionally.

Over the next few days, your encounters with Zach are quick and friendly. He’s keeping his distance just like you are, avoiding any opportunity to have time alone.

It’s not until Friday afternoon, day seven of camp, that you’re scheduled to work another drill together.

When you meet Zach at the pitch, you’re endeared to see that Oliver is actually talking with him. As you approach, directing your girls to line up for a dribbling drill, you overhear them talking about video games.

“You can’t even get past the second one?” Oliver says.

“Does it count if my sister helps?”

“No!”

“Then, no,” Zach replies.

“But it’s so easy,” he says. “And you’re so old.”

“Alright, ten laps just for that,” Zach jokes. Oliver laughs and you smile to yourself.

“You are old,” you say to Zach when you approach them at the touchline.

“We’re the same age,” he replies.

“That’s irrelevant,” you say, then look to Oliver. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” he says. “We saw a badger yesterday. He was huge.”

“I hope he didn’t get too close.”

“Zach didn’t let us chase him,” Oliver complains.

“Probably a good thing,” you giggle, your eyes flitting up to meet Zach’s gaze.

You smile at him and even though it’s only been a few days since you had a proper conversation, he really misses seeing that smile.

Your campers settle into their own drills before merging, giving you and Zach a chance to chat privately.

“He’s really opened up,” you say, standing next to him.

“Yeah. He’s still not talking much with any of the other kids, but we talk all the time.”

“Baby steps,” you say, smiling as you watch Oliver practicing backheel kicks with another boy.

“I asked him if he’s making any friends, but he didn’t really answer,” Zach says. “I have a bad feeling they’re being rough on him and I don’t see it. I hope I’m wrong.”

“I hope you’re wrong, too,” you say sadly.

Zach gazes at you again, heart pinching from the way you frown at the thought.

“Tomorrow should be fun,” he says, changing the subject. “It’s a good break for us.”

You nod. Saturdays at camp are dedicated to fun instead of training, with plans to have a barbecue lunch by the lake, where campers will be free to swim and canoe.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say. “Oh, have you been kicked out of your cabin lately?”

“I gave Malcolm a cut-off,” Zach tells you. “So, if he does need the place, there’s a time limit. Felt like a decent enough compromise.”

You’re glad he’s not having issues with his friend, but you do sort of wish he had an excuse to visit you when your cabin-mates are hooking up.

“Good,” you say simply.

Zach’s smile is tight, knowing you’re just trying to keep a professional distance like he is. But this sucks.

He refocuses on work.

“I was thinking of doing a round of Four Goal,” Zach says, pointing at the field. You nod, well acquainted with the games at this point, but still appreciative you get paired with vets for the support.

“But, they’ve been doing a lot of possession drills lately,” he adds. “Maybe Airball would be better.”

You glance at him to see the same pensive expression you’ve seen before. His indecisiveness is so cute.

“I can decide for you,” you say. He smirks, thinking back to that night in your cabin.

“Have I told you that you’re bossy?” he says.

“You have,” you reply, tapping his name-tag. “We’re playing Four Goal.”

“Deal,” he says with a chuckle, appreciative of how quick you are to choose. “You wanna take the lead?”

“Sure,” you say.

Before you can blow your whistle to get everyone’s attention, two of your campers come to grab water. You can tell by the way they’re eyeing Zach that they came solely to talk to him.

“Hey, Zach?” one of your girls says just loud enough to be heard over the shouting on the field.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

You’ve never been so glad that some preteen girls can be so unabashed, curious to hear how he’ll answer this.

“No way. There’s no time for girlfriends,” he says. “I’m married to this beautiful sport.” You smile, admiring how appropriately he handles the kid’s intrusive question.

Both girls giggle and rush back into the field.

“You realize that like, all the girls have a crush on you, right?” you laugh.

Before you step forward to call over all the campers on the field, Zach can’t hold himself back from flirting with you.

“I only care about if one girl has a crush on me,” he says quietly.

Your lips quirk into another smile.

“She does,” you say.

Zach purses his lips, blushing again.

You call over the campers and set up the game of Four Goals quickly. Within minutes, four teams are scattered across the field, attacking and defending goals.

You pace up and down the field on one side while Zach supervises in the other direction. Moments later, he raises his voice in a way you haven’t heard before.

“I don’t want to hear it again,” he says sharply to two boys. You realize that Oliver is standing to the side, arms crossed, looking down, and you rush over.

“We were just kidding,” one of the boys whines.

When you get close enough, you see Oliver’s eyes welling with tears, surely from whatever the boys said to him. It makes your heart ache instantly. You approach him and lead him off the field.

“You weren’t,” Zach says behind you. “That’s unacceptable.”

You lead Oliver to the main office, curious as to what was said, but not wanting to push.

You trained for this. In times of conflict between campers, one counselor should address the problem, and the other should separate the kids involved.

“You okay?” you ask softly, crouching down to his eye-level. Oliver only leans against you, sniffling. You gently pat his shoulder, letting him cry for as long as he needs to.

You confirm with Zach over the walkies that you’ll meet in the dining hall for dinner. When you make it to the building, you see him settle at the head of his table, clearly having instructed the two boys who were in trouble earlier to sit right next to him.

You ask Oliver where he’d prefer to sit. He tells you he wants to be at your table. Zach flashes you a small, grateful smile once he sees you sitting with Oliver, who keeps his head down, acting just like he did when he first got here.

Zach approaches Oliver as dinner wraps up and while you hang out with Ami by the dock during free-time, Zach sits next to Oliver at the campfire. You’re relieved when you see Oliver finally smiling again.

After lights out, Zach leaves his cabin to sit on the dock for some time alone. Minutes later, his phone buzzes with a text from you: i hope everything’s ok.

He looks up at the starry sky, wishing he could shake the heaviness sitting on his shoulders. Something that he lived through years ago was dug up today, a pale memory made fresh and cutting.

He never liked the discomfort that came with negative emotions and bad memories. It’s why he prefers to focus on having fun in the here and now.

But when he does find himself in this hole, he typically isolates himself, feeling like a burden for being anything but happy, so it’s jarring that while he doesn’t let many people see this part of him, he thinks about you sitting next to him right now.

You’re relaxing in your cabin when Zach texts you: Can you come to the dock?

The evening air is cool when you step outside. As you approach the lake, you see Zach’s broad frame in the distance, sitting at the end of the dock.

You settle beside him on the hard cedar wood, noticing that his work clothes have been swapped out for sweats and a t-shirt.

“Hi,” you say over the sound of the lake lapping against the rocks lining the shore and crickets chirping around you.

“Hey.” His eyes meet yours. They don’t have the brightness you’re used to seeing in them.

In any other scenario, you’d be worried about what sitting next to each other like this looks like to anyone who might see. But Zach’s clearly unhappy and the last thing you’re thinking about is your job right now.

“What happened?” you ask, replaying how sternly he snapped at his campers just a couple of hours ago.

Zach sighs and shakes his head, looking out at the lake.

“They were giving him crap for being shy,” he mumbles. “Calling him mute and mocking him, asking if he even knows how to talk. They didn’t know I was close enough to hear.”

Your forehead crinkles, your heart aching for Oliver all over again.

“Thanks for removing him from all that,” Zach tells you.

“Of course. I wish I could’ve done more,” you say. “He wouldn’t tell me anything, so I let him hug me until he stopped crying.”

“He just needed someone to be there,” Zach says. “And you were.”

You find relief in his words.

“He looked like he was feeling much better when you were by the fire,” you say, hoping to console him.

Zach nods gratefully and looks up at the crescent moon.

“Kids can be harsh,” he tells you. “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, there’s bullying here. It sucks.”

He breathes out slowly, linking his fingers together. He’s in his head again. In the past. The bitter pain he’s feeling right now is another version of what he felt when he was a kid.

“He needs all the support he can get,” Zach says. “And you’ve been trying to help him since he came here. He’s not even in your group. You didn’t have to do all that, but you did.”

From the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s building up to something. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead, the moon and stars reflecting over the smooth plane of water.

Zach thinks back to the way you approached Oliver at breakfast on the second day of camp. He couldn’t make out your conversation, but he saw the pure kindness in your expression.

“I came here when I was a kid because my parents didn’t know what to do with me,” he admits. “I had no interests. No friends. I was really quiet and really shy.”

You tilt your head, your throat tight. You can’t imagine happy, outgoing Zach being anything but the life of the party like he is now.

“Kids at school would say the same kind of stuff to me that they said to Oliver today,” Zach explains.

He clenches his jaw as he thinks about the way he used to feel on the playground, being berated by other boys and pretending like he didn’t hear them.

“I’m so sorry,” you say quietly.

“I’m such a buzzkill,” he says with a humorless chuckle. “I just - I’m telling you this so you know that when you try to make a kid feel welcome, it makes a difference. Thank you for everything you do for him.”

Zach finally looks at you, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“My aunt and uncle ran this camp for as long as I can remember. My mom called them the summer I turned eleven, asking if they had space for me here. She just wanted me to find a hobby, you know? Something I liked. Even though I had no interest in sports at all.”

“But you ended up loving it,” you realize, a small smile growing on your face. The night you met, he said something about how he owed this place a lot. Now you know why.

“I did,” he says with a nod. “Don’t get me wrong, a lot of my teachers tried to make me feel better, but it never worked. Here… I belonged. I came out of my shell. People were nice to me. I fell in love with soccer and it’s why I come back every year.”

You don’t have the words to express how touching it is that he decided to share this with you, so you gently grip his forearm, stroking his soft skin with your thumb.

Then, you pull away, because now, the need to keep things strictly friendly is a thousand times heavier.

He doesn’t follow rules simply because of his tenure or because the directors are his family. It’s because of the impact they had, pulling him out of a dark place as a child. He probably feels like he owes them the world. He has a reputation, and a responsibility, to uphold.

“I’m so happy for you that you found this place,” you say. “And you help him, too, okay? A lot. Everything you did just to get him a breakfast he’d like is evidence enough.”

Zach breathes a quiet chuckle, his brows drawing together.

“Thanks, newbie,” he says.

“I’m sure it was really shitty hearing that stuff today,” you empathize. “Especially here. I’m sorry.”

He nods. You get how painful it is for him to see the beauty of this place be sullied. You get how important it is to be there for the kids who are outsiders.

He hates this walk down memory lane. While he doesn’t regret opening up, he needs a break from the tension, to come back to the present.

“You didn’t have to stop,” he says, eyes drifting to his forearm, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

You laugh, putting your palm on Zach’s skin again. He feels like he’s floating. He loves being touched and wants nothing more than to be touched by you.

“I don’t know how professional we’re being right now,” you say with a giggle.

“You kidding?” he says. “This is the definition of professional.”

Zach’s eyes wash over your face, looking at you like he’s in awe. He’s so happy that he met you and so frustrated that it had to be while you both live in the confines of workplace rules.

“In six weeks,” he says, “when the season’s over, what do you think about getting dinner with me?”

“It’s a date,” you say.

Another moment of peaceful quiet settles between you. He parts his lips to say something else, but no words come out.

“What?” you ask.

Zach sighs slowly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He runs his tongue between his lips. His stare drifts to your mouth. He feels completely helpless in the best way.

Slowly, he brings his hand up to your jaw, cradling your cheek so warmly and gently that your breath catches.

“Can I?” His voice is low and raspy, just loud enough to be heard over the crickets.

Even though you promised each other you wouldn’t do this, you couldn’t turn down his kiss if you tried.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His lips are soft and warm, pressing against yours with such sweet tenderness that your body goes numb. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re afraid you won’t be able to stop.

Zach pulls back, his nose nudging against yours.

“We should stop,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” he says. “We should.”

But you lean in to kiss him again, your lips slowly parting, tongues meeting, tasting each other. You separate.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper.

“Mhm.”

He kisses you for a third time, your lips smacking together with hunger and impatience. His body is on fire, never having wanted somebody this badly.

“Zach,” you say, finally finding the willpower to sit up, losing all contact with him. “We can’t. It’s too risky.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I know.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Now that you know his history, you care more about him keeping his job than you do your own. “Six weeks. That’s all.”

“Fuck,” he whispers with a dry laugh. “That feels like forever.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him swear and it’s unexpectedly attractive. You shuffle a few inches away from him, catching your breath, and take in his strong features in the moonlight, wishing you could go back to his cabin or yours and continue this.

“It does,” you agree, your eyes trained on him.

“You have to promise me you won’t look at me like that at work,” Zach says, his tone light. “For real.”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say. “But you know what? I won’t look at you at all. How’s that?”

You stare forward at the gentle ripples in the water, your lips still warm from his kiss.

“That’s worse,” he says with a hint of a whine in his voice.

“There’s no winning with you,” you laugh.

You look over your shoulder, making sure nobody is around to witness you two alone like this.

“You can go if you’re worried,” he says after a moment.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek before you stand. He watches you disappear off the dock, leaving him with a yearning he’s never had to bear before.

When Zach lies in bed that night, replaying how mind-blowing it felt to kiss you, he accepts the fact that the rest of the season will be torture. Six weeks does in fact feel like an eternity.

The summer heat is harsh the next morning, perfect for a day at the lake. Counselors lead their campers to the water after breakfast, not backing down when some kids inevitably argue that they don’t need life jackets.

When you spot Oliver alone, throwing rocks in the water, you imagine Zach at his age, dealing with bullies, feeling lost and alone.

You approach him, exchanging kind hello’s, and an idea strikes you. One of your campers, Jemma, is one of the chattiest and kindest kids you’ve ever met.

“What do you think about going out on the canoe with me and Jemma?” you ask Oliver, pointing to the girl as she rifles through inflated toys. “She’s very nice.”

“Sure,” he says quietly.

When you ask Jemma if she’d like to go with you two, as expected, she happily accepts.

You lead conversation between them as you set out on the canoe, but Jemma soon dives into asking Oliver questions. His answers are short, but it doesn’t faze her, allowing her to ramble to her heart’s delight.

Every so often, you catch a smile on Oliver’s face, clearly happy he’s not expected to talk a lot. Eventually, his answers to her questions get longer, and he starts asking her things, too.

When you dock the boat about ten minutes later, you look up to see Zach leaning forward, holding the brim of the canoe against the dock, meeting your eyes.

“Why are you stealing my friend?” Zach asks you, nodding to Oliver.

“He’s my friend, too,” you reply, looking at the boy. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile.

“Mine, too!” Jemma exclaims. Your heart warms when you see Oliver blush.

Once Zach helps the kids out of the boat, they run off together in their matching bright-orange life jackets.

“How’d you do that?” Zach says.

You smile, taking his hand as he helps you step up onto the dock. Just last night, you were kissing right where you’re standing. You quickly pull your hand back so nobody suspects anything.

“It was a long shot,” you tell him, “but it seems it worked.”

Zach smirks, feeling his chest tighten as he stares at you. Staying away from you is ridiculously hard.

“You think anybody would notice if I kissed you right now?” he asks quietly, heavy-lidded eyes travelling over your face.

You laugh and look around at the crowds of campers and counselors surrounding the lake.

“Think so,” you reply. “You can kiss me in six weeks.”

“Six weeks,” he echoes with a sigh.

Tom fires up the grill outside the dining hall as counselors help set up for a lunch picnic. Zach’s close by, bumping against you as he puts out stacks of paper plates. He keeps his eyes low, but you can tell by his dimpled smirk that he’s touching you on purpose.

As you pass by a table to move the cooler, a few kids playing tag dart by you, tripping you up and causing you to lose your balance.

You involuntarily yelp when you feel a sharp sting on your arm, realizing you just made direct contact with the scalding barbecue hood.

“Come on, guys!” Zach calls tersley. “Look where you’re going!”

You look down at the underside of your forearm, blowing on the burn.

“You alright?” Tom asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll go run it under some cold water.”

Zach wishes he could follow, but it’d be too obvious.

You reassure your coworkers that you’re okay when you come back, loud enough to make sure Zach hears you. You’re still flattered by his protective reaction.

After lunch, the kids go back to their day of fun, most of them swimming. Dinner is quieter than usual, likely because the campers are so tired out.

Once lights out hits, you’ve never been happier to be done with the day. You enter your cabin, which is dark and quiet because Ami has already settled across the campground for her overnight shift.

You sigh in relief once you’re in the shower, washing away the sweat and grime of the day, planning to do nothing but rest tonight. The burn on your arm stings under the water, so you do your best to keep it dry.

You’re lounging in bed in your empty cabin, still in your towel, when you hear a knock at the door.

You open it to see Zach standing there, his hair wet, his college t-shirt draped over his wide shoulders as he holds out something in his hand.

“Just thought I’d…” Zach’s eyes travel down your body. He’s never seen this much of your skin, the towel offering a view of your cleavage and your bare legs. “Uh…”

“Yeah?” you laugh.

“This,” he says. He holds out a small tube of cooling gel. “For your burn. It was in the kitchen’s first aid kit.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the tube. “That’s sweet of you. It still hurts a little.”

You look down at your forearm as Zach rests a hand on the doorframe, leaning over as he stares at you. You feel warm from the way he towers over you, gazing at you in pure desperation.

You shouldn’t invite him in. It’s a risk. There would be no going back. But the way he looks so hungry for you, the way he smells like fresh laundry and strong body wash is so painfully enticing.

His heartbeat is loud in his ears. He’s still processing a lot. How good your lips felt against his last night. How angry he was when you got hurt earlier today. And now, how very close to being completely naked you are. This is absolutely impossible.

He’s looked at you this way before, but this is a new level of intensity, making your skin prick with excitement. The thoughts of what could happen if he came in rush through your mind.

“Why do I feel like we won’t make it to six weeks?” you say meekly.

“We gave it a solid effort,” he says.

“It’s been one day,” you laugh.

“And do you have idea how hard that day’s been for me?” Zach says, making you laugh again. “We’ll just do a really good job keeping it a secret. If you want to.”

You smile again. But, you can’t do it.

“We shouldn’t,” you force yourself to say.

He nods, trying to hide how sad he is.

“Right. Yeah,” Zach says as he steps back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I just… I would hate it if you got fired because of me.”

“If I got fired, it’d be my fault. Not yours.” His lips curl in nervousness before he says his next words. “And you’re worth the risk.”

Your eyes are hard on each other, both of you fully aware that you’re close to teetering into dangerous territory.

Finally, you say the words that he’s been aching to hear.

“You want to keep it a secret?” you say.

“Yeah. Do you?”

You nod, your eyes wide.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

You glance past him into the dark to make sure nobody else is witnessing the second you officially lose all of your willpower.

“Come in,” you say.

(to be continued)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[anitaxl]

I’m Amira from Gaza🍉, and my campaign is on the verge of stopping. I have lost everything: my father, my home, my university, and my job. I urgently need your help by donating or sharing my story so it can reach the world💔🙏.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/amiras-story-between-hope-and-resilience-a-call-for-soli

Thank you so much for your continued support💙.

Please support in any way possible guys

[anitaxl]

The Last Man is a trash movie BUT does have a pretty good sex scene with a very hot, very naked Hayden

alright so my watchlist so far of hayden works and what has explicit scenes has been updated. i plan to get through this list and update it accordingly. i know u didnt ask for all this but i just felt like it

✅ = watched; ⬜️ = unwatched

✅sw: attack of the clones

✅sw: revenge of the sith

✅sw: obi wan kenobi

✅virgin territory— implied smut, female nudity, hayden shirtless & v-line. implied threesome f+f+m. hayden’s a tramp and has multiple sexual encounters delicioussss. he's very wet a lot in this movie.

✅shattered glass

✅jumper— implied smut, female (her name is rachel i think?) in bra i think, a little bit of shirtless hayden. honestly, was lacking. i wish they’d given us a little more. he does get hit by her a little <3

✅little italy— implied smut, female underwearrrr, shirtless hayden and in briefs. i love dilf hayden. fem lead smacks him <3

✅takers

✅factory girl— like…. a straight up sex scene. you even see a glimpse of hayden dick. female nudity. i’ve rewatched this scene several times. he looks so fucking good in it, they look so fucking good together. fucking yum.

✅awake— bath scene where he kisses & pulls love interest into bath with him, really sexy. making out laying down on the bed, implied smut. you see his bare chest in this one too <3

✅american heist— love interest, hot kissing. implied smut but no actual “sex scene”. chaste bath scene where you see his chest. he gets slapped in this one too lmao

✅outcast— love interest, one kiss. sexy fight scenes. they love seeing this boy wet he's like wet in every scene at least once. as soon as he's dry they wet him again like in virgin territory. rode a horse like he's got crazy stroke game. sexual tension with love interest, hes kinda daddy about it. girls touch on him and pour him drinks. alot of his moaning and groaning is amplified in the audio department.. shirtless scene.

✅ higher ground— genuinely one of my favorites. will update later

⬜️the last man— as said by anon above: hot, naked hayden. pretty good sex scene.

⬜️life as a house— to be determined; shower scene maybe?? i doubt there’s anything bcos hayden plays a minor in this movie (??? pretty sure)

⬜️first kill

⬜️vanishing on 7th street

⬜️new york, i love you

updated 09.27.23

[anitaxl]

✨📣Official Schedule📣✨

hello again lovies 🤭 i’ve got great news! i’ve managed to completely finish the first part of my camp Au fic and i can confidently say i’ll have all of the parts finished in time for when i originally planned to release them🥳🥳

series masterlist

so here is the official schedule and timeline for the next month! as well as the word count for each part:

Part One will be posted August 1st: 11.4K

Part Two will be posted August 8th: 11k

Part Three will be posted August 29th: tbd

if you’d liked to be added to the tag list let me know!!

that concludes the scheduled updates section now i’d like to talk to you about what’s coming next ☺️

so for starters i’d like to say that in between the uploads i plan to release 1 or 2 oneshots (fingers crossed) so it’s not like you’ll be left with nothing during the week wait for the next part to be dropped ✨

that being said once the Final part is uploaded i want to do a few special events to celebrate the completion of the series!!

although this is technically the second series i’ve made it will be the first completed one, so i feel like it deserves a little extra something!

the first special event i want to do is a big Q&A where you guys can ask me anything in regards to the series! (you can also ask me really anything you want just be kind and mindful!)

you can submit any questions you already have in mind for this in my asks/inbox, keep in mind that they won’t be answered until the actual post event though.

there will be a reminder post as well a few days before where you can ask questions in the replies if you arent comfortable sending in anything to the asks/inbox

the next event i want to do is release some of the dialogue and concepts i ended up cutting from the final story.

i personally love seeing stuff like this so i figured there’s definitely some other besties who do too and that will be the little cherry on top for all of this 🍒

this will be posted probably a day or two after the the Q&A event!!

now this is just small details for the people who may be curious, i plan on actually keeping my wattpad and ao3 up to date at the same time so the first part of the series will be released on all platforms August first and will follow the same upload schedule.

that concludes everything i wanted to let you guys know about!! 🥰🥰

love you all and thank you so much for the support🫶🏼🫶🏼

[anitaxl]

its so hard for me to find good black!reader stories nowadays its either full of exaggerated black stereotypes for not only the reader but also the non black characters or the reader for some reason has the mind of a toddler and writers try to pass it off as being a “bimbo” like honestly im tired of it

[anitaxl]

I hate hate hate when I search up x black!reader and Harry Potter comes up 😔

[anitaxl]

MINORS DNI 18+

CLAY BERESFORD has to sit down when he gets too exhilarated. When life moves too fast, his heart can’t take it. Breath quickens, eyes haze. He used to power through it, and that’d only make it worse. Now he’s learned the signs, knows to catch it early. The first time you’d kissed him, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stand. A flock of butterflies inhabited his insides, frenzying in a flurry whenever he’d remember what it felt like to touch your lips on his. At that point, he’d believed his heart condition was common knowledge. His mother, his associates, his friends, all constantly brought it up. But you, you were genuinely caught off guard, catching him tenderly ‘round the arm when he’d shown signs of fatigue. Gentle as you could be, you softened the impact to his seat when his legs gave out.

“It, uh, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” he had rambled, fishing out his meds from his pocket. His trembling hands struggled against the top, but you were there to loosen it for him. You had sat with him until he was ready. He’d never thought hovering around him could be so romantic, especially since he’s not one to care for smothering.

Now, it’s marginally manageable. That thrill he avoids occasionally hits him at the peak of love-making. You can read him, you can see the signals clearly written on him. In the ways he tips his head back, mouth agape to take in more oxygen, how his eyes glaze over, and his grip loosens. There’s less of his attention to go around. You can hear the strain in his grunts; there’s a stutter in his hips, he’s pushing himself too hard while he pushes himself inside you.

“Clay,” you warn, “slow down. It’s happening again.” Your claws brace against his rotator cuff, directing him to back up which he ignores. His body continues to roll, his tip brushing that spongy spot inside you. Regardless if it feels good, if the sheen of sweat on your skin is a result of ardently chasing your lusts, you can’t let him do this to himself again.

“No, no,” he objects, “I can do it this time. I can do it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, crying out over how he hardens his pace instead of receding it. It weakens your muscle in fighting him off. If you can just sever the connection, he’ll remember, he’ll calm down and take a breather. “Clay!”

But you can’t fend him off.

His forehead drops to your shoulder, alerting you to open your eyes. You don’t bother noticing anything else. “Clay? Clay? Are you alright? Talk to me,” Newfound strength floods you, rolling him over to straddle him, his arm thrown haphazardly above his head. His heavy lidded gaze flutters as you pat at his face. “Baby? Speak to me, can you hear me?”

He hums. A low, gravely drawl as his hands venture to your hips. “Baby,” he drags out each of these word, “Fuck… baby, so good.” The air in his chest rapidly falls, panting. You know this isn’t right, yet he makes decisions for you, digging his fingers into the plush of your flesh as he moves you back and forth. His cock fully seated inside you while it brushes your insides.

“Wait, but you’re—“ you protest, but it’s unconvincing. There’s few things you enjoy more than sitting on every inch of his length, the new angle granting you electric shocks up your spine with each rock.

“Feeling so good, my love. Better than I ever have. Better than I ever will.” his sweet words mean the world to you, his soft smile adorning his handsome features as he peeks slyly at you through the narrow sliver of his lids. “Don’t make me stop. Please? I don’t wanna stop.” How can you refuse him?

You figure it’s less pressure on him to be underneath you; you feel more secure in riding him like this. So you move his hands up, allowing them to handle your torso while you do the work. He sits back, and looks pretty for you, while you use him up.

[anitaxl]

CALLISTA. 9teen. she/it/dead. queer. infp. npd + bpd. wanna-be writer, professional whore. pagan witch. autistic. disabled. yr gamer gf. horror movie luvr.

sammy’s emo gf. jamie’s princess. ani's slut. stevie’s desk support. hayden obsessed. clay's sugar baby.

જ NAV. ꒱꒱

masterlist. rules. my tag. inbox.

link to help palestine how to do colored text

inbox always open for brainrotting, venting and general asks. minors and blank / ageless blogs will be blocked. this blog is nsfw and has dead dove content, your content consumption is your responsibility.

PREVIOUSLY ON SKYWQLKERGF . . . ഒ

✧ — getting high with sam 3.8k sammy.

✧ — cold hands, warm hands. ani.

✧ — champagne coast. jamie.

✧ — office blowjob. stevie.

✧ — forbidden touch. bfb!sammy.

⊹ none of my content is free to copy. | © 2024

[anitaxl]

Masterlist

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Have I found you, Flightless Bird?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Hayden Christensen

Older brother’s bestfriend au

“we were both young when i first saw you”

“you told me i was pretty when i looked like a mess”

“im not a princess, this aint a fairytale”

“ive still got you all over me”

“i was enchanted to meet you”

[anitaxl]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Summary: As your visits with Clay continue, you find it harder and harder to maintain the personal boundaries you had set for yourself. You also find it harder to refrain from breaking the rules…

Warnings: angst, more pining, like ridiculous down bad pining, strip tease, pole dancing, descriptions of sex work, alcohol consumption, teasing, begging (oop 👀), vague somewhat poetic description of a sex dream?

Playlist | Masterlist

For someone who’d spent most of their life running from connection, you’d found yourself fighting off thoughts of Clay less and less.

Maybe there wasn’t such harm in a little indulgence. Perhaps it wasn’t catastrophic to allow someone to get to know a few simple things about you. It was all confined safely within the walls of that private room, the veil of anonymity still a comfort…

How bad could it possibly be?

Besides, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a friend. Honestly, you didn’t really know how to have a friend.

Especially one as pretty as he was.

Much to your disdain, you’d started becoming excited to go in to work for the chance that he may be there. You’d put a little extra effort in your appearance, preparing some of the sexier dances, hoping he’d be in the audience when you walked out onto that stage.

A week passed with no sign of him.

You’d started to lose that sliver of hope that had been budding inside of you for the first time in a very long time.

Of course, this had just been a distraction to him. He’d said so himself. It had been foolish of you to allow yourself to think it could have been anything more.

You clocked in for your final shift of the week, feeling heavy as you were grounded back to reality.

You set your things down at your station, sighing as you looked at your reflection. That faint light that had been shimmering in your eyes had dimmed again, replaced by your usual shadows.

Changing into one of your costumes, you busied your mind with hair and makeup. You’d been so zoned out that you hadn’t even noticed Frenchie sitting down next to you, ranting away.

“That’s when I told him— Hey! Babes! Are you even listening to me?” Frenchie asked, snapping her fingers and turning in her chair with an exaggerated pout.

“Yeah, sorry, French,” you said, an apologetic sigh escaping your lips. “I’m just out of it today.”

“Ah,” she nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Still no sign of Mr. Admirer, huh?”

“What?” Your eyes widened as you shook your head, looking away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you leaving those little private bookings with a new fire in your eyes.”

“I’m doing my job, Frenchie, that’s it,” you defended, shrugging as you stood up to get ready to go on stage. “Anyways, I have a set to go do, so…”

You took off your robe and hung it up, eager to get away from this conversation as you moved toward the front.

“Live a little, doll,” Frenchie called after you. “You can’t hide on that stage forever.”

Her words struck a chord within you.

You can’t hide on that stage forever.

You couldn’t stop hearing them repeat in your mind, antagonizing you over and over again. You closed your eyes, standing behind the curtain and taking a deep breath.

The moment the music began and the spotlight hit you, the thoughts were silenced. You became the well-oiled machine you’d learned to be, leaving everything else aside as you played your part.

You stepped out onto the stage, relishing in the whoops and cheers from the crowd as the bills started flying. You moved with grace and poise, seduction a second language as you danced to the music.

Pandering to the crowd, you owned the stage. Blowing kisses, pouting, giving them everything they desired. You nearly stopped dead in your tracks, however, when your gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips quirked up into a grin, watching you with more intent than any other person in the audience. You couldn’t help but grin back, feeling an unfamiliar warmth washing over you.

You danced the rest of your set with a renewed vigor, knowing he was watching you. He was the only one in the crowd that mattered. You never once took your eyes off of him, feeling as though it was only the two of you in that room — as if this was as much of a private show as your usual meetings.

As your set ended, you gave him a wink before sauntering off of the stage. Sal met you backstage with no time wasted and simply grunted, “Room four.”

Feeling stupidly giddy, you masked the look of excitement that threatened to show on your face and nodded. You snuck into one of the dressing booths, changing into a new lingerie set you’d gotten for the next time he showed up — a tiny, lacy number.

Red. His favorite.

Practically sprinting down the hallway, you stopped before room four and took a deep breath. You weren’t wanting him to see the extent of your excitement just yet. You were still weary of divulging just how much he affected you.

You opened the door, leaning against it as you eyed him with a smirk.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes widened at the sight of you, his breath catching in his throat. His gaze trailed over your body as he swallowed, thickly.

“Well, now,” he said, clearing his throat and smiling at you with his ever-present charm. “If it isn’t my favorite dancer.”

You smiled coyly at him, glancing over to see a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sitting by the couch.

“You remembered,” you said, walking further into the room. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back at all.”

“How could I resist the allure of your company, Cherry,” he grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I must admit, I missed our conversations.”

“Where have you been the past few nights, then?” You asked, jokingly masking the genuine curiosity. “Bringing your stories to different strip clubs?”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’ve been working,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A new project has taken up most of my time.” His gaze softened as he paused to look at you. “Trust me, I was counting the days until I could come see you again. You’re worth waiting for, Cherry.”

Of course he was working. He was a billion-dollar CEO for chrissakes. You felt silly for even wondering why he hadn’t been at the club.

It was easy to forget that you both existed outside of this room.

“Well, since you’re my favorite customer,” you joked, winking at him, “I thought maybe I could show you a new routine I’ve been working on for the club — give you the first sneak peak.”

Clay’s face lit up, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’d be honored, Cherry,” he said, enthusiastically. “Please, show me.”

He settled back into the couch, his gaze never leaving you as he eagerly awaited for whatever you wanted to show him.

You gave him a cheeky smirk, walking over to dim the lights to a hazy red. You turned the stereo on to play a deep, sensual melody.

“I wanted to incorporate the pole more during my sets,” you said, walking toward the silver pole in the middle of the room. “I think it’s such an underrated art form, and it requires far more strength and skill than people realize. You can be my test bunny, pretty boy. You can tell me if you think it would earn a few bucks.”

Keeping your gaze locked on him, you raised your arms above your head and grasped the cold metal. You slowly slid down in front of the pole, spreading your knees before easing back up. You walked around, keeping one hand grasping it, and lifted yourself onto it. You wrapped your legs around the spinning beam, moving your arms fluidly as you spun gracefully.

Clay watched you, completely mesmerized by your movements. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as his hands gripped the edge of the couch.

He was entranced, drinking in the sight of you. You were a masterpiece, a living work of art.

When you finally stopped, he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’ll earn every buck and then some,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. “That was…breathtaking.”

“Yeah?” You smirked at him, sauntering over toward the couch. You leaned over him, coming as close to straddling him as you could without actually making contact. “What were your thoughts?”

Clay inhaled, sharply, his heart pounding at the closeness. His gaze traveled over you before locking on your eyes.

“My thoughts?” Clay repeated, his voice husky. “I thought…” He paused, swallowing hard as his breathing stuttered. “I thought I was witnessing something magical, Cherry. Something pure and wild all at once.”

“What about the new costume?” You trailed your fingers along the red lace, batting your lashes at him. “I was wanting to try this out, too.”

Clay’s eyes followed the movement of your fingers, his breath hitching quietly.

“It suits you perfectly, Cherry,” he said, thickly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the material himself. “It’s bold and seductive…just like you.”

“I thought you might like it,” you giggled, biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your grin.

“I definitely do,” he murmured. “Very definitely.” His gaze travelled up and down the length of your body, taking in the red fabric hugging all of the right places. “Is it…” He licked his lips. “Is it also for the stage, or is it just for…these meetings?”

Your stomach swooped at the look of desire in his eyes. Normally, you felt sickened by the way people ogled you in these outfits. His gaze was different. It didn’t make you feel like an object. It made you feel…alive.

“You want me to keep this one just for you?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. You leaned down to whisper next to his ear. “That doesn’t sound like something a friend would ask.”

Clay’s breath caught in his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The warmth radiating from you sent a thrill throughout his body.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It doesn’t.” He looked up at you with pleading eyes as his heart pounded. “Keep it for me, Cherry. Please.”

Your pulse rushed as his request, the ‘please’ doing more to your resolve than you cared to admit.

“If you insist, pretty boy,” you grinned. “Besides, the other people at this club don’t deserve to see it.”

You continued to dance to the music as you hovered over his lap. Bringing your hands up to the brassiere, you teased the straps and lowered the cups ever so slightly.

Clay gasped, softly, his eyes widening. Each movement you made sent a jolt through him, his body tense beneath you.

“What are you doing, Cherry?” He asked, his voice strained. It was a question filled with equal parts awe and desperation.

“I’m doing my job, pretty boy,” you told him, innocently.

You let the straps hang off your shoulders, barely concealing what was underneath. You trailed your fingers down your stomach, teasingly running them underneath the top of the red lace panties.

You knew that you had to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun testing them.

“I’m paid to tempt and tease,” you whispered, arching your back slightly. “To keep people wanting more.”

Clay’s eyes were locked on you, never even blinking for fear of missing a single second of the show you were giving him. His body grew hot beneath you, the desire pulsing within him.

“Then do your job, Cherry,” he spoke, lowly. “Make me want more.”

You were too far gone in the moment, too lost in him to pull back now. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, but you were becoming drunk on the desire radiating off of him — the desire you felt for him.

You moved the waistband of the red lace panties down, letting them rest dangerously low on your hips.

“Why don’t I tell you a story this time?” You suggested, hovering your face just inches away from his. “I think you’d find it…very entertaining.”

“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes following your every move. “Tell me a story.” He tried to calm his breathing. “Please, Cherry.” He closed his eyes, his mind already painting vivid images.

“This is the story of a girl who forgot how to dream,” you began, whispering the words tantalizingly close to his ear. “Night after night, for as long as she could remember, she never dreamed. Her sleep was occupied by a vast nothingness, lulling her slumber. Until one night. One night, she wasn’t met with that vast nothingness. Instead, she was met with a handsome stranger.”

Clay listened, his eyes still closed. The story, paired with your closeness, was driving him mad. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath panting. He tried to concentrate, to listen to the story. Each word you spoke fueled the fire inside of him. He could almost feel you, smell you, taste you.

“Go on,” he pleaded, his voice thick.

“The handsome stranger looked at her with dazzling blue eyes,” you continued, “and said he knew of a dance that they could do together. Slowly, he removed her clothes and then his own, until they both stood before each other baring their deepest desires. Then, the dance began. He reached out to touch her, tracing every inch of her body with curious, tender fingers. The dreamless girl thought she could feel his touch, too, as she laid asleep in her bed. He touched her — teasingly, longingly — until every last barrier had been torn away and she was left floating in want. She was willing to beg him to give her more, but she wanted to participate in this dance, too. She let her hands snake around his body, feeling every ripple of muscle and crevice of skin that she could find. She felt the goosebumps rise on his skin as her nails scratched symphonies against it. Then, slowly, achingly, she grabbed the part of him that desired her most. She stroked and tugged, eliciting the sweetest music from his mouth. He stopped her, dangling on the brink. He told her that they needed to finish the dance together.”

Clay’s eyes fluttered open, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He looked at you, his eyes filled with need and longing.

“Finish the dance,” he whispered. His body trembled, his hands gripping the couch tightly. “I want to finish the dance, Cherry.” His mind was lost in the story you told, in the world you’d created.

“They finished the dance, pulling on one another’s desires, plucking the right strings that made the other fall apart. They reached the height of the dance together, releasing a fever pitch scream that sounded like the sweetest instrument ever heard,” you spoke, your voice trailing off into a teasing moan. “The dreamless girl awoke in a pool of her own desire, swearing she could still feel the remnants of the handsome stranger’s touch.”

Clay’s eyes burned with desire, his body tense with anticipation. He could feel the heat radiating between you, the tension coiling tighter with every word.

“Cherry,” he breathed out, desperately. “Please.”

He knew that you had to stop, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this moment — of breaking the spell.

“Please what, pretty boy?” You taunted him, gazing down into his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Please, don’t stop.” He struggled to maintain control, his desire screaming for release. “I don’t want this to end.”

You needed to get control of the situation. You were in far too deep, and it was becoming dangerous. Still, you couldn’t stop from pushing it further.

“What if I said there was more truth than tale to that story?” You asked, looking into his desire-filled eyes. “What if the girl in the story was me? What if I dreamed about you — about touching you? What if I woke up spent from the thought of you?”

“Cherry…” Clay groaned, the idea sending bolts of electricity through his veins.

“What if I told you that I bought this knowing that I only wanted to wear it for you?” You teased the lady red fabric again, feeling your heart pounding beneath your fingers. “What if I never had any intention of letting anyone else see it?”

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice trembling. “Please…”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, he just knew that he needed more. More of you. More of this moment.

You let out a soft sigh, cocking your head to the side as you asked, “Do you want more, pretty boy?”

“Yes, more,” he nodded, frantically. “I want more, Cherry.”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you said, “Then I suppose I’ve done my job well.”

At that moment, the timer rang to signal the end of the session.

You climbed off of him, fixing your clothing and downing the glass of champagne that was sitting on the table.

“Until next time, pretty boy,” you said, pausing by the door. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”

Clay struggled to catch his breath as you left the room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking his lips that had gone dry. He glanced down at his lap, noticing the obvious tent in his pants and groaned. “Fuck.”

Your mind was racing as you walked back to the dressing room.

You should not have done that.

You had never been so stupid or careless. He had invaded your senses, made you reckless.

You had pushed it too far. You had indulged in his world of story and fantasy, but it had felt so good. It had made you feel alive, for the first time in a very long time.

“I take it Mr. Admirer showed up after all,” Frenchie’s smug voice rang out as you walked up to your vanity.

“What makes you think that?” You asked, silently cursing the breathlessness of your voice.

“You mean other than that new little lacy number you’ve got on?” Frenchie laughed, raising a brow. She walked toward you, gently cupping your cheek as her eyes softened. “You’ve got the fire, sweetness.”

As she walked away, you glanced in the mirror. You nearly gasped at the sight. Your face was flushed with color and your eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen. You looked like an entirely different person.

A part of you had been sleeping for so long and, finally, you looked awake.

————————————————————————

tag list

@bxbyysstuff @dollyiia @haydensbbg @dinorawrss

[anitaxl]

Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.