onlyang3ll

[onlyang3ll]

Cherry.

Synopsis - The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. steve's got an ego, but for good reason.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 2k

Author's Note - hi lovelies!! my first steve fic!! listen, I actually really didn't enjoy stranger things, but... I love this man. he's charming and he's a softie and he's such a good character to write. hope you enjoy this - it's got me all warm and fuzzy. please feel free to send me a christmas request if you fancy, I'm in the mood to write some seasonal fics. much love, always!! <3

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! please, if you enjoyed, consider reblogging this so it gets further reach. comments and feedback are always appreciated!! thanks, angels. <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Three rocks ping off the panes of your bedroom window in quick succession.

You're applying your moisturiser in the mirror, winding down and almost ready for bed. Your reflection is illuminated by a faint glow from the fairy lights you've draped over the headboard for the festive season, warm and comforting. A soft, jazzy melody is drifting from the radio softly, a welcome noise to break up the silence.

Another rock hits your window.

You fly out of your seat and towards the source of the trouble, worried that he's going to throw one too hard one of these days.

"Steve," you hiss as you yank it open. "Cut it out. Just come through the door."

"Where's the fun in that?" he chuckles, eyes rife with mischief.

You roll your eyes but step back anyway, making room for him to climb the tree and dive through the window into your room.

"Hi, sugar."

"Hi, Steven."

He grins at you, bright and awake despite the late hour.

"Don't you have better plans on a Friday night, King Steve?"

"And miss out on seeing you in your little pink pyjamas? Absolutely not."

You shove at his chest, smacking him upside the head for good measure. He feigns pain and wraps his arms around your middle, picking you up off the ground and spinning you in circles. You shriek, and the sound makes him laugh.

"Okay, okay! I'm dizzy! Put me down!"

He obliges by throwing you unceremoniously onto your bed, smirking when you almost bounce off it.

"So," he begins, sitting down across from you. "How was it? Do you feel like a whole new woman?"

You scoff.

"What? That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad. We didn't even do it."

He quirks a brow in curiosity, tilting his head to look at you.

"I thought tonight was the big night?"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be. But he was kissing me, and it just didn't feel... right? He started grabbing at me and I realised that you can only lose your virginity once - and that definitely wasn't how I wanted to lose mine."

You shrug, trying to play indifference, but Steve can see the hurt in your eyes.

"You always deserved so much better than him."

"Thanks, Steve."

"Come on, Cherry. The guy is an asshole who happens to be attractive. His face is the only thing he's got going for him."

The mention of your childhood nickname has memories of fruit flavoured popsicles on summer days flooding back. Laughter by the pool, pushing Steve in and screeching when he dragged you with him, staying out in the sun until you were both exhausted. Cherry. You've always been Steve's Cherry, for as long as you can remember. You still wear the lip balm he bought you last year, fitting for your moniker.

"You didn't like him from the start. Actually, you've never liked any guy that has ever liked me."

"Because they're not good enough for you."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And you're the boss of me and my love life now?"

"I'm the person that knows you better than anyone in the entire world. I think I have a pretty good view on things."

You huff, but accept your defeat in knowing that he's right. No one knows you like him. Steve always does this. He pisses you off, but makes you love him a tiny bit more each time.

He grabs your foot from the bed, pressing his thumbs into your sole. You relax instantly, tired of half arguing with him.

"I give up."

"With what?"

"Dating. Fuck it."

He chuckles, rubbing soothing patterns into your ankle gently.

"You've barely even started."

"Ooo, sorry Mr Womaniser."

"Stop it," he chides, pinching your calf. "Maybe The One for you just isn't in Hawkins. This place has always been too small for us anyway."

"Yeah, maybe. It'll all change when we go to college, hopefully."

"Exactly. It'll be a whole different ball game. There'll be tonnes of hot guys begging for your attention."

"And you'll be fighting them off."

"Yes I will."

You laugh, poking him in the chest with your foot teasingly.

"And maybe the college guys will actually know what they're doing in bed."

"Hey, some of us do know!"

"Yeah yeah, Steve's good in bed. I've heard it all before."

"Don't be jealous, Cherry baby."

"Jealous isn't quite the word I'd use."

"No?"

He drops your foot and scoots closer, settling in between your parted legs.

"You're not even a little bit curious what all the rumours are about?"

"Steve," you laugh. "I think they're probably just exactly that. Rumours."

He inches in towards you, so his forehead is almost touching yours. Running his fingers up and down the outside of your thigh, he takes a deep breath in.

"You should let me show you just how much I know. We're not all clueless, Cherry. I'm confident I could make you feel good."

You exhale with a shudder.

"I'm not letting you take my virginity, Steve."

"I don't want to. There's a thousand ways I can make your legs shake without fucking you, baby."

You stare into his big doe eyes, admiring the way a single strand of hair has fallen across his forehead. You look for a shred of doubt, or amusement, but all you see is love. Admiration. Trust. Sincerity.

"Okay," you breathe, before your mind has truly processed what you're saying. "Show me what you got, Harrington."

He grins, slow and saccharine, like the cat who got the cream.

"Steve?" you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"This isn't going to fuck things up between us, is it?"

He smiles, big and bright.

"Never. Nothing is ever going to fuck things up between us. It's you and me forever, Cherry Pie."

You chuckle at the nickname, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Well, then what are you waiting for?"

He shakes his head and grabs your ankle, pulling you across the bed and into his body. Wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"If at any point this gets weird, or you don't like it... Just say the words, okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, inhaling the scent of mint from his tongue. "Promise."

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't usually ask," you tease.

It's no secret that you and Steve have kissed a few times. Once after prom, once at a party here and there, once when you were cuddled in bed comforting him after a break up. But it's never led to anything more. Which is probably why this feels a little different.

"I know, but this is a little more... intense, than usual."

You try to ignore the way your heart swells at his consideration for you, and nod your head gently.

"Kiss me. Please."

Steve wastes no time, leaning in to press his lips to yours. He tastes like spearmint and soda, with a hint of the cherry lipbalm he steals from your nightstand. You instinctively shuffle closer to him, straddling his lap as his arms bracket themselves around you. It's like he can't decide where to put this hands - they're roaming up your back, squeezing your ass, kneading your thighs. He's antsy and impatient, eager to feel you.

"Lie back," he whispers against your mouth, tipping you onto the bed.

Your head hits your pillows and you crane your neck to watch him as he crawls down your body, eyes never leaving yours.

"Steve-"

"Stop thinking so hard, Cherry. I can practically hear your thoughts."

You huff but can't keep the smile off your face, willing your mind to stop racing.

"Let me quiet things down, hmm?"

Steve presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up and up until he reaches your hip. He licks across your hipbone before nipping it with his teeth, smirking when you gasp.

Grasping the waistband of your pyjama shorts, he asks for permission with his eyes, no words needed. You nod and lift your hips, letting him slide them down your body.

You've never been so exposed, which is causing a sudden realisation that the two of you are crossing a line that can never be uncrossed. As if he can read your mind, Steve presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, tender and full of love.

"Babe, if you want to stop..."

"I don't, I promise. I'm just nervous. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," he murmurs, resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. "Never apologise. You're doing so good, Cherry. I love you."

You didn't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't I love you. You've both said it to each other a million times, but something about saying it in this exact moment makes it feel... weighted. You'll talk about it later. You'll make sure of it.

"I love you too. So much."

You're whispering, scared to ruin the peace you've created. Steve kisses your skin again gently, gazing at you like you've hung the stars just for him.

"Let me make you feel good, okay?"

When you nod, Steve nudges your core with his nose, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you anchored in place.

"So pretty," he's mumbling. "Prettiest fuckin' girl I've ever seen."

He starts slow, easing you in carefully. Kitten licks and gentle nips, testing the waters. When you tangle a hand into his hair and tug, Steve gets the message.

"You want more, pretty baby?"

"Yes," you confirm, more breathless than intended. "Please."

He dives back in, this time with more intention. His nose keeps nudging your clit, the friction licking up your spine deliciously. It's like he can't get enough, eating you out like a man starved.

He groans into your heat, the vibrations making you whine. When he curls his tongue just right, you keen, the sounds leaving your mouth foreign to the both of you.

"Fuck, you sound so beautiful. You're perfect. God, you're perfect."

"Stevie," you pant. "So close."

"I got you. Atta girl, I got you. That's my girl, give it to me."

Maybe it's the my girl, or maybe it's the way he's slipped two fingers into you, but the coil snaps. Your back arches off the bed as white heat engulfs your body, vision going black for a moment. You can hear him talking you through it, loving and encouraging. Eventually, your grip on his hair loosens as you go lax, collapsing back against the comforter.

Steve grins at you as he licks his fingers clean, crawling up your body to kiss you. You groan when you taste yourself, arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him close. Resting his head on your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, humming gently when he relaxes.

"You okay?"

"Never better," you laugh. "You're good with your mouth, Harrington. I'll give you that."

"Told you the rumours were true."

You shake your head and reach over, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a sip. You offer it to Steve without a second thought, rolling your eyes when he downs the rest.

He plucks your cherry lipbalm from the drawer and applies it to himself, before leaning up to carefully do the same to you. He pecks your lips sweetly before returning it to its rightful place.

"You replace it, don't you?"

"Hmm?"

"The chapstick. I've had it for a whole year, and I've never even come close to reaching the end."

He blushes as he looks at you, suddenly bashful.

"It's special," he murmurs. "It's our thing, you know? And it smells good. I like knowing that I'm the only one who knows you taste like cherries."

You want to poke fun at him, say something to make him laugh. But you can't. He's rendered you speechless, for the second time in one night.

"I like knowing the reason you taste like spearmint is because I've been slipping pieces of gum into the pockets of your jeans for ten years."

"I knew it," he laughs, leaning up to kiss you firmly. "I can't tell you the last time I bought gum."

"You're welcome."

Steve shucks off his jeans and his shirt, climbing into your bed with just his boxers on. You slip your underwear up your legs before getting under the comforter with him, tangling your limbs with his.

The tunes from the radio still hum gently as the fairy lights flicker.

The room is unchanged.

The people in it are not.

@lillian-gallows @bookish-embroidery-witch @sweetdazequeen @fruityforcocoapuffs @steviespookie @livsters @diffrent-spokes @violet2022 @mrsjoequinn @valerievortex @chrrymunson

[onlyang3ll]

blue christmas (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: it's christmas time, and your boyfriend's traveling the country kicking ass. will he make it home in time—or will you be spending christmas alone?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ main masterlist

tags: christmas!; descriptors for libby's friends but of course, not libby; kinda hurt/comfort (she's just a sad girl!); fluff; alcohol consumption; nothing major.

"i'll have a blue christmas without you. i'll be so blue just thinking about you. decorations of red on a green christmas tree, won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me."

— blue christmas, elvis presley

hawkins, indiana. december 1989.

“I can’t believe you won’t be here.”

The ribboned rubber of the telephone cord curled around your finger. You pouted at the flowered fabric of your bedspread, imagining Steve in a little Christmas sweater he’d never wear—but he’d be here. Cozy, warm, big and bulky under layers of cable-knit.

Christmas was in three days, and your boyfriend wouldn’t even be here.

“I know, angel,” Steve sighed through the phone. “‘m sorry. I wish I could."

And he does. It's your first holiday season together—your first winter full of fluffy white snow, and cold afternoons that make you want to curl up and sleep the days away. It was the season of love and affection; the time of the year meant for nuzzling noses and burying in coats for warmth.

You imagined so many times what the holiday season would look like if Steve were here to stroll through the town square holding your mittened hand. He'd come up for weekends—twice since the beginning of November—but it was never long enough. He'd get in Friday night, and have to leave Sunday morning. You never got to sleep in and feign domestic bliss, tangled in his sheets in the white, early light.

Too many times, Steve kissed your head in a half sleep and whispered his goodbye; a note on his pillow where his head was supposed to be.

Angel,

I'll miss you more than ever.

—Steve

"Me too," you mumbled, pout evident in the huff and puff of your quiet words. You let your chin fall to your arm propped on the edge of your bed, glaring ahead at your wallpaper.

The house fogged with warmth from a home-cooked meal roasting in the oven downstairs. Your mother had a jazzy Christmas tune pipping from the stereo on the counter. Your father—last you checked forty minutes ago—was reading the paper in his armchair beneath the yellow lamplight of the living room. Your brother was somewhere up the street getting into trouble with his friends, driven to boredom without school to keep them busy. You had a Christmas party to attend tomorrow night, and you still hadn't picked an outfit, or wrapped your Secret Santa gift.

"Baby," Steve sighed. "C'mon, don't...don't make me feel bad."

You rolled onto your back. "I'm not, I'm not...I'm sorry."

Commotion clattered behind Steve—hotel doors opening and closing, voices muttering. The bed springs squeaked with his shifting. Your chest ached and squeezed with what you already knew was coming.

"I gotta go, angel...I'll call you later, alright? Be good f' me?"

You pinched your eyes shut, willing the stinging to stop. You nodded without words a moment, and then heard the buzz of his waiting. "Okay...love you."

"Love you too, baby. Bye."

"Blue Christmas" spun on Lisa's turn table in the sunken den of her parent's basement living room. Still stuck in 1975 and decorated by her mother for the sole purpose of hosting cocktail parties, it was the perfect place for Lisa to hold her first "adult" holiday party: pink shag carpet, silver-tinseled Christmas tree, pastel wrapping and perfect bows, and geometric decor of diamonds and stars on the wood-paneled wall.

Lisa, Holly, Tammy (and even yourself) dressed in their best getups, hair and makeup perfected for Polaroids. They already snapped enough to cover the end table, and in every single one, your smile never met your eyes. You were too concerned with ruining Lisa's highly-anticipated party to be a drag, but the lack of Steve really weighed on you.

"Oh, honey," Holly sighed, padding her way over to you. She flopped onto the sofa beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulders. "You miss him real bad, huh?"

You sighed, head falling onto her arm. "That obvious?"

She sipped her (fourth) cocktail—something red and fruity and rimmed with crushed candy cane. "You haven't spoken a word in thirty minutes. It was just a hunch."

"I thought he'd at least...try to be here. I mean, he doesn't have a fight until next week. He could fly back and forth—but maybe that's...not right of me to ask that."

Holly hummed, setting her coupe glass on the Polaroid table. She turned to you, blonde hair neatly curled and pinned on either side, and pursed her glossy mouth.

"It's not too much to ask, hun. If he wanted to be here, he'd be here. He said he loves you, then he wouldn't miss your first Christmas together."

You peered at her, wondering if this were true. From their place near the tree, arranging gifts and flicking through Elvis albums, Lisa and Tammy looked up.

"Oh, that's not true!" Tammy squawked. "He's just busy. They're talkin' about him all the way in New York now."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, stomach twisting. "They are?"

If Steve were truly gaining popularity across the east coast, you had more than just a missed Christmas to worry about. You sensed its arrival—his fame and popularity. Steve was up and coming, and he had an aggression not many fighters had these days. He had the drive, the passion, the determination. You saw it all in his eyes. You knew he wouldn't stop until he was the best, and he wasn't afraid to make the sacrifices necessary to be just that.

And maybe it was selfish of you to want him all to yourself—but you've never felt this way about anyone before. Steve was everything.

"Oh, Libby," Lisa cooed, hurriedly rushing your way. Tammy followed, and soon they were all surrounding you, perched on the sofa and the coffee table.

"It'll be okay! He loves you, it's so obvious. You just have to realize...maybe his career will always come first. You just have to find a way to be okay with that," Lisa offered meekly.

You nodded, but only because your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. The girls glanced at each other momentarily, and then Holly stood in a flash of sparkly, bubblegum pink and glitter.

"Well, to hell with Steve! Let's get drunk and open presents."

The glasses drained themselves, really. The records spun and scratched, the pretty, gilded wrapping paper shred to pieces, and the girls in the den soon became nothing but giggling messes. When you got bored of the music, you turned to the television, turning the knob until you reached a fuzzy, pixelated picture of It's A Wonderful Life, though the static-y voices fell on deaf ears.

"Oh, it's darling, Libby, really," Holly gushed, holding up the pink satin slip you gifted her for Christmas.

Holly was easiest to shop for—she'd be pleased with anything pink, soft, and fancy.

"I'm glad you—hic!—like it. And I love my book, Tammy. It's so beautiful."

The book, a cloth-bound classic, was wine-colored and gorgeous. It was so pretty you didn't even want to put it on the shelf. It would sit on your dresser for a little while to look at.

Lisa gave Tammy a pair of red Mary Janes, and Holly gave Lisa a new set of hot rollers. The remains of the wrapping paper sat in bits and pieces around you on the carpet, and you had to shoo away Lisa's cocker spaniel, Lady, before she ate it all. She trudged into your lap, shedding soft hair over your dress as you stroked her long, floppy ears, watching the pink-flushed faces of your friends through the glowing white light of the Christmas tree.

Despite Steve's absence, you were happy. You had your friends.

The giggles faded when the doorbell rang through the house. Lisa waved it off, peering up the steps of the den toward the first floor. "Probably just a caroler. Ignore it."

But the doorbell rang again. Lisa huffed, and Tammy and Holly giggled as she fumbled up the steps. In her absence, they turned to you, all gushing over each other's presents and asking after more cocktails. They kissed at Lady in your lap and tossed popcorn at her waiting mouth, and you fell in line with the amusement until Lisa's socked feet came flapping into the room.

"Libby, Steve's here."

You weren't sure you heard her right. The giggles dwindled again, and your hand stilled over Lady's head in a half-stroke. Your heart was in your mouth, pulsing dumbly.

"W-what?"

Lisa, out of breath and wide-eyed, had her hands on her hips with an ecstatic smile. "He's here. Steve, he's here—he's waiting outside."

"Well, for God's sake, Lisa, why didn't you invite him in?" Tammy chimed in.

Lisa shot her a glare. "He said he'd wait outside for her! Probably heard your cackling and got too scared to come in."

Holly soothed your friend's sting with a half-hug around Tammy's shoulders, but you were still numb. You carefully scooped Lady up and placed her on the floor, away from the wrapping paper. You pushed to your feet, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. You put your book on the sofa, and turned to your friends still on the floor.

"Do I...do I look alright?"

"Gorgeous, babe," Holly beamed. "Let me just..."

She stood, reaching up to fix your hair. She fluffed it, poofed it, found your purse on a hook near the door and spritzed your perfume at the crown of your head, and under your ears. She handed you your lipgloss and a mirror, and when you were content with the pink-eyed doeness of your appearance, you stepped toward the stairs.

"Go, go!" Lisa ushered you, giving you a nudge.

You steadied yourself on the wall, steps careful and cautious. Those drinks made you a little woozy, but nothing felt as fuzzy as the thought of Steve waiting for you in the snow. He came all the way here, for you. Your cheeks warmed at the very thought. Your stomach crawled its way up to your throat.

You made your way through the house, taking one last glance in the nearest mirror, before pulling open the door.

A cold rush immediately burst into the house, but any thought of shivering fled your mind at the sight of Steve looming before your eyes. Brown leather coat, black sweater, Levi jeans tight at the hips and loose at the calves. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, blowing hot, white air into his palms—but at the sound of your steps, at the scent of you, he stopped.

All you could do, for just a moment, was stare. Three long weeks since you last saw him—those perfect, round hazel eyes, those high, rosy cheeks. The tip of his nose was wind-nipped pink, the tops of his ears blown red. He smelled like vetiver and leather cologne, and he looked beautiful.

"Oh, Steve."

You crashed into his chest, arms wound tight around his stomach. He enveloped you in his own, holding you as close as he could; and the warmth of him immediately melded with yours. You buried your nose into his chest and hummed, eyes pinched shut just to hold onto this. This moment, this scene, this feeling of him so close after so long apart. You didn't want to let go.

"Merry Christmas, angel," he whispered, and then his mouth sat atop your head, pressing it into a kiss.

When the cold got unbearable, you pulled Steve inside. Fingers intertwined and cheeks sore with grinning, you skipped your way back down to the den where your friends feigned innocence despite their heaving breaths.

"Well look who's here," Holly cooed, watching you tug Steve down the steps.

You giggled, tipping into his side, one foot coming to kick up giddily. You felt like a schoolgirl with her very first crush. That's how love should always be, right?

"Steve, you know everyone. This is Lisa, Holly, and Tammy. Girls, this is Steve."

Your friends waggled their fingers in bashful little waves, and Steve lifted a wide palm in hello. You could smell the Marlboros on his coat, see the outline of a new pack in the front of his pocket. His hands were starting to warm up against your own.

"And this is Lady," you cooed, watching the cocker spaniel sniff at Steve's boots.

You dipped down and scooped her up, bringing her up against your chest to wave a tiny paw at Steve. He cracked a sideways smile, reaching out to scratch at her chin. You let her scamper back over toward the girls by the tree, and turned to Steve with your fingers looped together behind your back.

You could barely contain the giddy glee flooding through your body. Steve noticed. He nicked you under the chin with a gentle knuckle, and another small kiss placed on your sticky mouth.

"You girls been drinkin'?" he gruffed, thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

You shrugged. "A little. It's Christmas, Steve."

He hummed, eyeing the dazzled, feminine setup of the room. A mess of pretty paper, tinsel knocked astray, empty coupe glasses and picked-at pigs-in-a-blanket and bowls of snacks, a dog sniffing around for scraps and attention—harmless, he decided. Maybe even sweet.

As if waiting for his approval, and recognizing the submission, Steve turned back to you with a small smile. "Okay."

You took him by the hand again, tugging him toward the tree. "Come on."

But Steve paused, tugging you with just the resistance of his solid stance, snapping back like a rubber-band.

"Wait, honey..." You turned to him, and he reached into the lining of his coat. "Got somethin' for you."

He pulled out a slim, black velvet box. You pressed your lips into a smile and huddled close.

"But, Steve...yours is at home—"

"—shh. Just open it."

You were acutely aware of your friends craning to see over your shoulder from their place on the floor, petting mindlessly at Lady and munching at shortbread. But in this moment, it was just you and Steve. And he watched you intently once he handed over the box, gnawing at his own lip. God, he wanted a smoke. He just wanted you to love it.

You pushed the box open, hinges snapping back to reveal a navy blue satin lining, and a gorgeous golden locket strung inside. An "S" sat etched on the center of an intricately engraved heart, adorned with swirling roses on a delicate chain.

"Oh, Steve." It was all you seemed to be able to say today.

"D' you like it?" he asked, voice edged with worry.

You fingered at the locket, feeling the cool metal. "I love it, Steve. It's gorgeous."

He exhaled. "Good. Lemme put it on."

With fingers too big for such delicate things, he plucked the necklace from its box and pulled the clasp open. You spun around, moving your hair out of the way for his hands. With your back to him, you could properly convey your excitement to your friends, who mirrored your beaming grin with equal delight.

The locket rested perfectly in the center of your chest, and once clasped, you felt it against your skin with your palm.

"Thank you, Steve. I love it so much."

Steve, hands braced on your shoulders, tipped his head and kissed your cheek. "Anything, angel. It's all yours."

Lisa snapped the head of a gingerbread-man cookie off with her teeth, and Holly cooed. Tammy busied herself with the dog.

But you had a band of butterflies in your stomach and a drum line in your chest, and you turned to look up at Steve with nothing but adoration.

"Look inside." He nudged his nose toward the locket again.

Wedging a nail between the hinges, you popped the heart open. A crudely-cut picture of yourself and Steve—so minuscule it would be difficult to discern from a blob if you hadn't recognized the very moment captured in time—sat in a black and white fashion in the heart.

Another smile at Steve, loving and sweet. "Who knew you were so romantic, Steve Harrington?"

He tucked his bruised fists into his coat pockets and shrugged. "I try."

Steve had hours before he had to leave and a plane ticket burning a hole in his back pocket—but it was Christmas, and he'd do anything, even blow off his coach and a team full of people, if it meant seeing your pretty face.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

The softest of kisses shared between warm mouths. Strawberry-cigarette smooches were what life was all about.

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

[onlyang3ll]

just wanna (get with you).

okkkk i promise i am not neglecting promise (i am) but i just had to get this out before the thought left my mind. this is just to say nancy wheeler i love you and i’m sorry

18+. smut. steve is an adulterer. but it’s okieee bc it’s hot <3

this is very much richboy!steve, he is very cocky and brash and very much not afraid of it

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

you had prepared to spend thanksgiving break alone in your room, honestly quite happy not to have to go home and deal with your car crash of a family.

that was until stacy had caught wind of your lonely plans and interjected, offering you an invite to her family’s massive home. now, it’d be rude not to accept, right?

you totally weren’t influenced by the fact that her older brother would definitely be there, not at all.

the drive up was a long slog, hours until you ended up in the middle of buttfuck indiana. it’s not somewhere you ever envisioned yourself spending the holidays but she had ensured that it was nice enough. her parents were.. interesting but as you were there, they’d probably at least try to keep up appearances. there wasn’t much else going on but in this tiny town but it gave you a chance to relax and ogle her brother.

their house is huge, like, ridiculously big. much bigger than their small family needed. from what stacy has confided in you, you can gather that her parents are hardly even home. they like to make a big deal about holidays to give the impression of a well put together family but if anything, they’re on the brink of divorce and only holding it together for the fear of being seen as failures.

not that your family are much better, but at least they don’t pretend to like eachother.

steve is up at the door the moment stacy unlocks it, waiting to see which of her sorority friends she’d decided to bring along.

he grins the second he sees you, taking your bag out of your hand and introducing himself before you can even begin to speak. not that you mind.

‘leave her alone, steve,’ stacy warns, rolling her eyes as she begins up the stairs, motioning for you to follow.

‘why don’t you leave me alone? i’m just being a good host, isn’t that right?’ he smiles at you, lugging your bag up the extravagant staircase and toward the room you’ve been assigned.

it’s not as if there’s a lack of them, a multitude of white doors that probably sat empty. it’s incredible how a house could cost so much and yet lack character despite the ample space to decorate.

she shoves him out of the way the second you make it into the room, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘uh uh,’ he’s smirking now and it’s making your heart feel funny. it’s wrong, totally wrong. but you can’t help it.

when he’d appeared on move in day you’d been star struck, his caramel coloured hair flopping into his eyes and the way his t-shirt clung to his arms had caught you immediately.

you and the rest of the girls in the house, obviously.

‘well go and find something to do you fucking loser,’ pushing him out of the door and slamming it in his face.

you couldn’t exactly tell her that it was fine and actually you preferred if he stayed.. so you grin and give her a fake chuckle, looking around at the room you were to call home for the next week.

‘i’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘ignore him.. he’s just like that,’ walking over to the pristine bed. it obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while, you don’t doubt that they rarely have guests.

‘it’s okay,’ you smile, exhilarated for what this week will bring.

-

you don’t see much of the illusive mr. harrington, burrowed away in his office for most of the day with his wife busying around the kitchen, putting on an unnecessarily large spread each day. now you’re not a psychologist but even you can gather that she’s trying to make up for something.

stacy had bundled you into her room under the pretence of studying, both of you sat on her bed with neglected open books. opting to gossip about shit in your house rather than the looming finals.

steve knocks on the door and rushes in without waiting, standing in the doorway with a devilish grin. ‘mom’s drunk again.. you two wanna get out of here before it gets ugly?’ leaning against the doorframe.

he looks extra good today, his grey sweatpants sitting just right. you’re mindful to pull your eyes away when he nears the bed though his eyes never leave you.

‘like what?’ stacy frowns, sitting up and closing the untouched book.

‘i dunno..’ he shrugs, ‘i just don’t wanna be here when he gets back and she’s drunk again,’ fiddling with some trinket on stacy’s shelf.

you can tell that stacy’s not keen on the idea but she doesn’t want to be here for that scene either. you can empathise entirely, which is the exact reason you decided not to go home.

‘okay,’ she turns to you, ‘you okay with that?’

‘yeah.. sounds good,’ smiling at your friend. in your peripheral, you can see steve’s lips twitch into a smirk, cocky bastard.

much to your dismay, the three of you end up bowling. which you wouldn’t usually mind, but the alley was full to the brim with parents and their screaming children, running around the lanes hyped up on copious amounts of sugar.

not to mention the blaring christmas music that was entirely too loud for a tuesday afternoon.

‘you bowl much?’ steve scoots over on the bench, leaning in to whisper of the screeching kids.

‘not really,’ shaking your head innocently, ‘do you?’

‘yeah i’m alright.. i can teach you, if you want?’ ever the opportunist. who were you to deny him that?

‘okay,’ you giggle, blinking up at his chocolate coloured eyes.

it’s pathetic but your knees almost crumble when he walks up behind you, arms coming to envelope yours, large hands perched over yours as stacy tuts and turns away.

‘like this..’ his chest presses against your back, pulling your arm back and letting the ball roll down the lane.

you very nearly groan when he pulls away, hand lingering on your elbow as the pair of you watch the pins knock over. he smiles gently at you without even looking at the pins, he’s already sure he’d won.

‘thanks,’ you nod, keeping your own smile contained as you walk back to the bench, squishing in next to a less than impressed stacy. she’s not stupid but doesn’t dare to say anything and you’re grateful for that at least.

you watch steve take his turn, wondering how much longer you can feign incompetence to get him to touch you.

-

their house is quiet when you get back. eerily quiet. stacy and steve share a look before heading inside and you already know to prepare for the worst.

mr. harrington is sat facing the blank television, sipping on a small glass of what you presume is whiskey. the fire blazing in front of him, crackling loudly in the otherwise silent house.

‘your mother’s in bed,’ is all he says, refusing to turn around to face his children. he’s a stoic man at the best of times but seemed extra cold tonight. you don’t want to think about what had happened while you were out.

the atmosphere brings you crashing down out of your high, the loud bowling alley seemed like a dream compared to the moody room you stood in. at least your family were entertaining in all their madness. this was just depressing and you don’t have to wonder just why stacy is the way she is now.

steve slinks off upstairs without saying a word and stacy follows, head ducked down. they’ve probably been through this exact routine a hundred times before. you follow along silently, assuming that mr. harrington definitely didn’t want you hanging around downstairs.

before stacy slips away into her room, you grab onto her elbow, pulling her round to face you, ‘my mom drinks too.. i know what it’s like,’ offering some meek words of encouragement. it’s not a lot but you can empathise with the sinking feeling you know she’s feeling.

she gives you a small smile, pulling you in for a quick hug as the shower starts in the bathroom to your left. steve hadn’t hung around, disappearing before you even made it up the stairs.

‘night,’ you mutter before entering your own room.

there had been a tiny part of you that had hoped maybe tonight something would happen but with the scene downstairs and steve’s eagerness to get away, you doubt it.

-

there’s an almost silent knock at your door, if you were any sleepier, you would’ve missed it.

you know who it is.. what’s waiting on the other side of that door and for a second, you contemplate it. you could very easily turn over and drift off to sleep without ever finding out what could’ve been.. but, you’re not going to do that. not after you’d optimistically worn your best pajamas, dousing yourself in perfume before you had climbed into bed.

sliding out of the bed to open the door quietly and just as you expected, steve is on the other side with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

he doesn’t speak before stepping into the room, shutting the door gently as you stand expectantly before him. your heart is pounding, it’d jump out of your chest if it could.

‘steve,’ you barely whisper, ignoring the growing ache between your thighs. enthralled by the sheer tension in the room, it makes the air heavy, weighing on your shoulders as you practically pant at him.

in one quick move he’s stood in front of you, hands cradling your waist, confidence oozing off of his smile. his hair is still wet, falling onto his face perfectly. it’s almost cruel that someone could look so good so effortlessly.

‘i need you,’ he whispers, his spider-like lashes cascading a shadow over his face in the dull light. he’s so perfect it hurts.

you choose not to reply with words, hastily planting your lips on his, closing the minuscule gap between your bodies as your chest presses to his. you’re walked backwards towards the bed, the excitement is palpable, his hands barely able to contain themselves as they grip and squeeze your flesh.

steve falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you atop of him, clumsily readjusting your knees either side of his hips, gasping into his slack mouth when his grinds upwards, his already erect cock nudging against your core.

pulling your shirt over your head before reconnecting his lips to your jaw, planting hungry kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you arrived, the feel of him desperately moving beneath you becoming entirely too much. you needed him now.

he shimmies his own sweatpants down his thighs, choosing boldly to not wear any underwear. he’s big. his cock springing up against his stomach, gazing down into the space between you, mouth hung open as he works your shorts down with his delicate fingers.

‘what?’ he hushes innocently as if he doesn’t already know. his hand leaves your thigh to wrap around the base of his dick, pumping his fist ever so slowly.

your eyes meet his again, feeling your cheeks flush as the corner of his mouth twitches. if he weren’t so hot, his cockiness would be sickening. but you’re not one to bend to the will of men, brushing off his nerve and instead moving to grip onto his shoulders, positioning yourself above his leaking cock.

‘i know what you sorority girls are like.. you don’t have to- fuck,’ his head rolling back as you lower yourself onto him, gasping quietly at the feeling of fullness that quickly overtakes every other sense.

your fingers clamp around his jaw, pulling his face back up to meet yours, ‘what was that?’ sighing through muffled moans as you begin to rut your hips.

you have him at your mercy, moving your hips antagonistically slow, relishing in the sight of his hooded eyes struggling to stay open, soft pants escaping his lips with every careful movement.

‘ho- shit,’ his fingernails leaving crescent moons into your hips and ass, desperate to cling onto your body in any way he can. guiding your body up and down with the palms of his hands.

‘shh,’ you mutter, connecting your lips to the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quiet his groans. as lavish as this house is, you can bet that it’s not soundproof.

‘you’re so.. fuck- faster baby,’ he whines into your mouth, unappreciative of the calm pace you had set. enjoying the fact that you now held the upper hand, but also acutely aware that the sounds of skin-on-skin are indisputable, paired with his grunts, you’d be caught out in a second.

‘nuhuh,’ shaking your head slightly, face pressed into his sharp jaw, hoping to stifle some of the noises come from your throat.

this is when steve decides he’s had enough, this was his house and if anyone had anything to say then they could. his arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place above him as his legs spread, heels digging into the mattress.

your lips connect once again, in a sloppy kiss that requires minimal effort as his hips begin to thrust up, punching against that soft, spongy spot deep within. and now you’re the one responsible for the too-loud moans, practically screaming into his mouth as his tongue slips into your open mouth. his smirk evident against your lips as his thrusts grow faster.

chasing the same high you can feel growing in the pits of your stomach. you’re not even kissing at this point, lips pressed against the stubble on his cheek as his grip tightens, low grunts rumbling into the minimal space between you with every thrust.

‘oh god,’ you mewl, the all too familiar twist in your gut as his hips begin to stutter, the sound of your bodies connecting was spurring both of you on. not caring about your volume level as you come crashing over the edge.

babbling his name over and over again as you clench around him, shoving your face into his neck as pleasure soars all the way down to your toes, the sensation overwhelming your poor fucked-out brain.

his hands paw at the doughy flesh of your ass, resigning his last bit of energy for his last thrusts, hot spurts of cum paint your walls. steve’s teeth graze against your bare shoulder, suppressing his almighty moan as you collapse into a heap on top of him.

you feel like jelly, unable to lift your head when he pulls out, allowing him to manhandle your body as he shuffles down the bed. you shift slightly, moving to the empty space beside him, reaching down for the blanket, desperate for some modesty despite the explicit scene this room had just witnessed.

that was everything you’d imagined it’d be and more.

‘jesus,’ he sniffs, relaxing into your bed as if he belonged there, ‘anyone ever told you how fucking good you feel?’ his arm reaching out to pull your body into his once more.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, still very much coming back to earth. trying not to get too comfortable with this arrangement but letting your leg slide between his.

his other hand flicks the tiny lamp off, leaving the room in complete darkness. toned arms coming to rest around your waist, chin resting against your head.

‘you can’t sleep in here,’ you warn, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.

‘why not? this is my house, i can sleep wherever i want,’ his fingertips dart around your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you don’t argue, settling into your comfy position nestled into his side. it’s not long before sleep takes over as his fingers trace silly patterns into your back.

-

but you’re rudely awoken at stupid o’clock in the morning, the sun barely rising outside of the tiny window. steve’s grumbling, tapping softly on your shoulder.

‘i’ve gotta go,’ he whispers into your hair, pulling the blanket off of his body and onto yours.

you’re barely coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, nodding along absentmindedly as sleep negs to take over again. ever the gentleman, he places a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed and rushing out of the room.

he’s gone before you even wake up fully, not registering what had happened until you wake up again, this time at a more appropriate hour.

it’s only then that fear takes over. had you misjudged how loud you were? what if someone had heard? there’s no way they’d turf you out on thanksgiving.. would they?

yet all seems normal when you slink downstairs, joining stacy at the table as she butters toast without a word to be said about your antics. you pray to every being above that you had gone undetected.

‘morning sleepyhead,’ stacy utters, seemingly in a much better mood than the one you left her in last night, ‘sleep well?’

you stare at her for a moment, deciding if the question is loaded or if she’s genuinely interested in how you slept.

‘yeah.. really good, you?’ testing the waters.

‘yeah not bad,’ she smiles, a genuine smile that allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

phew. you were safe.

‘it’s about to get uh.. tense today so, we can just hang out in my room until dinner,’ she nods assuringly. you trust her, not wanting to bare witness to mr. harrington and his cryptic behaviour.

before you can reply, the front door opens and a small brunette walks in with steve trailing closely. behind her, carrying what looks like a suitcase with the most displeased look plastered on his face.

the woman hangs her coat on the hook, flashing a quick wave towards the kitchen where you sat gawping before heading upstairs quickly.

from here, she looked like a cousin or something, someone you hadn’t been told was attending.

she’s pretty, gorgeous eyes and a polite smile that makes you want to smile.

‘who’s that?’ you ask, perplexed at the sight of this stranger who is obviously so comfortable in their home.

‘oh, that’s nancy,’ stacy continues with her toast, not at all bothered by the new arrival.

‘she’s steve’s fiancée.’

[onlyang3ll]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing : priest!gator tillman x fem!reader

contents : smut 18+, catholic themes, degradation, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex, breeding kink

a/n : this is how i choose to deal with my religious trauma lol. this is not for everyone so reader discretion is advised. reblogs and feedback are highly encouraged and appreciated! masterlist.

word count : 1,6k

if anyone found out what your priest was doing with you after sunday mass every week, he wouod get kicked out of the priesthood so fast it’d make his head spin.

every week you show up to mass not wearing any panties per his request, and you’re already dripping just watching him up on the podium. as he spoke to the congregation his eyes always wandered back to you because he knew the effect he has on you, and what you were about to do. you squeezed your thighs together for temporary relief, and tried to focus on the sermon.

after everyone filed out, he asked you to follow him to his office. it’s so innocent, his voice is sweet like candy. no one would ever suspect a thing. as soon as the door shuts, he caged you against the wall, jamming two fingers into your tight hole. you yelp, and gator has to cover your mouth with his other hand. he keeps his voice low, “shush, little lamb. we don’t want anyone finding out what a whore you are, letting her priest fuck you with his fingers.”

he ignored his own hipocracy as he rutted his hardened length against your thigh. your moans were muffled by his hand, but the sound of his palm smacking against your sopping cunt was so loud that it almost echoed through the room.

gator crooked his fingers just right, knowing exactly where to hit to make you writhe. he delights in how your pussy reacts to his fingers alone. “when you’re alone, i know how wet you get just thinking about me. i hope you don’t touch yourself though. you know that’s a sin, and i’d hate to have to punish you. only my holy fingers get to touch this pretty pussy of yours,” he whispers low in your ear.

his fingers continue to brush over your spongy spot, and your eyes roll back in your head. you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. with the way your walls clench around gator’s fingers, he can feel it too.

you try to speak from behind gator’s palm, but it all came out muffled. he removed his hand and asked “what is it, my child?”

“i’m gonna cum. father, please can i cum?” you whimper. your legs start to shake as you try to hold off your orgasm until gator grants you permission.

“not until my fat cock is buried in that heavenly pussy.” gator growled.

he removed his fingers, and shoved them down your throat. you wrap your lips around them, and swirl your tongue to lick them clean. when gator was satisfied, he removed his fingers from your mouth, and spun you around by your hips.

with force, he pushed his hand flat on your back to bend you over the desk. he flipped your skirt up, and let out a content hum when he eyed your glistening, pink folds.

keeping his left hand firm on your back, he used his right hand to unbuckle his belt, and pull the zipper of his trousers down. you tried your best to turn your head so that you could watch what he was doing. you caught a glimpse of his cock. the tip was red, with precum leaking out, and you gulped.

gator grabbed at the base of his length, and dragged it through your folds at an agonising slow pace. he groaned at how wet you were and how your juices were already coating the underside of his cock. you whimpered from the contact. he was so close to where you wanted—no, needed—him.

gator heard you, and cooed, “awh, do you want me to fuck you, whore? i know that you lie awake at night and think about me fucking you. you’re just waiting for the next time you see me so i can shove my cock so deep inside of you. you pray to god every night for me to fill you up, but you know that i’m your god. you pray to me, and worship my cock.”

he licked a stripe up his palm, then slapped your ass hard enough that the sting lingered. he went back to stroking his cock, spreading the precum. “beg for me. tell me how bad you need me buried in your cunt, spilling my seed, making you all mine.”

“i need your cock, father,” you squeezed your thighs again, looking for the slightest bit of friction on your swollen button. “please cum inside me, so that you’re leaking out of me. i’m yours, all yours.”

“that’s right, angel.”

gator dragged the head of his cock through your folds, then pressed his cock into your tight hole. your breath hitched as you felt him fill you up inch by inch. you couldn’t help but feel guilty for your actions as it was happening. you were supposed to save yourself until marriage, and you were definitely not supposed to be engaging in the blasphemous act with your priest.

all of those thoughts were pounded out of your head when gator snapped his hips and started fucking you hard and fast. he never really asked you how you wanted him, or if you were okay. to him, you were just a pretty hole for him to use as relief every week.

gator kept a hand on your hips, pulling them back to meet him thrust for thrust. the other one snaked around and played with your clit. he closed his eyes, and basked in your blessed moans.

you were frantically trying to find anything to hold onto to steady you. the front of your hips hit the edge of the desk, and you knew new bruises would form over the old ones from when you were in this position last week.

he used the fingers that were rubbing lazy circles over your bud to press down onto it. you tried bucking your hips to create even more pressure. gator leaned over and his lips touched the shell of your ear. “i know you can’t touch yourself because that would be a sin, but it’s okay when i do it. my hands are anointed, which means everything i touch is holy.”

you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts anymore. you tried reciting scripture in your head to feel less guilty, but now all you could think about was how full you were, and you were blessed to feel this pleasure from such a holy man.

gator was barely pulling out, and his hips were basically connected to your ass. his cock pulsed, and his hips stilled for a fraction of a second. he hissed between his teeth, holding off his orgasm because he wasn’t ready for the feeling of your warm cunt engulfing his cock to come to an end.

“jesus christ, you’re so fucking tight. i could stay buried in this cunt forever. you’d like that, too. i know you would.” your pussy fluttered, and it took no time for him to pick up his pace again. he pulled back far enough that only the tip was still inside of you.

he rammed into you, pushing his whole length into you, and knocking into your cervix. you cried out, “oh my god!”

gator shoved his fingers into your mouth far enough that you gagged on them. “what did i tell you about being quiet?”

you started to feel your slick drip down the insides of your thighs, and only more gathered as he hit your sweet spot perfectly like a target. your walls clenched and fluttered. you moaned around his fingers, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“that feel good? you wanna cum? i’m close, too, little lamb. i need you to cum for me, okay? gush all over my cock.”

you had no choice but to obey his orders. your pussy throbbed as you released all the tension the built up in your tummy. even more of your juices dripped down your shaking legs that were barely holding you up. gator fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own.

“shit, that’s it. you feel so fucking good. fuck—i’m cumming.” he pressed his hips into your ass as far as he could, and his hot seed flooded your hole. strangled moans tumbled from his lips, and he just couldn’t stop cumming. you didn’t think he’d ever cum that much before.

gator’s cock finally stopped pulsing. he leaned over, and rested his head between your shoulder blades. between pants he said “you have no idea how much i love owning that pretty little pussy of yours. you feel like heaven on earth.”

he sat up, and slowly pulled his cock out of your overstimulated cunt. you whimpered at the empty feeling, and your walls pulsed around nothing. his cum leaked out, but he caught it. he pushed it back in, and your walls clenched around his fingers once more. he smacked your pussy, then pulled your skirt back down.

he tucked himself back into his trousers, then spun you back around so you were facing him. “you better get going now. you have to think about how you’re going to beg for forgiveness for being such a whore, and letting me fuck you.”

you nodded your head, and replied, “yes, father. thank you.”

as you turned away, gator gave you a light spank. “see you again next week. remember, don’t wear any panties.”

you walked out on wobbly legs thinking about how you were going to earn god’s forgiveness, but you were also thinking about gator.

you rationalised your actions by thinking that because your priest fucked you, that had to mean you were god’s favourite. you were eternally devoted to god and to gator. it was a privilege for him to touch you with his holy fingers, and fill your pussy with his golden seed. you wanted to serve him on earth, and into the afterlife.

[onlyang3ll]

I’m in the mood to write and after the most recent episode of tsitp i can’t help but want to write some conrad stuff!! so please send in some requests for conrad ☺️☺️

[onlyang3ll]

saying yes

summary - you and harry enjoy each others company after the wembley tour

word count: 1.5k

pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader

Wembley was empty now.

There was only the crew cleaning up the masses of boas and rubbish that was all over the floor.

You were on stage, trying to salvage the flowers that fans had thrown on stage for Harry during Grapejuice. You hoped to collect them and press them into a frame so Harry could hang it up in your house. Possibly in his recording studio.

You were kneeling on the floor, collecting the flowers into your Love On Tour tote bag.

“Babe!” Harry called from the side, entering the stadium from the tunnel.

“Hi, baby.” You smiled and waved at him, before returning to your collecting.

“Hi, baby.” You smiled and waved at him, before returning to your collecting.

“What are y’doing? Been looking for you for ages.”

He had changed into shorts, vans and a hoodie now. He looked very cosy and loveable. You loved him in his comfortable clothes, especially because it makes hugging him cosier.

Harry stopped to take out his phone and take a photo of you on the stage, without you knowing. He looked at the photo afterwards, zoomed into you and smiled at how pretty you looked.

He pocketed his phone as he made the rest of the way to you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried that he needed you for something.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Was just missing you.” He admitted.

You stopped adding flowers to your bag and watched him walk all the way over to where the archway was in the stage to get through to Johnny’s Place.

You knelt over to him and dangled your face and hands over the edge. Harry reached his hands up and held onto your hands, very careful not to pull you in case you fell.

He smiled when his hands met yours, having missed your touch for the past half an hour.

“Missed you too. Y’look good.” You told him.

“I’m in m’gym clothes, babe!” Harry laughed.

“I know.” You laughed back, squeezing onto his hands.

“Put m’best clothes on for you.”

He let go of your hands then, terrified he might accidentally pull you if he wasn’t concentrating.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yes babe. I’m sure.” Harry smiled at how thorough your concern was. “Gimme a minute.”

Harry shuffled along the floor and ran up some secret stairs to get to you.

You went back to picking through the flowers, to find the best ones for him. There were so many different types of flowers with lots of different colours.

You felt him come up behind you before you heard him. His presence was like a warm, comforting, blanket over you.

“What’re you doing, love?” Harry asked over your shoulder, crouching down.

You turned your head to see him, his face only inches away from yours. You smiled at him, giving him a quick peck before replying.

“Collecting these flowers.”

“Why?” Harry went in for another kiss, because he can’t keep his distance from you. Then he kissed you again because he can’t keep his lips away from yours after just one taste.

“Because I want to make you a gift and you’ll ruin it if you keep asking questions.” You turned your head away from him and secured all the flowers in the bag.

Harry moved behind you as you did so.

“Y/N?” He said softly.

“Yeah?” You turned around, to find Harry with a flower in his hands.

A pretty pink flower that matched your dress. He had snapped the flower from the stalk. He reached the flower up to being your ear, tucking it there so it would stay.

You blushed as he did so, smiling so widely as he loved on you in his own way.

“I love you.” He said.

“Do you?” You pretended like you didn’t already know.

“Yeah. Very much so. Sing all m’songs about you, don’t I?”

“What? Even Love of My Life?” You questioned, turning to sit cross legged on the floor so you could face him. Harry still crouched, probably comfortable from all the pilates. “Where you’re singing about how I was the love of your life?”

“Shut up. You know why I wrote that song.” Harry replied quietly.

You did know.

It was when you and Harry had gone on a break because the distance between you was too much. He wrote the song, sent it to you to ask whether it was okay if he put it on his new album he was creating, only for you to come knocking on his door the next day, teary eyed, demanding an explanation.

You’d talked for hours and hours that night until you decided you had something worth fighting for.

“I do. Sorry, H baby.” You cupped his cheek with your hand and rubbed over his soft skin.

“It’s okay. Only because we’re okay.” He smiled at you.

You lay down then, still a few flowers surrounding you underneath.

Harry then came and lay down beside you, close enough to interlock his hand closest to you with yours. You turned to smile at him, only to realise he was busy admiring the moon high up above Wembley.

The stars were out and shining for him. The moon beaming down on the both of you.

“She’s so pretty.” Harry said, talking about the moon.

“Prettier than me?” You teased.

“Nobody’s prettier than you, love.”

You were silent for a few moments, both of you just admiring the still and silence. It’s hard to believe this place was filled with over ninety thousand people a couple hours ago.

You’d come to realise that Lloyd snapped a photo of the two of you like this and it quickly became your favourite photo with each other. Holding hands, laying amongst the flowers, gazing at the beautiful moon.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezed your hand.

“Sometimes, when we’re apart, like you’re in LA and I’m in London, I look up at the moon and remember that it’s looking back down at you too. Like she’s watching over both of us simultaneously. It’s comforting, knowing we’re small enough in this expensive universe to be closer than we realise. Don’t you think?”

Harry didn’t reply and you wondered maybe he just didn’t get it?

You turned to look at him and he was already looking at you, stars now reflecting in his eyes.

“It’s cool if you don’t think that. I mean, like…”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Marry me.” He smiled so widely.

“Wha–”

“Marry me. Please.” He repeated himself, sitting up to pull something out of his pocket. He pulled out a small, dainty, engagement ring - one that you recognised from Anne’s collection. “Marry me and just be with me. Always. I know marriage doesn’t change who we are or how we love each other, but I just want to make you a little bit more mine. I’m always going to pick you. You are the love of my life. Choose me? Because I choose you.”

You didn’t realise you were crying until Harry was going slightly blurry in your vision

“Yes,” You whispered, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” You shouted more and more loudly.

You sat and reached up up to grab his cheeks for a kiss. He wasn’t ready for it, but quickly found his rhythm against you. He kissed you so lovingly and you gave him all of you in return.

He pulled away, red lipped and slightly breathless.

“Let me put this on you.”

He held you hand shakily and your own hand was shaking. He slipped the perfect ring on and you smiled with so much happiness.

“Harry, it’s gorgeous.”

“Mum gave it to me. She gave it to me the moment we went on a break and I knew that I’d screwed up. She gave it to me, making me promise that I’d work hard to earn you back and marry the one person who I’d ever fully loved.”

“You’ve been carrying it around all this time?” You asked in disbelief.

“Always knew I was going to ask you. It was just a matter of when.”

“Well this was perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank you for saying yes.”

[onlyang3ll]

Hells Angels

Pairings - Biker!Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary- A group of men get a bit handsy with you.

Warnings- Mention of Bike clubs, fighting, Sexual intercourse, language. (18+)

A/n- biker!drew will be the death of me, writing another one right now that is spicy and he’s mean!

You had picked out the cutest outfit, you wanted to look good for Drew tonight. You were meeting each other at the local bar, you both usually went there on Friday nights.

You’d have a few beers and play some pool, usually his bikie friends would come say hey and you loved them. They were the nicest bunch of guys, a few of their girlfriends would show up and they weren’t too bad either.

You had showed up 15 minutes early, chatting with Veronica behind the bar and catching up on her love life. Which was an absolute shit show, but you’d never say that to her.

You weren’t even paying attention to your surroundings until a hand touched your bare bicep and you jumped at the contact, expecting it to be Drew. You turned with a big smile which fell when you noticed three guys staring at you.

“Hi?”

They made eye contact briefly and looked back at you, moving to surround you. Panic sets in immediately, your throat closing in. “Hey dollface”.

Bile rises in your throat at the nickname, crossing your arms against your chest and standing tall. They weren’t much taller than you thankfully, unlike Drew who towers over you.

“Can you step back please” you asked, you could feel the movement of Veronica behind the bar. She slammed a glass down on the bench and coughed loudly. “Guys, ease up okay”.

They looked behind you and took a tiny step back, however still too close for comfort. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone in a bar like this?”.

Your brows furrowed at his comment, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the brat coming out of you. You didn’t want to make things worse, Drew would be here soon. You needed them to back off now.

“I’m waiting for someone”

“Let us keep you company until then”

“No, I’m okay”

“Oh come on dollface”

The taller one's hand makes contact with your waist, clenching his fingers across the material of your jeans and pulling you closer to him. The palms of your hands hit his chest, pushing roughly to keep a distance between your faces. “Get off me”.

Veronica throws a rag across the bar hitting one of them in the face. “Get the fuck out of my bar now” she shouts, pointing to the door. “Oh come on V, we are just having some fun”.

They ignore her protests and look back to you, the other one runs his fingers across the material of the corset. A shiver runs through your spine, disgust washing over you. “You need to get your hands off me… my boyfriend will be here any minute ”.

The guy in front of you tugs harder until you're as close to him as possible, his lips hovering over your ear. His hot breath sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers wrapping around his throat.

“Oi!”

The body of the man shudders at the sound of Drew, and the squeeze you have around his throat, eyes searching for him.

Drews face is beat red, leather jacket hugging his frame. He looked good but anger radiated off of him. “Get.the.fuck.off my girl NOW!”.

He is taking big steps, all three guys step back the moment they see who it is. Fear flashing behind their eyes when they see the patches littered on Drews jacket.

He was well known around here, leader of the hells angels. Nobody fucked with the hells angels. Nobody fucked eithe Drew’s possessions.

“Oh no no, we didn’t realise she was with you!” One of them pleads, his hands fly up in surrender and he’s stepping further and further away from you.

With a click of Drew’s fingers the club surrounds them, the music stops and eerie silence fills the pub. People not associated with the club begin to leave, murmuring between the crowd, they get the hint that blood is about to be drawn.

The three guys cower behind tables, Drew’s eyes meet yours. “Go outside baby” he demands, a sweetness overpowers his authority. He steps towards you and runs his fingers against your bicep, leaving a soft kiss to your cheek.

You grip his jacket, pulling him closer. “Please Drew, let’s just get them to leave. We don’t need to end the night like this” you beg, you hated when a fight broke out. You hated blood, you hated the screams. You hated not knowing if Drew was okay.

“Outside”

“Drew!”

“Outside now or I’ll get Marc to throw you over his shoulder and lock you in the bathroom”

You bite the inside of your cheeks and storm past him, your small frame hitting his arm on the way out. You didn’t like being bratty but you did not like being told what to do.

The sound of the door slams behind you and you walk towards Drews bike, pressing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. leaning your frame against the bike.

The sound of glass smashing causes you to jump, pushing the tips of your fingers against your ears, you didn’t want to hear it.

Your eyes are on the door the whole time, waiting for him to walk out. But after 15 minutes it’s only Marc who exits, he doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight at all. He walks towards you and crosses his arm. “Hey chicken”.

“Hi” you whisper, dropping your hands from your ears and staring at him. It’s quiet, no sounds of yelling or glass smashing. “You know he only does this because he wants you to be safe”.

“Well… he doesn’t need to send them to hospital”

“Come on chicken, you know those guys would have done a lot worse if he wasn’t around..”

You nod your head, you know he’s right. Drew only does this because he loves you. He wants to keep you safe, he doesn’t want you to get hurt by assholes like that.

“I just hate the blood and the idea of someone getting hurt” you squeak, you hated how soft you were. Tears threatening to leak once again, your throat aching from holding it back.

“It’s better it’s them, than you”.

He’s right again, you would have most likely been beaten and assaulted down an alley if it wasn’t for Drew and the club. You had to be grateful, they were your own fairy godmothers. Just dressed in black and a little scary.

The door to the pub slams open, Drew storms towards you. You stand up a bit straighter, Marc turns to walk away and taps Drew on the shoulder. They whisper something, Drew’s eyes land on you again.

“Get on the bike”

You don’t argue and do what he says, he pushes a helmet over your head and clips it up all while keeping his eyes off your face. He takes a seat in front of you and you quickly wrap your arms around his waist.

His foot kicks at the side stand and he holds the bike up, turning the key. The rumble of the engine echoes throughout the street. The seat vibrates against your legs.

He doesn’t warn you like he usually does and drives off, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. The wind swept through your hair, your arms tightened around Drew as he swerved around cars. The sounds of car horns rattled your ear drums, your heart pounding against your chest.

Anxiety bled through your veins, you hated this. You hated when Drew got angry, he let his anger out by being reckless. Usually you weren’t on the back of the bike when he was angry. “Drew! Please slow down!” You pleaded, your arms ache from the strength you used to hold on.

Tears well in your eyes, squeezing them closed to stop them from escaping. It will all be over soon. You’ll be in the safe confinement of your apartment.

He suddenly clicks to how reckless he’s being with you on the bike, he’s slowing down as he comes to your apartment. He wastes no time and jumps off, practically ripping you off the bike.

“I’m so sorry baby… I shouldn’t have driven like that with you on the bike” he whispers, he scoops your face up and presses his lips to your forehead, your arms wrapped around his waist. “So stupid of me, I’m so sorry”.

“It’s okay, you were angry”

“Doesn’t mean I can take it out on you… it wasn’t your fault those pricks touched you”

“Fucking assholes… won’t be touching anyone for a long time”

You screwed your face up as the mental images that flashed in your brain, you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Thanking him for keeping you safe, he picked you up bridal style and walked you towards the door.

“For such a big bad bikie you're awfully soft” you giggled, pinching his cheeks. He gives you a wide grin and walks you inside, he steps into the lounge room and throws you to the couch.

Crawling his way up your body. “I’ll show you soft” he growled, pressing his lips to yours hungrily. His tongue nudging its way into your mouth, his fingers fiddled with the lacing at the back of the corset. “This thing is so fucking hot but so fucking annoying”.

You chuckled, reaching behind to help him loosen it. Finally free of the material, he pulled your white shirt up and exposed your braless breasts. He began to roll your nipple between his fingers, lips assaulting your neck. “Your mine… no one ever gets to touch what’s mine” he growls into your skin, leaving behind marks of ownership.

“All yours baby… all yours” you whine, grinding yourself against his leg that sat between your open legs.

“Anyone ever look at you… I’ll kill ‘em, I really will”

“Touch me… please”

“All mine” he says as he pulls your jeans and panties down, admiring your naked body under him. You slip your hands under his jacket, helping him get free of his clothing. “All yours”.

His lips touch every part of your body until your tingling mess under him, arousal soaking the fabric underneath you. “I need you Drew”.

He presses his digits to your pussy, parting your lips softly. You let out a breathy moan and drop your head back onto the pillow, pushing your hips up against him. He pushes two fingers inside of you, eyes never leaving your face.

“No no no- I need your cock… I can’t wait any longer”

“Want to appreciate you baby, want to show you who’s the boss… who the bad bikie leader”

“Please… please don’t make me wait”

“Hmm, okay baby girl… only because I love you”

He moves the two of you, your legs straddling him. You don’t give him time to play around and sink yourself down his cock, gasping at the sudden intrusion as though you didn’t just bring it on yourself.

“Fuck”

His fingers clench around your waist, your palms pressed against his chest. You move yourself against him, pulling yourself off his cock and dropping back down until you set a steady pace.

His eyes casted down to your breasts that bounced with each movement, one of his hands left your waist to fondle your breast. “Your fucking perfect”

“I love you” you whisper, he pulls you against him. Pressing his lips to yours once more. “I need to keep you safe baby girl… so many rotten people out there”

“I know baby… but you need to stay safe, look at those hands” you grab his hands, pressing your lips to the grazes that littered his knuckles.

You hadn’t had a chance to clean him up like you usually would after a fight, you both stared at one another as you moved against his cock and kissed his wounds.

“I am safe, nobody can hurt me”

“Someone could… but I won’t let that happen”

He grins at your words and moves you back onto the couch, laying his body on top of yours. Your hands wraps around his biceps as he moves above you, one of his arms hooking under your leg to angle himself deeper into you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, that familiar buzz and lightheadedness washing over you. “I’m so close, baby”. He nods his head, arms shaking slightly as he holds himself back.

He reaches down to press against your bundle of nerves, pleasure shooting through your body. “Oh god”.

You move your legs to sit up high against his back, his cock buried deep inside of you. Your toes curl and the butterflies swarm your belly, his face screws up as he feels your walls pulsate around his swollen cock. “Shit baby”.

“Right there… oh god Drew! Right there”.

You're coming around his cock, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He follows behind, your walls milking him dry as you both come simultaneously. A light sheen of sweat develops over your bodies.

“All mine” he whispers, pressing his lips to your collarbone. “All yours”.

🏷️ @vigilanteshitposting @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @pedrisgatorade @its-ria-07 @teresalesbian & @illicitfixations @outerbankspov @whoisdrewstarkey

[onlyang3ll]

hellooo I adore ur blog and was wondering that since ur requests are open.. can you write about rafe being y/n's first boyfriend - maybe they are back from college but went to the same hs

an: hi hope you enjoy this and my take on this request !!! writing on my phone so bare with me! B nice to me pls i don’t like this but i wanna get some stuff out for you all!!

warnings: mean girls!!! swearing. kissing. not proofread

people would have never assumed little old timid you would ever date big bad rafe cameron. but here we are. first visit back home from college, holding hands walking into the country club.

you and rafe didn’t speak in highschool, didn’t have the same friend group. actually had nothing in common. at least that’s what it felt like at the time. but college changed that. you two had almost every class together.

started studying together because it was easier being from the same place. a sense of familiarity even without being super familiar. rafe was a known d bag to most people. but once you got to know him it was hard not fall head over heels.

“bro when did this happen?” kelce walked up with his hands gesturing to you two, topper was the only friend of rafes that knew of our relationship besides our families.

“bro.. none of your business” rafe mocked him. pulling a chair out at the table his friends sat at, you were quiet anxious because you didn’t hang with this group of people in highschool. they were the ones making fun of you for being a prude or goody two shoes. “sit down, baby” rafe spoke softly.

you took a seat and he sat down in the chair next to you. for a while rafe made small talk with his guy friends, eventually topper got there and he spoke to you more than the others.

topper always said he was so glad rafe found me and that i was the toughest girl out there being able to deal with his shit.

“rafe i didn’t know you were back in town!” some blonde shouted and walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. you froze, you didn’t have to deal with girls noticing rafe at college because it was always just you two and your group of friends.

rafe was never a player in your eyes because that wasn’t the rafe you met and got to know. he took the girls arms from around him, and nodded. “yup we decided to come back for the weekend” he pulled your hand into his lap and rubbed it softly with his thumb.

“we?” the girl asked with a dumb founded look on her face. “we. me and my girlfriend” he stated. she glanced over and gave a half ass smile. “oh… i didn’t know you guys were a thing”

you looked at her and gave a fake half smile back, “yup we are a thing. very much a thing” you spoke up, and rafe just smiled at you. “anyways, top i hope to see you at my party later tonight” you let out a small laugh at how quick she was to give her attention to a different guy in the group.

the girl walked away, “hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom” you leaned in speaking softly to rafe. he nodded, “okay baby, I’ll be right here” you give him a soft kiss and head to the restrooms.

“honestly i don’t know what he sees in that freak. I don’t even think she said one word in highschool” you heard a the voice of the girl that was just trying to talk to your boyfriend, and stopped to listen.

“rafe doesn’t date, maybe he is using her for something. would not be the first time he has done that with a girl.” another girl chimed in, and they laughed.

your anxiety spiked. and the rest of the time spent with rafe and his friends you stayed quiet. the girls comments consuming your entire head. you didn’t want to believe that rafe would use you and you wouldn’t lie and say the thought of not being good enough didn’t cross your mind often.

you were some book freak, virgin when you and race got together. he never said things to make you feel insecure but you couldn’t help it.

rafe could tell something was off, I’m his truck on the drive back to his family home where you guys were staying at this weekend and looked over at you. “you okay, bunny?”

you snapped out of your daze and looked at him shaking your head, “I’m fine, just taking in the sights” you smiled. he didn’t buy it, pulling into the driveway he parked. he got out and went over to open your door like always, and you turned to get out but he stood in front of you keeping you in the car. “tell me what’s wrong please?”

you sighed, “i over heard that girl and her friends talking about me..” rafe frowned, “what the hell did those bimbos have to say?” you shook your head, “they just said how you don’t date and that they don’t know what you see in me” you felt a tear fall from your eye and he sighs.

“baby don’t give them your tears, it’s not worth it. they are jealous of you. fuck em” he states matter of factly. you giggle a little at the last thing he said. “you are the only girl for me, i wish i could back in time and make you mine sooner.” he cupped your cheeks and gave your forehead a swift kiss.

“you mean that?” you whispered. “fuck yeah i mean that. you’re it for me baby. like it or not you’re stuck with me” he smiled. “oh wow what a punishment that is” you tease him. “you know when you get sassy it gets me going, and we have dinner with my parents in ten minutes so hold off on that missy” he helps you out of his truck.

“yes sir,” you wave your hand at him playfully. “that does too” he jokes, and taps your bum gently. “let’s go before i keep you to myself for the rest of the night”

[onlyang3ll]

Can I please get 11 with barzy

“wrong team”

mathew barzal x female reader

11. “can i get your number?”

i hope it’s okay i kind of changed it from number to instagram since it was more fitting! if you want me to change it to number just lmk!! <3

“i cannot believe that you’re wearing a wild jersey right now, you should be ashamed” your friend jackson exclaims. “oh hush, when we beat the islanders i’ll laugh in your face” “yeah yeah whatever you think,” he says. “honestly i cant believe we’re even sitting with you, aren’t you embarrassed to be wearing a minnesota jersey at the home of the islanders?!” your other friend sierra jokes, earning a chuckle from both you and jackson. “okay okay quit it you two” you roll your eyes playfully.

clearly you’re a minnesota wild fan, but you’re living in new york. you and your best friends got tickets to a wild vs islanders game, and somehow managed to get tickets not only right by the ice, but also next to the penalty box. the teams begin to come out for warmups and you and your friends watch as the players skate right by you. although you don’t really care for any of the islanders players, of course you know who they are. you begin to look at your phone as sierra and jackson fan over their favorite players, until suddenly someone bumps into the glass right in front of you, causing you to flinch. you instantly look up and see none other than mathew barzal looking back at you. he has a disappointed look on his face and you shrug out of confusion. he points to your jersey, and you start laughing.

“wrong team” he mouths to you before skating off. you’re stood there in shock as sierra and jackson freak out over what just happened. “holy shit y/n! that was insane! why are you not freaking out?!” “i am! but i don’t really care for the islanders, let alone the one and only cocky mathew barzal.” you chuckle, making your friends roll their eyes at you. suddenly before the teams exit the ice to change into their game jerseys, mat comes back to where you and your friends are standing. he’s holding a puck in his hand, and he tosses it over, making sure only you get it.

your mouth falls agape out of pure confusion. why is he giving me a puck if i’m wearing the opposing teams jersey?? you think to yourself. as you look at the puck you notice something written along the side of it in semi-sloppy silver handwriting. you audibly gasp as you read what was written across the puck, grabbing both of your friends attention. “what?! what does it say?” sierra asks. “it says, ‘can i get your insta?’ on it!” “no way, you’re lying!” jackson says. “i’m not look!” you hand him the puck, and he starts to read it. “how do i give him my instagram?” you question. “ma’am i thought you ‘didn’t care for mathew barzal’ or am i hearing things” sierra pokes your side. “shut up, he’s hot and he’s an nhl player who asked for my instagram. now help me figure out how to get him my insta!” “the game is starting, we’ll figure it out later!” jackson says as he puts his phone away.

turns out there was no need to figure it out later, because mat had a plan all along. 12 minutes into the first period mat “accidentally” got a penalty for high sticking. as he skates his way into the penalty box, you watch as he smiles at you. you instantly grab your phone and type in large letters your instagram username, which thankfully is something simple. mat nods, as he exits the penalty box and returns back to the ice.

after the game is over you don’t have much luck with getting any other chances of communicating with mat, and you assume he’s already forgotten your name, that’s until a notification appears on your phone.

barzal97 has requested to follow you.

you gasp, shocked that he must’ve written down your name during intermission, or that he remembered it. either way he was being totally serious, and you still couldn’t comprehend. after a few minutes of panicking, you press accept and you start following him back.

mat: hey, i didn’t forget your name!

you: after all the effort you put in to learn it, i’d really hope you wouldn’t forget it

mat: luckily i didn’t. anyways, i have a couple questions for you

you: alright shoot ‘em at me

mat: well first, what brings you, what im assuming to be a minnesotan, to new york?

you: work and college. i went to nyu and now im living here full time.

mat: ah i see, yet you’re not an islanders fan aye?

you: my best friends are, they both grew up here. that’s who i was with tonight

mat: i see i see, although you’re rooting for the wrong team, i was wondering if maybe i could take you out sometime.

you: hmm i’d have to see. i think i’m pretty busy rooting for the wrong team, mr. barzal

mat: how’s friday at 7?

you: perfect.

[onlyang3ll]

ALSO I KNOW ITS TAKING A WHILE but i promise i have started it!!! but i really just have been so busy. it’s hard finding time to do things for myself or things i enjoy whilst taking care of a little one! 🤣🤣 being a mom has become my whole personality so bare with me as i find myself and do things i enjoy !!

I love the aspect of writing rafe completely different than his character in the show lol but I also think we lack drew starkey x reader, but please vote !!!

[onlyang3ll]

request: comforting rafe after he has a fight with his dad

an: writing this on my phone so sorry for the terrible writing 🙃🙃 hope u enjoyyyy just a little something

“you sure you don’t want any baby?” rafe raised the bottle of whiskey in the air glancing at you. you shook your head no. rafe showed at your house full of anger. him and his dad got into about him not wanting to do some ridiculous task ward demanded of him.

you weren’t a fan of ward, but normally kept that to yourself and just gave a polite smile and wave when you ran into him at the cameron household. rafe really tries to contain his anger around you, he doesn’t want to subject you to the rage everyone else gets from him. “we can talk about it if you want?” you watched him walk over and sit down next you on the couch.

“you know i do everything he asks of me, all his stupid fucking errands. then he wants to act like sarah is going to inherit the company” he scoffs, throwing back the rest of the whiskey in his glass. placing it on the table, pulling you into his lap. “I deserve it, not her.”

“yes you do honey, no one deserves it more than you. he runs you around town like it’s nothing.” you pout and cup his cheeks. “but i believe you are much bigger than that company. you can achieve so much more if you want to.” he looks at you and the look you give him just holds so much admiration.

he knows you always say things you mean and look at him like he put the stars in the sky. he loves it. makes him forget about all the dumb shit ward puts him through.

“now how about we wipe that pout off your pretty face huh?” you tease and give him a kiss on the nose. he laughs, nodding. “only if i get to wipe something off your face later” he gripped onto your hips and winked playfully.

“I’m trying to be sweet right now, don’t ruin it” you laugh, and stand up. rafe grabs onto your hand looking up at you standing in front of him. “oh baby, you don’t have to even try to be sweet. seriously i appreciate it, i feel much better. but i will feel even better if i get to see you naked today” you pull your hand away and walk away jokingly.

[onlyang3ll]

bar service

Summary: After a bad break-up, you begin to frequent your local bar, and it might have something to do with the hot bartender

Warnings: smut, public sex, mention of a break-up, drinking, oral

I swear this was meant to be a short fic 😫

Four years. Four years of your life ended in just two words.

It’s over.

You didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that he said them or the way it hadn’t seemed to bother him at all, those three syllables falling from his mouth so flatly, like he was telling you the weather or the football score.

Scratch that, he’d have had more emotion over the football score.

And here you were, just a few days to find a new apartment and nothing to your name but heartbreak, nursing a cheap beer in the first bar you’d found after you’d stumbled away from the place you’d called home.

“Refill?”

You looked up from your empty glass, expecting the same old-timer who’d served you when you first arrived, scoffing as you’d pointed at a random tap and slung yourself into a seat.

Instead, you lifted your gaze to deep blue eyes, a kind smile, buzzed hair you wanted to run your hands over.

You realised he was still waiting for a response to his question, eyebrows raised, and stumbled to speak.

“Actually, I’ll take something stronger,” you answered, and he nodded, heading a little further down the bar and returning with a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey.

“This do?”

“Perfect.”

He smiled again as he poured, and you had to force yourself to look away, instead watching the way his arm flexed as he tilted the bottle.

“Job, family, or relationship?”

You looked up again in confusion, frowning at him

“You look like you just got some bad news. Just wondering which area of your life has taken a hit. Or if you want, you can just tell me to shut the fuck up.”

He slid the shot glass over to you, and you threw it back before answering, wincing a little at the taste.

“Relationship.”

“Want him dead? I know a guy,” he joked, and you felt your lips lift into a grin for the first time today.

“Nah. Not worth the hassle. Maybe a light maiming? A few bruises, break his nose?”

“Ooh, sorry, this guy only does straight-up hits.”

“Damn, I really have no luck today,” you sighed, gesturing for another shot.

“For what’s it worth, it’s clearly his loss,” he commented as he poured, and you felt a warmth rise across your body, pinpricks of heat bursting across your skin.

“Thank you, mystery bartender,” you joked, raising your glass to him before downing it.

“Rafe,” he offered, holding his hand across the bar.

You offered your own name, shaking his hand and trying to ignore the electricity tingling on your palm as you did.

He held the bottle up and tilted it towards you, and you shook your head.

“Should probably go back to the beer. Another couple shots and you’d have to drag me off the tables.”

“Well in that case,” he started to pour another shot, tipping the bottle just enough for a drop to fall out, and you laughed as you lightly shoved his arm away from your glass. “Okay, okay! But at least let me get you a better beer than the swill you were drinking earlier.”

“Deal,” you nodded, ignoring another flip of your stomach as he smiled that beautiful smile at you again.

——

“Back again? Damn, I must make a mean Mai Tai.”

You laughed as you shrugged off your jacket, taking a seat at the bar for the fourth time in the last two weeks.

“I don’t know if you can call it a Mai Tai if you forget the lime juice, Rafe,” you called back, and he lifted his hand to his heart, face exaggeratedly wounded.

“That cut me deep, princess. And it’s not my fault, I was distracted.”

“Oh yeah, by what?” You asked, and he smirked.

“By your beauty, of course,” he winked, before wincing as his boss slung the towel from over his shoulder, whipping it lightly at Rafe’s head.

“Stop flirting with the customers, playboy.”

“I can’t help it when they’re this gorgeous, Larry, what’s a guy to do?”

“His job,” Larry grunted, and Rafe leaned on the bar in front of you, face serious.

“I’m sorry. Ma’am, what can I get you to drink?”

You giggled as Larry shook his head exasperatedly behind Rafe before moving off to take another order.

“Definitely not a Mai Tai,” you answered, and Rafe pouted at you.

“You ever gonna let that go?”

“I’ll think about it. Depends on the quality of the Tequila Sunrise you’re about to make me.”

“It’s gonna be the best goddamn drink you’ve ever had in your life,” he answered, turning his back to you as he busied himself mixing.

You eyed the busy bar, making sure Larry was distracted before you took a deep breath and took a leap.

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to have one of those with me?”

You watched Rafe pause, shoulders tensing a fraction before he turned to you with a sad smile.

“Can’t while on the clock, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart deflate a little, opening your mouth to apologise, because of course he couldn’t, and he was probably only being nice to you because you were a customer anyway, but he interrupted before you could get a word out.

“But I’ll tell you what. I’m on break in half an hour and if we sit far in the back, I’m sure even old Larry won’t be able to say shit about it.”

——

You weren’t sure how that one drink turned into three, or when Rafe convinced you to hang around until close, but by the time the door shut, leaving just the two of you alone with Larry’s warning not to break anything, you were both a little tipsy.

You watched as Rafe wiped down the bar before finally making his way to your side, standing in front of you as he leaned back on your stool, the wood at your back uncomfortable in a way you’d notice if it weren’t for the handsome bartender gazing down at you.

“You’re so beautiful, have I told you that,” he mumbled, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Might have mentioned it a few times,” you shrugged, trying to seem casual even as your voice shook.

“I’m definitely gonna mention it a few more before the end of the night,” he smiled, leaning closer. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak, and then his lips were on yours and you wondered how you’d gone so long without ever feeling this way.

You’d had your first kiss at 15, fumbling and innocent, and since then there’d been plenty of others, but none came close to the way it felt to be kissing Rafe.

His hands slid to your waist, lifting you to sit on the bar, and you opened your legs to let him slide between them, a gasp escaping at the feel of him hard against you.

He pulled away to trail kisses down your neck, whispering against your skin.

“God, I’m glad that asshole broke up with you, baby, because this body, it’s all mine, and I’m gonna make you feel better than he ever could. Only thing you’re gonna remember when I’m through with you is my name and how it sounds coming out of your mouth when I make you scream.”

You whimpered at his words, underwear unbearably soaked, and rolled your hips against his.

“Please, need you, needed you since I first walked in here,” you whined, and he pulled back to press soft kisses to your lips again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, being so good for me. But before I do anything, I need you to understand that I’m not a rebound, and if I weren’t so desperate to see what you look like when you cum, I’d be taking you on a date first. Doing this right. If you wanna carry on, it’s on the condition that I get that date.”

You wondered how the hell you’d gotten so lucky to have this man fall into your lap, and thanked whoever responsible that you chose his bar to walk into that day.

“You can have a hundred dates, just please let me feel you,” you answered breathlessly, and he smiled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he mumbled, and then he was sliding to his knees in front of you, hands pushing up your dress. “Oh, pretty girl, you are desperate, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to speak as his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, movements focused and precise as he worked them into you. You cried out, and then his tongue was circling your clit, and you were in heaven.

Your fingers were gripping at his short hair, his collar, anything to keep you anchored on earth as he dined between your thighs like it was his last meal, and before you’d even realised you were close, you were falling over the edge, back arching as he worked you through your orgasm.

When he finally pulled away, smug and breathless, your eyes were still rolling, and it took you a second to focus on the man in front of you.

“Jesus, I think I left my body for a second there. My turn,” you mumbled, voice raspy as you jumped down from the bar, but before you could move further, he’d grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing your chest down.

“As much as I’d love that, I won’t last a second with those pretty lips around me.”

You heard him unbuckle his belt, tensing with anticipation as you felt his cock push against your entrance.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

“More than ready,” you answered, pushing back against him, and then he was in you, filling you so deep and fast your breath caught.

You both moaned in unison, Rafe’s hand tangling in your hair as he started moving, rhythm harsh and desperate, each thrust shoving your hips forward until you were sure they’d bruise, but you couldn’t find it in you to care when it felt this good.

“Shit, pretty girl, this pussy was made for me, taking me so well,” he groaned, and you reached a hand back to grip at his thigh, nails digging in, crescent moon reminders of what you could definitively say was the best sex of your life.

You felt him pull your head back, noticing for the first time the mirror behind the bar, Rafe’s smirk and your pleasure clearly visible between bottles of expensive liquor.

“Look how pretty you look when I make you cum, baby,” he whispered, and your stomach tightened, pussy clenching around him as you came again, this time him following right behind you.

You let your head drop to the bar, and Rafe collapsed against your back, forehead warm against your skin. He pressed a soft kiss to your spine before standing up and pulling out of you.

“Not their intended purpose, but I’m sure Larry won’t mind,” he joked as he reached for a pile of napkins on the side to clean you up, and you laughed happily, unbelievably content.

He helped you dress before pulling you closer, lips on yours again, hands soft against your cheeks.

“If you’re not tired, I know a great late night diner nearby. We can class it as a first date?”

“Mmm. Sounds perfect.”

“Good. We need to get your energy back up before I take you back to mine and make you moan like that all over again.”

tagging what i can remember of my taglist - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@paradisehamilton @valeriiecameron @illicitfixations @sweetestdesire @adventuresinobx @laineywilsons @cecesrings @fangirlwithlou @lovedetlost @outerbankspov @penny4yourthoughts @pankhoeforlife

[onlyang3ll]

hi everyone i have plenty of requests i will be getting around to! motherhood is kicking my butt rn but i will try and get to them as soon as i can!! 🤍

[onlyang3ll]

can u do how would it be like dating drew? <3

a/n: this was deep in my inbox and I'm clearing it out!! so hope you enjoy this headcanon <3 picture was found on pinterest!! ALSO DREW GIVES OFF THE BIGGEST BOYFRIEND VIBES I SWEAR

dating drew would consist of…

PDA! he would have to be touching you. kisses on the mouth, forehead, cheek. really wherever he could get his lips on you fastest

he always would want you to sit in his lap!! him being a giant and you definitely being smaller it was just so cute to him to plop you down on his lap.

size kink😎

facetime was a life saver for you guys when he was away filming he loved seeing your face rather than just a phone call.

drew would always surprise you. whether it was gifts or trips somewhere or just a random date night.

every night you two would cuddle up together and he would read harry potter out loud to you !!!

you guys are truly best friends, like twin flame!!!

making drew do random classes you signed up for, like a cooking class or a drunk painting class etc!! you liked learning new things and he loved tagging along - EVEN IF HE WHINED BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE ABOUT NOT WANTING TO GO!

buying a house together in NC bc he wants to be by his family.

drew CONSTANTLY talking about your guys future and how he wants six kids and a farm lol

drew being nervous to propose but literally giving you the best proposal ever, but he did have to get a pep talk from your dad LMFAO

you loving to get new hobbies and learn things equaled a lot of random homemade gifts and drew would show them off to everyone.

you embroidered a crewneck for him and he walked around the obx set showing everyone saying “look my girl made me this, isn’t it dope!”

being each others biggest fans.

BACK RUBS. his hands r so big it would be amazing.

drew coming back home from work trips and LITERALLY devouring you.

The end lol

[onlyang3ll]

send me some drew requests!! fluff, smut, angst WHATEVER your heart desires 🥹🥹

[onlyang3ll]

I love the aspect of writing rafe completely different than his character in the show lol but I also think we lack drew starkey x reader, but please vote !!!

[onlyang3ll]

literally me and my only reason i think that is bc I’m a MILF lol like yes i can b ur mommy drew

My toxic trait is thinking I could pull Drew Starkey