#I know how terrible this is but the will of god guided my hand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 5 months ago

Text

LOOKIN' LIKE MOTIVATION - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT. pairing: sports physical therapist!reader x hockey player!rafe; friends to lovers.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made.

And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan.

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots.

It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain.

It was from trying to resist the need to say something that might actually cross the line.

But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes keen, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s.

Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard.

“Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. That look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year in college.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about.

Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you chastised, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, m’focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise.

He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful.

It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, he couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend.”

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, then adding most absolute out of pocket suggestion. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, biting his tongue not to add the unfortunately’. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to ignore how much your rejection hurt his feelings.

"No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing straighter. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a earth shattering smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But he was hard to read when he wanted to be. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting.

Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And he had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up.

The words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest did that stupid thing where it almost stopped. Not in a good way.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“C’mon sweetheart, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know.

Protectiveness instantly swelled inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden from you, saved it for the ice. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words trapped in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. The kind of emotion he only felt when his team was being robbed by referees or losing.

He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you pleaded quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe rebutted, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made you want to cry even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently held your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he reassured you, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, not giving you a chance to doubt yourself again. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand slowly rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes practically glazed with love sickness as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant peck to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away.

He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone.

But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened. He could wait. He’d wait forever for you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice.

As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety started to mess with your head. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You were going to miss him.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point.

But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“Y’know sweetheart,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the not so subtle excitement in his tone.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal.

He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step. A friend maybe.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you shook your head, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you admitted, unable to keep your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing like a school girl. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #hockey!rafe

1K notes · View notes

evie-sturns · 5 months ago

Text

upset - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day, your best friend chris, always knows how to cheer you up.

contains: flufffff, crying, comforting, teasing, bestfriend!chris, flirty friendship.

-----------------------------------------------------------

my hands shake as i speak on the phone to my boyfriend, well ex boyfriend.

ive been dating noah for the past year, everything had been perfect until today.

he called me 5 minutes ago with no warning, then broke up with me. it was so blunt, he had no emotion to his voice at all.

now i'm left desperately talking to noah on the phone.

"i- i dont understand.. it doesn't make sense noah? c'mon..?" my voice quivers, clutching the phone up to my ear,

"it'll be fine, just move on f'me yeah?" noah speaks, he almost sounds bored.

"why? what is- what's your reason!?" i raise my voice, holding back tears.

"just don't fuck with you anymore sweetheart, i'm sorry." noah says with a small laugh before hanging up.

im in such a state of shock i can't even fully process this.

my first instenct is to call my bestfriend, chris.

"chris! chris please come over right now." i practically burst into sobs as soon i speak, i hear a small gasp from his end before shuffling.

"yeah- yeah! i'm coming right now, ill only be a minute." chris speaks, his voice soft as though hes trying to calm me.

"thank you." i whimper into the phone before hanging up.

---

i hear two soft knocks at my bedroom door, followed by chris's voice.

"can i come in?" he asks, gently twisting my door knob before walking into my bedroom.

im sat cross legged on my bed,

"oh sweetheart." chris sighs, walking over to me and sitting down on the matress infront of me.

"can i have a hug.." i cry,

chris wraps his large arms around me, pulling me to his body.

"whats happing y/n.." chris whispers into my hair, his hand reaching up and stroking my back.

"n-n-noah- noah broke up with me!" i stammer out between hiccups.

i physically feel chris tense, his grip on me tightening slightly.

"im so sorry," chris sighs into my ear, i bury my face into his shoulder.

"he didnt even- even give a warning and he was so mean about it chris!" i choke out,

chris just nods, letting me speak.

"i hate him! i hate him so much!" i cry, my voice breaking.

"i know you do, you hate him don't ya?" chris says softly, stroking my hair.

"i do!" i sob,

"i know it hurts sweetie, i'm right here." chris mutters,

i slowly pull away from his shoulder,

chris gives me a sorry smile, his eyes roaming my face, which is a total wreck.

i have snot running down my face, which chris seems to take amusment to.

he grabs a tissue from my bedside table and holds it up to my nose.

"big blow for me?" chris speaks, then instanltly slams a hand over his mouth with a small 'sorry.'

i crack a small smile,

chris pinches the tissue to my nose, "blow blow blowww"

i pathetically blow my nose into the tissue,

"good girlllll, that’s right." chris smiles,

“let’s get you ready for bed okay? try sleep it off yeah?” chris suggests, staring into my eyes.

i nod, wiping my nose.

he lifts me up off the bed, i flail my legs as i clutch onto his shoulders.

“if you drop me i swear to god!” i attempt to raise my strained voice.

“i’m not gonna drop ‘ya sweet girl.” chris says taking me into the bathroom,

he sets me down on my feet infront of the sink,

i stare at my red, mascara-stained face. only causing more tears to start up,

chris instantly grabs my chin, “shh- shh.” he whispers

“let’s wash your face okay? don’t worry about noah, i promise if he could hurt you this much so easily there’s no point in being upset over him.”

i nod at him,

chris rubs my back, running the cold water.

he stands behind me, slowly tipping my head fowards under the stream of the tap.

he cups water in his hands and brings it up to my face, gently washing away the mascara.

“that feels better doesn’t it.” chris smiles gently, drying my face with his shirt.

i nod, wiping my puffy eyes.

he guides me out into the bedroom,

i slowly shimmy towards him with my arms open, pulling him into a tight hug.

he rubs my back as i bury my face into his shoulder, “you know i love you so much, i’m so sorry he hurt you, you don’t deserve any of it.” chris sighs,

i nod shakily,

“he didn’t know what to do with such a pretty girl like you, i’m sure of it.” chris speaks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

i don’t let him go, holding him tight.

“i know it’s hurting so so much right now, but it’ll get better.” chris says,

i slowly pull away from his chest,

“y-you’re my bestfriend chris, i love you.” i sniff, my voice cracking as i bury my face back into him.

he laughs lightly, “i love you too,”

“are you sleepy?” chris asks, rubbing my back.

i shake my head, “just sad.” i say with a frown.

“do you want to do something to distract you?” chris asks,

i nod, wiping my nose with the back of my hand

“you wanna bake?” he asks,

baking has always been my favourite thing ever, chris knows that.

i nod my head frantically,

he scoops me up off my feet and starts to run down the hallway,

i scream with a loud laugh, clutching him tight, “CHRIS!!”

he grins widely, running me into the kitchen and setting me down on the counter top.

“we’re making cookies i don’t care what you say.” chris chuckles, grabbing out ingredients.

he sets down most of the right ingredients, and grabs a bowl

“not that bowl!! that’s my vomit bowl!” i laugh,

he grimaces with a smile, “stinkyyy”

he pulls out a new bowl and puts it in my lap,

he turns back around and grabs butter, throwing it onto the counter beside me.

i go silent,

suddenly i burst into tears, again.

chris’s eyebrows instantly furrow, he grabs my shoulders, “hey- hey-“ he speaks softly

“i’m sorry- noah- noah used to use that butter to butter my toast every morning.” i sob,

chris picks up the butter,

abruptly chris hurls it across the room into the trash can, with impressive aim.

“then we won’t use butter!” he smiles, wiping my eyes with his buttery fingers.

i crack a smile, before laughing loudly.

he grins proudly at my smile, “there she is!”

i cover my face with my hands as i laugh, “don’t look at me!!”

“i want to look at youuu.” chris smiles, peeling my hands away from my face

i smile at him, “let’s just make the cookies.”

he nods, “good plan.”

he starts to put oil and brown sugar into the bowl,

“oil?” i question,

“i mean it’s basically butter.” he replies,

“fair enough.” i laugh, pouring in the sugar with no measurements whatsoever.

“okay, now flour.” chris says, he grabs the flour back and holds it up to my nose

“sniff it.” he smiles,

i furrow my eyebrows and sniff it,

chris suddenly presses both sides of the back together, causing flour to puff up all over my face.

i gasp, my whole face white, “chris!!!”

he erupts into laughter, bringing his hands up and dusting it off my face.

i’m in total shock before giggling along with him, peeling open my eyes

“you are such a moron!” i laugh, grabbing a handful of flour and slamming it onto his cheeks gently.

he goes to reach for more flour, but i grab his wrist.

he gives me a small pout, clearly trying to hold back a grin.

“okay- cookies!” i smile, pouring the flour into the cookie dough

he mixes it with a wooden spoon, before dumping in half the bag of chocolate chips.

“dude we should just make one massive cookie.” chris states,

i roll my eyes, “chris.”

“pllllleeeaseee.” he grins,

“fine.” i scoff, chris claps.

he grabs all the cookie dough in his two hands and plops it on a baking tray, before punching it several times to flatten it.

“okay- so just put it in for 10 minutes.” i say, chris nods, humming to himself as he pushes the baking tray into the oven.

he shuts the oven door and walks back over to me,

“feeling better?” chris asks, placing a hand on my knee as i sit on the counter.

i nod, “i really am, thank you chris.”

he smiles, “i’m glad, i hate seeing you so upset.”

i wrap my arms around him again, giving him a hug.

a couple minutes have passed, chris goes to check on the cookie.

he opens the oven and his jaw drops, a small laugh escaping his mouth.

“bro- it’s like spread across the whole thing.”

chris says, pulling it out of the oven and showing me.

i giggle, “maybe cause we used oil and didn’t measure a single thing”

he pulls a bit off of it and plops it into my mouth.

i grimace, “it tastes funny.”

he tries a bit aswell, “what!! it’s good!”

“it’s gross!!”

“okay, i’ll keep it to myself then.” chris says with a sassy tone

“um.. do you think you could maybe stay over tonight- i mean you don’t have to but i don’t know.” i ramble,

chris smiles, “you wanna have a sleepover with me!!” he claps

i scoff, “yeah.”

he helps me off the countertop onto my feet, grabbing my hand and leading me back to my bedroom.

he sorts through my closet and pulls out a pyjama pair, throwing them at me.

i shake my head with a frown, my eyes watering again.

he pauses,

i start to cry again for the 100th time today,

“that was noah’s pair he bought me.” i sniff,

chris wipes his face, “i’m so sorry.” he groans,

he picks me up, i bury my face into his shoulder.

“no more tears please.” he sighs, wiping my eyes.

i nod, “i’m just sensitive.”

“i know you are, let’s get you into your favourite pyjamas then, how’s that sound?” chris speaks softly.

i nod, chris carry’s me over to my closet and opens my pyjama drawer, letting me pick one.

i pull out a pink pair, my hand shaking.

chris walks me over to the bed and sits me down on the edge,

he crouches down beside me, pulling my jeans off down my legs.

he grabs my pyjama shorts and tugs them up me, a concentrated look on his face.

he tugs off my shirt gently, his cold fingertips grazing over my skin.

he pulls on the baby tee, “how’s that?” he asks,

i sniff, “thank you..”

he turns off the main light and crawls into bed beside me.

he tugs up the sheets over us, pulling me closer to him.

i rest my head on his arm,

chris suddenly lets out a snort, covering his mouth with his hand.

“what’s funny?” i ask with a confused smile,

“just having flashbacks to you with that damn flour all over your face.”

@downbad4reid

sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

1K notes · View notes

wendichester · 1 month ago

Text

°‧⋆.🐋*:･ swimming lesson,

summary. the motel has a pool!

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 708.

The motel is nothing special—peeling wallpaper, creaky beds, the faint smell of mildew—but it's got something the others never do: a pool. Of course, it's small and probably questionable on hygiene, but it's there.

Dean notices it immediately, tucked in the back, lit by a dim overhead lamp. The water ripples gently, reflecting the neon motel sign. He doesn't say much when he sees it, but later, after burgers and beers, he grabs a towel, shoots you a look, and declares, "I'm hitting the pool."

You glance up from your laptop, surprised. “The pool? Since when do you care about swimming?”

He shrugs, that familiar cocky grin tugging at his lips. “Since now. You coming, or are you just gonna sit there like a nerd?”

You hesitate, but the way he looks at you, all challenge and mischief, makes it impossible to say no. "Fine," you grumble, grabbing your own towel. "But only because I'm bored."

When you get to the pool, Dean wastes no time. He tosses his towel onto a lounge chair, pulling off his flannel and T-shirt in one smooth motion. You try not to look—try really hard—but the man's built like a Greek god, all broad shoulders and taut muscle.

"You coming, or you just here for the view?" Dean's already in the water, hair damp while a few strands fall into his eyes, and the smirk he gives you is downright infuriating. "Come, on. It's not even cold."

You cross your arms, staying firmly rooted to the edge. "I'm good right here."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You scared of water or something?"

You glance away, suddenly self-conscious. "I just... I don't know how to swim, alright?"

Dean stops mid-float, his head whipping toward you. "Wait, what?" He's standing now, water dripping from his hair as he stares at you like you've just admitted to never eating pie. "How the hell do you not know how to swim? Do you know how basic that is?"

You scowl, crossing your arms. "Yeah, well, at least I don't have to travel by car everywhere because I'm too afraid to fly!"

Dean scoffs, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, Sammy." He looks back at you, rolling his eyes. "That's different. Planes crash!"

"And people drown!" you fire back.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his wet hair. “Fine, fine. But you’re learning right now. No way I’m letting you live like this.”

“Dean—”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his tone softer now. “Just trust me on this. I’m not letting you drown. Not on my watch, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, but the sincerity in his eyes is hard to argue with. With a sigh, you strip down to your underwear, the closest thing you have to a swimsuit. Dean whistles low, his grin widening as you inch toward the water.

You glare at him for a second longer before sighing again. "This is such a bad idea."

"Nah," he says, already wading toward you. "Worst case scenario, I can totally give you mouth-to-mouth."

You snort as you're too focused on lowering yourself into the shallow end, water lapping at your waist. "You're terrible."

He grins as he moves closer. “Now, first lesson: floating.”

You groan, whining. “I'm so drowning.”

“Nah,” he says, his hands finding your waist as he guides you gently into the water. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

It takes a few tries, but soon you’re floating, his hands steady beneath your back. He’s surprisingly patient, his voice calm as he talks you through it.

“There you go,” he says, pride evident in his tone. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, still nervous but feeling a little more confident. “A natural at not sinking?”

“Hey, it’s a start.”

For the next hour, he teaches you the basics—floating, kicking, keeping your head above water. The whole time, he’s close, his hands never far from yours, his touch firm but reassuring.

By the end of the night, you’re sitting on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water. Dean floats lazily in the deep end, his arms resting on the edge as he watches you.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, smirking.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a soft smile on your face. “Not bad.”

taglist ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #.docx

725 notes · View notes

nosyrobin · 2 months ago

Note

Tiny request for twin reader with damian mabye they were seperated at birth aka talia gave bruce twin reader and kept damian but win reader has some kind of disability like walking with crutches and as soon as damian moves in he goes into protective brother mode and always tries to help twin reader

“I’m your protector.”

Damian Al ghul-Wayne x Disabled! Twinreader

Summary: separated from birth, Damian finds out you are disabled from walking. Knowing that you are his blood sibling, he can’t help but be protective over you

After Talia revealed to Damian he had a twin (brother/sister) that she gave away to his father all because you were disabled. He felt anger towards his mother and a little bit of betrayal.

How could she keep such a secret from him and the fact she just gave you away made him feel…protective.

He wants to know you are okay. He wants to make sure you are okay. So when he moved into his new room, he got a knock on his door. He opens it to see, you. You had crutches, smiling as your hand grip the crutches handle. “Brother! Oh my, we do look the same!” You were excited, happy. Damian immediately observed you, he sees you are pure of light. He was right to feel protective when you don’t know much of the words he is saying with his high vocabulary.

He draws and colors on your crutches, he likes to see the light in your eyes when he draws what you like on your crutches.

You both may be different, but his brotherly love is not. He’s always sitting by you, dinner, breakfast, lunch out of the manor, events, galas. He’s always there. Sure Bruce would try and tell Damian that you can protect yourself, maybe even that you can do things without his help. But you’re ten, just like him. So what did he do? Not listen to his father like he always do.

He’s happy to know you never wanted or tried to be Robin. His heart would break knowing that his precious half would try and fight. But that also meant you never learned how to protect yourself and fight mostly, making it worse for Damian to grasp.

Damian tried not to baby you much, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious at those random thoughts in the back of his head. “They’re gonna fall one day, what if no one is there to pick him up.” He would sometimes just sleep on a chair in your room incase you fall off your bed.

Damian would train Titus for whenever you fall and you can’t reach your crutches. He would have Titus use his body and guide you somewhere so you can get up.

“I’m your protector.” He would say when he sees you trying to get up and grab your crutches. But titus and him are already up and helping you. You laugh thinking he’s joking, but he’s not.

If you’re sick? Protectiveness levels are off the charts when he sees you cough and shake. Yeah he’s not going to school until you’re better. No way he’s leaving his sibling at home!

Would call pennyworth off his phone if you are homeschooled. Always checking up on you no matter what, it doesn’t matter if Alfred says you are okay. He wants to hear you say it.

If someone dared to make fun of you, he’s after them like the devil himself. If they dared to try and take your crutches, it’s gonna get wicked. Even god himself won’t be able to take Damian off the assailant.

Say you were also on the artistic route, he would absolutely treasure your art work. “It’s bad..” you said once, and Damian straight up lectured you about how art takes time and how beautiful your art work is to him no matter what.

I can see Jason saying it’s true the artwork looked terrible, and Damian just straight up chased him around angrily while you try to tell Damian it’s okay.

Titus adores you, and you adore Titus which makes Damian feel even better that Titus likes you. I mean who wouldn’t when literally you are the sunshine of the family.

Damian definitely have written letters to you when he was on “punishment” is what he called it when he had to go work with the titans. So when you visit him at the titans tower, he made sure most things were safe proof for you. Kory already knew you because of Dick. Kory tries to reason to Damian as he literally rips something apart because he deemed it as “unsafe.” But did he listen? No.

When beast boy playfully was play fighting with you, Damian was ready to cut Garfield’s head off. Only for you to wipe the floor of the green shapeshifter by using your crutch as a bat. Damian hid his sword with a smirk, maybe he doesn’t need to protect you much.

978 notes · View notes

marvel-spidey · 22 days ago

Text

We’ve Still Got Time

Summary: After receiving some life-altering news, you try to make Bucky understand that it's time to let the past go. Inspired by the song “Falling Slowly” (in my mind it was written just for Bucky ok 🥺) Pairing: Bucky x reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, lots of tears, extreme fluff. A/n: English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy! also, happy 2025 for us bucky girlies!!! our man is coming back soon! ✨

Bucky woke up to the sound of running water and a toothbrush being used. The white light from the bathroom spilled into the bedroom you both shared. The clock on his nightstand read 4:07 a.m. He slowly opened his eyes and turned to the side, realizing your side of the bed was empty. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wondered why you were up at this hour brushing your teeth. Unable to think of a reason fast enough, he decided to get up and check on you.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a confused tone, his hoarse voice carrying the weight of sleep. His hair was a little messy, and his metal arm reflected the soft light from the bathroom. He was shirtless, and his gray sweatpants hung just above his hips.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Buck,” you replied, drying your face with a small towel. “I don’t know. I think I must have eaten something that didn’t sit well with my stomach. I just woke up feeling really nauseous. I threw up, but at least I feel a little better now.”

Bucky closed the distance between you, moving toward you slowly and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. His expression was serious, his lips almost forming a pout.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I feel bad knowing you were sick all by yourself.”

He held your face softly, and you looked up at him, scanning his features and silently admiring how concerned he always was for you. You couldn’t understand how someone so caring could think such terrible things about himself and carry so much guilt when this was the man he really was: calm, reliable, attentive. You prayed he could see it someday, too.

“I wouldn’t wake you,” you replied, caressing his cheek gently. “I know those nightmares have been coming back these past few weeks, haven’t they?”

He looked down, ashamed he hadn’t been able to hide them from you. You always knew.

He sighed and nodded, reluctantly admitting the unpleasant truth. His nightmares came in phases. Sometimes, they haunted him almost every night with terrible flashes from his past – people he had killed, accidents he had caused, futures he had destroyed. Or worse, scenarios in which you would get hurt. Sometimes, by him. Those were the worst ones. Other times they would come less frequently, almost letting him believe that he was making progress in his “healing journey”, as you liked to call it. But they eventually came back. To him, they were proof he would never truly be at peace, never able to leave the past behind.

“Yes, as usual,” he admitted. “But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s impossible,” you replied, already recognizing his habit of downplaying things and subtly pushing you away, retreating into his world of self-loathing. “I’ll always worry. I just wish you would have talked to me about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said while engulfing you in a warm hug. He had a defeated expression in his features that made you even more worried. God knows what kind of thoughts he was having about himself. You wish you could take them away.

“Let’s just go back to sleep, so you’re rested and feeling better in the morning. Deal?” You smiled weakly and decided to let the matter go, for now. “Deal,” you agreed, letting him take your hand and guide you back to bed. For the next few weeks, you continued to have moments where you felt unwell.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your body started to feel different. Your stomach was more sensitive than usual, leaving you with the now-familiar waves of nausea. You felt sleepier at random moments during the day, and your stamina during training sessions at the compound suddenly diminished. You felt more out of breath during workouts and sparring. And food began to smell and taste different. One morning, the pancakes Bucky made you almost daily for breakfast smelled “eggier” than usual—you could smell the eggs in the batter from what felt like miles away.

After weeks of feeling like this, you thought it was probably due to low vitamin levels and decided you should schedule a routine doctor’s appointment soon.

But in one of your weekly sparring sessions with Natasha, you started to feel a slight dizziness, so you asked her for a time-out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just—I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of weak for a while now,” you admitted, closing your eyes and resting a hand on your forehead in an attempt to steady yourself. “I think I just need to get some blood work done. It’s been a while since my last check-up.” “Weak how, exactly?”

“I feel like I’m always tired lately. More worn out. And my appetite is all over the place.”

Natasha looked at you with a suspicious expression before asking an unexpected question.

“Hmm, feeling weak, huh? Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “What?”

“Yes, have you?” Nat repeated, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip with a slight smirk as if she knew something you didn’t.

“I- No, I- I didn’t… My period is only two days late, which is sort of normal for me. Do you think I should?” you questioned her, not knowing if you were talking more to yourself or to her.

“(Y/n) yes, you should! Have you talked to Barnes about it?”

“Not really. I didn’t pay much attention to this. I didn’t have time to.”

The truth was, you and the whole team had been preparing for an important mission in a few months, one that had been weighing heavily on Bucky’s mind especially, since it involved Hydra. The team was set to infiltrate a secret Hydra base in Hungary in order to retrieve intel on potential undercover Hydra agents within S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were almost sure this was the reason Bucky’s nightmares had gotten worse. He tensed up every time you or someone else mentioned the mission, or during training, probably dreading the feeling of going back to a place so connected to everything that he wanted to forget. He tried so hard to hide it but for you, it was so easy to sense his anxiety. The way his blue eyes grew distant, drifting to the floor as if trying to escape his own thoughts. Or how his fists clenched, fingers pressing into his palms almost to the point of pain, while he tried to take deep breaths every time Steve went over the mission details with the group.

“Then take the test,” Natasha urged, stepping closer and putting a reassuring hand on yours when she noticed the frightened look on your face. “If you’re pregnant, you need to know before the mission. And you need to tell Barnes. You both need to decide if going on this mission is still an option.”

“But Nat” you began, squeezing her hand, feeling so scared and unprepared for the scenario she just mentioned. “I- I don’t know if Bucky is in a good headspace for this now. He’s been so off lately. The Hydra stuff has been really getting to him.”

Natasha offered you a comforting smile, her confidence and support unwavering.

“You’ll both be fine. I’m here if you need me. And Steve is, too.” Later that same day, you found yourself in a situation you never imagined you’d be in right now.

Trembling hands, tears streaming down your face, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. A white and blue pregnancy test sat on the marble counter of your bathroom. You stared at the word that appeared on the small screen.

+ Pregnant

You froze. You looked at yourself in the mirror and blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You weren’t. A wave of happiness washed over you. So much happiness. It was unexpected, yes, but you had always told Bucky he would be a wonderful dad. Yet every time you brought up the subject, he’d say he would like to be a father someday, but that it probably wasn’t a good idea. According to him, he could never be a good role model for a child.

Your first thought was running to Nat or Steve. You wanted to tell one of them and hear that everything would be alright, that Bucky would be alright with all of this. But it was already kind of late. They’re probably asleep by now, you thought to yourself. At the same time, you knew the person who really needed to know about this was in the living room, watching a random reality TV show with Sam.

You couldn’t bear to be alone another minute. The anxiety was overwhelming.

You decided to text Bucky and ask him to come to your room. If you went to the living room, there was no way Sam wouldn’t notice something was up, and you didn’t need another situation right now.

“Can you please come to our room, it’s urgent.” You texted and hoped he would check his phone as soon as possible.

Not even five minutes later you heard the door of your room open, followed by anxious footsteps entering the room.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I just got your text.” Bucky asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Hi, love” you said, stepping out of the bathroom and faking a half smile, searching for his hand and guiding him to the bed. You were terrified but at the same time you didn’t wanna scare him. “Come with me, I need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” Bucky questioned, his eyes quickly searching your face for any clues of what might have happened. You could see the worry creeping into his expression.

You sat next to him on the bed and held his hands tightly. The cold touch of his metal hand on yours offered a brief distraction from what you were about to tell him. You took a deep breath, still unsure how to begin. You decided that starting with some context might be easier.

“So, basically, for the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel a little… off. Do you remember the night you woke up because I felt sick in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I do” Bucky answered calmly, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

“Well, besides that, I’ve been feeling different. My stomach has been constantly upset, my appetite has been strange, I’ve been feeling more tired than usual, and I–”

“(Y/n), are you sick?” Bucky interrupted, already imagining all the worst scenarios in his head.

“Buck, no” you replied quickly, closing your eyes and trying to breathe to calm yourself down. “Listen. As I was saying, I talked about these symptoms with Nat today and she… she asked... if I had already taken a pregnancy test.”

You paused, watching his face closely for a reaction. He seemed to freeze, taking a few seconds to process your words. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – a breath that felt heavy with sadness. It broke your heart.

He opened his eyes again and they were glistening with tears. His eyes looked even more blue than they already were.

For a moment, you considered not saying anything more, but you knew he needed to hear it – all of it.

“So, I… I took a test just now,” you continued, your voice trembling as tears began to run down your face. “And it’s… it’s positive.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to keep your composure.

“I’m sorry” you said crying, heartbroken because this was the reaction you had been dreading. You felt like you had ruined his life.

Now, he was the one silently crying. He still held your hands, his thumb softly tracing circles over your palm, his gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers.

“Please, say something, Bucky,” you pleaded, the silence only giving your mind space to imagine horrible possibilities.

“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, (Y/n),” he finally said, his voice breaking as tears slowly streamed down his face. “This baby deserves someone better. You deserve someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, reaching out to hold his cheek, your heart breaking at the words that he had just spoken. “What do you mean, ‘we deserve someone better’?”

“Yes! Yes, you do!” he exclaimed, his voice rising as he finally let the storm inside him surface. “How is this baby going to grow up knowing all the awful things I’ve done?”

He got up from the bed, putting some distance between the two of you. He was still crying quietly, and it felt like he had been keeping this inside for so long. His body was facing the window. He couldn’t even look at you.

“You didn’t do those things, Buck. The Winter Soldier did,” you spoke clearly, hoping that he would somehow believe it.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I still did it.”

“Of course it matters! You didn’t have a choice!” you raised your voice, frustrated at how he could still blame himself so much.

“Everyone tells me that, but it doesn’t help, you know?” he replied, turning his body back toward you. His voice was low. “When I lie down to sleep, I keep seeing their faces. I can still hear their cries, begging for help, for mercy.”

“Buck, I—I’m so sorry,” you told him, holding your tears back again. You’d give anything to take his sadness away.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be free from what they did to me,” he stated, his face showing a defeated expression. “I know Ayo got the Hydra programming out of my mind in Wakanda, but still… it’s all here,” he said, pressing his index finger to his temple. “I remember all of them, and I always will.”

You got up and decided to close the distance between you. You raised both of your hands to his cheeks and held his face gently, making him look at you. You needed him to hear every word you were about to say.

“Honey, look at me,” you began, your voice serious but soft. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. And I want you to know I’d do anything – anything – if I could to make this suffering go away. It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain and not be able to do anything-”

“No, sweetheart, but you do,” he interrupted you, wiping the tears from your face. “You have no idea how many ways you’ve saved me.”

He closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. Both of you were crying again, and you could feel all his gratitude in that one kiss.

“You save me every day. It would be impossible for me to survive those nightmares if I didn’t have your face to look at every time I wake from one of them.” He gave you a sad smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek afterward.

You leaned into his metal hand and kissed his palm. Your eyes were once again glistening with tears.

“Do you see this, James?” you asked, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to show him.

“This is you,” you continued, placing one hand on his heart. “This is Bucky Barnes. The man who has a metal arm and touches me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. The man who makes pancakes for me every morning. The man who’s afraid of punching me too hard in our sparring sessions, even though he knows I’m a kick-ass agent.”

“That you are,” he agreed, both of you crying and laughing at the same time. You quickly wiped his tears away.

“The man who watches trashy reality TV shows with his friend on a Thursday night. This is you. And this is the man who is going to be the father of my child,” you finished, placing his flesh hand on your belly.

He continued to cry. You just prayed that your words would finally make their way into his heart.

“So tell me, how could you say I deserve better? That this baby deserves better?”

He was still looking at his hand on your belly, trying to understand how he could still be worthy of having a family after he had destroyed so many others.

“Look at me, Buck,” you called, guiding his gaze back to you. “You suffered enough. More than enough. You’ve warred with yourself for so long. It’s time that you won.”

He closed his eyes and tried to absorb the words he had just heard. It was so hard for him to accept that he deserved happiness, but he was so grateful that you have never stopped trying.

“You made it. We’re here, and you made it. Now we’ve still got time. We’ve still got all the time in the world for you to finally live. Your life, how you want it,” you continued, kissing the palm of his metal hand again. It was your way of showing him that you loved all of him, even the part that brought him the most pain.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as a dad. And to be honest, this kid is going to brag so much to the other children about how his dad’s got a metal arm.” For the first time, you heard an honest laugh escape from his lips. The sound was wonderful.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been something really good,” he replied, finally pulling you close and giving you a warm kiss.

“I love you- we love you.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… be a role model for someone.” You could see the worry in his eyes. He was genuinely scared.

“Bucky, yes, you do. You just have to be you. I don’t need you to be perfect, I just need you to be here. Can you do that for us, Sergeant?”

He gave you a warm smile, filled with gratitude and hope - the hope you had just given him. He looked at your lips and kissed you once more, holding your belly delicately.

“Yes, I can, ma’am. Yes, I can.” he agreed easily “but.. speaking of sergeant, now there’s no way you’re going on that mission.”

“Excuse me? I’m still in the first few weeks of this pregnancy. And how about you? This baby will need both parents.”

“Okay okay, so we’ll let Uncle Steve decide who's going and who’s not. Deal?”

“Okay, sir. Deal.”

Well, you have suffered enough And warred with yourself It's time that you won Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice, you had a choice You've made it now ~~ Falling Slowly (from the musical Once)

Feedback is always welcome, feel free to comment, like and reblog! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #tfatws #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

486 notes · View notes

unknownunidentified101 · 1 month ago

Text

ITS ME, NOT YOU

CHARACTER | Xavier, Zayne, Sylus and Rafayel x reader

SCENARIO | in which they confess their love for you after you wanted to move away from them

WARNINGS | hurt to comfort, suggestive?

ZAYNE

This is terrible. You groaned as your helmet was set on the rear end of your rigged bike. It was around midnight and you had received a call regarding your own physician.

Usually you wouldn’t mind picking up your estranged friend, Zayne, however your mind alerted you of your previous banter

Perhaps it was his late night shifts getting the better of him, regardless, his chilled persona faded at the mention of your work opportunities . Recently you had searched for a way to spice up your work life, taking in new commissions and staying up late.

These recent missions caused you to linger from doctor to doctor, leaving you to completely ghost Zayne for god knows how long. It didn’t bother you but it sure bothered him.

The way you preferred to visit another doctor or completely ignore his precautions and recklessly throw yourself into danger heated him to a breaking point.

Perhaps after getting use to your presence, Zayne yearned for more of it.

The only reason for your avoidance of him was because you wanted to ignore the blissful feelings of seeing him. Your relationship was strictly professional yet you find yourself fantasizing the presence of him.

You hated his cold personality yet you felt warm in those stern eyes when he brought up details that you had told him ages ago.

It was difficult maintaining your feelings for him, so in turn, you thought leaving him be would be for the better. This ended horribly however after he confronted you one day.

The confrontation left you storming out of his office after he continuously nagged you after every prolonged visit. It was hard to like someone that seemed to only want to make your life difficult.

Regardless, you roamed the empty streets of Linkon. Your eyes were peeled for any sight of the doctor. Surprisingly it wasn’t much of a challenge as the man seemed to be the outlier in an empty play ground

Your breath lingered in the foggy air for a moment, feet crunching towards the swinging man whose face was flushed with a red hue.

It was clear he had a few too many drinks, presumably from his colleagues. “ Zayne you’re going to catch a cold” you call out

Zayne’s head spins upwards, his eyes squint at you when you become more clearer to him.

“ you…” Zayne mutters a few words that are inaudible before you crouch in front of him

“ you are the girl from my dreams” he feels the need to point out. These words make you frown, ‘the girl of his dreams? What did he mean?’

“ it’s time to get you home” you ignore his murmurs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to support his standing weight

“ stop that” Zayne holds your wrist, halting your movements. “ stop what?” The purity in your voice makes Zayne focus back to your eyes

“ why do you avoid me?” You could smell Zayne’s intoxication, his eyebrows furrowed.

He was drunk, really drunk.

“ Zayne lets take you home” you try to focus on the matter at hand, rejecting your hand from his tight grip. Zayne’s hold on you was strong, balancing out in firm and being painless

“ these past few days, I worried about you. Whether you were eating well or if you missed me” Zayne’s voice softened, eyes pleading for some sort of reassurance from you as the moon coated him in its spell

“ and now you come back like none of that mattered” Zayne felt hurt, his breath being more ragged and shallow

“ Zayne you know I’m fine I just…been changing doctors because of my missions-“

“ so..? I’m your one and only physician. No place is far for me to go to you. I’m here to treat you” Zayne gently guided your hand to his swollen cheek. He was avoiding your gaze as if he was guilty of his actions

“ Zayne…you are drunk” you were skeptical, heart on the verge of plunging out your own chest

“ regardless if I’m drunk, I lov…” Zayne couldn’t finish his sentence. The words he meant to say caught up in his throat. Every single lifetime he was bound to a dreaded curse that forbid him from uttering those three loving words

I love you.

He wanted to say that. He knew even if he was sober he would never admit his true feelings towards you in fear of hurting you. He couldn’t stand for it.

“ Zayne what are you saying?” You leaned more closely, trying to hear him better with the view of his beautifully sunken face.

Zayne avoids your alluring gaze, instead, placing a light kiss on your cheek. “ I’m saying that I want to be yours” . There it was, that false sense of security that made you yearn for Zayne even more.

‘ Did he mean it? Was he that drunk?’ Your mind was spinning on a axis

“ I will never have the courage to say that to you when I’m sober so I’m letting you know now” Zayne’s large hands supported your own hands like it was a delicate snowflake

“ let me take care of you. Let me see you everyday, all the time” Zayne knew it was wrong, he knew he couldn’t but faced with the sight of you again, he couldn’t avoid losing you to someone else.

He wanted you again despite the pain he felt again and again.

He loved you so much even if he couldn’t utter those three words, I love you.

Silently after confessing, Zayne laid his head on your shoulder, accepting your invitation to take him home in the chilling weather.

Whether what he was true or not, you find your own hands repositioning around his shoulders in a hugging position. In one breath you let out, “ I like you too Zayne. I know now it was foolish of me to avoid these feelings” your arms tightly bound to him as you gave out your own confession

“ I promise I will have you for me only, I will not visit another doctor” you vow, feeling Zayne’s lips curve upwards at those words

“ and I promise I’ll cherish all I days the spend with you, my love. My only love.” Zayne replies, his delicate response leaving butterflies in your stomach. His hands coat your face, stroking it with a tender gaze

Zayne had reunited with his love again. This time, not intending to let go, sealing his promises into the form of peppered kisses

Sharing a longing kiss, Zayne felt greedy, stealing more than he intended.

XAVIER

Xavier knew he messed up. He hated it. How he couldn’t adapt to the new environment that you lived in. He couldn’t help his urge to sleep nor the lack of emotions he tended to exert

He felt bad it ruined the dates you had with him, how he would always be late despite numerous reminders. He felt bad and knew you were upset about it

Maybe that’s why you distanced yourself from him. Taking in more missions, spending more time with your other co-workers. He couldn’t blame you for that.

Xavier felt trapped in his own world due to the lack of communication. These feelings left him having the tendency to isolate himself away from you as well. However this night was an exception

“ careful” you and Xavier clashed around his apartment, stumbling to his bathroom

“ I’m sorry” Xavier profusely apologised for getting injured. The words that escaped your mouth seemed hurt and one sided to him

“ you should’ve alerted me. You know I hate seeing you hurt” you tone was lecturing, sounding more hurt than what Xavier actually felt

“ I’m sorry” Xavier repeated with innocent eyes, his back meeting the cold tiles of his restroom. “ stop saying that” you gritted your teeth as you couched before him

“ may i?” Your hands hover over his stained shirt. Xavier had nothing to do but bob his head slowly. You wasted no time, your hands tearing at the soft fabric, revealing the shallow gash on his chest

Your eyes averted the sight, feeling sorrow for him. If only he didn’t risk his life for a small wanderer. “ this is going to hurt…so brace yourself” your hands grasp the med kit you had brought over

Xavier observes your subtle movements, witnessing your hand unwrap the graze and alcohol. He itched to confess something, the feeling of guilt he had been feeling recently and the way he hated his habits

“ okay” you look into Xavier’s eyes as a form of mercy, pressing the cloth over his chest, cleaning the surrounding wound

Xavier’s groans were fairly quiet but his actions weren’t. You felt a tight grip around your free hand. Xavier had grabbed the closest thing to him, that being you

“ I’msososorry” Xavier quickly flocked back to his stilled state, realising his awkward actions.

“ no it’s okay” you reassure, only bring caught off guard. In an attempt to soothe his fragile state, you took his hand back in yours

“ you can hold my hand for support, I don’t mind” you reminded, continuing your patching

Xavier’s eyes wondered to your gentle behaviour in contrast to your previous actions. Your coating behaviour left his eyes drowsy as he felt at ease - at peace .

After you were done you decide to stand up in order to clean the area. That was your plan until a hand reaches out to you

“ [y/n]. I’m sorry I always nap. It was never my intention to skip out on our dates.” Xavier feels the need to bring up, knowing it was now or never

“ and I’m sorry I can’t express my emotions like you do. In truth I like you a lot. I really do and I’m willing to do anything for you” Xavier confesses all at once, making you even more stunned

“ is this what’s it’s always been about?” The change in your tone made Xavier shiver

“ Xavier I was never mad at you. I was mad that we couldn’t spend more time together and that’s…my fault” your words make Xavier’s ears perk

“ I’ve been avoiding my feelings for you all this time, I’m sorry if that affected you in any way” Your hands cup his soft face without any retaliation from the receiving end

“ You don’t have to apologise” Xavier’s lips curve into a smile. “ you too” you reply, placing a soft peck on his empty lips

Xavier pulls back so suddenly, surprised by your wits. Although it doesn’t take long for him to quickly adapt and move in to steal another kiss

“ alright then. Let’s both not avoid our feelings for each other and embrace it” Xavier’s hands cups your own while the other tangles around your waist

Your eyes close before your lips are invited into another lasting kiss. This feeling is all too familiar to Xavier, in fact, he remembers his past lives with you.

It’s a cozy and warm feeling, shielding him with that sense of security. This feeling leaves him smiling softly

“ I love you and I will never leave you, again”Xavier vows, hands wrapping around your waist in an attempt to pull you down on top of him

The kiss soon turns deeper when your body is supported by Xavier’s touch’s and reassurances.

“ beautiful” he calls out, taking in your breathtaking appearance that coats him with love. Your lips erupt a giggle, enough to make Xavier feel butterflies in his stomach. The feelings of butterflies was a moto he didn’t understand until now

“ let me indulge you tonight” Xavier whispers, coating to hands in his as he drags you into the endless night of stars

SYLUS

“ you told me to find someone to keep me occupied so I did? What’s wrong with that?” You yelled, standing your ground before the man in front of you

Sylus pauses, weighting his decisions. He wanted to tell you he meant himself, he wanted you to be with him. and yet his feelings created a wall he couldn’t cross

“ god Sylus you never understand do you? You keep me here and you always keep everything to yourself despite us being friends” Your frustrations were being let out.

In truth you weren’t mad at Sylus for ruining your date, you were just mad about work and evidently without thinking straight, you took it out on him

“ in fact we aren’t friends, our situation is more like enemies…you said you didn’t like me nor my guts” you voice softens

“ I never said that” Sylus is quick to defend, his tone neutral

“ yeah but it seems like you do.” You found yourself getting even more angrier than before. This wasn’t you, and you knew it. Opening your mind and thinking clearly you end it at that

“ just don’t go that again. And don’t send Mephisto after me again.” you coldly grab your bag, heading to the door. Sylus stands there Idly, having no words to express his emotions as he watches you leave.

It had been a few weeks by now, not that you kept count. Lately you had been miserable, taking in more work commissions to cover the pain from that night.

‘Why did Sylus worry all the time? Why did he always make time for you?’. All these questions made your feelings prominent, you were falling for Sylus and you couldn’t admit that fact

Perhaps you should’ve stayed to listen to Sylus. But what did it matter he seemed to stop bothering you, keeping his promise.

Although only occasionally did you receive letters checking on your welfare.

Walking through the pathway to your home you couldn’t shake the familiar feeling of eyes watching you. Strange because you seemed to be surrounded by swaying trees

Did Sylus send Mephisto again? You couldn’t help but long for an answer

“ l want you to leave me alone” you remembered your vow. Speaking out loud to the feeling you all too well. You knew Sylus was behind you, not Mephisto this time

Sylus shifts slightly on the gravel pavement, unmoving. He appears out of the blue, like a movie to you.

“ Sylus what are you doing here?” Your feet shuffle backwards, unsure if you were in a dazed and crazed state

“ I can’t bare this any longer.” Sylus’s hair is raffled, cheeks pink and appearance unkept as he moves in to your position

“ are you drunk Sylus-“

“ yes you were right back then, your argument was totally valid. I shouldn’t have ruined your date nor should I have sent Mephisto after you.” Sylus refutes, grabbing your attention by moving closely to you

“ but..You are the existence of my being. I love you dearly and I can’t spend a day without hearing you, touching you and seeing you. So no I can’t grant your request” Sylus admits as his tone softens. It almost sounds unbelievable, leaving you stunned

“ Sylus you look drunk, did Luke and Kieran sent you to do this?” You couldn’t help but have worry laced in your tone.

“ I don’t want to fight like this any longer” Sylus ignores your questioning, taking your hand in one motion, catching you off guard

“ sweetie, I’m sorry for making you feel this way” Sylus guides your hand to cup his face.

His smooth word swayed you. Sylus had never raised his voice at you and sometimes you hated that. His charming persona and sweet talk

“ don’t say things-“

Sylus acts on your word. Placing a quick peck to your lips. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back, escaping his loose grip

“ I truely adore you” his eyes shower you with a warm feeling.

You feel all your regret come to light. “ I didn’t know you felt that way…I’m sorry” you suddenly realise your true feelings for Sylus as well

“ perhaps you should go out with me instead” Sylus proposed, taking the burden of your worries off your shoulders

Those final words make the corner of your lips turn upwards. Finally you had smiling after a long time.

“ you could’ve started with that” your hands attach to Sylus, speeding him into a hug

“ then…can I request a kiss?” Sylus’s face shifts to in lock your eyes. You chuckle sheepishly, leaning upwards to place a lasting kiss to his lips

Sylus cups your head, supporting you as he prolongs the kiss. “ and one more request” Sylus makes another statement

Your face smiles, a mischievous look on your face before Sylus pushes tightly against his chest. “ could I perhaps…have you for the rest of the night too?”

RAFAYEL

“ have you ever thought of getting married?” A question sticks in Rafayel’s head. Marriage, a far fetched term that he longed for. Rafayel’s lips turn into a thin line

- “ no”

“ I pronounce you husband and wife” the middle announces, allowing the bride and groom to make amends. A purple haired man stands in the distance, swirling his cup as he simply observes

“ congratulations on your wedding, Thomas.” The sign reads. Rafayel couldn’t help but feel envy for his manager, although he gave him a hard time, Thomas always had better end of the stick

Rafayel’s eyes scanned around, his hands twitching at the thought of marriage. In his mind, he imagines a lavish wedding that is limited to his close circle. His bride? The girl of his dreams

Rafayel couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. You and him had an argument before you left abroad. It had been weeks since he saw you and it was unbearable.

He only had the courage to look ‘ properly ’ for his friend, despite his crippling state. After all Rafayel owed Thomas for showing up as he hadn’t been keeping up with dead lines for his art projects

He had no motivation to paint, not after his muse was gone. Oh how he regretted it all, that petty argument and that painful bond that linked your lifetimes together

He had lost you again and he had no one to blame but himself.

All night he had spent looking at his phone, all the missed calls and texts he would send to you were never opened or replied too.

“ thank you for showing up” Thomas was now by his side, walking around to show his sincerity. “ I owe you” Rafayel simply nodded, the sassiness in his tone gone

Thomas gives an awkward smile, his attitude towards Rafayel had changed after Rafayel’s personality shifted to a rather cold one. “ well, have a good one” Thomas could only pat Rafayel’s shoulder in reassurance

Rafayel dismisses it, watching the crowd ahead of him dance happily with their partners. Such a grim reminder leaves Rafayel clenching his own fists

His heart couldn’t take it anymore, you were his purpose and now you were gone.

“ care for a dance?” A voice comforts him. That voice…it’s way too familiar to him. Rafayel spins around and meets an alluring pair of eyes

“ oh…it’s..you” the voice recognizes him in shock

“ you…

It’s you, [y/n].”

—- later

“ it’s so cold” you cursed the harsh weather of the night. If only you dressed for such an occasion. “ how am I going to get home” you huff, your driver who was your friend was too drunk to get you home. Adding more, you dreaded the fact you lost your phone

“ here” a cape drapes over your shoulders. The stern voice is difficult not to recognize. It’s Rafayel and he found you again

“ you found me” you mutter, shyly avoiding his gaze. “ your lucky other people got to me before we could dance” Rafayel stands beside you, reversing the roles of you being his body guard

“ why am I lucky” your sentence was quiet as you peered down at the cars racing past. Rafayel takes a peek at you, savoring every bit of your features

“ they stopped me from leaping forward to hug you” he confesses, erupting a long forgotten flutter in your chest

“ why did you come back?” Rafayel is confused to say the least, turning around to face you properly, one on one after some awkward silence

Your mind races for responses for him, “ I never went away”

“ really.” Rafayel’s tone is quiet while he collects his thoughts. “ I lost my phone so I..couldn’t talk to you-“

“ you should’ve visited me.” Rafayel interrupted, his voice sounding genuinely hurt after waiting you for endlessly

“ I’m sorry, I should’ve done that…that’s why I came to this wedding, because I knew you be here” your sweet words get to Rafayel. No matter how much Rafayel wanted to resent you, he couldn’t

Your voice was a siren that casted him into an irresistible trance.

“ if that’s the case..” Rafayel uses his hands to wrap around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace in a split second. Your body feels limp after being caught off guard

“ let me take you home” Rafayel whispers softly into your ear, his hands cupping your hand

“ okay” you close your eyes, cherishing the long awaited hug.

—- Later

The clashing of kisses trailed down your neck. “ thank you for this” Rafayel praises, allowing you to climb on top of him

“ I’m really sorry” Your hands are bare on his chest, his chest who rapidly moves up and down in amusement. “ it’s okay, it really is”

Rafayel uses his hand to coax your face, his eyes softer than before, his personality had seemingly all but faded.

Instead he had a different look in his face. One that was complete admiration.

“ please…” Rafayel inhales. “ please don’t ever leave me waiting like this again” Rafayel inhales once more, his hands covering your cheeks

“ I won’t” you promise, your torso bending downwards to meet the man in a loving kiss

537 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 3 months ago

Text

Baby, You Know That I Miss You

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Phone Sex, Guided Masturbation

Description: You miss your boyfriend terribly when you go visit your parents during break. Luckily, he's more than willing to help.

Warnings: Smut, phone sex, guided masturbation, dirty talk

Word Count: ~2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story is part of my Band AU as well as Kinktober, but you don't have to read their other stories to enjoy this one since it's basically all smut! Also I'm not too sure if this is all that good but we move. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

“I didn't know I was going to be so busy all day,” you say with a sigh, happy that you finally get to relax in the comfort of your own bed, “but at least I get to listen to your voice.”

You were a bit sad that you missed a performance, it was the first one you didn't attend since you became official, but because of it your schedules ended up aligning perfectly and you got to talk to him for a while before going to sleep, when you texted him this morning you thought you wouldn't be able to.

Coming home for break, after what happened the last time you were here had been a bit nerve wracking. You didn't know if you would have to run into Eleanor or Parker, and you didn't know how you would react if you did. Luckily, you hadn't seen them, and you found that when your mother mentioned them you didn't really feel anything besides some mild resentment at the way you were treated, all the anger and sadness that just their names evoked a couple months ago had mostly subsided.

If you were being completely honest, forgetting about your childhood best friend had been a lot easier than you thought possible. You were sure the fact that she hurt you so badly that there wouldn't be any possible way to salvage your relationship helped, since it made forgetting her truly the only option, but most of all you had to thank Azriel and your friends, old and new, for it.

The hardest part of being home for these last two weeks ended up being away from Azriel. Yours is still a relatively new relationship, although sometimes it felt like you had known him your entire life, and so it was hard to not be able to see him for so long when you were spending almost all of your free time together. You missed sleeping in his arms, missed watching him and the boys practice, missed the dates at the small café by his apartment you'd found together, the way he held your hand when you went on walks and, Gods, you missed his touch.

“Want me to tell you a story?”

“Anything is fine as long as it's coming from you,” you admit, his deep whispered voice enough to send a gentle warmth traveling through your veins. Azriel hums, something obviously on his mind. “What?”

“You always liked the sound of my voice,” he muses, letting the words flow from his lips slowly but confidently, knowing it would get a reaction out of you and prove his point.

“Well, yes but that's normal.” You try to keep an indifferent tone, but you know he can easily hear through it. “You're a singer for a reason.”

“We both know it's not just that,” he murmurs, and you can almost hear the smirk growing on his lips, can picture the confident yet alluringly attractive look that always falls over his face when he knows he's affecting you, one that unfortunately only makes it worse. You find yourself squeezing your thighs together, wishing he was right next to you instead of in a different city, so you could kiss that smirk off his lips and let him show you all the different ways he can affect you.

“Don't do that,” you breathe out, almost pleadingly, every hint of sleepiness escaping your body.

“Do what, princess?”

“That,” you say a bit too loudly, calming down and lowering your voice when you add, “not when I'm three hours away.”

Azriel sighs, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest, needing to feel your hands on him as much as you do. If you were in your apartment instead of at your parent's house, you might have gotten out of bed and made your way to his house with how needy you were starting to feel.

“It's a shame that I can't sit you on my lap right now and whisper every dirty little thing I want to do in your ear.” Truly a shame, you think as you press your legs together. “But we can try something else.”

“Try what?”

“Just want you to do as I say,” he explains, desire dripping on every word. You bite your lip, his intentions now crystal clear in your mind. This wasn't something you had ever done or even considered, but you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine at just the thought. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, heart beating wildly behind your ribcage as you hear the rustle of sheets through the speaker.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

You let out a soft chuckle before answering unashamedly, “Yes.” You had taken to stealing some of his shirts to sleep or wear around your house before you even started dating, though stealing was probably the wrong choice of words seeing as he either let you or even gave you some of them himself. His shirts were not only comfortable but they also smelled like him so they quickly replaced your own old shirts you used to wear to sleep before.

Azriel lets out a hum, one that sounds more like a moan, probably lost in the thought of you touching yourself while wearing his shirt before he gathers himself and starts, “Want you to run your hand over your stomach, feel how warm and soft your skin is.” Your hands follow his commands easily, mimicking the way he caresses your skin instinctively, desire growing within you with every brush of your fingers.

“Now push your panties to the side,” he continued, voice getting deeper as he spoke through a clenched jaw, his own hand likely occupied as well, “tell me what you find.”

You knew what you'd find even before your hand traveled down to do as he said, a sigh escaping you all the same when your fingers dive between your folds, feeling just how soaked you were, a string connecting them to your cunt when you pull away.

“Are you wet for me?” The pleasure was obvious in his voice, and you had no doubt in your mind that he was stroking his cock as he spoke, the thought making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding along even though he can't see you, swirling your fingers around and making a mess of yourself, careful to avoid your clit and entrance no matter how bad you need to take some of the edge off, waiting for him.

“Good,” he moans out, “Fuck, you're so good to me.”

If you closed your eyes, you could picture him laying on his bed, sheets thrown off his body and underwear long since discarded to the side, hand stroking his thick cock slowly, moving up and down as he also imagined what you looked like as you followed his orders, and wished it was your hand instead of his own.

“Now take your panties off,” he says after a moment, waiting patiently as he hears you shimmy them off your legs, sighing as you spread your thighs and bend your knee before letting him know he could continue. “Take two of your fingers into your mouth.”

“Azriel-”

“Need you to get them nice and wet for me.”

A whimper escapes you as memories of him saying these exact words rush into your mind. He loved seeing your mouth stuffed with his fingers, your tongue swirling around them as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. You almost tell him you didn't need to get them any wetter, your cunt was quite literally dripping, but you do as he says anyway, tasting yourself on your own fingers, pretending they were his instead, making a show of sucking on them and pulling them out with a pop just so you could hear the groan he lets out, a tremble running through your body at the delicious sound.

“Done?”

“Yeah,” you muse, entirely too proud of yourself for managing to get under his skin so easily.

“Alright,” he rasps, “Now roll them around your clit slowly, pretend they're mine.” You can't help the whimper of his name, your fingers circling your clit just like he said, closing your eyes and pretending it was his rough fingers instead of yours.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “don't even gotta tell you to moan my name.”

“I need to be quiet though,” you remind him, remind yourself. If it was simply your roommate in the room down the hall it would only be a bit embarrassing, but it's your parents instead and them hearing you would be nothing short of mortifying.

“Such a shame,” he muses, the smirk almost audible on his voice. “You always sound so pretty for me, saying my name in that sweet breathy, fucked out voice of yours.”

“Azriel,” you whine, putting more pressure behind your fingers, - you really didn't think you needed much more to cum, especially if he kept whispering in your ear like that, - breathy, quiet moans pushing past your lips despite your warning.

“Like that,” he lets out between pants, fist tightening around his cock as well, “Just like that.”

“Keep talking, Az,” you murmur, your heart stuttering in your chest with every harsh breath you hear through the speaker, wanting to hear it in his voice. “You sound pretty too.”

Azriel only hums, staying quiet for a moment longer before letting out a groan. You hear his head knock softly against his headboard as he leans back, and briefly wonder if he could hear the sinful noises your cunt was making every time your fingers moved.

“Fuck, princess. You have no idea how much I wish I could taste you right now.” You did actually, you were burning with the same need. “Wanna bury my face in that sweet pussy of yours, make you cum on my tongue over and over again until you're all I can taste.”

The moan that pushes past your lips is entirely too loud for the quietness in your house, but you can't help it as the picture he paints assaults your mind. You're reminded of the feeling of his tongue against you, lapping up at your cunt until you're shaking with pleasure under him. Gods, you couldn't wait until you saw him again next weekend.

“Wanna taste you too,” you confess, speeding up your movements, mouth watering at the thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Think I could cum just thinking about you choking on my cock, trying to take all of me down that tight throat of yours.” Closing your eyes and biting your lip, you do your best to keep as quiet as you can, his filthy words sinking into your bloodstream. It felt like you were on fire even though you had long since kicked your sheets off your body, - you didn't think it was possible to be this turned on alone in your room.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, a ridiculously attractive sound, “I think I might.”

“Azriel, I'm-”

“Close?”

“So close,” you pant, right on the edge, your hand moving incessantly, goosebumps running through your skin.

“I'm right there with you,” he murmurs, “Cum for me, princess. Let me hear you.”

You let yourself fall as soon as he finishes speaking, mouth falling open in a silent scream as you're hit with wave after wave of pleasure, a few whines of his name pushing past your lips despite your efforts to keep quiet, the praises he lets out going straight to your head.

Azriel cums not soon after, his own pants and muffled moans of your name echoing through the speaker as you're coming down, making you feel all tingly knowing he just came as hard as you did without you ever touching him, and still your name was on his lips. It's unfair the way this man makes you feel, even when he's so far away from you.

“I decided I'm going to lock us in your room when I get back,” you speak up after you take a deep breath, only half joking.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you continue, wiping your hand on your discarded panties, cringing softly at the feeling, knowing you have to get up and clean yourself up properly. “You're mine for the entire weekend.”

“You can lock us in for as long as you like,” he murmurs, “I'm all yours.”

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar smut #acotar kinktober #my writing

475 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

2K notes · View notes

ozzgin · 5 months ago

Note

What does Daos, the Romanian werewolf boy look like? What is his personality like? What was his childhood like and what made him want to be a warrior? Did his parents do some witchcraft or offerings to the gods to have a son so big and unnaturally strong? Why was he betrayed by his own people? May we get a story of how was like in battle before he became a werewolf? Love your OC!

Yandere!Werewolf Headcanons

I’m so glad the wolf boy is liked! I genuinely didn’t expect much when I wrote the story, but he’s definitely grown on me as I researched and expanded his lore. Here’s a little doodle of how I imagined him, plus a little background. I couldn’t think of any particular war story, but I came up with a funny reasoning for it instead.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, character info

Background. Daos came from a family of tarabostes, or cavalry nobles. While Dacian society was divided into priests, nobles and peasants, all of them were trained for battle. "A hand above the weapon, and another holding the plough" is how they were described. Much of their culture revolved around war. Thus, even as a child, Daos spent most of his time sparring. He'd always had a sturdy build: he was taller that most of his peers, could work for hours without breaks, and his wounds were quick to heal. He was sent to serve in the army before he even reached his teenage years.

Was there witchcraft involved? Not at all. Everyone seemed to agree, however, that such strength and tenacity were not a mere coincidence. Clearly this boy had been sent by Zalmoxis himself, perhaps as a reward for their relentless pursue for victory. Daos carried the flag of the wolf-headed dragon through countless battles.

Why was he the one to be sacrificed? Well, because he was the chosen one, naturally. What better messenger for the Heavens than the godsent gift itself? Daos absolutely despised his reputation as a blessing from above.

With you. In his human form, he is quiet and reserved. You suspect the blinding aggression of his werewolf self is reminiscent of days long gone. The fearless warrior who lived for bloodshed has fallen into slumber, only awakening under the guide of a full moon. You can only imagine what kind of battlegrounds required such boundless violence, as he speaks little of his barbaric past.

Maybe it’s too painful to remember, you assumed.

“Before I died, you mean?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, looking up from his book. “I didn’t think you’d be curious about it.”

“I didn’t want to intrude, and you never mention it”, you explain sheepishly.

“That’s…” he purses his lips, visibly uncomfortable. “I just assumed you’d find it boring. I’m an old man. I didn’t want to saddle you with embarrassing war stories.”

You watch as a deep blush spreads across his face.

“Oh my God”, you remark, baffled by the realization. “Is that why you never…you’re terrible at this.”

He gently pats his lap.

“Come here. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

[Main Story] | [More Monsters]

#yandere werewolf #daos #yandere x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster fucker #doodle #yandere oc #terato

843 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 7 months ago

Note

am in love w ur work<3 can u do an enha x reader ff, where they're dating a very feminine y/n who's also insecure? yk like them comforting y/n etc etc?

「 𓍯𓂃 A 𝒢UIDE TO OVERCOMING YOUR INSECURITIES 」

──── 🪽 𓂃 𓈒 step one: date 1 / 7 members of 엔하이픈

🪞 ( . . path to bookshelf ◍ ) 𓄼 be the best version of you .ᐟ g𝓮nre. fluff, comfort, est. dating, fem.r ﹙ 🧺 . . . ﹚. 美しさ skinship & kisses 350 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽s each ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 for my melanated queens; “God, I look terrible in this picture,” you sighed miserably at the couple photo before you, zooming in closer on your screen to get a better look. “I'm literally lost in the background…”

“Let me see,” your boyfriend offered, bracing himself behind you as he peered over your shoulder. “Baby… you look beautiful here, what’re you talking about?” He practically chuckled, somewhat humored that you thought the picture was bad when it was clearly fine.

“I’m talking about my complexion,” you sighed, shutting off your phone out of frustration, “Maybe we should only go on dates when it’s sunny outside so I don’t look like a shadow next to you by time we take a picture…” That's when Heeseung felt his heart drop at your words, pouty lips partingas he asked, “Why would you say such a thing, ____? I love how healthy your complexion looks…”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, walking from behind you and guiding your chin towards his. “Did someone say something to make you feel this way, love?” You struggled to meet his sincere doe eyes as your own weak ones were on the verge of tears.

With a crack in your voice, you finally spoke, “No, Heeseung… I’ve always felt this way, I just never said anything til now…”

“And are those insecurities motivated by your own standards or by what society has poisoned you to believe?”

You got quiet at his question, knowing deep down that you never had an issue with your skin color and that it was something the world had made you feel...

“Look at your beautiful hands in mine,” he continued, shattering your inner thoughts as he drew your attention to his hands holding yours. “Please don’t think your skin color is something we need to work around… especially not for a silly picture…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your stomach flutter as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to your wrist. “So,” you started in a soft voice, his gentle eyes looking back up at you, “can I at least delete the picture then?”

“Fine,” Heeseung smiled through a complying breath, wiping the moisture from the corner of your eye with his thumb, “but only because I’m planning a date for us to take more photos later…”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 for the frequent bad hair days; “Gosh, this is why I need to go bald one day,” you sulked, tossing your hairbrush to the ground in a fit of exhaustion, “otherwise, I'll never be able to make my hair look right...”

“It looks pretty to me, baby,” Jay smiled upon meeting you in the bathroom, the frustrated clatter of your hair products having caught his attention. “What style are you going for anyways?” Your boyfriend hugged you from behind, placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

Reaching for your phone that sat on the bathroom vanity, you showed it to Jay. “Here’s the reference picture,” you sighed, feeling yourself calm down slightly as he held you in his arms, “I just have so many fly-aways today that the gel won’t even hold them in place...”

Jay's eyes scanned your reflection in the mirror, comparing it back and forth to the reference photo, “Easy fix, princess. We’ll just have to buy better products.”

“But it’s not just that… my split ends—”

“Then I’ll schedule you an appointment at the salon today…”

Your shoulders fell at your boyfriend's words. You knew he was only trying to make things better, but you still felt insecure. “Hey, look at me ____,” he whispered, voice light as a feather as he caressed your side, “my girl always deserves the best... especially if it’ll make her feel better about herself… got it?”

A smile spread across your face as Jay's fingers playfully tickled your waist.

In reality, no, you couldn’t get your hair right every time, but the hair you had suited you best, and simply required a little more tender love and care…

“Sooo, no salon date today?” He asked, watching your features.

You scoffed at his question, “No, we’re definitely still going… I’ll just make sure to embrace my natural hair this time.”

“And as you should, baby,” Jay smirked, kissing you one last time before his hands left your side, “I’ll go get the car keys...”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 for the curvy girls; “Whatchya lookin' for?” Jake asked from the bed, watching as you searched through your shared drawers for anything big enough to swamp your entire body. “I’m too big for all of my clothes now, so I need to find something that's large but still cute...”

“Oh...” your boyfriend's voice trailed off as he got out of bed to meet you on the floor. “That’s why I always let you wear my hoodies, baby. Here,” he offered, pulling the white hoodie over his head and revealing a bit of his toned stomach before he shimmyied the oversized hoodie over your head. “So... can I cuddle with my adorable girlfriend all day like we planned now?”

You blushed slightly at his compliment, taking Jake's hand in yours as he helped you up from the ground, “Yes, but only if you promise not to put your hands on my stomach like you usually do...”

His eyes widened at your odd request, “I thought you liked it when I cuddled your tummy?”

He pulled you against his chest, but the physical contact only made you squirm with discomfort, “Please don’t call it that, baby…” The words left your mouth with such pain, his heart sinking at the sad look that washed over your features…

“I don’t get it ____, what’s going on?” Your boyfriend pressed with concern, releasing you from his hold to simply hold your hands.

“It's not like you'd understand where I’m coming from anyways...”

He frowned at your words, just as you watched with weak eyes while he pulled out a top from your drawer, holding it before your eyes. “You see this? You’re not too big for your clothes, but your clothes are too small for you…”

“Yea, but I used to be able to fit all of those…” You sulked in defense.

“And your body is just going through a normal change and has granted you with gorgeous curves… all we have to do now is accommodate for them..”

You thought on his words for a moment, a feeling of guilt washing over you after you realized you'd snapped on him earlier when he was only trying to help.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you back into his warmth before whispering, “Please, be more kind to your body, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded with a sniffle, tightening your arms around him.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 for the giggles often hidden behind one’s palm; You and Sunghoon were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment living room, legs intertwined in a string of flesh like always as and it was your turn to laugh when your boyfriend retold one of the craziest stories from his prior days as an Italian restaurant waiter.

“And the guy had such a nerve to order 150 bucks worth of steak to then leave a measly fifty cent tip…” his voice trailed off, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to maintain your laughter, a shy hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said while giggling, cheeks hurting a bit from trying to hold back your emotions, “you can continue…”

He looked at you with confusion, his thick, dark brows screwing in the center of his face, “Wait… why’re you apologizing for laughing, baby?”

“Oh…I…” you started, startled by his question, “I guess… I just don’t like hearing my laugh sometimes?… plus it makes my face scrunch up and look all weird when I smile…”

“Stop, your laugh is gorgeous and so is your smile, what’re you talking about?” He scoffed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing his arms.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you sighed, untangling your legs from his and bring your knees to your chest.

“Sure, but that’s only part of the reason,” Sunghoon corrected, readjusting himself on the couch so he could be closer to you as he spoke, “it’s true, y’know?” He said before tickling your ankle, making you smile once again, “I bet that makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?”

You looked down before meeting his sincere gaze, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as he squished your face together with his hand.

“Yes… it does,” you giggled through the pouty lips his fingers forced you to make, making him chuckle a bit to himself before leaning in to peck your forehead first, then your nose, before finally, your lips…

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 for the spots makeup can't conceal; “Ugh,” you groaned with frustration, letting out a sigh as you aggressively wiped at your face with a makeup wipe, “this foundation is supposed to be full coverage!... God, now I'm gonna have to leave the house looking like a complete troll...”

“Excuse me?” Sunoo asked from beside you while adjusting his tie, a glint of amusement in his hazel eyes despite the concerned nature of his voice.

“I don't mean to be dramatic, but I swear the mirror hates me...” You exclaimed, tossing the dirty makeup wipe in the trash can while internally dreading the fact that you were having a terrible hormonal breakout today.

Sunoo's delicate hands left his neck tie to grab the package of wipes and pull out a few for you.

“The mirror has no feelings, sweetie... only you do,” your boyfriend chuckled at the pouty look on your face, guiding your head upward as he gently wiped away the remaining smears of makeup from your skin.

“Besides, you don't need to wear all this stuff anyway,” he whispered this time, the most loving look in his eyes as he caressed your cheek, “you're naturally gorgeous to me...”

He let his thumb graze over your lower lip before leaning down a little further from where he stood, pressing a tender kiss to your plush lips.

“You're lucky you didn't turn into a frog after doing that,” you giggled, playfully smacking his shoulder as you both noticed the pink hue rising to your cheeks... a hue that would've otherwise been covered by makeup.

Smiling at your words, he handed you a bar of soap and a towel, “I'm glad we don't have time for you to contour or conceal anything, so lets get the rest of this stuff off your face so we don't end up late for our date...”

You took the soap in your palms, lathering it together under the running faucet water as a new feeling arose in your chest upon looking at yourself in the mirror. No, you didn't have perfect skin, but you were still beautiful and loved, which in this moment, was all that mattered.

“Thank you, Sunny,” you said, massaging the soap into your face as he walked away from you, “I'll be out in a minute...”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 for the hairy girls; “Shit,” you cursed under your breath while rummaging through your things. “What’s wrong, baby?” Jungwon asked, approaching you from behind with a smile on his face.

“I can’t find my razor,” you stated plainly, not even meeting his eyes as you closed the suitcase you were just searching... “Oh,” he started, cat-like eyes rounding slightly, “you can always use my razor if you want to for now then…”

“Please, I’d need like three of your razors to shave my arms properly,” you huffed, stepping out of the closet and walking toward the window, “why’d I have to be born like this?”

“Baby… don’t say that, body hair is completely normal…”

You caught a glimpse of your unibrow in the bedroom window, turning away with frustration as your sad eyes met his, “So then why doesn’t it feel normal?”

“Because, sweetie… you haven’t embraced it yet,” he continued, taking your hands in his before drawing a feather-light line from your wrist to your elbow, “your arms look fine, okay? And if anyone doesn’t agree with that, they can take it up with my taekwondo skills…”

You smiled cheekily at his words, “So… I guess that means I’m getting kicked first then, right?”

“Never,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him, “but… I’ll be more than willing to give you a lil kissy kiss instead…”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt Jungwon snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kiss after kiss along the exposed skin. “Yang Jungwon, I command you to stop this madness right now!” You giggled playfully, stomach already hurting a bit from how much his tickly lips made you laugh…

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 for humble members of the itty bitty titty committee; It was just like any other ordinary night you'd spend with Riki. You two were cuddled up on the couch, sharing a bag of snacks as you browsed through the anime section on Netflix. Y’all had already binge watched just about every single series worth your time, but now, you found yourselves watching any and every trailer in search for your next big obsession.

You watched as your boyfriend flipped through the anime section with the remote in his hand, nothing but ample bosomed female characters flashing before your eyes.

Yes, those sorts of visuals were completely normal in anime, and yes, you and Niki usually loved simping over the provocatively animated characters together...

However, this time when he got to talking, it only made you feel insecure about yourself as you stared down at your own seemingly feeble chest, a tiny pout rising to your face.

“Riki,” you asked shyly while the trailer kept playing, “do you think my boobs are too small?”

He almost immediately whipped his head to face you, “What?”

“N-nothing…” you lied, looking back at the TV as if nothing happened.

That's when your boyfriend paused the show, “No, you definitely said something, ____,” he corrected, putting the remote down and letting his hand find your knee to comfort you.

You let out a sigh, resting your hand over his while looking into his eyes this time, “Would you like me better if I had bigger boobs?… be honest…”

“You're asking me this because of all the busty anime chicks we just saw, aren't you?” he asked back, which only made you sulk even more.

“I know, it's stupid but-”

“No, it's a normal feeling to have, ____... but trust me, your chest is the perfect size, babe... they're like... dainty little cherries, y’know?...”

Even though you knew he was only trying to cheer you up, you couldn’t help but side eye him in his moment. “Wowww, how romantic of you, Nishimura,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, I know you like it when I compare you to foods... especially when I call you jellybean,” he smiled, right before smothering your cheek with the biggest kiss he could muster as you giggled beneath him, knowing that somewhere deep down in your heart, he was 100% right...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

559 notes · View notes

alastorsbookie10228 · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy! Can you do a reader comforting the hazbin hotel men after a nightmare? Thank you! 🙃

Come here, let me hold you

Hazbin Hotel men (Alastor, Angel Dust, Adam, Lucifer)

Warning: established relationships (idk if that's a warning lol)

i'm gonna do Husk and Vox on a different post. i couldn't think at the moment, but they're on the way i promise!!!

Alastor never usually slept; only on rare occasions. but when you insisted on him laying next to you, how could he resist? he would normally read while you slept if he didn't have the intentions of hitting the hay. but tonight was one of the few nights that he slept. definitely one that you'll replay in the back of your mind for the rest of your afterlife.

you woke in the middle of the night, feeling an eerie presence behind you. when you turned and sat up, you were met with a truly horrifying sight.

Alastor was in his full demonic form, lanky limbs stretched out on the mattress and demonic symbols floating around him. his body twitched and his antlers grew in size as you watched, horror etched onto your features. tears pooled at your waterline as you watched, afraid to even move.

timidly, you stuck out a hand and gently touched Alastor's arm.

big mistake.

his eyes shot open and he looked at you with a glare so menacing you thought you were about to double die. he roughly grabbed your wrist, his claws digging slightly, making blood seep out. you look at your wrist, a shriek slipped past your lips without you realizing as you looked back at Alastor with fear in your eyes.

he must have known that you were scared because his grin faltered slightly.

"Al," you whisper, "i didn't mean...you were having a nightmare. i didn't know what to do."

Alastor's eyes softened and his antlers shrunk slightly, along with his limbs. the symbols disappeared and he slowly sat up, still maintaining eye contact with you. he slowly released your wrist and looked down at it.

"my dear..." Alastor said softly, no static filtering his voice. "i am...terribly sorry. i understand your true intentions, and i send my gratitude, but it's best to let me go through what i'm going through if you'd like to keep your life."

it wasn't intended to be threatening, you knew that. but you felt scared. scared that he might hurt you.

"i'm sorry...i just wanted to make sure you were okay"

he nods, his usual smile falling to a grin as he leans in and kisses your lips. "i truly apologize for making you fearful, dearest. let us rest."

he guided you to lay back down onto the soft mattress dressed in red satin sheets, his arm wrapping around you and holding you close.

"i love you, dearest"

Angel liked to sleep. a lot. he and Fat Nuggets would lay in bed all day. and it was even better if you were there, too.

you were currently laying next to Angel, fast asleep. you were a light sleeper, even Fat Nuggets shifting woke you up. you felt shifting beside you and stirred awake, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. you look around the dark room, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, then look over at Angel. he was sweating, and his eyebrows were arched in fear. you leaned over, elbow digging into the pillow beside Angel’s head as you placed your hands on his cheeks, gently stroking them with your thumbs.

“Angel, baby. come on, wake up.” you say softly. Angel starts to stir slightly and opens his eyes. they widen slightly when they land on you.

“oh my god, are you okay?!” Angel says, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. he starts to cry softly into your shoulder, and all you can do is hold him.

“Angel, what happened?” you ask him. he pulls you closer, his body racking with sobs. you run your fingers through his hair and kiss his temple, your other hand rubbing his back.

“you died, baby. you died and i couldn’t do nothin’. i was so scared.” Angel said into your shoulder. you hold him tighter, worry etched onto your features.

“baby, i’m not going no where. i promise.” you say into his hair and kiss all over his face. “i love you too much to leave you, darling.”

Angel looked up at you and wiped his eyes with his upper set of arms, his bottom set hugging your waist. he smiles softly.

“promise, toots?”

“i promise, baby”

you lean down and kiss him softly. he smiles into the kiss and holds your face, but the kiss was short lived due to a needy pig squeezing himself between you two. you and Angel both laugh softly and snuggle Fat Nuggets. as you drift off, the last thing you hear is Angel’s soft voice.

“i love you, baby”

Adam is a pretty heavy sleeper. he sleeps through anything, especially when he's having a nightmare.

it was roughly 1am, and you were still up. you were tossing and turning, still unable to fall asleep. your head snapped to Adam when you heard a small whimper. his face was contorted in fear and his limbs were stretched around his side of the bed.

"Adam, honey. wake up" you whisper, leaning over to him.

no luck, obviously. he could sleep through a hurricaine.

"Adam, come on. wake up" you shake his shoulder, and his eyes snap open. his body shoots up as he gasps, his face buried in his hands.

"Adam...what's going on? you've been having nightmares all week, baby."

Adam looks at you with eyes that tug at your heart. pupils large and tears threatening to spill out of his beautiful golden eyes.

"oh, baby." You guide him to lay back down and cuddle into his side, your arm subconsciously stretching over his stomach, the part of his body that he's most insecure of, and caress his wing.

"i'm not leaving you, Adam. i promise" you say, leaning up and kissing his chin. "i love you too much to leave you"

Adam looked down at you, his eyes glossed with tears as he looks at you with pure love.

"you mean more to me than Eve and Lillith combined. i'd die if i didn't have you" Adam whispered, making your heart flutter.

"i love you, Adam. now sleep. i'll be here when you wake up"

Adam shifted onto his side so he faced you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, a dopey smile tugging at his lips.

"i love you, babe"

"go to sleep, dick master"

"FUCK YEAH! someone understands my role here! fucking finally!"

"shut up and sleep, Adam*

Lucifer liked to wrap his wings around you while you slept, mainly because it made you feel safe, but also because he wanted to assure himself you wouldn't leave like Lillith.

your eyes flutter open as you feel Lucifer's wings twitching against you. you peer up and see Lucifer crying in his sleep, a distressed look on his face. you quickly sit up and bring him close to you, holding him.

"hey, hey, it's okay, Luci. i need you to wake up, my love" you coo softly, looking down at his face.

his eyes open swiftly and his wings open to their full size, knocking the nearby painting off the wall.

"hey, you're okay. it's okay" you say to him, your heart breaking as he looks up at you with fear in his glossed-over eyes.

"you...you're still here? you didn't leave?" Lucifer says softly, his hand reaching up to touch your face. your heart aches even more as he says this.

"no baby, i didn't leave. i'll never leave. i promise" you say, running your fingers through his hair.

his large red irises bore into you lovingly as a tear falls from his eye.

"you...you won't?" Lucifer questions, and you shake your head.

"never ever. i'll stay here as long as you'll let me" you say, leaning down to peck his lips.

he looks up at you with a small smile. his eyes say everything his mouth can't right now.

"come on, Luci. let's go back to bed." you say, guiding him to lay back down. once you're comfortably situated, he buries his face in your chest and falls asleep rather quickly.

you giggle softly, "good night Lucifer. i love you"

#angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam

424 notes · View notes

childrenofcain-if · 3 months ago

Text

UNSEEN SCENE AFTER MEETING C AND D

C was tugging D along by the sleeve so hard that it was a miracle the leather didn’t stretch. the brunette’s face was dead serious, a determined set to their jaw as they guided their gray-eyed best friend down a quieter path, away from the buzz of the activities fair.

when they’d put enough distance between them and the fair, D finally pulled free, grinning broadly.

“so… was that really the person you’ve been talking about for years now?” D asked as they leaned against a lamppost, eyes gleaming.

C crossed their arms, mouth pressed into a thin line as though the question alone was a bait they had no intention of taking.

IF YOU HAVE ❤️ POINTS WITH C

D’s mouth twisted into a more delighted smile. “oh my god. that’s really them, isn’t it? the one who you—oh, what was it?—‘had the distinct displeasure’ of competing with all these years? the person who’s been living rent-free in your head since, what, middle school?”

“will you keep your voice down?” C hissed, looking around in an agitated way, not meeting D’s eyes.

“you have got to be kidding me.” D snorted, hands on their hips. “this is almost too good to be true. years of all your whining about ‘i can’t believe they got the highest grade again’ or ‘oh, guess who is on the front-page of the school journal again’—and now you’re both attending the same university.”

C folded their arms tighter, the very picture of a person resisting all of this with every fiber of their being.

“i wouldn’t call it whining,” they said through clenched teeth. “it was merely an observation.”

“oh, sure, it is,” D said, sarcasm spilling from every word as they reached out, clapping C on the shoulder with a teasing gleam in their eyes. “come on, i’m not blind. you’ve been obsessed with them. practically haunted by their existence. and now, here they are. how do you really feel about it?”

“how do i feel?” C repeated, feigning casual indifference as they shrugged off D’s hand, forcing their voice to stay steady. “i feel fine. i feel… exactly the same as always. it’s not as if seeing them is anything special.”

“oh my god, you are so lying right now,” D snorted, leaning closer with a wide, delighted smile. “i mean, come on, admit it. a little crush? a tiny bit? i mean, you talked about them constantly for years.”

C’s cheeks flushed, and they bristled as they looked away. “it’s not a crush, not at all. no way in hell. it will never ever happen. besides, i’ve only mentioned them… in passing. a handful of times. you just have a selective memory.”

D’s laughter was warm, infectious, and wholly unapologetic.

“please, C,” they said, voice softening to an almost affectionate drawl. “you’ve got to stop kidding yourself. the only person who looks at someone the way you looked at them back there is either head over heels or in some kind of blood feud.”

C scoffed, rolling their eyes, though their stomach twisted uncomfortably at D’s words. “there’s nothing good about it. they’ve been a constant, unrelenting nuisance since day one. it’s exhausting.”

“a nuisance who happens to be drop-dead gorgeous?” D raised an eyebrow, grin wide and teasing. “i have to admit that you have excellent taste.”

“they’re… sure, i suppose they’re not terrible-looking,” C replied, voice sharp as they struggled to keep any hint of warmth out of their tone. “but that’s hardly the point. beauty isn’t— it’s not everything. there’s more to them than that.” they could feel D’s eyes on them, too perceptive, too knowing. “i respect them for their… intellect. it’s admirable.”

“their intellect is so admirable,” D said, voice and tone mocking C’s. “they’re so intellectually ‘stimulating,’ i simply can’t stand it.”

“D,” C snapped, but there was no true anger in their voice, just the sharpness of embarrassment and irritation.

D held up their hands, though the grin still danced on their lips.

“alright, alright. i’ll stop,” they said, though the teasing lilt never left their voice. “it’s just… i mean, come on. if i believed in fate…”

“please, don’t,” C muttered, barely concealing a groan. they glanced away, fixing their gaze on a nearby tree as if that might somehow ground them, stop the fluttering discomfort twisting in their chest.

D finally quieted, though a look of amusement still lingered in their eyes. after a moment, their expression softened. “look, i didn’t know that was them back there. otherwise, i wouldn’t have… tried to chat them up.”

“it’s none of my business,” C replied quickly, perhaps too quickly, the denial coming out sharper than they intended. “you can flirt with whoever you want, D. you are your own person, same goes for them.”

D’s gaze lingered on C for a moment, thoughtful, as though they could read the faint tremor that betrayed C’s supposed indifference.

“right. got it.” D’s voice was quiet, a hint of laughter still beneath it, but slightly gentler now.

C shifted under the weight of D’s stare, feeling strangely exposed, as if they’d somehow let a crack appear in the careful façade they’d maintained all these years.

“besides,” C added, trying to inject a note of finality into their tone. “it’s… it’s complicated. i don’t expect you to understand.”

D shrugged, a flicker of something like empathy crossing their face before they brushed it off. “hey, i get it. just didn’t realize they were the infamous rival of yours. honestly, it explains so much.”

C shot them a dubious look. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh, nothing,” D replied innocently, but their eyes were still dancing with that infuriating glint. “i just think you should be more honest with yourself. might save you some of this broodfest, grumpster.”

“thanks for the unsolicited advice,” C retorted dryly, though they could feel the faint sting of truth in D’s words, a reminder of thoughts they’d long tried to ignore. “can we just… talk about something else?”

D gave a little shrug, letting the subject drop with a nod. “fine by me. though i will say, this is definitely the highlight of the semester so far.”

C rolled their eyes, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of their mouth despite themselves. “your standards are painfully low, D.”

“oh, absolutely,” D agreed with a grin, falling into step beside C. “but admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around to torment you like this.”

C huffed, but their gaze softened, a hint of genuine affection flickering in their expression. “perhaps. only if it keeps you from tormenting everyone else.”

“oh, please. you know most of them are happy enough to let me ‘torment’ them.” D’s grin turned almost conspiratorial. “just make sure to invite me into any fistfights if this whole rivalry thing escalates.”

C chuckled, and the sound felt surprisingly light, easing some of the tension that had coiled in their chest. for a moment, the weight of their earlier encounter with you seemed to fade, replaced by the familiar comfort of their best friend’s easy humor.

as they walked back toward their dorm, their steps falling into an unspoken rhythm, C allowed themself a moment of quiet. they still felt the faint sting of embarrassment, the echo of D’s teasing words lingering like a half-formed thought in the back of their mind. but there was also an undeniable warmth, a strange, hesitant excitement that fluttered just beneath the surface.

they tried to push it away, to ignore the thrill of possibility that had sparked when they saw you across the fairground, but it lingered all the same. and as they walked in silence beside D, their gaze fixed ahead, they couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, whether they liked it or not, they would be forced to confront things they didn’t understand quite yet.

IF YOU HAVE ❤️ POINTS WITH D

C stiffened, their jaw clenching, barely nodding. “yeah. that’s them.”

D laughed, clapping a hand on their best friend’s shoulder.

“wow. okay, see, now i get it,” they said, shaking their head. “you were always complaining about how they were everywhere, stealing the spotlight. but, damn, if i’d known you weren’t exaggerating like crazy, i’d have pestered you for their contact ago.”

“yeah, like that was ever gonna happen,” C muttered with the irritation of someone who’d just had a private grudge revealed.

“oh, come on,” D continued, eyes still dancing with that insufferable amusement. they weren’t even pretending to hide their interest now. “did you see them? they’re hot! as in hot like a damn star, C. you can’t deny it. i almost melted right there and then. how did you never mention that part?”

C’s frown deepened, their discomfort sharp enough to cut through D’s lightheartedness. “i’m serious, D. if you’re thinking of trying anything with them, don’t.”

D couldn’t help but chuckle at C’s reaction, leaning back against the wall with an almost wistful expression. “you’re really no fun, you know that? think of the story we’d have—dating your enemy’s best friend… well, whatever else it might become.”

“we’re not exactly ‘enemies,’” C sighed out, observing D with a strange, inscrutable look. they seemed to be trying to read D’s intentions, as if searching for some hidden motive beneath the casual words. “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with them in any way.”

“you’re acting like i’m going to ask them out or something,” D said as they gave C a sidelong glance. their tone was flippant, but there was a defensive edge to it. “i’m not about to go falling head over heels. it’s just… fun.”

C gave them a skeptical look, trying to gauge just how serious they were. they knew D’s habits, their tendency to flirt and play around without letting feelings get involved, but something about this felt different. maybe it was the way they’d looked at you, that lingering fascination that seemed out of place for someone like D, who usually brushed things off before they even started.

“D,” C said quietly, almost as if they were choosing their words with care. “just… be careful, okay? i mean, you know what happened last time.”

D’s smile faded slightly, and their eyes took on a cold look.

“that was different,” they replied, a touch of anger in their voice now. “and anyway, i don’t need you looking out for me. i can make my own choices.”

C pursed their lips as they tried to think of how to say what was on their mind without making things worse. “i’m not trying to play parent here, D. i just don’t want you to do something you won’t be able to deal with later.”

D’s expression grew even more guarded, the usual playfulness in their eyes dimming to something harder, more closed-off.

“thanks for the concern, but I’m a big kid, C,” they said with a faintly strained smile. “you don’t need to worry about me.”

the air between them felt chilling and C wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it. they had only meant to protect their best friend, to stop them from getting tangled in something they knew was bound to end badly. but D’s response had left them with an uncomfortable knot in their chest, one that seemed to pulse with a mixture of worry and frustration.

they walked back to their shared dorm suite in silence, neither of them speaking as the quiet settled between them. C could feel D’s thoughts simmering, a subtle resentment that they weren’t quite sure how to ease. and for some reason, that feeling of helplessness only made C more irritated.

as they reached their suite, D barely registered C closing the main door behind them. they ignored their green-eyed friend’s soft, wary look, the way they almost seemed about to speak before they thought better of it. without another glance, D moved to their own room, shutting the door with a sharper click than they’d intended, leaning against the cool wood and breathing out slowly.

the familiarity of this old frustration settled in their chest, the same sensation they’d managed to bury over time and miles—until tonight. seeing C’s expression, their concern thinly veiled beneath their chalcedony gaze, had brought it all rushing back. and for one brief, shameful second, D found themself resenting their best friend for it. they hated them for thinking they needed to protect them. hated them for reminding them of the person who had taken so much from them, left behind an utterly mangled version of them, burned up everything so badly that D was barely recognisable in the aftermath.

they let out a soft, bitter laugh, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, fingers pressed to their temples. if only C knew how pointless their worry was. there was no wound left to guard, no vulnerability to shield. they’d lost that version of themself long ago, and no amount of protective warnings or shieldings from C would bring it back. because the truth was that there were pieces of themself they would never fully recover. pieces that had been taken and then, with brutal finality, lost entirely.

they were ruined. ruined.

a part of them knew C’s warning had come from that familiar place of concern. C really was family to them, even if they would never understand what they’d been through. D would never wish it on them, ever.

D really wasn’t interested in dredging up those old feelings, that kind of attachment. they’d been honest enough with themself, ruthless enough, to know that what they wanted now was simple and uncomplicated—just fun, just a distraction.

it was just physical attraction. that was all it had to be, and nothing more. it could be simple. no one would get hurt—not you, and definitely not D. they wouldn’t let it become more than a surface-level game. they’d played it before and they’d play it again, this time without letting you to come close enough to shatter them like they did.

D closed their eyes, forcing themself to refocus before their thoughts involuntarily took them to you. and it made them nauseous, that feeling, the warmth of it expanding in their chest, a reminder of something they couldn’t afford to want. D didn’t trust feelings of that sort, they never will.

cursing under their breath, D pushed off the bed and went straight to their desk. the sleek metal drawer on the side clicked open, revealing a row of small bottles, pills neatly aligned. the sight of them was a strange comfort, like they were seeing old friends lined up and whispering about the relief they’d be providing D with, waiting to make everything easier.

D reached for one of the vials, hands steady despite the storm churning inside them. it was an old trick, one they’d used more times than they could count. just a couple of pills to quiet their mind, to drown out the feelings that were starting to unravel the control they’d fought so hard to keep. they twisted off the cap, fingers almost mechanical in the familiarity of the motion, and tipped two pills into their palm. they swallowed them dry, the bitterness sliding down their throat as they sank onto the bed, waiting for that numbness to settle in.

they closed their eyes, willing the thoughts of you away, clinging to the silence that was beginning to spread, blotting out the warmth in their chest before it could turn into an inferno, the faint ache they’d hoped never to feel again.

after a lifetime of feeling too much, the numbness was desperately welcomed.

#ugh my drafts got deleted by tumblr all over again #i’ll probably rewrite this in an interactive POV setting #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: c lacroix #ro: d diaconu #ro scenarios #behind the scenes

319 notes · View notes

artists-ally · 1 year ago

Note

what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Reader x Harvey Specter

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt are waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Reader's dress

Harvey's suit

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction

2K notes · View notes