#Nothing but Golf Shoes

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ when a heated argument between rafe and bitchy!kook!reader leads to the cops knocking at their door when they’re already.. ‘making up’

warnings: toxic!rafe, toxic!reader, nothing about this is romantic, cheating accusations, arguing, lots of yelling, physical violence, angst, lots of throwing and breaking things, banter (?), making up, the cops show up, unprotected sex, rafe gets slapped and choked during sex too..

a/n: this has been in the vault for a while now lolll. huge thanks to my bb @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea <3

wc: 2.8k

“you’re acting fucking crazy right now!” you walked through the front door, rafe following closely behind as you slipped your heels off. “i’m acting crazy?” you spun around, rafe eyeing the shoe in your hand. “i hear this bitch talking about how you and her fucked while we were on a break, and you expect me to be calm?” you scoffed, “don’t tell me i’m acting crazy when you haven’t even tried to start explaining to me what the fuck she’s talking about!” you threw your shoe just like rafe suspected you would.

missing him by a few inches, rafe lunged at you, grabbing the other heel out of your hand. “what the fuck did i tell you about throwing shit at me!” you rolled your eyes, shoving him away as you walked past him to the kitchen. “start talking rafe.” your boyfriend pinched the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring as you took a water bottle out of the fridge. “she’s obviously lying! why would i go have sex with someone when me and you were still fucking? blocked contacts and all?” you narrowed your eyes at his form.

“i swear to you, i don’t even know who that girl is!” he walked around the kitchen island, a groan rumbling from his throat when you moved away. “then why would she say that? why would she be talking to her friends about it in a pathetic little circle if it wasn’t true?” you shot back. “hello?! so that we could argue exactly how we’re arguing right now. are you really gonna give her the satisfaction by doing what she wants you to do?” he slammed his fist down on the marble slab separating you two.

arching a brow, your gaze flickered to his phone in his pocket. “give me it.” rafe scoffed. “give you what?” he sneered, his heart dropping when you pointed to the cellular device tucked away in his pants. “do you seriously wanna act stupid right now? i said give me your fucking phone.” rafe cursed under his breath, not even wanting to imagine what you’d do if you saw him hesitating. sliding the damned thing across the island, you picked it up and unlocked it. “if you take one step i’m shattering this shit.”

the first thing you did was go to his text messages, scrolling through every thread for any sign of whatever her name is. you didn’t find anything after a few minutes of searching, ‘recently deleted’ messages included. his social medias were next, a lot of them clean for the most part. you bit the inside of your cheek when you opened his photos. golfing selfies with topper, loads of offguards of you at your vanity, even more photos of you and him while you were out running errands.. amongst other things..

despite not finding anything, you noticed rafe still had this worried look on his face. biting your lip, you followed your gut feeling and opened his notes app. sure enough, there at the top was a phone number with the initial ‘s’ next to it. tapping the number, you put it on speaker before muting yourself. “who the fuck is ‘s’?” rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “don’t-” he stepped forward, making you raise a finger. the phone rung twice before a sultry voice picked up. “hey, handsome, i was waiting for you to call me..”

eyes flickering over to his, you smiled in disbelief. “rafe? hello?” you hung up, your heart beating in your ears as white hot anger blinded your vision. “i can explain that!” he knew to keep his distance from you, your fingers clutching his phone even tighter. “i don’t want to hear shit. you’re a liar, rafe. you always have been.” now you were calm, and to rafe that was worse. what made you so angry wasn’t the fact that he slept with someone else, but acting like you were the crazy one and flipping all of tonight’s arguments on you.

rafe still continued talking. “we didn’t have sex! i never even called her or anything! did you not hear her say she was waiting for me to call?!” you turned, your eyes burning into his skull. “it’s the principle! you still had this bitch’s phone number saved! that’s the fucking problem, idiot!” without thinking, you chucked the phone across the room, shattering a picture frame of you and rafe. following the line of damage, rafe’s jaw clenched. he really liked that picture of you two. “we’re breaking each other’s shit now? bet.”

you rolled your eyes as he stomped up the stairs, a bottle of perfume flying from the railing and into the wall where a hole now resided. “i could always buy a new one, asshole!” you taunted him, “with your credit card, too!” the next thing that came hurling from upstairs was a glass jewelry box where you kept all the jewelry rafe specifically bought for you. that one did in fact hurt a little. you took a breath before he really took the cake with the next item, or items. as if moving in slow motion, you watched as rafe threw over various makeup products over the spiral staircase.

eyeshadow palettes, foundation bottles, tubes of lipgloss and concealer also amongst the mess, all came to a booming crash smack in the center of the foyer. there was glass absolutely everywhere. and you were barefoot, great. you stared at the space around you, tears pricking your eyes at the scene. you and rafe stood in silence, thinking about why this continuously keeps happening. you didn’t care if he saw you crying, the sound of your sniffle making his demeanor change. “i’m sorry, baby.”

you shook your head, not wanting to hear anything. “no, you’re not.” your voice shook as you tiptoed to the couch, trying your best not to step on any glass. going inside your shared bedroom, rafe came back out with some shoes for you before making his way downstairs, the glass crunching underneath his feet. “please, i’m begging you to just let me explain all of this.” he plopped down next to you, in which you moved over all the way to the other side. petty.

“me and topper were at the golf course, kickin’ it the way we always do when this bev cart girl came up to us,” you looked over at him, your teary eyes making his stomach churn, “she was telling us that she had just started there and that she lived on the other side of the island and long story short she started flirting with me, okay?” he held his hands up defensively. “i told her that i have a girlfriend and i wasn’t interested by a long shot.” he started, “she got a little irritated and then topper, being the instigating asshole he is, invited her to the party tonight—” you cut him off.

“that still doesn’t explain why her number was in your phone, and why she was talking about you being the ‘best fuck of her life’ while i was sitting right there.” rafe rested his head in his hands for a moment. “can i finish?” you waved him off as you settled back in your corner. “things got awkward so i gave topper my phone before going inside and getting a drink. when i came back out, she had winked at me all weird and topper showed me that he had saved her number in my notes for me to send to him later because his phone was dead. that’s it, i swear.”

you didn’t say anything, a part of you hating yourself for wanting to believe him. “explain to me why she was talking crazy with her friends then.” rafe tapped the side of his head, “because she obviously knew it was you that i’m with!” he shouted, making you glare in his direction. “how would she know me?” you crossed your arms. “y/n.. besides the fact that we were all over each other, who the fuck doesn’t know you?” rafe asked incredulously. fair point. “is that all?” you looked up at him as he scooted closer.

“no.” his tone switched to that gentle lilt, your breathing slowing when he took your hand in his. with the last bit of resolve you had left, you pulled away from him. “well make it good, because i’m on the verge of leaving your ass.” rafe scoffed. “you said that last time..” he shot back, “and the time before that..” you shot him a glare. “and who broke in when i changed the locks?” you reminded him of the time you woke up to a busted door in the middle of the night. “you got me.” he shrugged, in which you looked away.

“whatever.” you felt exhausted, all of tonight’s activities were starting to catch up to you. who knew overthinking, arguing on the way home, breaking stuff, and yelling and crying could make someone so tired? “no— i mean like, you got me.” rafe closed the space between you two, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you still avoided his gaze. “hey,” he thumbed your chin, “there has never been, and never will be, another girl. i’ll die on that hill.” your eyelids fluttered when you felt his fingers creep up on your thigh.

“i know you could see right through me, does it look like i’m lying?” the expression on his face was clear as day. he was telling the truth. you let out a shaky breath, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you on top of his lap. “oh, baby, we have to do better.” he squeezed you tight, inhaling your scent as his palms ran up and down your back. you sniffled into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “i’m sorry for breaking your phone.” rafe shushed you, eyeing the broken device in the corner.

“don’t be. i’m the one who broke like half of your shit.” you didn’t even care, mostly because you knew rafe was going to replace everything anyways. you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands. “i love you.” you whispered, those three words making rafe’s heart clench. giving you a small smile, rafe replied with a ‘i love you too,’ followed by ‘give me some sugar..’ of course, you leaned in, rafe’s lips meeting yours halfway as he groaned at the taste of your lipgloss on his tongue. this was just how things went, you two have been here plenty of times before.

his hands snaked down to the globes of your ass, hiking your dress up as he kneaded your flesh between his fingers. your kisses became more feverish, a muffled moan sounding from you when rafe slipped his tongue inside your mouth. he dragged your hips against his clothed erection, both of you hissing at the much needed friction. “how bad do you want it?” rafe panted, nipping the skin of your neck. you almost laughed at his words. “how bad do i want it?” you repeated, “how bad do you want to take it from me?” rafe groaned when you wrapped a hand around his throat, pushing his head back against the couch.

he should��ve known taking the reigns wasn’t going to be that easy. with one of your hands restricing his intake of air, he blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes fluttering shut as you pressed kisses to his chest. you were so sexy like this, he let you grind against him until he couldn’t stand to not be inside of you for another second. you let rafe remove your grip on his neck, a small gasp leaving your lips as he took both of your hands and tucked them behind your back. your head was resting on his shoulder as he pulled himself out of his pants, his fingers moving your underwears to the side before forcing you to sink down onto his length.

you were so slick and ready for him, rafe couldn’t refrain from cursing in your ear. “you’ve been soaked this whole time, huh? fighting turns you on, is that it?” you met his eyes. “mhmm,” you leaned down, “you make me so wet when you’re mad..” rafe grunted, landing a harsh smack to your ass. he knew that already, but hearing you say that while he’s both angry and sexually frustrated just ticked him off even more.

soon, you were the one bouncing on top of him, making him watch in awe as his cock disappeared inside of your greedy cunt. wanting to watch you unravel, he started stroking your clit, making you double over. “you wanna cum? you have to earn that shit.” without a word, you reached up, slapping him across the cheek. the action made him twitch inside of you. “you only cum if i get to.” you kissed him roughly, biting his bottom lip as you pulled away. you were so serious too.

rubbing your clit in harder circles, you nearly screamed when the tip of his cock began pressing that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck—” your thighs began trembling, your orgasm just right there in arms reach when there was a loud bang at the front door. both of you jumped, the fire in your loins melting away into nothing as both of you froze. “what the fuck?” rafe held onto you tighter before the banging continued. “who the fuck is that?” you got up, pulling off of him with a hiss. “outer banks sheriff deputies, open up!” you and rafe looked at each other with wide eyes.

rafe cursed under his breath, adjusting your dress and his pants before stepping in front of you to answer the door. “can i help you?” he peeked out, two other cops standing at his side. “are you the owner of this home?” rafe squeezed your hand, responding to the officer with a ‘yes, sir.’ opening the door a little more, the cop continued to explain why him and his team were there. “we received a few calls reporting a domestic dispute at this address, ‘said that they heard yelling and a lot of ruckus.” you shut your eyes for a moment. you should’ve assumed the whole island was able to hear you and rafe going at each other’s throats.

“uh, no sir, nothing domestic going on around here.” rafe joked. no one laughed. “no? so the four separate calls we received were all lying?” four separate calls? damn, people couldn’t mind their business around here. “well, uh.. yes, me and my girlfriend had a little disagreement but we’re okay now—” immediately, the sheriff demanded to see some kind of identification. taking his id out of the wallet in his pocket, rafe cooperated as the older man had him confirm his information. “so you said you and the woman are ‘good’ now?” officer shoupe, as rafe had learned, asked with concern.

“yes, sir, she’s right here.” before you could protest, rafe dragged you to the front, an awkward smile adorning your lips as you were pretty sure they could see the smudged lipgloss all over your mouth. “hello, sweetheart. can you confirm that you are safe and in not any immediate danger with this man?” you looked back at rafe, having never been questioned by the police before. “yes, i’m safe,” you answered, “we just had a little fight, but we’re making up now..” one of the female officers cleared her throat awkwardly.

“i see..” shoupe nodded, gaze flickering back at rafe. “well i guess we’ll leave you two alone then. next time, can you please keep your volume low? you two had some people pretty spooked there.” you mumbled a ‘yes, sir.’ before rafe pulled you back inside and shut the door. it was silent for a moment, both of you seemingly looking around at the aftermath of everything. “i can’t believe people called the cops..” you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. rafe watched with a confused expression as you started sweeping up glass.

“so, uh— we aren’t going to pick up where we left off?” you looked up at him with a look that said ‘seriously?’. “no. how about we ‘pick up where we left off’ after you help me clean all of this up, and replace everything you destroyed?” rafe groaned. he could always count on you to leave him with blue balls. deciding to help you, it wasn’t long before everything was cleaned up, no sign of any earlier events except for the new hole in the wall. after you two showered and settled in bed, rafe held you flush against his chest while he kissed up your back,

“are you sure you don’t want to finish?” rafe sounded pained, like he needed to be inside of you immediately. turning around in his embrace, you pecked his lips before swinging a leg over his hips. “make it fast.” you pretended like you didn’t want the same thing, a smile gracing your lips when you heard rafe mutter a ‘thank god.’ before slipping off of your nightgown.

[pastryfication]

just saw his new car and this immediately came to me

“you can relax, love.” lando remarks in almost a snigger as he watches you carefully seat yourself in his new car. his new lamborghini, that probably cost more in just wheels than you make in an entire year.

“yeah, i’m totally relaxed.” your hand delicately touch the smooth leather on the seat while you position your legs as carefully as possible. “not intimidated by this at all.”

he laughs at your antics, giving you a quick kiss before moving over to check that your seatbelt is closed completely so he can start the car. it makes an impressive noice as it sparks to life, and you smile at the feeling of the rumbling car beneath you.

“you know i wouldn’t care if you accidentally left a mark on the car, right?” he watches you from the corner of his eye while also keeping focus on the nonexistent traffic. “you don’t have to sit like you’re in a royal chariot.”

“i don’t—“ you’re about to protest, but as you look down, you realise that maybe—and just maybe—you are sitting like you would in cinderella’s magic pumpkin.

a moment of silence passes between you while you make yourself a bit more comfortable on the pristine leather. “i’m sorry.” you instead opt to say.

“why?” he sounds so earnestly confused that you almost want to smile. “baby, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. why are you sorry?” his hand reaches out to grab your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“it’s just . . . i don’t know why, but i feel weird sometimes, living off your money like this. going to exotic places, eating at fancy restaurants, driving cars like this!” you lift your hand to accentuate your point. “it sounds ridiculous but i just . . . i’ve never experienced anything like this. and i don’t want you to wake up one day and realise how how unfit i am for this lifestyle.”

lando frowns deeply at your admission. “you don’t live off my money. i like bringing you places and spending money on things we can enjoy together.” his hand on your thigh gives another loving pat before he moves to find your hand, intertwining his large fingers with yours. “experiencing all this would be no fun without anyone to share it with.”

you want to argue, but he cuts you off. “no buts. i won’t accept it.” he lifts your conjoined hands to his mouth to give them a gentle kiss before a smirk takes over his face. “now will you please make my car seem used.”

you laugh at him, but he gives you a serious look that doesn’t go away til you pop off your shoes and situate yourself just as you like in the passenger seat. when he’s satisfied, he reaches out for the console in between you and presses a few buttons.

“now, please chose some music. i got an aux system installed just for you.”

you want to turn over and reprimand him, but the cute look on his face makes your heart melt in a weird puddle, and instead, you just smile as you connect your phone.

he’s absolutely crazy. buying lamborghinis, winning formula 1 races, playing an incessant amount of golf and making you fall completely in love with him.

[rafesbangs]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ rafe putting brat!lamb!reader in her place after she makes him leave golf for the millionth time

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! dom!rafe (duh), mean!rafe ? kinda, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, use of a vibrator, use of the nicknames 'baby' and 'rafey', multiple orgasms, overstimulation, language, basically zero plot just smut. wc: 2.1k

a/n: i swear i'll start writing more, i currently have like 5 other fics all either just started or halfway through writing but ill finish them and start posting moreeee also this is my longest fic as of rn and its entirely smut lmfao

you always got your way, and today was no different. rafe and you had been at the country club all day and the instant you got bored of watching your boyfriend and his friends play golf, you whined until rafe obliged and you hopped in his mercedes to head home.

you sat in his car with your arms crossed, the wind whipped your white mini skirt and hair every which way but you ignored it. you were waiting for rafe to apologise for subjecting you to such boredom.

but he wasn't having it either. you always had to stop a game of golf just as it was getting good, but he never disobeyed you, he loved you. he also loved drinking beer and playing golf with his friends though, so today he had enough.

he sat there in the driver's seat, firm expression on his face as he drove the two of you back to his condo, one of his gloved hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

you glanced at the veins bulging out of his forearm as he vigurously steered the car but reminded yourself that he didn't deserve anything fun tonight for putting you through another several hour golf session with no one and nothing to entertain you.

as soon as rafe pulled up to his condo he hopped out and slammed his door shut. you could tell he was really angry now too, but what did he have to be mad for? you were out there for hours upon hours before you'd even began to tell him you wanted to leave.

he rounded the car to the passenger's side and swung the door open. "inside, now." he said gruffly, not even looking at you. his head turned towards the front door. you narrowed your eyes at him, arms still crossed as you sat there, irritated.

"get out of the fucking car brat" he calmly, but sternly said. your jaw weakened and you opened your mouth, only to snap it shut again when he looked at you with his piercing gaze.

you grabbed your little purse and stepped out of the car, stepping out of the way before rafe also slammed your door shut. he didn't bother to wait for you, just stalked into his place leaving you to trudge across the gravel driveway in your kitten heels after him.

you were still irked, for sure, but now rafe was angry. the two of you always made the impression that you had him at your knees, you'd say something and he would listen without question. topper and kelce often laughed at him, calling him 'pussy whipped' and he'd roll his eyes, telling them if they had pussy as good they'd be the same way. he never had a bad word to say about you.

however, behind closed doors... specifically his bedroom door, he was in charge. he could tell you to drop to your knees as he fucked with his belt and you'd have your eyes wide and tongue ready. as soon as the two of you were in his house, you turned into whatever he wanted you to be, tonight was no different.

you closed the front door behind you and turned around to find rafe standing there with his arms crossed, same stern look still on his face. you tilted your head down, attempting to give him the puppydog eyes so he wouldn't be so mad, you hated upsetting him.

he walked over to the couch without a word and sat down, the fireplace crackled in front of him sending a spark of light to illuminate the living room a little more, all of the other lights were off. you took your shoes off and placed your bag down.

"come here." he said before deeply breathing in and out. you walked over to the living room and stood in front of him as he sat there, looking up at you with pursed lips. "yes rafey...?" you said quietly.

"sit" he curtly said, and you immediately obeyed, sitting right on his lap. you swallowed the lump in your throat slowly, looking into his mean blue eyes.

his gloved hand connected with your throat harshly, "you think you can just interrupt my golf games like that, every fuckin' time?" he breathed. you whimpered a little, not because he was scaring you in any way but simply because you could feel his bulge under you rising and he knew how his strong arm around your throat turned you on.

his grip softened a little so you could talk, "i just missed you rafey... i got bored-" you protested, your voice quiet. his other hand quickly grabbed at your hip, squeezing roughly even through the glove.

"you bitched 'nd whined n'front of my friends for the last time baby," he pulled your face closer to his until he was breathing at your neck and he lowered his voice, "you can't be doing that shit, hm?"

you nodded vigorously, one of your manicured hands now gently grabbing the hand that is connected to your throat.

"good" he smiled sinisterly, "but baby, m'gonna have to teach you a lesson yeah? i can't just let that shit slide."

"i'm sorry rafey..." you whimpered, his bulge was twitching right under your now soaked panties, the mini skirt left absolutely no fabric in between.

he pulled your face even closer so your lips were almost touching, "i know, you'll show me how sorry you are" he whispered with a grin before releasing your throat and moving your thigh so you were now straddling him. he swiped his fingers under your skirt against your wet pussy and scoffed with a grin, "fuuck, you wanna be punished don't you? you're already so wet and all i did was tell you off"

you looked away to the side brazenly, nearly rolling your eyes because you both knew that rafe knew exactly what he was doing.

"ay, what was that hmm?" he snapped, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze to focus on him. he adjusted himself underneath you like it was nothing, pushing his ranging boner into your wet cunt even more.

you squirmed a little at the feeling, "your hand on my throat? and we both know i can feel your dick..." you declared with a little sigh. one of his eyebrows raised slightly and he cocked his head to the side before ripping his gloves from his hands, all while holding your gaze on him.

"mmm, i know you like being punished," he reached his hand up to cup the side of your face gently, "and you love it when i punish you with my dick. so please baby, don't act all mad."

you nervously licked your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter on top of him, you knew he could feel it too. it would be a miracle if there wasn't a huge wet patch on his pants where your pussy met his dick by now. his hands rested on your hips now, "good girl."

without a word he flipped you over onto your back with a grin, one hand holding you at your waist while the other was already pulling the wet fabric to the side and rubbing your slit slowly.

"rafe.." you said, breathless, you didn't think you could handle being teased for any longer now. he just grinned as he kept torturing your clit and began palming at your tits, your hips starting to buck while he kept going before finally plunging two fingers deep into your pussy.

you whined in pleasure as he pumped them in and out, his pace growing faster and faster while you just got increasingly wetter. he was getting painfully hard at the sweet sound your wet pussy was making as he fingered you. "ugh fuck, rafe please-" you moaned, all he did was smile in satisfaction at how he was making his girl feel.

he finally relented and pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, but then brought a tie from the floor and grabbed your wrists, tying them together above your head. "punishment's not done baby, i'm still angry with you..." he said lowly, looking at how wet he made you as you dripped down onto the leather couch.

he then reached for the floor again and brought out a vibrator with a smirk. your eyes went wide and you tried to sit up, but he just pushed you back down onto the couch again. "i just want your dick, please rafey" you begged but he just shook his head, still smiling as he switched it on and brought it down to your clit.

you immediately yelped at the sensation and couldn't help but become a moaning mess. rafe was having fun, stroking it up and down your wet folds as he torturously fucked you with a single finger, slowly.

"f-fuck you," you moaned, writhing against his finger and the vibrator, going through possibly your forth or fifth orgasm. rafe just continued to play with your pussy, now using his tongue on you which only made you lose your mind more. he was moving the vibrator across your nipples now, eating you out sloppily like a man starved.

"i hate you, oh god... rafe stop! please" you groaned, your entire body twitching. you had lost count of how many times this man had made you cum at this point, you'd actually lost all sense of thought. he just sat there, still simulating you.

a pornographic moan easily bounced off the walls and rafe grinned up at you proudly, pleasepleasepleaseimsorryitwonthappenagain" you beg, tears pecking at your eyes from the overstimulation. rafe just shook his head, watching you cum on his fingers again, "what're you talkin' about baby? you can clearly keep going..."

"rafe! fuck- please just fuck me" you whined, your body tensing up, awaiting yet another orgasm when he finally tears the vibrator away from your swollen clit.

he scoffs at the sight of you, all fucked out and heaving, "okay." he unties your hands and pulls you to sit you up, you nearly go limp and fold over but he holds you up, cupping your face. you were stained with tears but he thought he'd never seen you look so sexy, in an instant his lips were connected with yours.

he was hungrily kissing you, finally pulling your bunched up clothes off of you and palming at every part of your body, just completely feeling you up which only made your pussy ache again. you pulled his shirt off of him and continued kissing him, now pushing his back down onto the couch as you devoured him under you.

his hands slid off of your body and onto his pants as he started pulling them off. now in his boxers you couldn't help but mischievously smile, straddling him as you continued to kiss him but rutting against his aching bulge. you thought he must be in so much pain, having been completely clothed and untouched for the entire duration of your punishment.

he groaned as you grinded against him and gripped at your hips so ferociously you knew you'd have bruises there in the morining, but you kept going. he parted from your lips and pulled his cock out of his boxers, the tip all red and swollen, leaking precum. you licked your lips as you measured his huge dick against your stomach, it very clearly going to the top of your belly button.

you wasted no time in lowering yourself onto him. the feeling of him slipping into your tight pussy nearly caused him to cum right there and then but he held back.

"holy fuck... holy fuck y/n." he breathed deep, furrowing his brows as he grunted with every minor move until he was entirely inside you to the hilt. you began rocking back and forth and his body was shaking from the amount of force it took to hold back cumming inside your tight pussy immediately.

you moaned as you moved, "so big, god, so so big."

"fuck- baby... ah shit, m'gonna cum-" he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening. you grinned mischievously as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to handle the pleasure. "cum inside me rafey" you whispered, leaning down in his ear. he immediately obeyed, thick hot ropes of cum filled your insides as you continued to rock back and forth. feeling his entire cock drained by your pussy made his head spin, he was moaning louder than he had before, breathing heavily.

you whined in pleasure as you rode him through your final orgasm as well, crumpling on top of him.

"good girl" he grinned, panting as he tucked stray hair behind your ear.

[starkeygirls]

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 1

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: really bad at these!

wc: 2.5k

warning: none! i haven't written in a while, this is a rewrite of a story that i started in 2020, so please bare with me as i get back in the groove of writing.

a/n: guess who's back, back again. determined to finish this series. rafe and sofia in s4 really inspired me to get back into this fic, hope you all like it ◡̈ pls reblog/comment/etc.. would love to hear your thoughts ◡̈

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes you really fit into Figure 8. Sometimes you all did. Like when John B was off with Sarah and he was wearing the clothes that she had bought him to go out golfing or go to brunch at the yacht club. Or when Kie was dragged to a kook event by her parents at the country club. Pope wore his suit when he had different scholarship and college interviews- and he really gave the kook boys a run for their money with how good he looked in his steamed suit. JJ was the least likely to really look like he would ever fit in on Figure 8, and that was because he never wanted to. He reserved his ‘money suit’, as he called it, for when he had to work as a busboy, and occasionally picked up other gigs. You, however, were fitting in more often than you would have liked. 

You tucked your white cashmere sweater into your long, green pleated skirt. Letting out a small huff as you sprayed your perfectly curled hair one more time. Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you trudged down your hallway, your sneakers cost more than $400. You could still remember how your jaw dropped when you saw the pricetag, and apparently the kooks ate these shoes up. They needed them in every color, every new style that came out. It was madness, if you were being honest. It was like they were just giving away money. 

That’s what it seemed like, at least. You had been working at a retail store in the main strip of Figure 8 for over a year now. It was the only way you could afford the clothes you were wearing. You got a steep discount off the price, and you knew how to shop sales better than anyone. 

Your kook masquerade was always squished the moment you walked out to your car. The old beat up Honda that was always parked out front was nothing like what a kook would drive. It was too old. A 2005? The kooks didn’t know what anything from that year was- maybe only their participation trophies from little league that had the year engraved, that was about it. 

Unlocking the car, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling up your seatbelt. 

“Please start, Hilda..” You mumbled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand turned the key in the ignition. She did, as usual- but you would never forget the time that she broke down. You cried for the ten minutes it took John B and JJ to rescue you. They were like your own little mechanics. Pope had called you in the car for the ten minutes while you sobbed and tried to calm you down- it didn’t work. Nothing worked until you saw your car fixed. You still owed them for saving your ass that day, regardless of how many times they assured you it was really nothing.

Crossing over the bridge from The Cut to Figure 8, you sighed: traffic. You knew by now the traffic was always bad as you headed into the main strip of town. It was the most popular place. Coffee shops, restaurants, stores.. Who wouldn’t be there if they had the money and time? Yeah, the coffee was overpriced and no one knew how to drive in their expensive cars, but it was still nice. Nicer than The Cut where people revved their engines when you scurried across the street.

–

It took you a half hour to finally pull into the parking lot behind your store. Saturdays were always the worst traffic wise, but boy, was it a good sales day. Checking the time, you bit your lip as you contemplated running to the cafe a few shops down to get a coffee. Technically you had time- you were always early. You had a fear of being late if you were being honest. You knew it looked bad, and it wasn’t hard for you to just leave a little early for wherever you were going. It took you two minutes to walk to the cafe, and you would give yourself ten minutes to be in the cafe, another two minutes to walk back, and you had twenty minutes until you had to clock in. What if the cafe was busy? What if it took you fifteen minutes in there? 

You slammed the car door and walked towards the Cove Cafe. The bell dinged as you walked in, a smile pressed to your lips as you pushed your sunglasses to your head. It wasn’t busy. What a relief. You smiled at the barista as you walked up to the counter. You and Gabriella had become good friends from your constant stops to the overpriced coffee shop. 

“The usual?” She asked with a grin, scribbling onto the cup as you nodded your head. You still had ten minutes to get back to the shop before you had to clock in. You smiled and waved back to Gabriella as you left the shop, sipping on the drink that had become a staple to your routine.

–

This Saturday was not a good day for sales. The weather must’ve been too nice, or everyone had gone to the mainland. The traffic you had fought through died down, and the small shop was deserted. Main Street in general was deserted. You and your co-worker, Abigail were basically staring at each other for four hours. It was painful at this point. You both had resorted to hiding off to the side hall to watch Netflix shows, peering your heads out when you heard the door open. 

Most of the time it was one or two people wandering in- usually tourons who just looked around and pulled you away from the show. It was your turn to walk out there when the door dinged, watching as two people walked in. Your eyes squinted as you looked to the security camera before heading out from behind the curtain. 

You tried to hide your surprise- and disgust- as your eyes glanced over to see Topper Thorton and Rafe Cameron in the small store. What did they want? Were they making rounds because Sarah was complaining about something John B had said? You knew it wasn’t a good idea John B was hanging around her. Were they threatening your group? 

Was it too late to shove Abigail out here? Was it too late to lock the doors and pretend you never opened? Were you allowed to not greet them? Spit in their faces? 

“Do you have this in a large?” Rafe’s question knocked you from your thoughts, blinking a few times before you furrowed your brows. 

“Let me go check for you.” You smiled at the two boys before heading behind the curtain where Abigail was. “How did I get so unlucky to have to deal with Topper and Rafe? How come you got a Hollywood directors cousin and I get two assholes who aren’t going to spend any money?” A groan escaped your lips before you brought yourself down the stairs to the stockroom. 

– 

“So you’re going to take the three shirts, the sweater and the two pants and then we’re going to order you the polo in the salmon color, and the sneakers, right?” You ran by him one more time. 

“Yeah, and ship it to the store if you can.” Rafe nodded, tapping his American Express Platinum card against the wooden counter. You nodded, typing away on the ipad register. It was a relief to finally be getting them out of the store, though they were a lot less of a pain then you had originally thought they would be. In fact, they were really respectful a complete 180 from what you were used to experiencing. They had hung back up everything they had tried on, and made sure to get a full glance of everything they could want in a different size or color before making you run to the stockroom once they were aware it was in a basement.

The only awkward part of the whole interaction was when you had absentmindedly walked back to the fitting rooms and saw Rafe shirtless as he spoke to Topper about the shirt he had on. 

“Pants fit well.” You awkwardly smiled, diverting your eyes from Rafe’s toned chest. You didn’t hate having them in the store, and he was about to drop a lot of money which was only going to be more money in your pocket.

“You’re all set. Everything should be here by Wednesday the latest. I’ll give you a call when they get here.” You smiled, watching him tap the heavy card against the card reader. His blue eyes glanced up to meet your own eyes. 

“Could you text me, actually? The number on file is my cell.” Your eyes glanced to Topper as he smirked, eyes glancing your way. To be honest, you were surprised. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to text customers for outreach or order updates- but it was the look Rafe was giving you, it was the smirk Topper had plastered to his face, it was the way Rafe was leaning on the counter. 

–

“And then as if spending an hour with them wasn’t bad enough, he asked me to text him when his order got to the store!” You were pacing in the living room of the chateau. You had driven straight there after work, it was a bit of a usual for all of you. After work on Saturdays, everyone would meet at the chateau and unwind, usually a beer or two, and pizza. 

“Why are you dressed like you’re from the 60’s?” JJ asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes you had been ranting. 

“That isn’t the point, idiot.” Kiara chimed in, shaking her head at JJ’s comment. “Love the sweater by the way.” She smiled. 

“Dude, it retails for like three hundred, I almost threw up when a woman asked me where it was in the store the last time I wore it and then she bought it in the three colors we have.” You smiled back, finally plopping onto the couch next to JJ. His eyes were wide as he looked to your sweater, before petting it. 

“Fuck, it’s soft.” 

“It’s cashmere and get your grubby hands off of it. You probably have oil or beer on your hands, and it’s dry clean only.” Your hand smacked at his.

“So when’s your first date with Rafe.” JJ teased, a groan leaving your lips as your head fell back.

“Where the hell did a date even come into this? If he gets my number that’s just another way to threaten us.” 

“I wish John B and Sarah were here to hear all this.. Sarah would lose it.” Kie laughed. “But, we would probably get to the bottom of it. She would just text him and see what was up. Either we’re overthinking it, or we’re perfectly on track for whatever his twisted mind is thinking.” 

“So are you going to wear cashmere on your date with him? Do you think he’ll pay?” JJ continued, a grin planted to his face. He wasn’t going to let it die down, which you should have expected. Jeez, where was Pope, John B and Sarah when you needed them? 

– 

Your fingers hovered over your phone after you had texted Rafe, the chat bubble signaling he was responding - and fast. There was no need to be nervous about whatever he was saying, it was your job, after all. Texting him as he requested for the order he placed - you hadn’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary. 

You jumped a bit feeling your phone vibrate in your hand, eyes scanning the text saying he would probably show up right before you closed because he was busy. Your lips pulled into a tight line, preparing yourself to have to stay past close. You hearted the message without even thinking, all sense of professionalism threw itself out the window. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, too late now to undo what had been done. 

–

The store was in nearly perfect condition, you had told Abigail to head home, that you would wait out Rafe’s arrival on your own, assuring her he would surely only be about 5-10 minutes. You finger spaced the racks twice, re-folded your tables and even dusted off the mannequins as you waited for his arrival. It was now thirty minutes past close, the doors had been locked, your fingers tapped along the desk as a sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling. Pulling your phone out of pocket, your fingers fired off a message to Rafe. 

hey! i’ve gotta close up, we’re open from 9-7 tomorrow, just tell the associate you’re picking up :) 

Grabbing your things from the back, your keys twirled around your fingers, jumping as a figure was looking into the glass doors of the store. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes looked to Rafe’s, a smile pressed to his lips as he caught the panic course through your body. A small debate ran through your brain, should you even let him have his things? He should and could wait until the following day. Teach him a lesson on being punctual. 

His hand knocked on the door, smile still pressed tight to his lips. It was almost cocky, like he knew that you would let him in. Before even making a conscious decision, your feet were carrying you to the door and unlocking it. 

“Maybe we should add a watch to your order, seems like you could use it.” Your tone was a bit harsher than you intended, but at this point, he was wasting your time. Holding the door open, you quickly locked it after he entered. 

“I’m only thirty minutes late.” 

“You knew when we closed, you’re abusing my kindness.” 

“Is that what you call the attitude?” Your eyes were glaring at this point, feet carrying you quickly to the back where Rafe’s items were packaged neatly, a bow around the handle of the bag and all. Grabbing it, you gasped yet again as he had been closer to the curtain to the back than anticipated. A chuckle escaping his lips. “You look like a deer in headlights.” 

“Can you just take your things and go? I’ve spent enough time in this store.” A huff escaped your lips as you shoved the bag to Rafe, already walking towards the front door to escort him out. “And don’t worry, I’ll send you watches during my next shift so you can work on being on time.” 

“So you want to see me again?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, smirk pressing to his lips. He clearly was in no rush to leave, or leave without frustrating you any bit he could. 

“Right now I would love nothing more than to watch you leave, Rafe.” Unlocking the door, and opening it you motion for him to leave, your patience growing thin as he took his time walking from the store. “Thanks for shopping with us today.” You mutter before closing the door behind him and locking it. 

–

Scrolling through your phone, a text pulled your brows together. 

so, how’d i look walking away?

[giuliettagaltieri]

Lonely Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Jealousy, party, and a tooth fairy

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 2150

2 of 4

It has been a week since the incident in the Country Club.  You and Rafe are barely talking, well, you are barely talking.  He was never one to start conversations with you.

In the Country Club, you would be ordering more drinks and food to keep your mouth busy so you won’t have to talk, just nodding and smiling along with Kelce and Topper.  The server, Sofia, evaded you like you had something contagious, and you would not blame her, you are aware that you completely lost it with her.

You hated it when she’s your server though.  One, because you can’t trust your food and drinks.  Two, because she was always lingering to ask how Rafe was, her hip leaning on his side of the table, while he entertained her.

Kelce would often start a joke to keep you occupied while Rafe talked with Sofia.  You would try to hold Rafe’s hand under the table but he’d pull away just as quick.

Once Sofia is gone, you’d try to make small talk with him but he responds with nods and shrugs, clearly wanting nothing to do with you at the moment, so you’d give up and try again after a while.

Rafe and you fought before but he always gets better when you stroke his ego or when you bake him cupcakes.  But you sent two batches already and he still does not talk.

The three of them are playing golf, with you sitting under the shade of the golf cart when you overhear them talking about a party.  You look up from your phone and try to listen.

“Hey, Y/N!”  Topper calls and you smile at him, eyebrows raised, as if you weren’t listening the entire time.  “Party at Tanneyhill at eight, you in?”

Rafe looks at you and you meet his eyes.  Does he even want you there?  Well, he doesn’t look displeased, only bored.

You nod at Topper before looking away from all three of them, hastily opening your phone to pretend as if you are doing something.

The boys continue their game, often cheering when they get a ball in while you are scrolling through your phone.  Soft footsteps make you look up and you see Sofia with a small cooler.

“Drinks?”  She asked plainly.

You sit up straighter.  “Uhm yes.  Cherry cola, please.”  You say quietly as you watch her dig through the ice filled cooler and she hands you a can of cherry cola.  “Put it under Cameron.” You see her inhale sharply from her nose before nodding.  She is about to walk away when you call her again.  “On second thought, put it under mine.”  You say softly, eyes now dropped to the ground as you scuff your shoe awkwardly against the mat of the golf cart.

“Okay.”  Sofia says curtly.

“Sofia?”  You call her and she exhales loudly before turning to you.  Biting your cheek, you slip out of the golf cart, as you play with your cherry cola can.  “Look, about last time.  I’m really sorry I yelled at you.  I know that wasn’t nice-”

“Yes, it was rude.”  She says, making you close your eyes tightly.  “I would understand if you’re his girlfriend but…”  She chuckles lightly.  “You’re not.”  You open your mouth to respond but she shakes her head.  “But it’s alright.  Let’s just forget about it.”

You smile at the ground and nod as she walks away to greet the boys with her pretty smile.  You look away quickly when you see Rafe smile at her, putting on your earbuds as soon as they start inviting Sofia to the party.

The party was in full blast the moment you stepped out of your car.  You struggled to get past the crowd to try and find Rafe and the others.  In every party you’re in, you’re always by his side.  He gets pissed when you’re not so it just became your thing but just as you find him, you turn around quickly.  He’s playing beer pong with Topper and Kelce.  But that wasn’t what made you leave.  It was Sofia, standing next to Rafe.  Where you were supposed to be.

You should’ve left home earlier, then this wouldn’t have happened.

Not knowing where to go, you stood there awkwardly, eyes darting around until you found familiar faces.

Choosing to hang out with your other friends, you temporarily forgot about Rafe.  A friend complimented your dress and you giggled, giving her a spin, making them all clap and whistle playfully.  You love being with your girlfriends, they always boost up your confidence.  Too bad you’re always using up all your time to hang out with Rafe.

You chug the content of your cup and you giggle as you nearly lose your footing, luckily, an arm wraps around your waist.  You look down and admire the rings on his fingers but you snap out of it as soon as you catch an unfamiliar scent, turning to face the man.

It was your schoolmate before from Kildare Academy, he’s been trying to get you to date him since forever, but you turn him down every time he asks.  You push his chest lightly but he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Whoa there, had too many drinks?”  He grins playfully.

“Thanks.  You can let go now.”  You stay sternly but he only chuckles.  His head is dipping to whisper in your ear. 

“Why?  You're free game now, aren’t you?”  He draws, making you scoff and sober up pretty quickly. 

“Asshole.”  You mutter as you try to push him off again.  Some of your friends are standing up, ready to interfere. “Let go.”

He laughs.  “Alright.”  He raises his hands in surrender.  “But you are, aren’t you?” 

You fix your dress and you glare at him.  “I’m what?”

“Free game?”  He smirks down at you, stepping closer, prompting you to take one back. 

“No.”  You cross your arms defensively, eyes darting around to try and look for Rafe, he always managed to keep this dude at bay but you know your girlfriends will have your back if he really tried something.

“No?”  He rubs his chin, and he frowns at you with faux concern.  “But your guard dog’s busy sniffing up another bitch, isn’t he?”  He chuckles as he steps to the side to show you Rafe swinging an arm on Sofia’s shoulders as they talk quietly in a corner.

Tears start filling your eyes but you will yourself to hold them.

“Is there a problem here?” 

You are grateful to see Kelce, walking over, his eyes on the guy beside you.

“Nah, man.”  He laughs.  “Just catching up with Y/N.  Isn’t that right?”  He grins at you and you look away, brows furrowed.

“Catching up.”  One of your girlfriends spits.  “You called her ‘free game’ and held her without asking if she was okay with it.”

He groans.  “Oh come on, Y/N likes that shit.  That’s why she hangs out with Rafe Cameron, he’s the scum of Kildare Island but she can’t get enough of him.”

Your friends gasp and start throwing insults at him. 

“What is wrong with you?”  You yell as you push him off and you storm away.

Kelce calls your name but you were too busy wiping your tears.  You just need to get away from this place.  You hear an unmistakable sound of a punch landing on something, followed by gasps but you don’t bother to look nor respond to Kelce’s calls.

You get in your car, hands shaking as you drive all the way home, not even bothering to park properly.  You kick your shoes in the driveway and throw your bag in a fit of rage.  The light in your porch blinks and you hear the muffled voice of your father calling you but you run off to the slipway, bare feet padding on the wood before you hop on your runabout.

Sofia replaced you.  Rafe hates you.  And that asshole of a guy embarrassed you in front of your friends.

Without a single destination in mind, you speed off into the dark waters.  The wind whipping your face, drying the stream of tears that won’t stop coming.

Rafe was chuckling to a story someone was telling animatedly when Kelce comes and sits next to Topper.  He swigs his beer and downs it in one gulp, some of it dribbling on his chin.

“Whoa, Kelce.”  Rafe says, making Sofia giggle, her hand covering her mouth. 

But Kelce just looks at him before sighing.  “You were supposed to look after Y/N.”  He said. 

“Don’t remember signing up as her babysitter.”  Rafe answers while sending a smirk to Sofia.

Kelce chooses not to answer, shaking his head at Rafe. 

“Did something happen?”  Topper asks in concern, his eyes darting from Rafe to Kelce.

“Yes.”  Kelce says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.  Rafe pauses mid-drink and looks at Kelce with sharp eyes.

“What happened?”  Rafe hissed.

“So now you care?”  Kelce looks at him in disbelief.  “Seriously, man.  You act like you don’t give a fuck about her but go ballistic the second she gets in trouble.  Make up your fucking mind.”

“I was keeping an eye on her, she was with her friends.”  Rafe stands abruptly, not willing to sit for any more stalling.  “Just fucking say it, Kelce!”

Sofia scooted away from Rafe, swallowing nervously at his sudden outburst.

“Whoa, calm down, man.”  Topper stands, ready to mediate any second.  Rafe glares at him and steps over to Kelce who sighs in defeat.

“Some dude was holding her, wouldn't let go.”  Kelce started, Rafe immediately clenched his jaw as he paced, the heel of his palm pressing on his forehead.  “He tried to shoot his shot with her, figured he will since you’re…”  Kelce glances at Sofia.  “Busy.”

Rafe stopped in his tracks and stared hard at Kelce.

“He called Y/N “free game” and humiliated her.”  Kelce shrugs.  “Knocked a tooth outta his filthy mouth.”

Rafe pointed a finger at Kelce as he nodded.  “That’s good, Kelce.  But I need to know where Y/N-”  A buzz in his pocket cuts him off.

It was your father.  Of all the times he could call!

Rafe groans as he jogs to his room to muffle the music and chatter of the party.

“Sir.”  Rafe answers, his knuckle lodged between his teeth. 

He screwed up.

“Son, I thought Y/N would be staying over at your place?  For a party?”

Rafe clears his throat as he slumps over his bed, his back hunched.  “Yes, sir.  That’s the plan.”  Does he know?  Did you tell your father what happened?  Of how much he failed in looking after you while you’re in his own party?

“Well, her car’s back here.  So are her shoes and bag.  Did something happen back there?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Rafe rubs his forehead.  “Yeah, some misunderstanding, sir.  But it was taken care of.”

“Good to know.  You let me know when you see her.  I’d go out and find her but my boat’s been having problems, it’s being fixed right now.”

“She went out on her boat?”  Rafe clarified as he stood.  “It’s dark out.”

“I know.  That’s what concerns me.”

Rafe shakes his head, his shaking hands pulling at his drawer haphazardly to look for a flashlight.

“I’ll go out and find her, sir.  Me and the boys.”  Rafe reassures him and he hears your father breathe out a sigh of relief.

“I appreciate it, son.”

Topper and Kelce were already at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him.  Rafe barely spares them a glance as he pushes past the crowd.

“Rafe, where are you going?”  Topper calls from behind him.

“Y/N’s out at sea.”  Rafe shakes his head.  “She always does that when she’s upset.”

Why did you have to do it now? When it’s nearly midnight?

“I can’t reach her.”  Topper says and Rafe clicks his tongue. 

“No service.”  Rafe swore.  “I fucking hate it when she does this stuff.  Fucking impulsive.”  He mutters.

Just another thing that you both have in common.

Topper and Kelce share a glance. 

“Yeah.  How about we split up?”  Topper asks.  “I can take my boat.  Kelce can take his.  Let’s just spread out.”

Rafe pauses his steps.  “Right, let’s do that.  Let me know the moment you see her, alright?”

Topper nods and leaves with Kelce close behind him.

If he had to be honest with you, Rafe is still pissed off from that stunt you pulled at the Country Club and he was trying to teach you a lesson so you’ll think twice about doing it again.  But the vultures came swooping in the moment he let you out of his sight.

Rafe slammed his fist on the Jet Ski in a fit of rage.  You could be anywhere, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to find you.

Lovesick Little Thing

[nohoney]

touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [14K] PART ONE OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

And, baby, for you I would fall from grace

He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt's front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but you’d learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.   

And Steve Harrington was old, old money. 

The watch cost more than your car and a year's rent on your apartment. Fuck, it cost more than you’d probably ever make working behind the bar of Hawkins’ country club. It cost more than the short black dress you were made to wear, the one that cinched you in at the waist and flared out over your thighs. It shone more than the gold plated name badge that was pinned on your chest, making your plunging neckline even more obvious. It cost more than the black heels that were part of your uniform, more than the five dollar balm that made your lips glossy and peach coloured. 

But still, Steve Harrington and his old, old money noticed you. 

—————

The restaurant was full, the bar even busier, the smoking lounge that sat through the double doors stuffed with leather chairs, studded couches, velvet footstools and table lined with cigars in wooden boxes. The full place smelled like bourbon and smoke, expensive cologne, perfume that cost even more. 

The Lake House country club was Hawkins’ finest institute, an old Manor House that was built on the shore of Lovers Lake, across the water from where teens liked to lurk in their cars and between tree trunks. The Lake House was where the town's elite came to dine, to drink, to lounge and talk. There were brunches with champagne and whisky, afternoon tea with ladies who wore diamonds and pearls, dinners with wine from 1802 and business meetings on the golfing green. Money poured from the club and filled the cracks in the old bricks, men with their daddy’s money bringing in their daughters, their sons, their wives. And when the family drove home in their Bentley, girlfriend’s arrived in red bottomed shoes, perching on laps in the smoking lounge like it was their jobs. 

Maybe it was. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

Your job was to stay behind the bar, a huge mahogany thing that took up most of the back wall. Everything was dark wood and lined with green velvet, the bar stools suede and gold studded, the bottles of alcohol on the glass shelves nothing less than a month's paycheck each. Martini glasses glittered, whisky was in the air like car fumes and the lime you were cutting into wheels was making the cut on your finger pulse.  

He walked in then, into the busy room like he owned it. The Harringtons were certainly wealthy enough to do so, but Michael Harrington and his wife simply liked to dine at the club on Sundays, take up on the tennis courts midweek and finish the day at the spa with a massage each. 

Six hundred dollars a session to hire out the court, four hundred dollar scotch, three hundred dollar steaks (eighty dollars more for the potato dauphinoise), five hundred dollars for a couples massage. Oh, and a one hundred dollar tip for the fucker unfortunate enough to have to deal with them. 

In cash, of course. 

But their son? Steve Harrington moved out of Hawkins long before anyone could work out if he’d grow up to be as cold as his father. Away from small towns, rumour had it he went to New York, an apartment in Manhattan, a job on Wall Street where he started at the bottom and worked his way up on luck, expensive vodka and daddy’s money. But then again, others said he spent his summers in Europe, talks of Italian villas, vineyards in Tuscany, selling yachts to the elite in Cannes, spending his time trading money through casinos, long months in Monaco during the spring. 

Seeing him back in Hawkins was unusual, uncommon, a goddamn rarity - but there he was, letting himself drop into the barstool in front of you like a Greek god etched from marble so expensive that you could barely afford to look at it. He sat with a friend, another twenty something that looked more man than boy because of their tailored trousers, crisp shirts, linen and cashmere and gold on their wrists, round their necks, family rings on their hands. 

Steve Harrington didn’t click his fingers at you like other members of the club did when they demanded to be served, but he did rap two knuckles against the bar top, a gold band on his middle finger hitting the wood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, careful and cuffed just below his elbows, the top three buttons undone to show off tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair. More gold, a thin chain settling in the dip of his throat, stubble along his jaw that looked like it was there deliberately, not because he’d forgotten to shave. 

You held your breath when you approached. You’d never served the youngest Harrington before - fuck, you’d never seen him here - but you knew who he was and the reputation dripped from him. 

Old money, older estates, acres of land, shares in companies that were so ridiculously rich you didn’t know what they were for. Fast cars, scandals in Europe, yachts with his name on it.  

Stomach in knots, you straightened up, smoothed down then front of your dress and put on the same smile you used for all the club members. “Gentlemen,” you greeted, “what can I get you both?”

Steve looked at you but his friend didn’t, his back to you as he surveyed the room, mumbling comments about the lack of skirt that showed up this early in the afternoon. You recognised him, a regular in the later evenings, Jonathan Byers, a fiend for a good cigar, an even bigger fan of the girls that held the poker events on weekends. 

“Two Macallans,” Steve told you, already fishing out a money clip from his trouser pocket. The clip was gold, engraved with his initials: SMH. “Twenty year reserve, no ice.”

He really looked at you then, thumbing through one hundred dollar bills, eyes raking up and down your frame as you stood and listened diligently. Even when you turned to pull the bottle of scotch off the top shelf, you could feel him watching, one eyebrow quirked, full lips parted just a little, the top of his tongue peeking from between. Steve looked interested, intrigued. Maybe just a little less bored than before. 

You kept your head down, polishing the tumblers before you poured, a three finger amount of the dark amber liquid and the smell of fire and smoke filled your nose. You’d watched enough men sit around the bar and swirl their drinks under the nostrils, waffling about notes of chocolate and spice before they sipped. It all smelled the same, no matter what price was on the label, like car fuel and burning. Steve downed the drink in one when you handed it to him, like he wasn’t swallowing liquid fire that cost him more than you’d make in a week. 

You watched as his throat bobbed, his lips coming away from the rim of the glass a little glossy, how he licked over his bottom one to catch any alcohol that lingered. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and charm before he passed you six hundred dollars in notes. 

You nodded your thanks and went to the cash register, smiling what you hoped was politely as you tried to hand him back his change. Ninety dollars, pressed neatly in a pile of twenties and tens. The boy waved you off, still paying a lot of attention to the bare skin along your neckline, gaze running up the column of your throat. His eyes found yours when he finally spoke and god, they were the same colour as the scotch he just shotted.  

“Keep the change, honey.” Steve smiled again, a smug thing that made you aware of how warm your cheeks were. Then he slid on a pair of sunglasses he took from his shirt pocket and pushed his hair back with a hand, nudging his friend to drink up before they both slid off the stools. “Just make sure it goes in your own pocket, okay?”

You gaped at him. The Lake House’s policy when it came to tips - no matter how generous - was for them to be placed in a jar in the back office, ready to be split between staff, however hard individuals had worked, or not worked, that shift. 

The money burnt your fingers. “Um, that’s very generous but I can’t—”

Steve lifted a navy sweater he’d draped on the back of his chair, crushing the soft fabric with one hand. He used the other to reach out, plucking the bills from your fingers so he could fold them all together. His gaze met yours when he leaned back over the bar, unblinking, knuckles grazing the bare skin above your chest when he tucked the money into the neckline of your dress. It stayed there, hidden and you had to snap your jaw shut when Steve grinned at you before he pulled away. 

He raised a finger to his lips, like you were sharing a secret and not a sackable offence and his friend snorted, like he’d seen it all before. Maybe he had. 

“See you next time, honey,” Steve drawled, fishing keys out of his pocket. The silver logo of BMW glinted in the low lighting. “Thanks for the drinks.”

That was the first time you met Steve Harrington. 

Just to touch your face

The next time, he was with a group of people in the smoking lounge, all of them loud, most of them dirty rich and he had a girl on his lap. A waifish thing, pretty and delicate with a ruby pendant that settled in the dip of her chest. She held a martini glass aloft, one that you had to refill and you cursed The Lake House and its rules as your heels taptaptapped across the marble tiles. The hem of your dress swished across your thighs, your hand held a gold tray and the fresh martini swirled in its glass atop it, a well practised movement that made sure none of it spilled. The olive inside tumbled around gin and vermouth. 

Inside of the lounge, smoke billowed. Cigars and cigarettes poised between fingertips, hanging from lips that couldn’t help but spill secrets about their dirty businesses, the people they slept with before, the people they’d bed tonight. Nobody moved out of your way as you squeezed past tables and between the low sofas, leather and velvet brushing the backs of your thighs until you were able to present Steve Harrington’s lap warmer with her new drink. 

She took it from your tray, replaced it with her empty glass and said nothing. It was her hand on Steve’s chest that caused him to look away from the men he was talking with, a hushed sounding discussion about money in Monaco, about the company and its takings for that summer. He frowned at the girl and her pawing until he caught sight of you, his lips lifting in a smile that seemed more dangerous than welcoming. 

You smiled back, polite to a fault, throat going dry when you watched Steve’s gaze drop to that bare expanse of skin above your neckline. It wasn’t obscene, it wasn’t even suggestive. In fact, there was barely any amount of cleavage on show at all per the clubs rules but Steve was fixated on a freckle below your collarbone and the feel of his eyes on you made you fidget. 

You tucked the tray under one arm and tried not to shuffle on the spot. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

There was something in Steve’s reaction to your question. Maybe it was the ‘sir,’ the way you tipped your head towards him when you said it, soft and gentle and pretty. He knew you had to call all the members of the club such niceties but Steve’s eyes flashed and his lips parted, the hand he had on the arm of the sofa curling around the leather a little tighter. 

“A Macallan,” he asked, just like the first time. “No—”

“No ice,” you finished for him, nodding. “I’ll bring that right over.”

You blew out a breath when you turned, heels clicking on the marble as you made your way back to the bar. The lights were dimmed throughout the club in the evening, wall sconces letting out a warm glow, the huge fireplace in the main lounge roaring, popping and cracking with wooden logs. The whole place smelled like pine, like cedar and smoke and expensive leather. Women laughed softly, hanging off their husbands arms, dripping in pearls, in jewels, in false pretences. You smiled nicely at passing club members as you poured Steve’s drink, hands a little shaky from you out down to missing your lunch break, not excitement.

Definitely not nerves. 

You placed the chilled glass back on the tray, amber liquid shining inside the crystal, and made your way to the smoking lounge. Steve was alone when you returned, his lap empty, the girl gone. Not just from his lap, but from the room entirely. You scanned the lounge, expecting to see her on her way back, maybe with a complaint about the drink you made her, just to make you feel small but no - she’d been removed. Your heart skipped, an awful stuttering feeling that you didn’t want to feel. Lowering the tray, you offered Steve his drink, gaze cast down as you felt his on you the entire time. Steve leaned up, too close, taking his drink and smiling at you. 

You were just about to leave when:

“Why don’t you join me?”

The rest of the room was as loud as it was before, music under voices, laughter mixed with a saxophone record, conversations in the smoke. But Steve’s voice rang out almost too clearly from amongst it all. Still, you blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. “Sorry?”

Steve nodded at the seat next to him as he sank back into the couch, an arm thrown over the back of it as he took a sip of his scotch. The watch on his wrist caught the low light as he ripped the glass against his lips, cheeks flushed from the log burner. 

He was dressed in what you assumed he’d deem a little more casual than the last time you saw him. A black silk shirt, short sleeved and with the top few buttons undone again. No visible label, no ostentatious brand name on the chest but you knew well enough by then to know that just meant it was even more expensive. Black trousers, tailored for him and a pair of black boots with a sharp toe. His hair was less styled, maybe from the way his lost friend had been running her fingers through it earlier. Strands of it fell into his eyes and you swallowed hard when you realised you were staring. 

“Take a seat,” Steve asked again, lips curling up in amusement at your flustered expression. 

You blinked at him before you remembered to stand back up straight, tucking the tray back under your arm and hoping that none of the club's managerial staff were lingering nearby. You’d already spent too long away from the bar. “I, um, I can’t. I’m sorry,” you pressed your lips together and tried not to look too regretful. “I'm working.”

Steve snorted, a sound that should’ve been more unattractive than it was but it only made you want to hear what he had to say. He took another pull of his drink, barely wincing when the burn of it trickled down his throat. You did the maths in your head, wondering how it felt to be swallowing seventy dollar sips. He raised his brows and shrugged, looking around theatrically.

“And?” The boy smiled, equal parts pretty and smug. 

You were a little flustered, both at how nice he looked when he smiled and how bold he was being. You opened and closed your lips before parting them again, another polite smile there. “I need to get back to the bar,” you explained. “I’ll get into tr—”

“Trouble?” Steve finished. He shook his head and grinned, a megawatt thing that made you understand that, yes, all the rumours were true. That the famed Harrington Charm was very much a thing. But fuck, his father didn’t smile at you like that. In fact, he didn’t smile at all. “Oh, honey. No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Worried Frederick is gonna fire you?”

Steve dropped the name of your manager like they were friends. They probably were. He looked at you expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took another sip, licking the liquid from his lips. You wondered if he tasted as expensive as his liquor choices. 

You nodded, shrugging, grasping for a reason to say no to this boy - this man. The line at the bar was growing, annoyed looking men clicking their fingers at a flustered looking new girl who was trying to pour champagne into a wine glass. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. 

“He won’t fire you,” Steve assured. He patted the leather next to him, gold ring glinting in the warm light. “C’mon. Sit. I want to talk to you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. 

“Do you always get what you want?” You said it quietly, watching Steve’s lips curl into a grin when he heard. 

Another smile, mega watt, just for you. He tipped his head back and laughed, a pretty sounding thing that made the muscles down his neck stand out, chin tilted up to the gold leafed ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he told you, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed from the fire, the lights, the scotch. “I do.” 

You shouldn’t have done it. You weren’t allowed. There were strict rules about staff mingling with club members - fuck, it was written in red ink on your contract. You were too used to some of the clientele pushing the limits, trying to soften your boundaries with wads of cash, talks of a private plane to some European city where their wife didn’t like to visit. Older men, rich men, business men, family men. All looking for someone young and easily led and agreeable to have fun with between meetings and luncheons, someone to light their cigar and top up their drink for them. They liked to look at you like something to eat up, to chew up, to spit out when they were done and Frederick inevitably hired someone new and younger and prettier. 

You’d seen it happen before. Girls sucked into the lifestyle they could never have, coming into work with new shoes, red bottomed heels with their uniform dress, a Chanel lipstick in their purse, a Porsche waiting outside for them after their shift finished and in the end, a scorned wife in the dining room ready to throw a drink over them. 

You’d seen it all.  

But Steve Harrington was looking at you with so much intrigue. A pretty smile behind his tiny glass of three hundred dollar scotch, messy hair, bright eyes, that black silk shirt that looked easy to slip your fingers into. He was younger, more subtle with it all but the easy confidence in which he spoke to you had you squeezing your thighs together and wondering if your chest would stop feeling as tight. 

It didn’t. 

You sat down. 

Steve grinned, victorious and he moved against the leather sofa so he was sitting back against the arm, turned to face you fully. He brought one foot up to rest on his other knee, hand curling around his leg, and from there you could see the tiny brand on his loafers, a little gold insignia. Yves Saint Laurent. You wanted to laugh. His shoes cost more than you made in three months. 

“What’s your name?” Steve asked. 

You wore the same gold plated pin that every other staff member wore. The Lake House engraved on it along with the logo, a stupidly elaborate key. Underneath, your name was printed in bold letters, but Steve wasn’t looking at it. He was watching your face, brows raised expectantly. He wanted to hear you speak. 

Pressing the tray to your lap, you lingered on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around for your boss, or worse, the girl this man was last seen with. Was it his girlfriend? Did he have a wife? You weren’t sure how old Steve was, but you didn’t see a ring on his wedding finger, not that that meant much in a place like The Lake House. Wedding bands frequented coat pockets more than fingers here. 

You swallowed and told him your name, your voice cracking with nerves that you tried to laugh at but that came out wobbly too. Your shyness made Steve grin a little wider, his wide hands curling around his ankle as he lounged back against the cushions and appraised you with a look that shouldn’t have been proper for public. 

He repeated your name back to you and it sounded so much sweeter on his lips. He said it slowly, a low murmur that made your tummy clench, like he was tasting it out, tasting it on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name,” he said. “I’m Steve Harr—”

You laughed, sharp and surprised. “I know who you are, Mr Harrington.”

If Steve was shocked by his news, he didn’t show it. It was your job to know the members, after all. Their names, their families, the work they were in. Their favourite table, their favourite drink, the time they liked to dine, their preferred slot for playing a round of golf. So instead he smiled and nodded before holding out a hand. 

You took it and he squeezed gently, shaking it politely as he said, “well then, please call me Steve.”

You nodded, wondering if that was allowed. None of this was allowed. Fuck, you glanced around again, eyes a little wide, wondering if Frederick was in his office, god forbid, watching you through the cameras. Steve must’ve noticed this, because he swallowed down the last of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. You’d have to move it soon. 

“Relax.” His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, tanned and corded with lithe muscles. His fingers tapped a beat on the leather, close to your shoulder. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You laughed, a shaky, ironic sounding thing. You forgot who you were talking to, just for a second, your heart pumping. “That’s easy for you to say.” You swore then, a pained noise, because Frederick was marching out of his office, three piece suit right across his shoulders and his pocket watch swinging.

He was coming over. 

You made a noise similar to a squeak, drinks tray clutched to your chest and you made to jump up but Steve’s hand stopped you. Warm and wide, it took up most of your knee and you blinked at it in surprise. He didn’t move it when you stared at him and he still didn’t move it when Frederick approached, red faced and nostrils flaring. 

“Mr Harrington, sir, it’s so good to see you back at The Lake House,” your manager began, his voice a well practised purr. There was a slight British tinge to his voice, one you knew was fake. “Please take my sincerest apologies for you being bothered. I’ll be asking my staff to join me in the office for a much required conversation about professional boundaries. Please excu—”

“Fred,” Steve greeted warmly, his smile much more forced than the one he’d been giving you. Frederick twitched. “Nice to see you.” Steve’s hand still covered your lower thigh and squeezed slightly, in what you thought was supposed to be reassuring but his thumb on the inside of your knee made you too warm. “No need for anything like that, actually.” Steve said your name, wrapped it around his tongue and licked over his lip like he was savouring it before he continued. “—was invited to sit with me.”

The clubhouse manager hardened, a flash of annoyance going over his features and his neck grew more red in anger. He smiled through it, a tight lipped thing that Steve grinned at and you had to duck your head, panic ripping through your body. You couldn’t lose this job. 

“How nice,” Frederick finally ground out. He clasped his hands in front of him and glared at you from the sides of his eyes before he smiled at Steve again. “I hope my staff is doing her utmost to keep you pleased, Mr Harrington. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.”

You hated the way he said it, like any club member could get anything they wanted from you, just because they had enough money to be here. It made you square off your shoulders and lift your head, emboldened. Steve was watching you, that look of intrigue on his face once more. He nodded at Frederick and then gestured to his empty glass. 

“Actually, Freddie, could you be a pal and fetch me another?” His tone was too polite, bordering on patronising. Frederick’s tight smile grew tighter, a thin line that stretched across his ruddy face until you feared it might split. “A Macallan, no ice. Anything for the lady?” Steve turned to you and winked, a subtle thing that let you know everything was under control. 

But you knew better than to rock the boat, better than that, you knew not to drink on the job. Especially from the club’s bar. The only thing you could afford from behind the mahogany counter was the one thing Steve always refused. Ice. 

“No, thank you,” you murmured. 

Your manager had no choice but to walk away, his back rigid, proverbial steam coming out from his ears. You watched him snap Steve’s order at a poor, unsuspecting barman who then brought it back over on another shiny tray. He raised his brows at you when Steve thanked him for it and you shrugged, not knowing what was going on either. 

When he left, Steve turned back to you, leaning back into the sofa. He looked more tanned that the last time you’d seen him. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warm glow from the sconces along the walls, the amber coloured shade on the lamp beside him. Maybe he’d just been back to Italy. 

Monaco. France. Spain. 

He took a sip, eyes dancing over you and when he brought the drink back down to rest on his knee, he spoke. “Have you worked here long?”

It took you a second to realise he was speaking to you again, his voice lower and softer than it had been with your boss. You noticed Steve has a habit of direct eye contact, always looking right into your own eyes as he spoke. It was a little jarring, the confidence, that bold type of charm that must come with always getting what you want. 

“Uh, yeah,” you scrunched your nose, trying to remember months and years. “Three years now, or close enough.”

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Steve quipped back, his smile easy, his eyes roaming over you. His ring tapped against his glass of scotch and you didn’t know what to do. Was he flirting with you? “Do you live in town?”

“Couple miles out, smaller place near Sugar Creek.” You weren’t sure why you were telling him this. 

“Yeah, I know it,” Steve replied. “Makes sense, why I hadn’t seen you around before. Did you go to school ‘round here?”

You felt like you were being interviewed. A handsome, rich man asking the questions, sitting easy in his throne and you had an awful, awful urge to please him with your answers. To do good. To be praised. 

“I went to St. Mary’s High in Green Bay,” you swallowed, your tongue feeling too big for you mouth. Nerves bubbled in your stomach. “Then I was supposed to move to California— Berkeley.” You winced, remembering. 

Steve looked surprised, eyebrows raised, nodding. “What was your major?”

“Social law.”

Steve hummed. “Smart girl.” There it was. That praise. You tingled with it. “What happened?”

You heard the words he didn’t say, the unasked question. ‘Why aren’t you there? Why are you here? Wearing that silly little dress and heels that hurt your feet and that fake, fake smile that makes your cheeks hurt so much you want to scream into your pillow when you get home every night?’

You pondered over what to say. How truthful to be. How blunt, how ugly and honest. Shit, you could’ve said. Family, parents, money, bad luck, worse circumstances. Housing, a broken down car, an apartment that fell through at the last minute, a scholarship that didn’t happen, an aunt that got sick, a mom who didn’t like to let go. 

Instead you smiled politely and said: “life.” 

Steve gave you a wry smile in return, one that told you he could see through it all and he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he knew you weren’t allowed to and you were playing by the rules. Frederick was at the bar, staring at your back until you felt your bones crunch with the weight of it. 

Steve finished his drink, slid his glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. “It was nice to talk to you,” he said simply. He took your hand, not to shake it like last time, no. Instead he held it for a beat or two, and when he took his away, neatly folded bills were left between your fingers. They burned. 

“For the table service,” he said as a way of explaining. You didn’t know if he meant the drink or you. “I’ll see you next time, honey.”

And then he left. You watched him saunter through the bar, nodding and smiling at people who greeted him, taking his jacket from someone at the door and then he was gone. 

That was the second time you met Steve Harrington. 

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

A week later you were clocking into work with the intention of heading to the staff locker rooms, ready to wrestle yourself into that black dress the club called a uniform. It was early afternoon on a Wednesday and The Lake House was quiet, a few greying women you knew to be part of the book club were sat having tea by a window, a group of men leaving the gym, sweat barely there, but the towels over their shoulders had designer logos stitched in the corners. 

Frederick found you with your heels in your hand, a look of disgust on your face as you kicked off your sneakers. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the girls locker room, but he shook his head at you and took the stilettos from your hand. 

“No,” he looked irritated, as if you should’ve known better. “You’re on the green today.”

You screwed up your nose at him. You were never on the green and you told him as such. “The schedule has me in the bar all day.”

Frederick huffed as if such questions were an inconvenience to him. He ducked, rooting around in your locker as his shoulder bumped your knee and he came back with the uniform you hardly had to wear. A white tennis skirt, bordering on too short with pleats that made the men tip well, even as their wives glared. A forest green sweater to match, the same colour as the club logo, white sneakers that were brand new from never being used. 

“Special request,” your boss told you in lieu of a real explanation. “Get dressed, they’re waiting. Hurry.”

You gaped at him as he bundled the clothes into your arms. “Who’s waiting?” You called after him. “What hole?”

“Any of them,” Frederick yelled back as he walked out of the locker room and down the hall. His voice echoed back to you, a daunting thing. “He booked out the whole course.”

Driving the beer cart over the green was always a nerve wracking experience. The drinks rattled noisily and the breeze kept catching at your skirt, threatening to flip it up over your thighs as you tried to manoeuvre the buggy around the man made dunes and valleys. You weren’t sure where you were driving to, or who you were going to meet, but you kept an eye out at each hole for someone, anyone. 

It could only really be one of two people, you guessed. Mr Donaldson was harmless enough, but he had a decade or three on your own age. Divorced and the owner of a film company in Atlanta, the man liked to frequent the clubhouse during the summers he spent back in Hawkins, pretending he was visiting his young daughter when he really preferred to lounge at the bar during your shift, trying to convince you that you just needed to see his condo in Georgia. 

The only other person you could think of that would request you and you alone, was someone you haven't seen since the week before. You’d looked for him, watched the cars coming into the lot to be dropped off for the valet’s to park but you hadn’t seen any BMW’s. Steve didn’t visit the bar, didn’t spend any afternoons in the smoking lounge - you didn’t even see him with Jonathan Byers at the poker night on Tuesday. 

You thought he might’ve left town again. Back to whatever European city he’d decided on for the week, for the month. Maybe he’d gone back to New York, maybe he had meetings. Maybe he had a girlfriend, one for each country. 

Mr Donaldson was the harmless option. Annoying, sure. But bearable. Safe. Mr Harrington… he wasn’t harmless at all. You knew which one you wanted to see. 

Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich. 

Billy Hargrove of Hargrove’s Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his father’s company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water. 

Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were ‘leaked’ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco. 

Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didn’t they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.

A few other men lingered, clutching at clubs and practising their swings, Wall Street leeches that were stuck at the bottom of the totem pole but still decided they had enough money in their daddies bank to be able to click their fingers at you and smack your ass as their Rolex’s jingled.  

Amongst them all, in black slacks and a white polo, was Steve Harrington. Sunglasses over his eyes, leather golfing gloves on his hands, he was smirking at something Eddie said before his head snapped to you. In fact, everyone was staring at you. 

You tried to keep your head high and your expression neutral, turning off the engine to the golf cart and doing your best to swing your legs out without flashing anything you weren’t supposed to. You kept your hands on your skirt, smoothing it down, hoping that you could get through this shift without any embar—

A long whistle, salacious and eager, coming from Billy Hargrove. A few of the boy’s laughed and Billy grinned, sharklike, letting his eyes crawl from your toes to your tits. “Damn, Harrington. You paid for one of the good ones, huh? C’mere, Sugar, daddy needs a drink—”

You were frozen, standing awkwardly by the back of the buggy where the drinks were kept in a cooler, a thousand dollar pick ‘n’ mix of whisky, scotch and gin for the men to choose from. There wasn’t any Bud Light at The Lake House, not even on the green. 

But Billy didn’t get much further into his catcalls, stopped by a hand on his elbow that tugged him away from you and the other men. The snickering stopped, a heavy silence falling over the group as Steve took Billy aside with nothing more than a touch to his arm. You watched as Steve slid his sunglasses off, his hard gaze on the other boy as he whispered something too low for you to hear. But Billy listened, albeit with a glare in his eyes, but he nodded, sharp and just once. His jaw flexed. 

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what to do. You found Eddie’s gaze, saw his soft smile, knowing. He winked at you, twirling a club in his hand as he waited for the game to continue. And it did, once Steve seemingly dismissed Hargrove. The other men started talking again, easy and light like nothing had happened, requesting different drinks from you that you pulled out of the cooler, ice making your hands wet and numb. 

And all the while Steve lingered at the back of them, sitting in the driver's side of the other golf cart, waiting with his eyes on you. He didn’t approach once Jonathan left with his glass of Glenfiddich, in fact, he didn’t make out like he wanted a drink at all. So you stood by the cart like you were supposed to and watched the men take turns at swinging a stick at a ball, yelling profanities when they missed, yelling more profanities when they didn’t. 

You couldn’t help let your gaze wander to Steve, the picture of luxury as he leaned back in the leather seat, one leg out of the cart and stretched across neatly clipped grass. He was lighting a cigarette, held between his lips as he lowered his gaze to his cupped hands, gold zippo flickering with an amber flame. He looked up as he blew out the smoke, eyes finding yours, grinning when you startled. 

Steve took another drag and asked, “you not comin’ to say hi?”

Three years of ingrained obedience made your feet move forward, doing as you were told at the words of another rich man. You felt unsure, walking across the green empty handed, but Steve hadn’t asked for a drink, so you stopped just shy of where his leg was stretched out of the cart. If you moved any closer, you would’ve been between his spread knees. You clasped your hands in front of you, pressed against your little, white skirt. It lifted a little with the breeze, a sharper wind than the day before that told the town fall was coming. 

Steve watched the hem catch and fall back against your thighs, brown eyes tracking the movement to see what little new skin he could watch but apart from that, he didn’t make any of the lewd comments his friend had. 

“Mr Harrington,” you said as a greeting. “Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?” You were polite to a fault, well trained, good mannered, an expert in making yourself small and only seen when spoken to. 

Steve ignored your question. He inhaled his cigarette again, cheeks hollowing out, lips pursing, jaw sharpening. He smiled at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth, the wind taking it away from your face. “I told you to call me Steve,” he said and his voice was quiet, a low thing that made your face heat up. You tried to apologise, but he kept talking. “How are you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question. You didn’t think you’d ever been asked that while at work. “Uh, I’m fine, thank you. How’re you?”

Steve nodded and flicked ash onto the grass, letting it sink into the course. “I’m great, thank you. Better now you’re here.” He grinned when you fidgeted, lips parting, hands unsure what to do. You twisted your fingers together a little tighter. “You okay being out here?” Steve let the cigarette balance between his lips and you watched it move as he spoke around it. “I can let you go back inside, if you’d like.”

Normally such words would be used as a trick, a trap, a warning. A subtle threat from an unhappy customer that would ensure you did as they wanted, even if it meant staying later than you were being paid for, adding extra time to their spa passes, even if it risked your own employment. But Steve looked and sounded genuine, his eyes watching you as you worked up the courage to tell him the truth.  

“It’s okay,” you finally said, voice betraying how shy you felt. You sounded confident, in control. You felt nothing of the sort, especially when the boy grinned again, wider this time and god, he looked like he owned the world and everything in it. 

“Excellent.” Steve flicked the stub of his cigarette away and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head at the empty seat beside him and said: “jump in.”

You stuttered over an excuse, an explanation, eyes a little wide as you looked back over to the rest of the group, the drinks cart you were supposed to man all day. “I— I can’t? I’ve to stay with the cart all day, if I leave it I’ll get into—”

Steve cut you off with a tsk and a shake of his head. His voice turned to liquid gold as he spoke, rich and sweet and awfully condescending. It made you drip. “What did I tell you last time, huh, honey? No one’s gonna tell you off unless it’s me. Now c’mon, you don’t wanna spend some time with me?”

You could’ve stayed. You were sure Steve wouldn’t have been mad. You should’ve stayed. You were breaking rules. All of them. But Steve was grinning at you from the front seat of the golf cart, tanned arms flexed as his leather gloves gripped the wheel and all of his friends played pretend, like they couldn’t hear what was going on behind them as they took another swing. 

You should’ve stayed. Maybe went back into the clubhouse, took off your sweater and skirt and played nice behind the bar in your usual attire, serving clients old enough to be your grandfather as they slipped fifty dollar bills into your hand just so you’d lean over for them again. 

You got in the cart. 

Steve positively beamed, a hot smirk that stretched across his pretty face and you barely heard the whistles and yowls of his friends as he sped away as fast as the buggy would allow. He went off course, cruising alongside the green and heading towards the path between the woods that took you to lovers lake. 

“Feeling bad today, Berkeley?” The nickname caused your heart to jump, confirmation that he’d been listening the last time you both spoke, that he’d remembered. 

But still guilt and worry gnawed at your chest and you looked around at the empty course, half expecting to see Frederick chasing after you both in the drinks cart you’d abandoned so carelessly. What did it matter, really? The price of everything in the cart was included in whatever it had cost for Steve to book out the entire fucking course for the day. A stolen scotch or two didn’t matter. Not really. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t say anything at all, just sitting by Steve’s side like a baby deer caught in headlights, like a good little girl that wanted to know if it really was true, if Steve really could keep you out of the trouble he was leading you into. The boy must’ve seen your bleak expression ‘cause he laughed, pushing back the hair that the wind blew across his forehead. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” Steve glanced over at you as he turned down the dirt path to the lake. You could see his eyes shining at you through his shades, amusement making them glitter. “I promise.”

So you nodded and tried to smile, doing your best to relax into the seat and when the cart bumped over a fallen branch that Steve didn’t bother to avoid, the jostle of it made your thigh bump into his. He grasped at your knee as an apology of sort, murmuring something you couldn’t hear over the wind, but his palm engulfed your bare knee once more and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t think of anything else. His gold ring looked pretty against your skin, his tanned hand complimenting the dough of your thigh nicely and you tried to remember how to talk. 

“Is there something you needed my help with at the lake, Mr Harrington?” You didn’t think Steve needed any help on how to work speed boats or jet skis, but still, you weren’t sure what else to say. 

Steve laughed again, a pretty sound that made your toes curl and he slowed the cart to a stop at a shaded area along the shore, far enough away from the sandy embankment that the men on the lake in their fishing boats wouldn’t be able to see you. “C’mon now, I thought you were a smart thing,” Steve pouted at you as he turned off the cart's engine. His hand left your leg and you mourned the loss of it, heart jumping again when his hand curled around the back of your seat instead. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Your chest warmed like you were back in middle school, getting scolded by a teacher who you didn’t want to disappoint. It bloomed across your neck and face, only getting hotter as the entire sensation of it made you squeeze your clasped hands between your thighs. Steve’s gaze dropped to your lap, a quick glance down that made the corners of his lips curve up. 

“Steve,” you said quietly, sounding shy, reserved. Your body was giving away too much, you couldn’t let your voice join in. 

Steve nodded and the hand that was resting against your seat moved a little, brushing against your sweater until he could rub a thumb against your shoulder blade. “See, she’s a smart girl after all, isn’t she?”

You could only nod. What the fuck was going on? Hidden by the trees, on the edge of the water that was across from where you usually spent weekday afternoons. You could see The Lake House from here, could practically feel Frederick’s gaze out of the bay windows, boring a hole into the middle of your forehead as you sat with one of the most affluent clients on the rolodex. Steve Harrington had his arm around your back, his eyes on your bare thighs, his other hand ghosting along the hem of your skirt. He pulled at it, bringing it down the mere centimetre it had ridden up, knuckles skimming your too hot skin. 

He didn’t look away from it when he asked you: “And if you are a clever, little thing, d’you know why I brought you here?”

If it had been dark, if it had been closer to night, if the grounds had been empty and the lake was still, maybe you would’ve felt more scared than you were. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would have been sitting there in the shadow of the trees and cursing yourself out for being so stupid. Going with this boy - this man - letting him take you off alone and away from prying eyes, letting him touch your leg and get too close. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Despite what Steve said, this wasn’t smart, was it?

But you found that you didn’t care. You really didn’t fucking care. Not one bit. 

You shrugged, cheeks warm, too wary to say anything out of turn, too cautious to say anything too bold for fear of losing your job. Or worse, being rejected. 

Steve pouted. “No?” He tutted and sighed, a dramatic sounding thing and he let his hand fell back onto your leg, higher this time. You held your breath as he skimmed his palm upupup until his fingertips disappeared under the hem of your skirt that he’d just pulled down for you. “Well, I wanted to personally invite you the poker game with me tomorrow night. You know the one, don’t you? It’s in the lounge, nine o’clock.”

You tried to steady your breathing, exhaling sharply from your nose as Steve’s fingers wandered, never going higher, going slow and soft enough that you could slap his hand away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “I’m working that shift,” you whispered. 

His eyes met yours, his grin blinding. “Good, you’ll be there then.”

“Working,” you reminded him, the last syllable of the word hitching in your mouth as his fingers passed over your leg once more. You felt the cool metal of his gold band on the inside of your thigh. “I’ll be there to work.”

Steve nodded, like he understood, like he wasn’t planning to monopolise every minute of your shift, wondering how long he could keep you by his side at the poker table before you got too worried and scrambled back to the bar. “Of course.” He pulled back a little, his nose too close to brushing yours as you couldn’t help but lean in too, head tilted up to his like you did it all the time. “And then after that,” he took his hand from your thigh and you tried not to cry about it, ‘cause he used the back of his hand to push your hair away from your face instead. “You could come back to mine?”

 Oh, fuck. You couldn’t help the smile that fluttered across your face, the giddy, shy laugh that followed. You were flustered and it showed, and as much as it made Steve smile back, it made him hard as a fucking rock. 

“Shit, uh, god, sorry,” you shook your head, as if to clear it. You felt fuzzy, hazy, under Steve’s spell as he kept smiling at you, clearly entertained by your flushed face, your dazed expression. “I’m really not supposed to do that.”

You didn’t say no, Steve noted. You didn’t say that you didn’t want to. In fact, from the way your eyes dropped to his lips over and over again, Steve was pretty sure he could seal this deal with you faster than his last visit meeting with that winery in Sorrento. 

That wasn’t to say you were easy, no. Just real fucking cute. He had a forty percent share in that vineyard and soon enough, he’d have you too. 

“What?” He played dumb, all syrupy sweet smiles and his voice all soft. He traced a circle around your knee. “You can’t see me out of work? Surely Fredrick isn’t that much of a tyrant, honey.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the one that made you feel like he was undressing you. You were too warm and his innocent fingertips on your knee were making you wanna drag his hand back up your thigh and underneath the hem of your skirt. “We’re not supposed to involve ourselves with club members.” Your words felt dull in your mouth, heavy and cotton like. 

Pointless. 

Steve pouted, lips pursing like he was trying to get you to kiss him. He tutted; his warm, wide palm curling around your thigh again. He squeezed gently and your mouth fell open, panting, an invitation. “What if I want to be involved with you, hm? What then, honey?”

You let your head fall back a little, lips wet and parted, eyes closing briefly, because Steve let his fingers slide up a little further, the tips of his middle and pointer finger brushing, just fucking barely, across the cotton of your underwear. You knew you were wet and you knew that he did too. How could he not? The damp fabric dragged across his digits and you saw the realisation in his eyes, that flash of heat, that curl of his lips that made his smile a smirk. 

“Remember what I told you?” He let his lips fall into ‘o’ at your small noise, an almost whine that sounded blissed out. God, he could have fun with you. “Do you? C’mon smart girl, what do I always get?”

You blinked at him, sucking in a breath as you fought the urge to grind down on his hand. Steve took his fingers away, the damp tips of them trailing back down the inside of your thigh as he waited for an answer. 

“You told me,” you took another breath, looking around quickly, burning at the sight of the boats on the lake, the blurry people across the water by the clubhouse, sitting outside for afternoon tea. “You told me you always get what you want.” 

That was the third time you met Steve Harrington. 

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

The night after, you’d spent too long getting ready for your shift. Too long in the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room, honey and peach scented body wash running in rivers down your bare skin, your razor chasing after it as you did your best to make every crevice of your body silky smooth. 

You told yourself you weren’t going home with Steve Harrington. You told yourself you couldn’t, that you weren’t allowed to. 

But you took the time to layer mascara on your lashes, fixing any smudges before finishing your makeup with a layer of gloss on your lips, tinted a rosy pink and drawing more attention to them than you’d usually want. Black dress, clubhouse mandated stockings and heels, freshly polished. You left for work with your heart in the back of your throat. 

The Lake House was quieter than usual on poker nights, mostly because each guest had to buy their way in. All players had to place a ten thousand dollar deal in with the croupier, pockets emptied and jackets checked at the door. It made the smoking lounge feel bigger, men seated around a large poker table, the dealer in the middle, chips stacked high and cigar smoke lingering in the air. It smelled like tobacco, leather, expensive cologne and money, and god, the tips were good. 

There were familiar faces around the table, Billy, Jonathan, Mr Donaldson, a few other men from the club that liked to order expensive drinks and call you things like ‘sweet cheeks’ and ‘sugar.’ The room was dimly lit, a soft amber glow that was kept in the room with closed drapes, velvet lined chairs, and bar staff that were trained not to speak unless spoken to. Everything was hushed and whispered, men talking money over glasses of liquor, cigars in one hand, their dealt hand in the other. 

Then there was Steve, coming into the room a little late with another suit on, sharp and with a matching black shirt underneath, looking like he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t look at you as he took his seat, smirking at something Jonathan said and sliding a wad of stacked bills towards the dealer. He got his chips, he got his cards and the game began. 

It took a whole twenty minutes before he raised his hand, a two finger salute that let you know he wanted a drink. You beat the other waitress to it, slipping in front of the new start - Vickie something - and your heels clicked as you made your way over to Steve. You already had a drink on your tray, poured the minute you saw his hand go up, his eyes still on his hand. 

A Macallan, no ice. 

You placed the tumbler on the table in front of him, knees bending slightly to make sure it didn’t spill. Without warning, Steve’s hand snuck along the back of your thigh as you placed your tray under your arm, ready to walk away. Fingertips traced over the crease of your knee, ghosting over your stocking. You watched his gaze flicker to the drink he didn’t have to ask for, a slight curve to the corners of his lips as he smiled his approval. He leaned back, head tipped up to you so you had to bend down slightly to meet him. His hand was slipping up the back of your thigh the whole time, hidden from the rest of the room, from the other players, your boss in the corner. 

You bent at the waist, feeling your skirt rise up, feeling Steve’s hand do the same. His thumb ran along the crease below your ass, over the sliver of bare skin between your underwear and stockings. 

“Smart girl,” he whispered in the shell of your ear, making you burn. His voice was low and a little rough from hardly talking, only communicating with nods to the croupier, dead face glances at his opponents. His chips were stacked high for his efforts. “You look pretty. How ‘bout you just stay beside me, yeah?”

You weren’t supposed to. But you did. You watched as your boss frowned, as Vickie looked surprised. Beside Steve, Jonathan snickered quietly and across the table, Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“Breakin’ some rules?” He mouthed to Steve. 

Steve ignored him.

The night came to an end close to one o’clock, once the bar was almost dry and Steve had most of the money. He accepted the passive remarks about his poker face, his ability to lie through his damn teeth, how he didn’t need all that money anyways. Then there were the handshakes and slaps on the back, good natured talks and invites to lunches, chats about business opportunities and stocks. And all the while you tidied, putting away empty bottles of thousand dollar whisky, pouring hundred dollar glasses of Malbec down the drain. Cigar ash on the table, white powder tipped dollar notes that everyone pretended to not notice. Heavy tips on the table top, damp from spilled drinks, pushed into your apron pocket while the men around you tried to get a peek up your skirt. 

And then Steve was leaning over the bar top and still ignoring Billy. He was watching you clean, eyes tracking the way your hands slid the cloth over the mahogany, and while your cheeks warmed at his attention, you let him. You were off the clock, your shift over. Bar closed. 

Home time. Maybe. 

“—you even listenin’ to me, Harrington?” Billy sounded annoyed, words twisting on his tongue, whisky making them come out a little slower than he wanted them to. 

“No.” Steve’s reply was short and bored sounding. 

“I said, you fucker, that I need a ride. S’posed to be on a goddamn flight at five o’clock and this fuckin’ tequila is makin’ me piss like a fuckin’ racehor—”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took his wallet from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Using two fingers, he offered Billy a fifty, holding the bill in front of the other man’s face. “Take a cab.”

Billy looked offended at the suggestion. Disgusted, actually. “A cab? What do I look like to you, huh? Huh? A fuckin’ peasant?”

Steve just shrugged and slapped the bill on the counter anyway. “I’m having company,” he told him. Then he drained the rest of the one drink he’d ordered from you all night and met your gaze straight on. “You ready?”

Not, ‘would you like to join me?’ Not, ‘would you like to come back to mine?’ No. Just a simple question. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You nodded. Yes, you were ready. 

Billy laughed, a sharp and mean thing as he looked between you and Steve. Then his gaze turned salacious, drunk and lazy as he took in your short dress, your shiny lips. He nudged Steve and nodded towards you. “You not sharing this time, Harrington?” He tutted. “What a shame.”

You didn’t know what to say. If you’d been at a bar in town, standing on either side of it, you’d have listened to the twitch in your hand and lifted it, letting your palm meet Billy Hargrove’s right cheek, regardless of how much money was in his wallet. But Frederick was by the door talking to Mr Donaldson about summers in the Bahamas and you couldn’t do shit. 

So you turned your back, polished another wine glass and slid it back onto its shelf. 

“You know,” you heard Steve murmur. His voice was low, controlled. Dangerous sounding. “You keep letting your mouth run like that, and I’ll make sure you don’t have a reason to get that five am flight. One call and there won’t be no fucking meeting in L.A, do you understand?”

You didn’t hear Billy’s reply. In fact, you weren’t sure there was one. Instead, Steve walked to the side of the bar and brushed some invisible lint off of his jacket as he waited for you to untie your apron. You hesitated, watching as Fredrick disappeared into his office and then, and only then, did you step out from behind the bar to join Steve, letting him place his hand on the small of your back and guide you out of the clubhouse. 

He made it too easy to break the biggest rule in the book. 

—————

Steve drove you to a townhouse on the edge of town, the opposite direction from your own home. He took you there in his BMW, a shiny maroon car that looked brand new, with leather seats and shiny detailing on the dash. He didn’t touch you in the car, he just opened the door for you to get in and get out, only offering a hand that you took as you stood on his driveway. 

His house was lit up by lights on either side of the huge garage, another by the double doors. Three floors, a water feature in the front yard, a security system at the entrance. Steve pressed some buttons before something buzzed and clicked, and he opened the door with no grand flourish, extending an arm for you to enter first. 

Everything was sleek and polished, not quite the bachelor pad you expected, but luxurious all the same. Wooden floors and a large fireplace in the living room, the leather and suede of the clubhouse swapped out for a huge sectional, covered in cushions and throws. There was art on the walls, scenes of Greek tragedies, half naked women with dreamy looks on their faces, full curves and thick thighs. A shiny kitchen that looked barely used, bottles of scotch and whisky and gin on a golden bar cart in the corner, a full wall of books surrounding the biggest television you’d seen. The house smelled like Steve, like his cologne, like new leather and oak. 

His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled into the kitchen, an open plan thing that let you watch him from where you stood by the front door. Steve held up a bottle of wine. Red, a label you recognised from work, something that Frederick charged far too much money for. In your opinion. 

“Drink?” Steve asked. 

You nodded, stepping into the room a little more. There were a few lamps on, a warm flow from each that cast shadows over the floor, up the walls. The curtains were closed, heavy drapes that kept out the night, kept in the secrets. Like you. 

Steve appeared at your side, passing you a glass filled with a little ruby coloured wine. He grinned at your quiet thanks and offered his own for a toast. The glasses clinked and you took a sip, dark cherries and bitter chocolate swirling your senses, or at least, you were sure they would’ve if you hadn’t decided to gulp it down. Steve laughed softly and took your empty glass, setting it on the coffee table with his own. There was a stack of big books in the middle of it, something about American architecture and cars of the sixties, a candle that had never been lit and a cigar box with his initials engraved on the lid. 

“Here, sit,” Steve suggested and you sank into the sofa with him. The boy immediately lounged back into the cushions, arms stretched out over the back of it as he appraised you, head tilted to his side. “You don’t do this often, huh?”

You turned to him, puzzled, your hands sliding nervously up and down your bare legs. Your dress suddenly felt shorter than ever and with the way Steve was looking at you - hungry, predatory, bold - you weren’t sure if you wanted to tug the hem down to your knees or take the full thing off and drop it at his feet. 

“Do what?”

Steve gestured to himself, to the huge living room you felt a little bit lost in. He smirked, “go home with guys you barely know.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if it would seem rude if you reached out and stole the rest of his wine. If you’d feel braver and bolder if you were to gulp down more Malbec, if the price tag on the bottle would feel better on your tongue. “Not usually,” you said. You left out the part about how you’d be fired on the spot if your boss found out who you were going home with. 

Steve smiled, eyes shining at you like he thought you were cute. He patted the space on the couch beside him. It felt like a million miles away from you. “Come over here,” he said softly. You noticed how he didn’t ask, or suggest. It was an order, as gentle as it was. “I won’t bite.”

You scoffed a little, enjoying the irony of his words despite how he’d looked at you all night, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you, like he wanted to just eat you up. “You won’t?” You asked him, doubtful, even as you slid closer, your thigh brushing his. 

Steve dropped his hand to your knee, fingertips barely brushing your skin as she skimmed up and down, up and down. Each pass got him closer to the hem of your dress and you thought back to yesterday, in that stupid golf cart by the edge of the lake. How easy you made it for him, head thrown back, chest heaving, legs spread. You wanted that again, the feeling of his teasing fingers brushing up against the front of your underwear, lace this time, and already damp. 

Steve flashed a grin, all teeth, more bite than a smile and you resisted the urge to clamp your thighs together, trapping his hand between. You’d never been this hot for a guy, never been this easy to fold. You felt delicate with Steve, ready to crumple, ready to fold. 

“Not on the first date, no,” he assured you. 

Your brows rose into your hairline. “This is a date?”

Steve flattened his palm against your thigh and squeezed, leaning into you, nose brushing your cheek until you ripped your head for him and it skimmed the line of your jaw. Your breathing changed too quickly, stuttering to a hitch until it picked up, your eyes closing as you felt Steve’s lips brush against you in the briefest of touches. It wasn’t even a kiss. 

“What did you think it was?” Steve whispered, his words hot against your neck. You could smell his cologne, rich and peppery, could feel the slight stubble on his jaw scrape against your throat and you were desperate now, you needed him to kiss you. “What did you think I invited you here for, honey?”

His hand was higher now, fingers under the hem of your dress and you wanted to fall into him, you wanted to crawl into his lap and spread your legs, get properly dirty for him and pull your dress up around your hips and show him how you liked to be touched. Although, you had a feeling he wouldn’t need much help. “I, I don’t know—” you interrupted yourself with a gasp, Steve’s fingertips running along the lace edge of your underwear, teasing the crease of your thigh. “A one night stand, maybe.”

The boy laughed, a soft noise that was buried in the crook of your neck and he finally, finally, put his mouth on you. He kissed sweetly at the spot under your ear, grinned against it when you squirmed at the feel of him and then dragged his parted lips down the column of your neck. You felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny touch, teasing, warm and wet. 

“Just one night?” Steve tutted, letting his fingers slip underneath the edge  of your underwear. You were an elastic band now, pulled too right, fraught with unspent energy, ready to snap at the tension. “What if I wanted to keep you, hm?” His fingers ghosted over your folds, already slick and wet for him. If he was affected by it, he didn’t show it. He pulled at you gently, spreading you for him, a single digit touching your needy clit as he kept you open. It was filthy. “You’re too pretty for one night, aren’t you?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway. You were sure you already looked wrecked, head slack and leaning against Steve’s shoulder, his lips now dotting over your hairline. Legs open, underwear pushed up and to the side by Steve’s hand, his one finger sliding up and down the seam of your cunt. The rubber band was getting tighter. 

Steve hummed, a deep, warm noise that rumbled in his chest. “Look at me, honey,” he ordered and you did as were told, eyes heavy and haze unfocused as you turned your head to face him. He was so close, the only evidence he was as turned on as you were, were his blown out pupils, his heavy eyelids. “There she is, oh sweetheart, you’re gone, huh?” he cooed. 

You thought he might kiss you then, you thought he might kiss you, finally. But he nuzzled his nose against yours - a surprisingly sweet thing - before he murmured, “take your clothes off for me.”

It was embarrassing, the way your lips parted and your cheeks went hot. You wondered if Steve felt it, the warmth that exploded from your skin at his words, the way your empty cunt clenched around nothing at his words. He gave you clit one more passing nudge before he moved his hands from you completely and sank back into the couch. One arm over the back of it, legs crossed, the other hand brought to his mouth so he could rub the finger he’d dipped along your pussy against his bottom lip. 

It was obscene. 

He nodded to the space between the sofa and the coffee table and licked his lips. “C’mon, honey, strip.”

You should’ve pulled down your dress and thrown what was left of his wine in his face before you slammed the door on your way out. This man, this rich boy with his big house and shiny car, was ordering you around like you were still at the clubhouse. Like he could flash his members only card and get what he wanted. He hadn’t even kissed you. He didn’t know your last name, and shit, the only reason you knew his, was because him and his family were at the top of the client list at the place you worked. 

You could lose your job over this. Worse, you could get your heart broken. 

Steve must’ve sensed your hesitation because he reached back over to brush your hair from your eyes, where it had fallen in a mess when you hid your face in the dip of his shoulder as he tapped at your clit again and again and again. He pouted, tsked in a way that sounded sympathetic. “Oh honey, are you shy?” Condescension dripped from him, words liquid gold, sticky sweet and trapping you. He ran the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. It was as close to a kiss as you would get. “It’s okay, hm? Am I not playing nice? Am I being rude?”

You didn’t know what to say. You were being sucked in by this man’s charm, his caramel coated words, the way his brown eyes turned soft as he took your hand and led you to stand up in the middle of his living room. “I’m sorry, honey,” Steve whispered. “How awful of me. Lemme try again, huh?” He kissed your cheek, a soft, lingering thing before he left you standing, sitting back in front of you once more. 

Steve pushed back his hair and let his eyes appraise you before he rolled his shirt sleeves up and leant back into the cushions. A king on his throne. And the entertainment for tonight? 

You. 

“Take your clothes off for me, honey,” he tried again, his voice softer this time, lower, dirtier. And then he smiled at you and added: “please.”

With shaking hands and a held breath that made your chest burn, you pulled the material down your shoulders, reaching around your back to tug at the zip. And when it fell open, exposing your skin to the warm air, it was too easy to let the entire dress fall down over your hips. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, heels still on, legs covered in the sheer black stockings that the clubhouse made mandatory for poker nights. 

Steve’s lips made a little ‘o’ shape, an appreciative thing that made you pulse with need. You saw then how his dress trousers were tented at the front, an impressive bulge that twitched when you smoothed your hands over your upper thighs, a nervous reaction to being so exposed. 

“Oh,” Steve exhaled as he let his eyes rake over you. Soft skin between black lace, thigh highs pulled taught against your curves, tits pressed up in a bra you’d chosen as you thought him. You hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you, you hoped he wouldn’t ask you to do something like spin for him, show off for him. Because you would’ve. “Aren’t you a pretty fucking picture.”

He didn’t need to talk after that. He just lifted his chin towards your chest and you were pulling off your bra for him. You hated how the control of it all made you wetter, the space between your legs fucking throbbing as you waited for your next instruction. “Unless you want those ripped,” Steve was gazing at your underwear, eyes seeking out every dip and line he could make our in the wet lace. “I’d take them off too.” He didn’t let them hit the floor with the rest of your clothes, instead, extending one hand and crooking his fingers. 

A silent, ‘give them to me.’ 

And you did, watching as he slipped them into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes on you, trailing them over your thighs that were slick with how wet he’d got you. He’d hardly touched you, you scolded yourself, not even a kiss. It was embarrassing, mortifying. It was the hottest thing that had happened to you. 

“Keep those on,” Steve murmured, talking about your heels and stockings. “And come sit back down for me, honey, yeah?” 

The fabric of the couch felt soft under your bare skin and you hesitated before you let yourself relax into it. There surely would be a wet spot underneath you, evidence of how turned on you were, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Get comfy, hm? Such an agreeable, little thing aren’t you?” Steve was sliding off the couch as he spoke, one palm pressed to his crotch as if to stave off some of his own need. He knelt in front of you, mouth parting in a sigh as he dropped to eye level with your cunt. “Think you can spread those legs for me? Let me see you, honey, there’s a girl—”

He cut himself off with a low groan as you brought your feet up, heels on the edge of the couch as you spread your knees, sticky thighs parting. He could see all of you, fuck, he could probably smell you. The low light made every part of you glisten, the heavy rise and fall of your chest cast in an amber glow.  

“Oh she’s real fuckin’ pretty, isn’t she?” Steve asked you, eyes tearing away from your pussy to look up at you. “Spread ‘em wider for me, baby, can you do that?” Another moan from the boy as you let your knees fall apart, almost touching the couch. Steve smoothed his hands up your tights, bracketing your cunt before he did the same as before and pulled your folds even further apart. “Look at that,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t. You let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes squeezed shut as you let your own hands fall onto your knees. You dug in your nails, crescent moon marks on your skin as your tried to keep a grip on reality. You were almost certain you’d come with just one touch. 

“Want my mouth?” Steve asked you and his voice was back to that sugar sweet drip, it was thick with an affection, like he was being so nice for taking care of you. You already wanted to thank him. “Want my tongue?”

His thumbs rubbed up and down your folds, keeping them spread apart, a dirty massage that made your clit pulse with each tiny movement. You nodded, letting out a uneven breath and Steve tutted. 

“You gotta look at me then, c’mon, Berkeley.” He nipped at your thigh, teeth biting at the skin and it made you cry out. “Look at me and tell me you want me to eat you out.”

Dirty, filthy, obscene, sinful. 

You were under no illusion that giving Steve an order made you the one in charge. He played you like a puppet, a boneless girl that wanted nothing more than to come all over this rich strangers sofa. You had a one track mind, no shame left, not when Steve was pressing his mouth over you folds, not licking into you, not yet. Just kissing. You wanted to cry. 

“Eat me out,” you begged, eyes glassy as you tried to lift your hips but Steve pulled away. He grinned at you, waiting. “Eat me out, please, Steve. Fuck, want your mouth yeah, please?”

“Where?” He asked, dragging it out. His voice was unholy. “Where do you want my mouth?” His thumbs were still moving, up and down and up and down. “Tell me.”

“My pussy, Jesus Christ,” you whined. You couldn’t ever remember being this pent up. “Please.”

“Oh,” Steve cooed, “she’s so polite.” And then he gave you no other warning, dipping his head so he could lick a stripe through your folds, the hot, wet contact of his tongue making you cry out. 

You were unraveling too fast. His thumbs had you taught for him, every part of you feeling his tongue, his lips. Steve groaned into you, a happy, pleased hum that told you whatever game this was, he’d won. He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit until you were curling over him and clutching his hair, doing your best to not suffocate him. But Steve moaned louder and moved his hands to your hips, sliding down until they cupped under your ass and he encouraged you to grind against his face. Tongue still out, kept flat for you to rock yourself on. It was pornographic.  

Then Steve was mumbling into you, voice a rasp. “Good girl, honey, that’s it. Keep going, make yourself come on my tongue, yeah?”

So you did, obedient as ever, letting out a gasping cry as your legs shook, cunt still clenching around nothing ‘cause Steve had broken you with just his mouth. It was dirty hot, the way he dragged himself from your sensitive slit, tongue running over your folds even as you whined, licking over the crease of your thighs to get everything you’d spilled for him. You watched as he appeared between your knees, hair tousled, lips and chin shining in the low light, his cheeks flushed. It was ironic, how he looked more boyish after he made you come, expensive black shirt creased from where your legs had pressed against him, his own gaze a little fucked out. 

Logic would suggest that perhaps you’d get a kiss then, something soft and sweet to soothe you down before he fucked you senseless, before you got to wrap your own fingers or lips around him. Steve looked big, if the solid press of him against his trousers was anything to go by. Thick and still rock hard, an easy eight inches trapped taught against his thigh, just as impressive as his wealth and status. Your mouth watered. 

He kissed the inside of your knee instead, his heavy lidded gaze on yours before he offered you his hands to help you sit up and then said, “I better get you home.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Home,” Steve repeated. He passed you back your bra, your dress. Not your underwear though, no. They were still in his pocket. “I gotta be at the airport in—” he checked his watch, the picture of blasé. “—an hour.”

You pulled on your dress, a little speechless. This boy had just made you come harder than you’d ever managed yourself and now he was busying himself with lighting a cigarette he pulled from the packet in his pocket. Your eyes wandered, he was still hard. 

“What about,” you licked your lips, suddenly shy. You nodded towards his crotch, the absolute monster he packed in his slacks. “What about you?”

Steve grinned, bending down to peck your cheek as you wriggled into your uniform, trying to pull yourself back together. “I’ll live,” he told you, blowing out smoke as he spoke. “We’ll call it an IOU, huh? But my plane leaves soon, honey. I’ll cash that favour when I’m back.”

“When?” You blurted out. It sounded like something a girlfriend would demand to know and you cringed, but Steve kept smirking. He helped you slip on your heels, cigarette hanging from his lips that definitely tasted like you. 

“Unsure,” he told you casually, “there’s things I need to wrap up in Monaco before I can go to Tuscany for a few weeks. There’s problems at the vineyard and there’s a new plot I want to look at in Alassio too.”

All you heard was money money money. So you nodded and gave him a small smile, legs still a little wobbly from his touch, his mouth, his tongue. And when Steve dropped you off at the door of your too small apartment, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, just below your ear. 

The kiss goodnight to your lips didn’t come. You felt confused, a little stilted. But you got out the BMW and waved goodbye, wondering what you were supposed to do at three in the morning after Steve Harrington had tumbled your world upside down. 

PART TWO

[tinylilacbun]

rafe x toddler!sister reader who is desperate to be a big girl so bad but forgets she still is really little and she’s out with rafe and his friends when they’re babysitting and has an accident because she doesn’t want to ask to go to the bathroom but she’s so embarrassed and sad that they’ve all seen her but rafe is all cute and takes care of her

Big Girl In His Eyes

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: reader has an accident, Rafe being soft, comfort, fluff, mentions of pull-ups

Rafe has been tasked with babysitting you, again. He has planned to go golf with Topper and Kelce for a while now and he wouldn't cancel again. So he simply decided to take you with him today.

He's holding you securely on his hip, the bag with his clubs slung over his shoulder and holding your smaller one in his hand as he walks towards his friends who are already waiting by a cart.

"Dude, what took you so long?" Topper asks crouching down the second Rafe lets you down, catching you in his arms when you run into them.

"Well, little miss here couldn't decide between wearing her glitter shoes or her blinking ones." Rafe sighs, placing both your bags in the cart.

"You just don't get it, Rafe. Right, kiddo?" Topper defends you and you giggle, nodding your head.

"Yea, chu no get it!" You stick your tongue out and Rafe raises an eyebrow.

"Watch it."

Some time into their golf session you quickly get bored as expected from a toddler with a short attention span, luckily your brother is prepared, at least he hopes he is as he grabs your hello kitty bag that Rose handed him before he left Tannyhill with you.

He rummages through the bag and sighs in relief when he finds some crayons and a Bluey coloring book, handing them to you he picks you up and sets you down at the ground of the cart so you could use the seat as a table.

"Just call me if you need something, a'ight? I'm right over there." He points to where Topper and Kelce are standing.

You nod, already engrossed in coloring.

After a while you start to squirm uncomfortably in your sitting position, the pressure in your bladder gets worse each passing minute. You whine, turning your head in Rafe's direction and see him getting into position to do his shot.

No. You're a big girl. You can hold it.

Rafe has just finished his turn and glances to where he left you, momentarily panicking when he doesn't see you but you suddenly tuck at his shirt and he sighs in relief, looking down to meet your gaze.

He furrows his brows in concern as he realizes that you're crying, quickly squatting down to be at eye level with you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asks softly, his gloved hand reaching up to wipe at your cheeks.

You could only sniffle in response, your face heating up in embarrassment and not being able to look into his eyes and tell him what just happened.

Rafe gives you a once over until his eyes catch the visible stain on your white shorts. With a frown he instantly tries to calm you down. "It's okay, we'll get you changed real quick, yeah? C'mon."

"B-But the others gonna know..." You mumble, stepping closer to hide your face in his polo shirt.

"What, the guys? They didn't even notice anything." He says a little louder so Topper and Kelce get the hint when he pulls you back so you can see that they're not paying attention.

"The sun looks very sunny today." Kelce says shielding his eyes as he looks up at the sky and Topper does the same.

"Yeah, crazy." He agrees, their backs turned to you and Rafe.

"See, everything's okay." Your brother assures you, standing back up again he takes your hand in his, making his way over to the cart to grab your bag before walking towards the nearest bathroom.

He quickly gets to work, getting you out of your soiled clothes he cleans you up, grabbing a pull-up out of your bag he notices the way you pout at the sight of it.

"Look, I know you don't like them but it's nothing bad. You're still a big girl even while wearing those." He explains all the while changing you.

"Remember when we were on the mainland in that horror house attraction on some funfair? Sarah and Wheezie were screaming while you kept laughing." He chuckles at the memory.

You smile a little, rubbing your nose with your palm. "Was fun..."

"See, you're still a big girl and if anyone tells you otherwise just come to me and I'll take care of it, okay?" He says as he gets you in a pair of clean leggings. "There, all clean again."

"Love you, Rafey..." You smile at him, wrapping your short arms around his neck.

"I love you too, kid...let's get you something to eat, bet you must be hungry." He detaches himself from you, gathering your stuff and putting them back in your bag before he picks you up.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[bowdownperv]

doctors appointment

rafe takes nervous reader to her yearly checkup a/n: fluff, mentions of smut

going to the doctors office always terrified you since your were a child. your parents always had to drag you to your appointments, kicking and screaming, and reward you with vanilla ice cream afterwards despite you being an absolute menace. you would yell so loud that patients in the waiting room had to cover their ears. the nurses would often left the room with your tiny footprints on their white scrubs after giving you your yearly vaccinations.

❊ ❊ ❊

well, your parents had decided now that you were an adult, it was up to you to be a "big girl" and go to your appointments by yourself. your appointment was booked a month in advance, and every day leading up to it you spent worried with nightmares about evil doctors and giant needles. the stress had become too much and as your scary day grew closer, you surrendered your independence and decided you needed one special person to go with you.

rafe was someone you grew up with and who knew you better than anyone else. he was a few years older than you, and as a kid you looked up to him as he was much wiser and had more experience with things. he was the one who taught you many life lessons such as how to defend yourself, driving, and even sex. he would eventually become your first, and only, and ever since you'd been addicted and would always run to him like an eager puppy whenever you had desires, despite not being in an official relationship.

you called rafe and asked him to come over to hangout with you, which was nothing out of the unordinary. once you heard his knock on your front the door, you giddily ran down the stairs to greet the smiling, handsome boy on your front porch. he was wearing a navy polo with the first two buttons undone and beige khakis with grass stains on his knees. you could tell he had come straight from golfing.

"hey, beautiful," he said grinning cheerfully with his hands in his pockets. the simple word already made your cheeks glow pink matching the lace embroidery on your vintage skirt.

"hi rarefy," you said with an unconscious smile. "come," you commanded with a grabby hand, waiting for his larger hand to engulf it.

upon pulling him inside, you dragged him straight upstairs to your bedroom. rafe immediately made himself comfortable and sprawled out on your mattress, laughing at your whines about him being on your clean bed with his shoes on. when you walked over to take them off for him, he took the opportunity to grab you and throw you on top of him.

"rafe!" you yelped placing your hand on his chest for support. rafe looked at you with a devilish smile and combed the hair out of your face with his fingers. you could feel his rough callouses brush up against your forehead which made your insides tickle for some reason.

rafe's face displayed a beaming white grin until he looked into your eyes and saw little teardrops beginning to form. his curious stare intimidated you causing your to nuzzle your face into his chest

"what's going on, huh?" he said rubbing your back extremely gently like you were a delicate little flower. you cried into his cotton polo, letting all the built up stress of this stupid doctors appointment soak into the fabric.

"it's embarassing," you whined.

"just tell me, ok?" rafe begged. you unattached yourself from his chest and wiped your face with both hands.

"will you come with me to my check up tomorrow?" you said shyly, playing with his hand to relax you. "im so scared," you whined pathetically.

"shit. all this over a stupid doctors appointment? course ill take you kid. 'ts no big deal at all."

you hugged him with a grip so tight his eyes nearly popped out of his skull and laid on his chest as he slowly rubbed your back letting you sleep soundly for the first time in a month. he waited to sneak out until he was sure you were in a deep sleep, carefully replacing your arms around him with a pillow.

❊ ❊ ❊

the dreaded day arrived and rafe arrived promptly at your doorstep to escort you to your personal hell. your legs shook like tree branches so much so that you had to lean on rafe just to walk to his car. he couldn't help but hide a smirk from how pathetic you were over a stupid doctors check up, but he found your over-dramatization cute.

once rafe was finally able to get you into the office, he handled all the professional stuff for you, checking you in, filling out your paperwork, you were shocked by how much he knew about you and you face lit up when he put his name and phone number down as your emergency contact information.

the nurse finally called your name and you went completely frozen. rafe gave her an apologetic smile as he pulled you from you chair and had to drag you into the appointment room like you were a mannequin.

every time the nurse asked you a basic question, your heart dropped deeper into your chest. somehow you forgot when your birthday was and if you were on any medication. luckily rafe was there to do most of the work for you.

his palm met his forehead with an eye roll when she put the blood pressure cuff around your arm and you turned your head as far away from it as possible wrinkling your face. rafe thought it was silly but at the same time had the desire to swoop in and rescue you, even though he knew you were perfectly safe. the nurse swiftly finished up her duties and left allowing the doctor to complete your check up.

"so miss," the doctor asked, "any general pain or discomfort?"

you looked over to rafe clueless and he shook his head.

"no, sir," you stuttered.

"smoking or any use of drugs?"

once again, your head tilted towards rafe for guidance who shook his head firmer this time.

"no, sir."

"and are you at all sexually active?"

your face turned the brightest pink ever imaginable and rafe couldn't help but smirk seeing your reaction. you turned to him for directions of what to say, but for the first time all day, he was of no help as his eyes wandered up at the ceiling.

you swore to yourself that you would keep the dirty activities between you and rafe a secret, as you had a girl next door reputation attactched to your name. but the doctor was here to help you right? you were never good at lying and you knew he would be smart enough to detect it.

"uhm." you mumbled, looking down at your lap. "yes, sir."

the doctor then went into a complete rant about STD's and the risk of not using protection, but all you could do was glow like a pink lightbulb.

"so, are you using protection?" he asked sternly.

"yes, I am, sir."

the doctor quickly wrapped things up, needing to get to his next patient, but assured you that your health was in great condition and there was nothing to worry about. you didn't feel that way, however.

before rafe could finish thanking the staff, you dragged him out of the building as fast as possible, nearly giving him whiplash. you hopped into his passenger seat and immediately started bawling.

"hey, what's a matter? you did great kid. all good and healthy. know it was tough but I'm proud of you."

"he thinks I'm a slut!" you cried out with tears dampening your dress.

"what!?" rafe said shocked. "look kid, people have sex, okay? completely normal. how you think any of us got here, huh?"

you continued to wheeze into your skirt.

"he kept goin' and goin' about STD's, and condoms, and-" your own cries interrupted you. "he thinks I'm a dirty whore!"

"that's part of his job, baby. he's gotta say that whole spiel to everyone that comes in, probably has it all memorized. nothin' to do with you."

all you could do was look up at him with wet, Bambi eyes.

"now lemme get you some ice cream, yea? that'll make you feel better. no one thinks you're dirty, you're a good girl, okay?"

you nodded your head.

rafe spent the rest of the day driving you around and getting you whatever you wanted. his friends were not happy as they had planned on going golfing again today, but he would do anything and everything he could to get his happy girl back.

[wileys-russo]

we need a dj leah fic

i know nothing about dj-ing so this is all y'all get lmao hobbies II l.williamson

"lee? baby i'm home!" you called out, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your jacket at the door. though when you received no response you frowned, walking further into your home.

"babe? leah?" you continued to call out, popping your head into the bedroom and the living room but finding no trace of the blonde. her car was in your driveway and unless you'd missed something you weren't aware of her having an event or plans tonight.

"oh here you are." you sighed in relief finally finding her in the kitchen. "baby?" you called out, dropping your bag on the counter. "lee?" you called again, the girl bopping her head focused on something else, headphones covering her ears.

you paused for a moment eyes falling to the sliver of her abs visible where her shirt had ridden up, waistband of her boxers poking out from her pants as her tanned and toned arms flexed while she messed about with whatever was in front of her.

"leah!" you yelled louder, smacking your hand on the counter a few times as your girlfriend finally glanced up, flinching a little in shock at the sight of you stood there. "hi gorgeous, didn't hear you come in." she pulled her headphones down to her ears with a smile.

"missed you." she attached to you right away with a soft smile, attacking your face with kisses before finally rewarding you with a real one, tugging you around the counter to where she previously stood.

"yeah no wonder you didn't hear me. what the hell is all this?" you frowned seeing her messing about with her laptop and some sort of board full of buttons. "dj pad." leah gave you a toothy grin, wrapping you in a hug, your head resting against her chest as you stared down at her latest hobby.

"oh leah." you sighed as she let you go, tenderly kissing the side of your head. "what?" she smiled, ducking down to kiss you properly, sending your head into a spin as her tongue swiped your bottom lip but you forced yourself to pull away.

"you always do this!" you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter beside her laptop. "do what!" leah frowned, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow sent your way.

"you invest in some sort of hobby, do it for a week or two and then it joins your graveyard of dead interests and you move onto something else. then the cycle repeats!" you shook your head knowingly.

"i do not!" leah scoffed in offence as you now raised an eyebrow at her, jumping down from the counter. "come with me my love, let's go on a little house tour." you smiled holding our your hand, leah pulling off her headphones with a roll of her eyes and leaving them by the dj pad as her slender fingers interlocked with yours.

"example one; the hoverboard." you gestured to the item sitting abandoned in the corner of the living room, untouched for years now. "babe everyone bought those during lock down!" leah defended as you hummed.

"example two; the indoor golf set." you kicked the box sat with her trainers. "i still use that." leah protested as you fixed her with a firm look. "you've used it like four times if you're lucky."

"example three; the knitting!" leah followed you into her study as you yanked open one of her desk drawers and pointed to the abandoned bundle of wool and needles. "excuse me? i made you a blanket and that blanket was made with love." leah scowled as you shut the drawer.

"a baby blanket maybe it was like four poorly finished squares lee it could cover my ankles if i'm lucky." you chuckled moving to the large wall to wall bookshelf as leah scoffed. "psychology!" you continued, waving to the five or six huge textbooks your girlfriend was yet to even touch let alone crack open.

"hey i could still read those, that doesn't count." "but will you? signs point to no." you sighed with a shake of your head, ignoring your girlfriends hand swatting at your bum with an unimpressed huff at your tone.

"the VR goggles?" "they gave me a headache!" "the drumming pads?" "okay those were an impulse buy." "gardening? the veggie patch?" "our garden is immaculate!" "yes it is, because i'm the one who looks after it and actually keeps it alive baby. the video camera?" "hey i made the cutest video with that last year, it isn't my fault i lost the charger."

"do i need to continue baby or are you seeing the pattern now?" you challenged with a smile, swinging leahs hand back and forth which was still linked with yours.

"okay maybe i can be a little bit impulsive. but life is too short not to enjoy simple pleasures babe, even just for a moment." using your interlocked hands she tugged your body into hers, hands cupping your cheeks as her thumb pulled down your bottom lip before it snapped back up with a small pop.

"did you learn that in one of your self help books?" you grinned right as she leaned in to kiss you, head flicking back to the bookshelf. "shut up, but i'm getting pretty good! come." with that she lead you out of the office and back to the kitchen.

"leah!" you laughed as she effortlessly picked you up by the waist and sat you back on the counter. "listen." she carefully slid her headphones over your ears, pecking your lips a few times and focusing back on the dj pad.

your lips curled into a smile as you adjusted her headphones, wincing a little as a loud beat sounded in your ears, and you tried not to laugh at how your girlfriends eyebrows furrowed together as she pushed and prodded at the different buttons.

"see? not too bad eh!" leah stopped after a few minutes and you tugged the headphones down. "wait that was it?" you frowned, leahs mouth dropping into a small o at your words. "that was like someone beat boxing without a sense of rhythm. babe that was so bad!" you laughed honestly, covering your smile with your hand.

"baby!" leah whined, smacking your leg and crossing her arms. "what? do you want me to lie?" you grinned as she pulled her headphones off you with a huff. "don't quit your day job for the ibiza circuit just yet sweets, you're no fred again." you continued to tease as you patted her shoulder.

"hey it's really hard okay! these stupid programs i downloaded are no help either." leah pouted with another huff. you held up a finger for her to wait, lifting your hips to pull your phone out of your back pocket.

"here baby, one more for your bookshelf." "how to dj for idiots and dummies."

"cheeky girl." leah tutted, slotting herself in between your legs as her hands slid up and down your legs which wrapped around her waist. "have you figured out your dj name yet?" you grinned, getting your words out in between the lingeringly soft kisses the taller blonde was leaving on your lips.

"no, got any suggestions?" leah chuckled, closing her eyes as your mouth pulled away from hers and focused on her neck, her hands gripping your hips and pulling your body closer into hers as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of her favorite perfume.

"i think dj hold the mayo williamson will do numbers in ticket sales." "oh really? think i might need a tour manager love." "aren't you lucky, you've got the best in the business right in front of you." "mmm i haven't done any gigs yet gorgeous, afraid i can't pay you." "oh don't you worry williamson, i think we can work some sort of arrangement out."

[drysdalesworld]

completely serious

jamie drysdale x fem!hughes!reader

ik the third pic is him wearing a ducks jersey but there’s nothing really of him in flyers gear that fit what i was looking for, so let’s just pretend <3

y/n.hughes just posted!

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and more

y/n.hughes: to a new era baby! hope philly treats you well 🧡🧡 (please take care of him flyers or i will violently cry)

tagged: jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers

( loading comments ! )

trevorzegras: i too will violently cry

lhughes_06: so this is where you took your impromptu trip to

y/n.hughes: & what about it

userone: still can’t believe it tbh 😭

yourbestie: she very much will! philadelphiaflyers

yourroommate: she cried upon hearing the news

philadelphiaflyers: we will take great care of jamie! do not worry 🧡

philadelphiaflyers: we will make sure to water him daily & make sure he gets enough sunlight 🫡

usertwo: stopp!! the way they are describing him as a house plant 😂 i cant

mfrost16: we’ll take him out on walks too!

userthree: now he’s a dog 😭😭

userfour: i mean he did bark his first game with the flyers userthree

jackhughes: i will not be picking up the pieces if she starts to violently sob

lhughes_06: you never do

_quinnhughes: i do that

_quinnhughes: when have you ever done that bro

jackhughes: i feel attacked rn

userfive: the way the flyers flew BOTH y/n & jamie’s parents out for his first game 😭😭 warms my heart

usersix: they did?

userfive: yep! during his post game interview, someone asked if the flyers flew anyone else out for jamie & he said that he wouldn’t play if they didn’t fly y/n out as well! (jokingly of course)

usersix: that’s so freaking cute 😖

jamie.drysdale: i was completely serious userfive

philadelphiaflyers: he, in fact, was completely serious userfive

userseven: UGH GOALS 💞💞

usereight: they’ll treat him well y/n!

jamie.drysdale: i’ll miss you so much love 🤍 i’ll have the flyers fly you out whenever (& if not, then i will)

y/n.hughes: i’ll miss you more!! im so so proud of you & can’t wait to see the amazing things you’ll accomplish in philly ❤️❤️

philadelphiaflyers: y/n’s apart of the team already! we’ll fly her out whenever you want jim! just say the word ✈️✈️

y/n.hughes just posted!

liked by luca.fantilli, masonmctavish23, and more

y/n.hughes: jamie photo dump during these trying & sad times

tagged: jamie.drysdale

( loading comments ! )

trevorzegras: the fifth picture is evil y/n. why you got to do my boy like that? (please send it to me asap)

y/n.hughes: check your messages babes 😚

trevorzegras: bless girl hughes 🙏🙏

userone: another shoe tying pic!!!

lhughes_06: uhhh, why am i not tagged in the sixth pic?? i so graciously taught your bf how to wake board & this is the thanks i get??

y/n.hughes: thank you so much luke for teaching my boyfriend how to wake board & almost kill him in the process 😑

lhughes_06: i am an amazing teacher! he did not almost die

jackhughes: dude, you almost broke his nose when you both went down after YOU jumped on him

lhughes_06: i do not recall such a thing

jamie.drysdale: i will let the fifth picture slide just this once bc i miss & love you so much 🥰 (also, almost died in the last pic 💀)

jackhughes: SEE!! lhughes_06

lhughes_06: 🎶 i cant see i’m blinnndddd🎶👨‍🦯

y/n.hughes: love & miss you more 🤍🫶🏼

_quinnhughes: the lake house that summer will forever be burned into my brain

usertwo: in a good way? 😀

userthree: THE FUCKING ‘I ❤️ MY GIRLFRIEND’ TSHIRT 😫😫😫😫😫

yourroommate: i specifically remember the first pic like it was yesterday

userfour: babes spill! what happened!!

yourroommate: y/n was not having a good week so jamie flew out for the weekend & showed up with flowers & wearing that exact shirt userfour

yourbestie: he said, and i quote, “i saw this shirt on tiktok & though you’d like it” & y/n proceeded to cry :) userfour yourroommate

y/n.hughes: why am i and my bf being exposed in this comment thread?? 🙃

userfive: WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE GOLF PIC 😫😫

y/n.hughes just posted to their story!

caption: from #6 to #9, here’s to new beginnings! jamie.drysdale

[pinksturniolo]

Play Date - A Matt Sturniolo One Shot

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

You call me on the telephone, you sound so far away

You tell me to come over, there’s some games you want to play

I’m walking to your house, nobody’s home

Just me and you and you and me alone…

Summary: The one in which Matt has been helping you babysit your 5 year old brother for the past couple years. Everyone in Somerville, MA knew him as the sweetest and caring guy, always helping someone when they needed it. However, you and him never got along, always disagreeing on most things. You and him had nothing in common. Well… maybe one thing.

Content Warnings: smut, angst, small age gap, fingering, oral receiving/giving, degradation, raw penetration, sneaking around, matt being a tough guy.

Based on this song: (pls listen it's so good and the lyrics are what inspired this one shot)

a/n: i'm sorry if the age gap makes anyone uncomfortable, everything depicted in this story is purely consensual <3

Winter 2024

You watched as Matt helped untie your little brother’s shoes and unzip his jacket, the two of them coming back in from playing outside. You had stayed inside on the couch, keeping warm while you worked on your English essay, watching them from the living room window. A storm hit soon after New Year’s leaving Boston in a blanket of fresh white snow.

He sets his shoes and jacket down, leading him to the kitchen to make him a cup of juice. Your brother adored Matt, there was no denying he was a great babysitter. A couple years ago, your mom started working out of town every other weekend, leaving you home alone to take care of your brother since your dad left when you were a little girl. 

Your mom had always been a strict parent, so naturally she didn’t trust you to be by yourself the whole weekend given the fact you were only 16 at the time. So, she asked one of her friend’s sons to help, who happened to be Matt Sturniolo.

Matt was trusted by mostly everyone, and your mom had known his mom since high school, so she had no problem with him being at your house. You, however, were extremely against this idea. You and Matt had never gotten along no matter how much you tried. You had known him since elementary school and from the moment you met, he always had an attitude towards you for some reason. Being that you were so stubborn, you didn’t back down from his sourness, and challenged him every chance you got.

He was a couple years ahead of you in school and always brought up the fact that because he was older, that somehow made him better than you. You refused to acknowledge that, butting heads with him constantly. It didn’t help that some of your friends were his friends and each time you guys were around each other, it was a constant competition. Who was better at bowling, who got first place in Mario Kart, who had the best golf swing. It annoyed your friends to no end.

When you were a sophomore, Matt would come over the weekends your mom worked out of town. He stayed during the majority of the day, taking care of your little brother. This also gave you the freedom to attend many of the extracurricular activities you were involved in. You took pride in being the top of your class and captain of the dance team. Matt endlessly teased you about it, calling you a “try hard” and “nerd”.

The time you did spend at home when Matt was there, you tried to avoid arguing with him around your brother. The three of you often went to the park, or got ice cream, never running out of ways to entertain him. The more time you had spent around Matt, it was hard not to develop a little crush. You would never admit it, but you admired the sweet side of him. He was good at taking care of your brother.

And he subtly started to flirt with you, teasing you over silly things, and checking you out when you weren’t looking. There was no doubt he found you attractive. But you frustrated him to no end, given the fact that you were so stubborn and weren’t afraid to voice your opinion when you disagreed with him on something. Matt liked to be in control, but you did as well. Still, he admired how hard working you were and your sensitive nature.

It didn’t take long before raging teenage hormones created sexual tension between you two. The summer before your junior year, stolen glances and accidental touches fueled the fire that had been growing over the years. One night when you were both alone, watching a movie after your brother had fallen asleep, Matt finally made a move on you. He would usually leave at nighttime, going back home to sleep so he could come back the next day and help you. But he decided to stay and finish the movie with you.

It had been a particularly good Saturday, and you had looked especially pretty that day. He couldn’t stop staring at you and when you asked him what he was looking at, he pressed his lips to yours, igniting a flame in you that you just couldn’t put out.

From that night on, you two snuck around every chance you got, whenever your brother wasn’t around or asleep, almost every weekend up until Matt graduated.

Making out on the couch until his hands found his way into your shorts and under your shirt, eliciting sweet moans from you while he thrust his fingers deep inside you. Pushing him up against the wall in the hallway as you got on your knees and took him into your mouth, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling and grunting until he came down your throat. A couple times, he even spent the night in your bed, using his mouth, hands and cock to make you cum over and over, in every different position.

As much as you both enjoyed the pleasure and excitement, there still was no denying the fact that you two despised each other. Maybe that hate was what fueled the passion between you two in the bedroom, but outside of that, you both never ceased the petty arguing. No matter the deep feelings you had for each other buried inside, it would never go past the sexual relationship you guys had built. Simple as that.

Once Matt graduated and started working in the adult world, he still took the time to keep his baby-sitting duties which you were grateful for, because at this point, you had started throwing yourself more into your schoolwork. You were applying for all the universities you could and taking extra shifts at Star Market you were working at part time. And then it came time for you to graduate, and you went off to college that fall, a few hours from Somerville. You had lost contact with Matt, neither of you taking the time or effort to reach out to each other.

✿

Now it was early January, and you were on winter break. You had come back home to visit and spent some time with your mom before she left on her work trip. Matt came over to help with your brother of course and this was the first time you had seen him since you graduated high school almost a year ago. He was now 20 years old, had let his beard grow out a little, and gotten several tattoos on his left arm.

Was it possible for him to get even more attractive than he already was back then? But you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into your past desires. You had too much to focus on and even though you were on break, you had an important English essay to finish. Besides, Matt had the worst attitude ever as soon as he saw you, making it easier for you to avoid him.

He was currently burning a hole into you with his pointed looks, glaring at you from across the room as your brother sat next to him, playing with his action figures.

You looked up at him from your computer, returning his dirty look. “Can I help you with something, Matthew?” You asked, knowing he hated it whenever you used his full name.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on break? Don’t you do anything for fun?” He said, referring to the fact that you had been typing away on your computer for the last hour.

You rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back on the computer. “Aren’t you supposed to mind your own business?” You responded.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really care what you do. I’m just tired of listening to your incessant typing.” He said with annoyance.

You ignored him, continuing to work on your essay while he continued to stare at you. You tried to focus but his piercing gaze distracted you. He sighed loudly and finally you slammed your computer shut, anger bubbling inside you.

“Fine. It’s not like I can focus with you acting like that anyway.” You snap, standing up to walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

To your annoyance, he follows you, leaning against the counter as you fill the glass and take a few sips. “Did you miss me, angel?” He says and you almost choke on the water, laughing as you set the glass down. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You reply, turning to face him. His eyes travel up and down your body, no shame in the way he checks you out.

“You still look hot. Brings back memories of when I had you all to myself-“He starts, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. You interrupt him though, grabbing his jaw a little roughly, smushing his lip together to prevent him from continuing whatever dirty thoughts he was going to say.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Matt. I came home to spend time with my brother, not to be bothered by you. Whatever you think we had in the past, you can forget about it. That will never be happening again.” You say sternly and let go of his face. He rubs his jaw and a dark look forms in his eyes as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you ever fucking grab me like that again, I’ll make sure you remember who’s really in control here. Don’t make me mad, Y/N.”

He then stalks off to the living room, leaving you there in shock, chills running through your body, a slight throb starting to ache in your core from just his words alone. Fuck. This was going to be harder than you thought.

After Matt left that night, you couldn’t help but let his words replay, memories from when he used to have his way with you cycling through your head. You just couldn’t deny your attraction to him no matter how much he infuriated you. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second as you thought about his voice, his large hands, what it would feel like to have his face between your legs again, his beard scratching against the inside of your thighs. Your fingers slipped inside your underwear, feeling the slickness there, circling your clit as you moaned out his name.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your phone, calling Matt. He picked up on the first ring as if he somehow knew you needed him. “Hello?” He answered, his deep voice rumbling through the other end. “Matt…” You breathed out. “I need you.”

His cock immediately hardened at hearing your needy voice, knowing you well enough to know exactly how you needed him. “Be there in 5.” He replied, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket. Luckily, your house was 2 blocks from his and he walked in the cold, heart racing as he reached your bedroom window, lightly tapping.

You let him in, your mouths instantly connecting, tongues tangling and teeth clashing. You kissed each other hungrily, wasting no time removing your clothes and his as you laid on your bed. He put his hands all over your body, kissing every inch he could as you whimpered his name. “Please Matt, I can’t wait any longer.” You said, the need to feel him inside you overwhelming.

He hummed in fake empathy, pulling you roughly by your hips, wrapping your legs around his lower back and lining his cock up with your entrance. “Listen to how pathetic you sound. So needy for my cock already, angel?” He said, slicking it up and down slowly through your wetness, teasing you.

“Yes, please, please…” You responded, not bothering to fight his dominance. You were too turned on to care. He smirked at this, giving in and pushing himself inside you, no resistance from how wet you were. “Fuuuckk…” He groaned, head falling down, arms resting on either side of your head as he thrust into you at a good pace, uttering filthy words in your ear. “You feel so fucking good. Better than I remember baby.”

You moan loudly as he picks up his pace, his hips slamming into you over and over, your tits bouncing in his face as he leans down to suck on them and squeeze them in his hands. “Don’t stop Matt.” You breathe out, and he has no intentions of doing so, eager to get you to your climax. “I’m gonna cum soon.” You say and he looks up at you, shaking his head. “Not until I say so.” He warns, coming back up from your chest and wrapping a strong hand around your throat, squeezing slightly.

He grinds against you for a few minutes before you can barely take it, ready to beg him for what you need. “Pleaseee Matt. It feels so good.” You cry, making him almost bust inside of you.

He starts rubbing fast circles on your clit, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your eyes rolled into the back of your head in a state of bliss. “You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” He asks, his other hand gripping your thigh, leaving bruises.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You yell. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.” He says, granting you the permission to release your juices all over him and he moans loudly feeling you clench around him. He’s not finished with you yet though as he pulls out of you and suddenly flips you around before you have time to catch your breath.

He pulls your hips up, so your ass is in the air and spreads your legs with his knee, putting his hands on your lower back. “I’m not done yet, angel.” He says pushing himself into you again. You cry out from how sensitive you are, burying your face in your pillow. “Fuck, Matt.” You whimper and he thrusts into you at a fast pace again, the sounds of skin clapping together and wet sounds filling the room.

You feel pleasure building in you again and Matt takes a fistful of your hair, pulling it, making you moan with pleasure. You feel tears form in your eyes, another orgasm approaching from the way Matt is pounding into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly. “Matt...” You whimper, unable to say much else from overstimulation. “You can take it, baby. Ahhh, You’re such a good girl- fuck. I know you can cum for me again.” He says in between shaky breaths, feeling himself get close as well.

You cum again, crying out his name, your head slumping into your pillow as he lets go of your hair, squeezing your ass harshly as his hips stutter and he releases into you. You feel his warm load paint your walls and then he finally pulls out, both of you out of breath and he collapses down next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, a hand coming up to brush your hair from your face, seeing how fucked out you are. “More than.” You reply, with a small smile on your lips. He smiles back and wraps an arm around you as you lay on his chest, both of you quickly drifting to sleep.

✿

The next morning when you wake, Matt is gone. You feel a slight emptiness in your chest but ignore it as you get up and get ready for the day. The weekend is over, and your mom will be home soon. You have lots of plans for the upcoming week and don’t have time to think about all the feelings he has seemed to stir up from the past.

However, you get a call from her shortly, guilt in her voice when she tells you about an unexpected extension in her work trip came up and she’ll have to stay another week. You’re disappointed but you understand it’s important to her and now that you’re an adult, she’s okay with you staying home with your brother alone.

So, it’s a surprise to you when Matt shows up a couple days later, not even bothering to knock on the front door as he saunters in. You and your brother were sat on the couch, watching TV after lunch. “What’s up.” He says nonchalantly, sitting next to you. Your brother immediately jumps up in excitement, going over to him. “Matty!!” He says, a cute smile on his face. “Hey, buddy.” He says back, ruffling a hand playfully through his hair.

You ignore how insanely cute the interaction is, scoffing in annoyance. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” You say in aggravation, Matt losing the smile as he looks at you. “You should probably lock that door more often. It’s not safe. Which is why I came over to make sure things are good over here. I overheard my mom talking to your mom about how she’s still stuck in Aspen on her work trip.” He responds. You simply roll your eyes and sigh, not bothering to argue with him.

“Whatever. Come on, baby. It’s time for your nap.” You tell your brother, and he gives Matt a hug before you take him to his room, reading him his favorite book as he falls to sleep.

You close his door with a soft click, walking over to the kitchen table so you can sit and work on your essay some more. Matt’s already there, reading what you’ve typed on the screen.

“Excuse me! What are you doing.” You scold, ripping the computer out of his hands.

He laughs, leaning back in his chair next to you. “Not too bad, Y/N. I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t know you were that smart.” He teases.

“You’re insufferable.” You reply, ignoring him as you continue typing.

“Hmm, I beg to differ. That’s not what you were saying when I had your legs shaking-“ Before he can finish, you pinch his thigh through his jeans, making him yelp.

“Don’t be a jerk, Matty. We both know that night was a mistake.” You say, and he furrows his brows in pain, his eyes closing and breathes through his nose.

Then he grabs your hand from his thigh, placing it back on your leg and rests his arm on the back of your chair while he leans in closer to you.

“What did I tell you before, hm? Do you need to me to put you in your place again?” He says, the blazing look in his eyes making you squirm in your seat.

You look back to your computer, attempting to focus as he traces circles on your bare thigh with his fingers. “Matt. Stop.” You say, trying to sound stern despite the butterflies that form in your stomach.

“Why?” He replies, moving his hand farther up your skirt.

You grit your teeth, swallowing hard. “Because… I’m trying to study.” You say weakly now. Why the fuck couldn’t you control yourself around him?

“You sure about that?” He whispers now, voice filled with desire. His hand is completely disappeared underneath your skirt now, his fingertips soft as he presses them to your clit, a wet spot forming in your panties.

You sigh in desperation, Matt satisfied with the fact that he has you wrapped around his finger.

His lips ghost across your neck and he places a soft kiss beneath your ear, making you moan aloud.

“Just say the words and I’m yours, angel…” He rasps, his dick throbbing in his pants.

You suddenly snap out of it, pushing his hand away and abruptly stand up from your chair. He was not going to continue to just have his way with you.  “If you’re not going to allow me to study in peace, then you can leave.” You say harshly, leaving the kitchen.

You storm down the hallway to your room, Matt following closely behind. “Stop following me!” You whisper yell, trying to be quiet as your brother is asleep in his room. You reach your door, attempting to slam it in his face when he puts his arm out, stopping the door before you can. He has an annoying smirk on his face when you turn to glare at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He says, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re a disgusting pervert.” You sneer at him, referring to moments earlier when had a hand up your skirt.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” He responded, the smug smirk on his face growing wider. “Don’t act like that’s the first time I’ve touched you… Like I didn’t just have you begging me to let you cum the other night.” He added, leaning closer to you, a dangerous look in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him away from you by his chest. “I don’t recall anything like that ever happening.” You say with disgust in your voice. You both knew you were lying, of course. But you had done your best to try and forget your momentary weakness that night.

“Why don’t I jog your memory then?” He speaks lowly, moving closer again, forcing you to walk backwards further into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it. Your heart races and thighs clench together, that stupid smirk still on his face as he wraps one hand around your throat, the other harshly gripping your waist and smashes his lips to yours.

You melt into his kiss, his grip on your throat making your pussy throb. “Stop being such a brat.” He says, backing you up against the wall of your bedroom. He removes his hand from your throat and trails it down to the hem of your shirt pulling it off you and then ripping your skirt down your legs once again leaving you in just your bra and panties. “But I love the reaction it gets out of you.” You say breathlessly, knowing he was only going to punish you the more you talked.

He attacks your neck with wet kisses, sucking and biting all the sweet spots he knew you loved, lustful moans leaving your mouth. He suddenly drops to his knees, ripping your favorite lace thong off you.

“Matt!” You speak. “What the hell?” You were definitely making him buy you a brand-new pair later.

“Shut up.” He simply replies taking one leg and wrapping it around his shoulder, burying his face in your cunt. “Oh fuck.” You groan, tossing your head back against the wall as pushes his tongue inside you. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as he continues to fuck you with his warm, strong tongue, only pulling out to kiss and suck on your clit, driving you to the edge.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, the sight of Matt willingly on his knees for you, his blue eyes staring up at you.

Once you finish, Matt stands up, ready to throw you on the bed and continue to have his way with you but you decide it’s time for you to take some control.

You push him onto the bed before he can say anything, and climb on as well, the look on his face priceless.

“Take off your jeans and your shirt. Now.” You demand, sitting on your knees in front of him, while he leans back against your pillows. He does so without any protest surprisingly, and once he’s left in just his boxers, you lean down, your ass arched in the air, and pull them off. His dick springs out, slapping his stomach and you grab it, taking him into your mouth. He groans loudly, putting a hand in your hair but you push it away, removing your mouth from him with a pop. “No touching.” You say, looking up at him seriously.

He smirks at you, raising both his hands in the air. “Yes mam.”

Satisfied with this, you lower your head down again, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you can, jerking the rest, and bobbing your head. The sounds he makes get you even wetter, and you moan around him, letting him brush the back of your throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, gripping your sheets as you prohibited him from touching you.

He slowly bucks up into your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, one of your hands now resting on his thigh and the other grabbing his balls. You know he won’t last long like this and before you can make him cum, he grabs your shoulders, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Come here, angel. I want you to ride me.” He says and you straddle him, sinking down on his cock. You both moan out at the feeling, and you start to bounce on it, putting your hands in his hair and tugging.

He guides your hips, helping you ride him, the air in the room now hot and thick.

“Look at you, so fucking needy. You just can’t get enough, can you baby?” he says, groaning as he watches himself slip in and out of you.

The feeling of him deep in your guts has you back in your submissive state, just nodding at his words, moaning his name. “Yes Matt.”

“Mm, shit, you look so beautiful, dumb for my cock like this.” He continues, knowing exactly what to say to bring you to that edge again. His fingertips dig into your hips, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

You lean your head against his shoulder, starting to get tired but still chasing that high.

You puff hot breaths against his neck, lazily leaving sloppy kisses.

“Want Daddy to help you, honey? Want me to make you cum on my dick again?” He rasps and all you can manage is a whine and nod against him. “Please.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he starts bucking his hips up, slapping against you roughly and you scream out, the grip in his hair becoming tighter. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, the pressure is almost overwhelming, and you can do nothing but take it, whimpering his name over and over again.

You reach your orgasm, cumming all over him and he finishes soon after you, biting into your shoulder as he does. He holds you for a little, both of you catching your breath, before you climb off of him.

You lay next to him while he rubs a hand up and down your legs, tracing small circles on your hip.

“You know, if this is how the rest of the week goes while you’re here, I won’t complain.” You joke and this makes him laugh, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry angel… I’ll help you finish that essay too.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both fall asleep.

[generalllimaginesss]

prompt: “if you don’t love me just say that”. “i was 15 minutes late!”

with Jamie drysdale if possible <333

I hope you like this!! My first Jamie fic :)) Also I’m about to start working on a few more requests, but keep sending them in! As always, thank you so much for reading!!

••

The clock on the nightstand read the time as 7:15 p.m. a reminder of the absence of a certain someone that should’ve been home already.

Jamie had promised that he wasn’t going to be late for the date, but he was going golfing with a few of his teammates, and well, there’s no telling what events unfolded and what time he would be home.

As you were finishing the small details of your makeup, satisfied with your reflection in the mirror on your vanity, the sound of the door that led to the garage frantically opened and shut. A flash of fair skin and dark hair darted straight past you to the shower in your shared bathroom.

“Jamie…” You gave him a disappointed sigh, listening as he was taking the world’s fastest shower.

“I know, I know,” He called, washing the sweat out his hair.

It felt like he was taking forever, but between the time that he got out of the shower and started to dry his hair with the hair dryer, about 15 minutes passed.

You had already laid his suit on the bed with his shoes and belt to the side so that he wouldn’t have to take the time to decide between the many suits he had.

“Trevor told me to tell you that he’s not sorry for stealing me for the day,” Jamie winked at you, flashing a teasing smile as he began to get dressed, tucking his shirt in, putting his belt on, and tying his shoes.

“Hm, was that before or after you realized you were going to be late,” You asked, spritzing perfume on your wrists and chest.

“Babe,” Jamie whined.

“The next time you see Trevor, tell him he’s the side bitch,” You flashed a sarcastic smile towards Jamie, him grinning in response.

“Is that right,” Jamie quipped, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He snaked an arm around your waist, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him. His lips left a dewy kiss on your temple.

“Better be,” You responded under your breath and began to make your way to the living room, waiting on Jamie to make sure his hair looked decent and completely ignoring his attempt at reconciliation.

The two of you made your way to your favorite fine dining restaurant near your house, an Italian restaurant that had some of the best drinks in town.

“What are you getting?” Jamie asked, his eyes peering at you from behind his menu.

“The usual.”

“And that would be…” Jamie knew he’d have to work a little bit to get out of the dog house for being late.

“If you don’t love me just say it,” You rolled your eyes as you raised your eyebrows as him, holding back the smile that was fighting to show while giving him a hard time.

“Babe, I was 15 minutes late!” His voice rose as he defended himself. He knew you wouldn’t be able to drop this until he made it up to you in some way.

“I’m just teasing, you goob. I know you love me,” You thumped his forehead, him rubbing it in response.

“I love you so very much,” He took your hand and tangled your legs underneath the table.

“More than golf?” You questioned.

He pretended to think about it, resulting in a kick to his shin, but he quickly responded.

“Golf’s got nothing against my girl,” He smiled, kissing the top of your hand.

He discretely rubbed his shin, but he’d take a million kicks to the shin if it meant he could tell you how much he loved you all the time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Overtime 11

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Mr. Hansen is right. Your legs are long. Too long. The short skirt makes you feel gawky and overexposed. The tight halter does little to make up for that and the visor around your head can’t hide your shame.  

As he climbs out of the golf cart, you do the same. You cross your arms and stay to the side as he goes to the back of the cart and peruses his bag of clubs. He peers out across the green then back to the collection. He hooks his finger under a hooked foot and slides the club free.  

He slips the cover off and turns the club. He looks at you and smirks as he approaches. 

“How about a personal lesson, Critter? Give you the what about before you get creamed?” He boasts. 

You shrug and drop your arms.  

“Sir,” you agree without agreeing. 

He grabs a tee and a ball and pokes the former into the grass. He waves you over and you approach reluctantly. He flutters his fingers with impatience and reaches for you. He takes your arm and moves you in front of him. 

“Alright, set your feet,” he kicks your shoes and you put your soles flat. “And you wanna push your shoulders back.” 

He reaches around you with the club and guides your hands around it. He squeezes his grip over yours. He’s flush to his back, his breath fanning on your shoulder, as he moves your body with his. 

“Loosen up a bit, swing with your whole body,” his voice is low and silty, not his usual snarl. He leads you in a swing, “twist,” he raises the club, “and follow through.” 

You do your best to let him take control. You’re not exactly listening. You just want this over with. If you give him what he wants, he’ll get bored. That’s the way it is. 

You twitch as he presses his pelvis against your butt. Your lips part but you don’t say anything. It’s nothing. You’re sensitive because you’re not used to so much skin. When he’s done you move away with the club. 

“Ladies first,” he winks, “all yours.” 

He gestures to the ball and you move towards you. You stare down at the dimpled ball, happy he can’t see your face. You don’t care where you hit it. Just hit it. 

You reset your feet like he said. You shift your hips as you hold the club on your own, measuring the weight and balance in your hands. He points out the hole, “somewhere over there, sweetheart.” 

You ignore the pet name and bite your lip. You pull the club up and back and swing through, twisting with the motion. You keep your feet in place as the club meets the ball and you lose track of it as it goes zooming off into the distance. 

Silence. You step back and turn to Mr. Hansen. You hold out the club as he squints into the sky. “Huh.” 

“Is it your go, sir?” You ask as you wiggle the club. 

“Yeah...” he utters and snatches the club. 

He lines up and makes his shot. His ball goes to the left of yours. He tilts his head but doesn’t comment. You’re not sure who’s closer. He spins and shoves the club at you. You take it and put it back in the bag. He’s already behind the wheel of the cart. 

You climb in next to him and fall into the seat as he steps on the gas. You jostle next to him, holding the side to keep from sliding completely across the seat. He reaches over with one hand to steady you, clasping down on your knee. 

You flinch and look down at his hand. The little dots on his glove are rough. As he keeps his grip on the wheel, his touch slowly works up your thigh. You squeak and latch onto his wrist. 

“Mr. Hansen.” 

“Making sure you don’t fall out,” he snickers. “I’d say you’re falling out enough.” 

He slows as he looks over at you, his eyes aimed at the deep vee of the halter. 

“Sir,” your curl your shoulders in. 

“Ah, come on,” he slaps your leg, “it’s a day out of the office. You should be fucking ecstatic.” He rolls the wheel and you lean into him without meaning too. “I’m sure you got all the eligible bachelors lined up and ready to take you out shopping, huh?” 

“Uh, Mr. Hansen, thanks, but uh--” 

“I’m sure Jake loves taking you to the comic store, huh?” 

“Sir, I... Jensen is a co-worker--” 

“Seems real fucking cozy to me. Critter, I know those beady eyes aren’t blind. The way that man drools at your desk,” he tuts, “I need you focused.” He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Remember who you work for.” 

“Mr. Hansen, I wouldn’t--” 

“You wouldn’t do anything I don’t tell you to do. I know that,” he slaps his hand back on your thigh, higher, right at the edge of your skirt. “Not like last night when you walked out on me.” 

You squirm as his fingers caress your sensitive skin. You never realised how sensitive that part of your leg is. You lean back against the seat and squeak. 

“Sir, please, slow down,” you beg as the car bounces. 

“I told you, you should show these off,” he squeezes your leg. “You can’t even take good advice. You come in dressed like some retiree. You got too much ass for that.” 

“Sir,” you beg and nudge his arm. “This isn’t professional--” 

“What’s not professional,” he slams on the brakes and you lurch forward, his hand slipping up your skirt. You squeal and close your legs around his hand. “Is you fucking flirting with that Big Bang Theory fuck on my pay.” 

“But, Mr. Hansen,” you grab onto his forearm, “I didn’t--” 

“Heard about your trip to IT this morning. Think I don’t know what the fuck is up,” he pinches you and you whine. “You’re getting uppity, Critter. I see it. I tasted it in my fucking coffee.” He rips his hand away and shoves you off the seat. 

You land on the grass with a helpless flail. He gets out and grabs a club from the bag as he rounds the cart. He strides around as he spins it then steadies it, putting it just below your chin. 

“Lucky for you, I’m a spit kinda guy. I just usually don’t partake outside the bedroom,” he puts his cleats on your chest as he pins you on your back. “So, critter, let’s get this straight. Where you are right now, in the dirt, that’s where you belong. So, stop fucking with me.” 

You stare up at him, horrified as the spikes on his shoes bite through the shirt and your skin. 

“Mr. Hansen--” 

“And the next time you talk to that jizzhole, I’ll have my nine iron ready to knock his block off. Got it?” 

“Ow, please--” 

“No, you say it. Say ‘yes, Mr. Hansen.’” 

You writhe and dig your heels into the grass as his cleats sink in further and he pushes your chin up with the club. 

“Yes, Mr. Hansen,” you whimper. 

[giuliettagaltieri]

Obsessive Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: A jerk, a bitch, and the sidekicks

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 1598

1 of 4

You can clearly remember the day you first started liking Rafe Cameron.

It was midsummer five years ago.  He was older than you and he only hung out with boys.  You were on the sidelines, afraid to talk to other girls like the popular Sarah Cameron and not interested in the conversation that the adults are having.

There was nothing interesting happening until Rafe Cameron decided to talk to you.  Well, it was just pleasantries being passed between you as you were standing by the cocktail table, sipping on your nonalcoholic juice as your mother insisted, and he was just needing a drink for himself.  One thing led to another and he was keeping you company the entire night, you did see how his stepmother was exchanging glances with him.  Whatever kindness Rafe Cameron showed you, it was not voluntary.

But you are grateful for it.

You started slotting yourself in his life, little by little, and he let you.

It was summer again and you had nothing else to do but bother him.

Dressed up in your polo shirt tucked in a light figure hugging shorts, your tennis shoes crunch over the pebbles of your driveway as you make your way to your car to head to the country club. 

In the mornings, you know that he likes to hit the gym with Topper and Kelce, you’d join them but they all stink of sweat and you’d rather pass.  Around this time, you know they will be at the Country Club, drinking or playing golf.

Smiling widely, you check your compact for anything out of place and smile even wider when you are content with how you look, sending a wink to your own reflection.

Rafe begrudgingly taught you how to drive a couple of years ago and you feel giddy with the memory.  You park carefully once you arrive at the Country Club and you spritz your favorite perfume behind your ears.  Rafe mentioned it smelled nice before and you have been using it ever since.  All the other perfume bottles that you are gifted on your birthdays and Christmas were left to collect dust in your closet.

You pinch your high socks to make sure that they fit snuggly, you can’t appear unkempt in front of Rafe and his friends.  With a practiced smile, you hop out of your car and saunter over to Rafe’s usual table, and just as you expected, he’s right there, having beer with Topper and Kelce.

“Hi!”  You greet them enthusiastically.  Topper and Kelce smile upon seeing you.  Rafe glances behind his shoulder to look at you before he turns back to his beer.

“Hi, Rafe.”  You say as you reach him, you place a hand on his arm to further get his attention and he squints up at you, making you giggle.  You sit down next to him, with a smile still on your face.  “I said…Hi, Rafe.”

He glances at Topper and Kelce, smiling briefly before it drops and he leans closer to you, his hard eyes staring deep into yours.  “Hi, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warm upon the soft gravel of his voice and you try to hide your proud smirk.  You like it when he actually acknowledges you, despite how rude he might act, you know he’s nice deep down.  Rafe has quite a temper and you have seen his outburst multiple times but he is always gentle with you.

Mindless conversation rolls over you until a soft chime in your bag has you pulling out your phone.  “Ugh, sorry.”  You smile sheepishly as you put your phone on silent mode.  “My mom has been trying to convince me to shift to business management courses.”

“Oh yeah, you took up fashion design, right?”  Kelce nods as he sip his beer and you beam at him.

“I did, Kelce.  Would you like to see my recent designs?”  You ask excitedly as you open your gallery and place your phone so Topper and Kelce can look at your sketch.

But Rafe chuckles humorlessly.  “Sweetheart, I don’t think Kelce came here to look at your drawings.”

“Oh.”  Your smile drops, your shoulders sagging just a bit.  “I’m sorry.”  You press home and Kelce and Topper both see how Rafe was your screensaver.  You don’t look embarrassed by it though.

“That’s fine.”  Kelce smiled at you.  “They’re uhm, they’re good.  Right, Top?”  He slaps Topper’s chest who quickly nods at you, even sending a frown to Rafe.

“They’re really nice, Y/N.  Perhaps you can make a suit for me for midsummer next year?”  He smiles and you gasp.

“Really, Top?”  You stand from your chair to grab his hand and he chuckles at your excitement.

“Yeah.”  Topper nods, grinning widely at your enthusiasm.

You sit back down and glance at Rafe triumphantly.  “See?  They’re not just drawings.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and grabs his beer.  “Sure.”

You drink your cherry cola, which was put under Rafe’s tab, swinging your feet as you sit closer to him, your smile not leaving your face. 

“Do you need sunglasses?”  You ask Rafe quietly as he squints under the sunlight.  “I have one in my car.”  He ignores you to listen to Topper talk.  “Or do you wanna switch seats with me, at least you won’t be facing the sun directly.”  You giggle lightly as you lean even closer to him.

Rafe shakes his head, eyeing you briefly.  “I’m good.”

You sigh but then you get a brilliant idea.  “At least wear sunscreen.”  You fish out a bottle of sunscreen from your pouch.  Rafe clicks his tongue when you spread the cream evenly on your palm and just as your hands were about to touch his face, his hands caught your wrist to stop you.

The sudden movement caught the server passing by off guard and the cocktail she was carrying came spilling onto Rafe’s polo.

“Oh no!”  You gasp, quickly wiping your hand on your thighs and dabbing a napkin on Rafe’s stained top.

The server apologizes profusely, she was even pressing her own napkin on Rafe’s clothes, but your eyes immediately lock on how her hands are pressed up on Rafe’s chest.

Before you can stop yourself, you are prying her hands off of Rafe, his shirt crumpled by your hands as you pull him close, your eyes glaring daggers at her.

“Don’t touch him!”  You scream angrily at her.  Her chest is heaving as her short hair is in disarray.  You glance at her nametag.  “Sofia.”  You say bitterly.  “Watch where you’re going next time!  If you can’t even serve drinks properly without pouring them all over your patrons, perhaps you shouldn’t be working here!”  You yell at her but before she can respond, Rafe’s arms wrap around your midriff and he lifts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down, now!”  You scream as you kick your feet but Rafe enclosed your thighs in a secure hold.

“Not until you calm down!”  He bellows, making you swallow the insult you were about to throw at Sofia.

You gulp.  You pissed him off.

You bite your lip as you let Rafe carry you to your car.  He puts you down roughly on your hood, you immediately squirm at the impact and at the heat of the metal under your thighs.

“Put me down!”  You squeal in pain but Rafe holds your thighs in each hand, you stop all movement when you see his tendons popping out, his eyes glaring at you.  “Rafe, I’m sor-”

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”  He angrily spits through gritted teeth.  His grip on your thighs tightening with every word he spoke, making you flinch and shrink back, your eyes glossy with tears.  “You just embarrassed me!”

You blanch at his tone.  “Rafe, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.”  You hiccup as you touch his jaw but he turns his head to the opposite direction, away from your touch.  His nose flared as his anger nearly boiled over.  His face was turning red and you see a vein bulge in his temple.

“She only spilled the drink on me because you were being insufferable.  That girl didn’t deserve to be yelled at.  You were a fucking bitch!”  He drilled a finger on your chest, making tears stream down your cheeks.  “God!  I can’t stand you.”  He shakes his head as he glares at you before storming off.

You called his name but he was already marching back inside the Country Club.  You watch him march away, his shoulders squared as he runs a hand down his mouth.  Your entire body was shaking as you looked at him desperately. 

Kelce comes and helps you down the hood.  You were clinging to his arms as you looked in the direction where Rafe disappeared.  “I said I was sorry.”  You look at Kelce with tears pouring out of your desperate eyes.  “Kelce, I said I was sorry.”

Topper shakes his head as he snatches a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you.  Your stuff already in his other hand

“Come on, Y/N.”  Topper calls.  “I’ll drive you home.”

Reluctantly, you step away from Kelce.  You glance at the Country Club one last time to see if Rafe came back and you wish you hadn’t, there he was with that server, Sofia.  Rafe was smiling down at her, she had a hand on her chest as she too smiled at him.  They are clearly talking about you.

Topper gently puts an arm on your shoulders to get you to tear your eyes away from them.

Lovesick Little Thing

[enemiestolovershoe]

Heii babeee. Can you please do a Rafe Cameron x enemies!reader? They are both well known people on Figure 8 but hat each other but one evening at a gala or something they fight and end up fucking in the bathroom. Maybe Ward and readers dad catches them in the end?

Entangled with the Enemy

Rafe Cameron x enemie!reader

Words: 4k

Summary: a heated rivalry ignites passion during a gala, revealing hidden desires.

Ever since you could remember, Rafe Cameron had been a thorn in your side. It wasn’t just a passing annoyance—no, it was a deep-rooted rivalry that had started long before either of you understood the complexities of disdain. It began at the country club when you were both barely old enough to hold a golf club. He had knocked over your lemonade in the clubhouse, laughing in that irritating way that only a spoiled rich kid could. You had retaliated by stepping on his foot with your newly polished shoes, which led to a shouting match that had every adult in the room glancing disapprovingly in your direction.

You hated him then. You hated him now.

Years later, not much had changed between you. If anything, the rivalry had only grown stronger, more venomous, as you both became fixtures in Figure 8’s elite social scene. Wherever you were, Rafe wasn’t far behind, and the feeling of mutual loathing had followed you through middle school, high school, and now, even into your early twenties.

Everyone in Figure 8 knew of your animosity. Some thought it was amusing—two golden children of Kildare’s wealthiest families constantly at each other’s throats. Others whispered, wondering if there wasn’t something else lurking beneath all that hatred, but you always scoffed at the idea.

Tonight was no different.

The annual Figure 8 Gala was a glamorous event, one that drew all the old-money families out of their grand estates and onto the dance floor, where champagne flowed like water and gossip circulated in hushed, excited tones. You stood near the bar, wearing a sleek black dress that made you look effortlessly elegant. You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much. Instead, your eyes flitted over the crowd, looking for an exit. As much as you tried to tolerate these events, they always left you feeling restless.

Just as you took a sip, you heard that all-too-familiar voice behind you.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think this was your scene anymore,” Rafe sneered, his presence commanding attention without even trying.

You set your glass down on the bar, not turning around yet. The tension between you two was palpable, even before you exchanged a single glance.

“Rafe, are you stalking me now, or is it just that you have nothing better to do with your life?” you retorted, finallyspinning around to face him.

He looked infuriatingly good, dressed in a tailored black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. His eyes, blue and piercing, studied you for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Always the charming one,” he said mockingly, stepping closer. “Remind me, how many years have you been trying to get under my skin? I’m starting to lose count.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him intimidate you. “I don’t have to try. You make it way too easy.”

Rafe chuckled, a low sound that made your skin prickle with annoyance. “Oh, trust me, princess, you’ve been trying. Ever since we were kids.”

At that, your glare sharpened. "Please. If anyone’s been obsessed with the past, it’s you. I’ve moved on from our childish nonsense a long time ago.”

“Right,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to snap my neck just because I’m breathing in the same room as you.”

“I’m standing here because I’m trying to enjoy my night without you ruining it,” you shot back, voice icy. “But clearly, that’s asking for too much.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

You pulled back immediately, staring at him like he’d just insulted you. “You’re delusional if you think I enjoy anything about you.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering you with a smug look that only made your blood boil more. “You used to care what I thought. Back in the day. Admit it.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, though he was quick to catch up, his long strides keeping him close. “I never cared about your opinion, Rafe. You’ve always been a spoiled, arrogant—”

“Rich boy?” he finished for you, a sarcastic glint in his eyes. “You keep throwing that around like it’s supposed to insult me.”

“It’s not an insult,” you replied, your voice low but steady. “It’s a fact.”

He stopped in front of you, blocking your path. The tension between you both was starting to draw attention from the surrounding party-goers, who were now casting curious glances in your direction. Some even whispered to one another, probably amused at the latest chapter in the saga of Rafe Cameron vs. You.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Rafe’s question came suddenly, his tone different—less mocking, more…curious. His brow furrowed as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer. “What is it, huh?”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the shift in his attitude. “I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. “Why do you hate me? Because, from where I’m standing, it feels like you put more effort into this than necessary. I know I’m not the nicest guy around, but…” He trailed off, watching you with a sharpness that you hadn’t seen before. It was unnerving.

You swallowed hard, straightening your posture as you searched for a retort. You couldn’t let him get to you. Not like this. “It’s easy to hate you, Rafe. You make it easy.”

He nodded slowly, as if contemplating your words. His lips twitched, forming a tight smile. “Because it’s easier to hate me than admit anything else, right?”

“What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, suddenly defensive.

“It means,” Rafe started, closing the distance between you again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “you spend so much time convincing yourself that I’m the problem, but maybe the problem is you can’t stand the fact that we’re more alike than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but nothing came out. For a split second, his words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a vice. The tension between you two felt different, heavier, like it was building toward something neither of you could control.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you finally managed to say, though your voice lacked the usual venom.

His smirk returned, but there was something else behind it now. Something almost…challenging. “Oh, I don’t have to. You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not thinking about anything except how to get away from you,” you shot back, turning on your heel to leave. But his hand caught your wrist, stopping you.

“Funny,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “Because every time you walk away, you always come back.”

A rush of frustration surged through you, his words clawing at something deeper, something you hadn’t been willing to admit for a long time. Maybe it was the constant proximity, maybe it was the years of bickering, or maybe it was the way he stood there, challenging you with every look, every smirk, every damn word. You felt your pulse quicken, your heart hammering in your chest as the room seemed to grow smaller.

You exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, overwhelming you.

"Fuck this," you muttered under your breath.

Without giving yourself time to think—or regret—you grabbed Rafe by the front of his jacket and pulled him with you, weaving through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going at first, but the second you spotted the nearest bathroom, you headed straight for it. Your heels clicked furiously against the polished floor as Rafe followed, clearly taken by surprise but not resisting.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, not locking, but you didn’t care.

Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands gripped his collar, pulling him down as your lips crashed into his. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was desperate, heated—years of tension and frustration finally spilling over.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, his hands immediately gripping your waist as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. The kiss was fierce, all teeth and tongue, neither of you giving the other a moment to breathe.

“Always so dramatic,” Rafe muttered against your lips between heavy breaths, his fingers sliding up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting—needing—more.

He chuckled against your mouth, but the sound quickly turned into a low growl as his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak.

Before you knew it, he lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the cool bathroom counter as he hoisted you up onto it. You gasped as the cold surface met your thighs, but the feeling was quickly replaced by the heat of his hands sliding up your legs, parting them with a slow, deliberate motion.

His lips were on your neck again, sucking and biting in a way that made it impossible to think straight. You could feel his breath hitch as he pressed harder into you, his body flush against yours.

“You’re not gonna stop me this time, are you?” Rafe’s voice was rough, low, almost daring you to push him away.

“Try me,” you muttered, breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dark with something more than just arrogance. His hands tightened around your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again. "I always knew you wanted me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with that familiar cockiness, but this time, you didn’t bother to deny it.

“You think too much,” you replied, your voice coming out in a breathy rush, and before he could respond, you crashed your lips into his again. This time, there was no holding back, no hesitation. Just pure, heated want.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs even further. The counter pressed against your back, the cold contrast making the heat between your bodies even more intense.

Your heart raced as his touch became more insistent, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of him, either. Everything about this moment was wrong, but it felt so damn right.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

You barely registered what you were doing as your fingers reached for the buttons of Rafe’s shirt, fumbling slightly in your haste to get it off. He broke the kiss for a brief second, just long enough to glance down at your hands before smirking. Without a word, he quickly helped you, undoing the buttons faster and shoving the fabric off his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the heat of his body driving you crazy as your hands ran over the hard planes of his chest.

He didn’t waste any time either. His hands slid down your waist, rough and urgent, before they disappeared under your dress. With one swift motion, he pushed it up around your hips, his fingertips skimming over your thighs as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off,” Rafe growled, voice thick with lust as he pulled them down in one quick motion, leaving you bare beneath him. He tossed them aside carelessly, his hands immediately returning to your thighs, spreading your legs wider.

You gasped, both from the sudden exposure and the way his touch sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly. Your mind was spinning, caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered desire. This was happening, and it was happening fast, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Not when every touch, every breath, made your skin burn with need.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, his body pressing firmly against yours. He took a moment to look down at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust, a cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I always knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with that same arrogant charm that had always made you want to slap him—except now, it made you want him even more.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your hands flying to his belt, desperate to unbuckle it and get it out of the way. The sound of the leather slipping free was loud in the small bathroom, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin against yours as you finally managed to free him from his pants.

“Someone’s eager,” Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he kicked off his shoes and pushed his pants and boxers down in one swift movement.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your pulse racing as he pressed his hips against yours, the feel of him—hard and ready—against your entrance sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

His eyes met yours, the cocky grin gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without saying a word, he positioned himself between your legs, one hand gripping your thigh as the other lined himself up at your entrance. There was no warning, no teasing, just the raw, primal need driving both of you.

In one smooth thrust, he pushed inside, and both of you let out matching moans, the sound filling the small bathroom as your bodies collided.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. His breath was hot against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he fought to keep himself under control.

You gasped, your nails digging into his bare shoulders as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. The stretch was intense, the pressure overwhelming, but it felt so good, too good. Your head fell back against the mirror behind you, your body arching against his as the tension in the air became almost unbearable.

“God, Rafe,” you whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the look he gave you was pure hunger. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, and with that, he started to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. But it wasn’t long before the pace quickened, the heat between you building with each movement. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with every thrust, his body driving into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his voice rough and filled with raw desire. His lips found yours again, but this kiss was different—hotter, needier, all tongues and teeth as his hips snapped forward, hitting deeper every time.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body rocking with his, matching his rhythm. It was fast, frantic, like you both needed this more than air.

“Rafe…” You breathed his name again, a plea, a warning. Your entire body was wound tight, the tension coiling low in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice thick and strained as he drove into you harder, his forehead resting against yours. “Say my name.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he thrust deeper, the angle hitting just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the overwhelming sensation building with each thrust, each ragged breath. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, as your nails raked down his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you managed to gasp, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a breaking point, your entire body trembling.

Rafe groaned in response, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby,” he muttered against your skin, his voice strained. “Come for me.”

And that was all it took.

With one final, hard thrust, the tension inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. A moan tore from your lips, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you, overwhelming your senses.

Rafe wasn’t far behind. You felt him tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, groaning as he reached his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his body pressed against yours as he rode out the last waves of pleasure, his hips moving in slow, lazy thrusts.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath as the intensity of what just happened settled between you.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he looked at you, a mixture of satisfaction and something else—something unreadable—in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and still rough from exertion.

You nodded, still trying to process everything. “Yeah… more than okay,” you whispered, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips.

Rafe smirked, that cocky grin you knew so well making its return. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

As the rush of the moment slowly faded, the sound of your combined heavy breathing filled the small space. Rafe’s hands still gripped your waist, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to come down from the intense high. Your skin was flushed, tingling from where he had touched you, the heat of your bodies still lingering in the air.

Neither of you said a word for a few moments, the silence stretching between you, filled with the weight of what had just happened. You were still perched on the counter, your dress bunched around your hips, both of you completely undressed, the reality of your situation slowly settling in.

Rafe leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to make sure this was all real. A small, cocky smile began to creep onto his lips. “That was… something,” he breathed, his thumb gently brushing against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking your head as you tried to gather yourself. “Yeah,” you whispered, your own cheeks still burning, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “Something.”

Just as you were about to say more, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening snapped both of your heads toward the sound.

Panic hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes widened in horror. You had barely registered the fact that you were still practically naked, tangled in Rafe, when two familiar figures stepped into the bathroom—your dad and Ward Cameron.

The room seemed to freeze for a second. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you stared, wide-eyed, at the two men now standing in front of you. They didn’t even look surprised—more like they had walked in on something they’d been expecting all along.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, your face flushing even redder than it already was. You quickly moved to cover yourself, but it was too late. You’d been caught. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, mortification crashing over you like a wave.

Rafe, equally frozen for a moment, blinked before quickly stepping in front of you, blocking their view as much as possible. “Oh my god, Dad, get out!” he shouted, his voice louder than necessary, sounding more like a demand than a request.

Your dad chuckled first, breaking the silence with a deep, amused laugh that made your embarrassment ten times worse. He exchanged a look with Ward, who simply shook his head with a knowing smile, as if the two of them had been waiting for this moment.

“Well, look at that,” Ward said, his tone full of dry amusement as he turned to face Rafe. “Took you two long enough to finally get along.”

Rafe groaned in frustration, his face flushed as he tried to shield you from view, his hands scrambling to grab his discarded shirt. “Dad, seriously—get out!” he snapped again, his voice full of exasperation.

Your dad shook his head, still chuckling softly. “We’ll give you two a moment,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he turned around to leave. “But don’t take too long. The gala’s still going on, after all.”

Ward followed suit, giving one last look over his shoulder, an almost proud smirk on his face. “Nice work, son,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, that did not just happen,” you muttered, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment. You could still hear the faint sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway.

Rafe let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s just… unreal,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, clearly as mortified as you were. “I can’t believe they—”

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, your hands still covering your face. “This is officially the worst way this could have ended.”

Rafe chuckled softly, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, “at least they didn’t kill me.”

You let out a weak laugh, finally pulling your hands away from your face to look up at him. “Yet,” you replied, your voice dry as you shook your head. “They didn’t kill you yet.”

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Guess we’ll just have to see how long I can stay alive, huh?”

You laughed again, the tension between you easing just a little. Despite everything—the panic, the embarrassment—there was still that undeniable spark between you, something deeper that neither of you could ignore anymore. Whatever had happened tonight, it had changed everything.

“Let’s just… not talk about this,” you muttered, still trying to shake off the mortification as you grabbed for your clothes, ready to escape the bathroom as fast as possible.

“Deal,” Rafe agreed, already pulling his shirt back on, though his eyes lingered on you with that same heated intensity, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For now.”

As you straightened your dress and gathered yourself, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, a part of you knowing that whatever came next between you and Rafe, it was going to be far from over.