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elikajinnie · 3 months ago

Note

hiii I LOVED ur ni-ki hogwarts au and I wanted to request more for ni-ki in hogwarts au if that’s okay 😭😭?? I love ur writing, it’s really immersive and I’ll definitely look forward to many more of ur writings 😭🫶

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙮 𝙊𝙛 𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄𝙘𝙚 - N.R

AHH THANK UU!! I was quite unsure if you wanted part 2 from the previous one, but nahh i will give you all a new scenario :) (Big thanks to bestie @starf4lls for the help for this one!! Ily! <3 (thanks for buying me hogwarts legacy, will never forget it)

P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Teasing

Synopsis: When you transfer to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny, you quickly catch the attention of Nishimura Ni-ki, a charming Slytherin.

masterlist

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The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Students filled the long, wooden tables. The Sorting Hat had just finished placing the last of the first years into their respective houses, when Professor Dumbledore stood up from his ornate chair at the staff table. He raised a hand, and the hall fell silent.

“Congratulations to all our new first years,” Dumbledore began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. “We are thrilled to have you join our Hogwarts family. But tonight, we have another special announcement. This year, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student from one of our neighboring schools, Ilvermorny. Please join me in extending a warm welcome to Y/N.”

The massive doors at the back of the hall creaked open, and all eyes turned to see you entering, flanked by the ever-grumpy caretaker, Filch. Your plain robes set you apart from the others, and you couldn’t help but gaze around in wonder at the majestic hall, the floating candles, and the enchanted ceiling.

As you made your way to the front, the murmur of whispers followed you, a mix of curiosity and excitement. Filch gestured towards a stool where the Sorting Hat sat waiting. “Please, take a seat, Miss,” he said gruffly. You nodded, smiling nervously, and perched on the stool as Professor McGonagall approached with the Sorting Hat.

She placed the hat gently on your head, and you felt it settle over your eyes. For a moment, there was only silence, and then a voice echoed in your mind. “Ah, a transfer from Ilvermorny…interesting. Where to put you, where to put you?”

After what felt like an eternity but was merely seconds, the hat declared your house. The table erupted in cheers, and you made your way over, greeted by friendly faces and welcoming smiles.

You didn’t notice the pair of piercing eyes from the Slytherin table, watching your every move. The gaze was intense, like a predator sizing up its prey. As you took your seat among your new housemates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, unaware that someone had taken a particular interest in you from the moment you stepped into the Great Hall.

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Life at Hogwarts had turned out to be both thrilling and challenging, but you adapted quickly. The first few weeks had been a whirlwind of lessons, new faces, and navigating the sprawling castle. At first glance, you might have appeared aloof, often lost in thought or daydreaming as you strolled through the corridors or took your seat in class. But in truth, you weren’t lost at all. You excelled in your studies, quickly mastering spells and absorbing knowledge at a pace that even impressed your professors. You built a tight-knit group of friends, mostly from your house but with a few from other houses as well.

Still, there were odd moments when you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. A tingling awareness would prick at the back of your neck as you walked to class or studied in the library. Yet, every time you turned to look, no one seemed to be paying you any special attention. You’d shake it off, wondering if you were just imagining things, and continue on with your day.

But today, during Charms class, that lingering feeling returned. You were sitting near the front, dutifully taking notes as Professor Flitwick explained a particularly tricky spell. As you wrote, you felt it again—that unmistakable sensation of being watched. This time, instead of turning your head sharply, you let your eyes slowly drift upward, keeping your head down and posture casual.

That’s when you saw him.

Sitting in the back row, partially obscured by a few of his Slytherin housemates, was a strikingly handsome boy. His black hair fell over the left side of his face, casting a shadow over one eye, but the other was locked on you with an intense focus that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t look away when you noticed him. In fact, he seemed amused by the fact that you had caught him staring. He tilted his head slightly, and for a brief moment, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His gaze was dark, calculating, but there was something exhilarating about having it fixed on you.

You blinked, heart racing, and quickly averted your gaze back to your notes, trying to focus on the lesson. But the curiosity gnawed at you, distracting you from the spells and incantations. With a soft hum, you scribbled a quick note in the corner of your notebook: Who’s the dark-haired Slytherin on the last row to the left?

You slid the notebook toward one of your Ravenclaw friends sitting beside you, a clever boy named Adrian. He glanced down, read your note, then discreetly lifted his gaze to the back of the class. His eyes landed on the boy before he quickly scribbled a response and slid the notebook back to you.

That’s Nishimura Riki, but he goes by Ni-ki.

You read the note and nodded lightly, casting another glance toward the back of the room. Ni-ki was still watching you, his eyes meeting yours as soon as you looked up. This time, you didn’t look away so quickly. Instead, you absently caressed the feather of your quill, feeling a rush of anticipation as his gaze lingered.

Ni-ki, huh? You thought to yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

When class ended, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. As the other students filed out of the room, you packed your things, trying to act as though your thoughts weren’t entirely preoccupied with the tall, dark-haired Slytherin.

You slipped your notebook into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Heading for the door, you kept your gaze ahead, your heart still racing slightly from the earlier encounter. As you stepped through the doorway and into the hallway, you turned to glance back, almost instinctively.

And that’s when you bumped into something solid—someone solid.

Startled, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his. It was Ni-ki, standing impossibly close, his tall frame towering over you. His presence was even more imposing now that he was right in front of you, and for a moment, you were struck speechless.

“Oh—sorry!” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm as you took a small step back.

Ni-ki didn’t move, but the hint of a smirk played at his lips, the same one you had seen earlier in class. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” he said, his voice smooth, rich with an underlying confidence that made your pulse quicken.

Up close, he was even more striking than you had realized. His sharp eyes were intense, framed by dark lashes that gave him an almost mysterious air. His lips, full and soft, curled slightly as he observed you, and his skin was flawless and smooth.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself, but being this close to him had thrown you off balance. He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze unwavering, as if he was reading something in you that no one else had ever seen.

“Hey you’re from Ilvermorny, right?” he asked, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, and you're… Ni-ki?” you replied, your voice coming out steadier than you expected.

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.

Just then, you remembered something. “Actually, it’s Y/n,” you corrected him gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, the distance between you diminishing even more. “I know,” he said playfully, his tone teasing. “But I think ‘Ilvermorny’ suits you better. It has a nice ring to it.”

Your cheeks flushed at the nickname, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re really going to call me that, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’s perfect, and it’ll remind everyone that you’re something special. Plus, it’s a good conversation starter.”

“Fine,” you conceded, a smirk playing on your lips. “But only if you promise to call me by my real name sometimes too.”

“Deal,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “But for now, I think Ilvermorny has a nice charm to it, don’t you?”

Before you could think of how to respond, he took a small step back, giving you some space but not breaking eye contact. “I’ll see you around, Ilvermorny,” Ni-ki said, his voice smooth as ever, as he turned and began walking away, his pace unhurried.

You stood there for a moment, watching him as he disappeared down the hall. The encounter left you feeling oddly exhilarated, your heart still pounding in your chest.

As you turned to head back to your common room, one thought echoed in your mind: Ni-ki is definitely someone to keep an eye on.

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Over the next few weeks, you started noticing Ni-ki’s presence more and more. It wasn’t just in passing glances during classes anymore—he seemed to be everywhere. Whether you were heading to the library, walking down the hallway, or grabbing lunch in the Great Hall, he always found a way to cross your path. And every time, he’d stop to talk, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, it was subtle. He’d give a casual “Hey, Ilvermorny” as he passed by, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary. Then it became more frequent. You’d feel a tap on your shoulder in the corridors, turning to find him leaning casually against the wall, looking at you with that same half-smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He wasn’t just talking, either. He started doing little things, almost without you realizing it at first. If you were carrying a stack of books that looked too heavy, he’d take them from you with a simple, “Here, let me get that.” Once, when you were balancing your bag and a few loose scrolls of parchment after class, he slid the bag off your shoulder before you even had time to protest. “I’ll carry it,” he said smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. And he did, walking beside you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t just about being helpful either. Ni-ki had a way of complimenting you that felt almost too effortless. “You look nice today,” he’d say, his voice low and smooth as he passed by, sending a shiver down your spine. Or sometimes, when you were deep in thought or stressing over an assignment, he’d lean in close and say something like, “You’re always so focused. It’s kind of impressive.” And his words stuck with you longer than you liked to admit.

The candies were a nice touch too. Out of nowhere, he started bringing you small treats from Hogsmeade—tiny, colorful sweets that were your favorite. He never made a big deal of it, just handed them to you with a casual, “Thought you might like these,” before walking off like it was no big deal. But every time you opened your hand to find another sweet, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering just how closely he was paying attention.

Yet, there was another side to Ni-ki. You started to notice the way his eyes would darken slightly whenever another guy approached you. If a boy from your house stopped to talk with you, asking about class or inviting you to study in the library, Ni-ki’s gaze would turn sharp, though he never said a word. He didn’t have to. His presence was enough to make the others hesitate, sensing the unspoken tension.

And when you’d turn back to Ni-ki, giving him your full attention again, his expression would shift instantly—back to that smug, satisfied look, as though he’d won some unspoken battle. You found it oddly cute, the way he seemed so sure of himself, yet always with that hint of playful arrogance.

One afternoon, while you were walking out of Potions class, a Gryffindor boy from your year had caught up to you, asking about a spell you’d used during the lesson. You were explaining it when you felt that familiar gaze on you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed what you already knew—Ni-ki, standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable but his eyes locked on you and the boy next to you.

As soon as the Gryffindor left, Ni-ki was there, falling into step beside you. “You sure have a lot of people interested in what you have to say,” he commented, his voice smooth, but there was a teasing edge to it.

You shrugged, smiling. “Maybe I’m just that interesting.”

Ni-ki smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, I already know that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze lingering in a way that made your heart skip. “But it’s nice when you remember who’s been paying attention the longest.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond, just continued walking beside you, carrying your bag without a second thought, like he always did now. You couldn’t help but find it adorable how Ni-ki never seemed to let any other guy linger too long in your space. And the way he always seemed so smug when you gave him your attention? It made you smile, even if you tried to hide it.

Ni-ki was becoming a constant presence in your life, and though he never said it outright, it was clear that he was staking his claim, in his own subtle, confident way. And somehow, you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, you found yourself looking forward to those moments more than you would ever admit.

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It was a crisp, sunny Saturday morning when Ni-ki approached you with that familiar confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. He found you in the hallway, casually leaning against the wall as though he hadn’t sought you out deliberately, though by now, you knew better. He always had a reason for being wherever you were.

“Ilvermorny,” he said, his voice smooth as ever, “you coming to the Quidditch match today?”

You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “You really expect me to cheer for Quidditch?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing in that mischievous way that made your heart race. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want you there, cheering for me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Ni-ki was relentless, and somehow, you found yourself agreeing despite the obvious conflict of interest. “Alright, I’ll come,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “But don’t expect me to be super hyped.”

He smirked, clearly pleased. “We’ll see about that.”

Later that afternoon, you found yourself seated in the stands, wrapped in your house scarf, surrounded by your friends who were all eager to cheer. Despite their enthusiasm, your eyes kept straying to the Slytherin side of the pitch, where Ni-ki and his teammates were preparing for the match.

As Madam Hooch gathered both teams in the center of the field to go over the rules, you saw Ni-ki’s head turn, his eyes scanning the crowd. You could tell he was looking for someone—looking for you. When his gaze finally found you in the stands, his expression brightened instantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He raised an eyebrow, the unspoken question in his eyes clear: You’re really here?

You smiled and waved at him, feeling the warmth spread through your chest despite the cool breeze. Ni-ki's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with that same smug confidence, as if knowing you were watching had just made his day. He nodded once, then turned back to the game with renewed energy.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

From the moment the Quaffle was released, Ni-ki was in his element. He moved with a grace and agility that made it impossible to tear your eyes away from him. He darted through the air with incredible speed, dodging Bludgers and weaving around the other players with ease. As a Chaser, he was relentless, racking up goal after goal for Slytherin. Every time he scored, the crowd would erupt, but you couldn’t help but feel like his victories were just as much for you as they were for his team.

It wasn’t long before your friends started to notice your divided attention. “Who are you actually cheering for?” one of them teased, nudging you with a playful grin. “Your eyes have been on the Slytherin side for most of the match.”

You laughed, trying to play it off, but there was no denying it. “Maybe I’m just appreciating good Quidditch,” you replied, but the look in your eyes gave you away.

As the game went on, Ni-ki continued to dominate, his skill on full display. And every now and then, between plays, you’d catch him glancing toward the stands, searching for you again. Each time, his smirk would reappear, as if knowing you were watching him gave him even more confidence. You’d wave or give him a small nod, and he’d flash that cocky smile before diving back into the game with even more intensity.

Your friends started giving you a few suspicious looks, but they were too absorbed in the match to question it too much. And besides, it was hard not to be impressed by Ni-ki’s performance—he was a natural on the pitch, and it was clear that he knew it.

By the time the match ended, Slytherin had won, and Ni-ki was at the center of the victory celebration, his teammates patting him on the back and cheering his name. But even in the midst of the chaos, his eyes sought yours once again. And when he found you, standing and clapping in the stands, he shot you a triumphant look, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever.

You couldn’t help but smile back, shaking your head at how effortlessly he had won both the match and your attention.

As the crowd began to disperse, Ni-ki flew toward the stands, clearly intent on finding you. Your heart sped up as he approached, his hair slightly tousled from the wind and the exertion of the game, but his sharp eyes still gleaming with that playful arrogance.

“So,” he said when he finally reached you, his voice low and teasing, “did I live up to your expectations?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. “I suppose you weren’t terrible.”

He chuckled, leaning in just slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “I saw you cheering for me,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a thrill through you. “You couldn’t hide it, Y/N.”

You blushed but held his gaze. “Maybe you earned it,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Ni-ki’s smirk deepened, and he straightened up, clearly pleased with himself. “Good,” he said, his tone soft but confident. “Because I expect you to be at every game from now on.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but there was no denying the excitement building inside you. “We’ll see,” you said playfully, though you already knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.

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Before you knew it, you had developed a little crush on Ni-ki. It crept up on you quietly, sneaking into your thoughts during class and fluttering in your stomach whenever he came around. And as your feelings deepened, you started to tease him back whenever you had the chance, finding joy in turning the tables on the boy who had so effortlessly captured your attention.

You quickly learned that bantering with him was just as entertaining as watching him play Quidditch. Ni-ki would lean down, getting uncomfortably close, pretending not to hear you whenever you asked him something in a crowded corridor. He would arch an eyebrow, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks from the closeness. You could see how much he enjoyed it, but what made it even more satisfying was the way a faint pink hue would tint his cheeks when he turned his head, as if he was trying to laugh off the effect you had on him.

One afternoon, as you sat together in the courtyard, discussing your assignments, you decided it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Ni-ki was animatedly explaining something, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. You feigned interest, letting your gaze drift as you formulated your plan.

When he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone, you took the opportunity. With a sudden tug, you grabbed his tie, pulling him down to your level. “What did you say?” you asked, your tone innocent, even as you played with the soft fabric in your hands.

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of awe and disbelief flickering across his face. For a split second, he seemed completely speechless, caught off guard by your boldness. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he registered what had just happened. But then, as if recalling himself, he looked away, trying to appear stern but failing miserably. You caught the slight tremor in his voice when he responded, though. “You know, you’re really pushing your luck, Ilvermorny.”

You only smiled, relishing the moment as you leaned in slightly, maintaining the playful banter. “Am I? I thought you liked it when I paid attention to you,” you shot back, your heart racing at the playful challenge in your tone.

His gaze flickered back to yours, surprise still evident in his features. But then he huffed, a smile breaking through the façade. “You’re really something else, you know?” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

His reaction was everything you had hoped for, the way he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and amusement, his voice softening as he spoke. It was as if you had pulled back a layer, revealing a side of him that he didn’t often show to others.

“Maybe I am,” you teased, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk. “But that’s what keeps you coming back, isn’t it?”

Ni-ki chuckled, leaning back just a fraction, his expression smug once more. “You really think you’re that special, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face. “I’m just saying, you wouldn’t want anyone else getting this kind of attention, would you?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, a look of genuine thought crossing his features before he leaned closer again, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t tell anyone that. They might get jealous.”

The way he said it made you feel giddy, a combination of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach.

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As the weeks went by, you and Ni-ki fell into a comfortable rhythm, filled with playful banter and flirtation that seemed to grow bolder with each interaction. It became a part of your daily routine, whether you were in class, studying in the library, or wandering the Hogwarts grounds.

One chilly afternoon, you and Ni-ki decided to take a walk around the Black Lake, the air crisp and refreshing. The leaves had started to change colors, and the scenery was breathtaking. As you strolled along the water’s edge, the conversation flowed easily, with both of you exchanging light-hearted jabs.

“Bet I could skip this stone further than you,” Ni-ki challenged, picking up a smooth rock and tossing it expertly across the surface. It skipped three times before sinking.

“Please, that was barely a throw,” you laughed, picking up a stone of your own. You focused on your technique, channeling all the concentration you could muster. With a flick of your wrist, the stone flew across the water, skipping six times before finally disappearing. You turned to him triumphantly. “How’s that for a throw?”

Ni-ki feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on his chest. “I am in the presence of a stone-skipping champion,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Don’t get too cocky; you’ll never beat me,” you teased back, reveling in the thrill of competition.

Another afternoon, you found yourself in the library studying for an upcoming exam. As you sat at a table, trying to focus, you felt Ni-ki slide into the seat next to you. “Mind if I join?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Sure, as long as you’re quiet,” you replied, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I can be quiet,” he said dramatically, pressing a finger to his lips. “But only if you promise to let me steal some of your notes later.”

“Nice try,” you said, shaking your head. “You’ll have to earn those.”

For the next few minutes, you both pretended to study, though you were acutely aware of the way he kept glancing over at you, a playful smile lurking on his lips. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you looked up. “What’s so funny?”

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his voice low. “I just can’t believe you’re actually studying. It’s not like you need to, with how smart you are.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Are you trying to butter me up for my notes?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. “Or maybe I just genuinely enjoy watching you work. It’s kind of cute.”

You felt your heart flutter, and you struggled to maintain your composure. “Cute, huh? That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe my study habits.”

“No, but it’s definitely how I’d describe you,” he said, his tone sincere now.

You could feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks again, but instead of shying away, you leaned in slightly, enjoying the closeness. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

Ni-ki chuckled softly. “Oh, I know.”

As the days turned into weeks, you found countless moments to continue your playful interactions. Whether it was competing over who could create the best potion in Professor Snape's class or seeing who could guess the most spells correctly in Charms, your friendship flourished, and the teasing evolved into something deeper.

One evening, as you both wandered through the castle after dinner, Ni-ki grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you. “Hey, I have a question for you,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

You looked up, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes as if weighing his words. “What’s your favorite thing about Hogwarts?”

You thought for a moment, your heart racing slightly. “I’d have to say… the magic. It’s all around us, in everything we do. But you know what? The people make it even better.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into one of playful suspicion. “Are you talking about me?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Good choice,” he replied, smirking. “Because I was going to say my favorite thing is how you make it feel less lonely here.”

You stopped, surprised by his sincerity, and for a moment, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, replaced by something more profound. But before you could respond, he playfully nudged you with his shoulder, breaking the tension. “But really, we both know I’m the best part of your Hogwarts experience.”

“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” you replied, shaking your head, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face.

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As you sat in the bustling Great Hall, the chatter of students mingling with the clinking of cutlery filled the air. Plates were piled high with food, laughter echoed around you, and you were enjoying the lively atmosphere when a flurry of movement caught your eye. The owlery was busy today; several owls swooped in and out, delivering letters and packages to their respective owners.

You watched as your owl flew in front of you, dropping a letter and a small, beautifully wrapped gift. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught them both expertly, the soft rustle of parchment against your fingertips bringing a sense of nostalgia. You recognized the wrapping immediately—it was covered in shimmering blue paper, a telltale sign of a certain someone from Ilvermorny.

You scrunched your nose in distaste, knowing exactly who had sent it. A gift from Harrison, who had developed a notorious reputation for his over-the-top romantic gestures. You set the gift aside, hoping to forget about it for now, and turned your attention to the letter.

Unfolding it, you smiled as you recognized the handwriting of your friends back at Ilvermorny. As you read through the familiar banter and inside jokes, a warm feeling spread through you. Each message carried a piece of home, reminiscing about shared memories and moments.

The letter read:

Dear Y/N, We miss you like crazy! It’s just not the same without you here, especially during the big Quidditch matches. Everyone keeps asking where you are, and we have to remind them that you’re off being a star at Hogwarts. We can’t wait to hear all about your adventures, so make sure to write back! P.S. Harrison still hasn’t gotten over you. You know how he is with those ridiculous gifts. We tried to tell him to stop, but he thinks you’ll finally notice him this way. Good luck!

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the antics of your friends. Just then, one of your housemates, Clara, leaned over, pointing her turkey leg at the gift you had set aside. “Aren’t you going to open that?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No,” you replied, glancing at the box with mild annoyance.

“Oh well, don’t mind if I do,” she declared, snatching the present before you could stop her.

“Wait, Clara—!” you started, but it was too late. She ripped open the wrapping, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate box adorned with a delicate ribbon.

“Ooh!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. “This looks amazing!”

“I wouldn’t eat those if I were you.”

“Why not?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion as she pried the box open, the rich smell of chocolate wafting toward you.

“They probably have Amortentia in them,” you replied matter-of-factly, your expression serious.

Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. “How do you know?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Because the guy who sent that has put the potion in the treats before. I wouldn’t trust it if I were you.”

She paused, glancing at the chocolates, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, crossing your arms.

You watched as Clara set the box down, a look of mild disgust replacing her earlier enthusiasm. “Thanks for the heads up,” she said, chuckling nervously. “I was really going to eat one of those.”

“No problem,” you said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having saved her from a potentially embarrassing situation. “Harrison’s just trying too hard to win me over.”

“Sounds like he’s got it bad,” Clara commented, glancing at the letter in your hands. “What else did your friends say?”

You chuckled, holding the letter up. “Just the usual. They miss me, and they’re trying to keep me updated on the drama back home. It’s nice to hear from them.”

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It started gradually—first a few letters, then more frequent parcels from Harrison, each one wrapped with a level of detail that made it clear he was still determined to win you over. Every time an owl dropped something in front of you, your frustration grew. You had hoped that your move to Hogwarts would finally make him understand that you weren’t interested, but apparently, Harrison hadn’t taken the hint. Not after countless rejections, nor after the awkward conversations where you’d tried to make it clear that you weren’t interested in him romantically.

Now, each letter and gift felt like a weight, dragging your mood down. Every time a package arrived, your heart sank. Today, in the courtyard, the annoyance had finally reached a boiling point.

Another letter had come—this time with a box of enchanted roses that sang love songs in annoying, high-pitched voices. You barely glanced at it before casting Incendio, watching the parchment curl and burn in your hand, the flames crackling as they consumed the letter. You stood there, arms crossed, muttering under your breath about how thick-headed Harrison must be.

"Another one, huh?" came a voice behind you.

You turned around quickly, startled by the voice, and found yourself face-to-face with Ni-ki. He stood there with his usual air of confidence, but you could tell something was different—there was a glint of concern in his eyes as he glanced at the charred remains of the letter in your hand.

"You’ve been doing that a lot lately," Ni-ki said, his voice low as he nodded toward the ashes. "Who keeps sending you these?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "It’s from this guy, Harrison," you admitted. "He went to Ilvermorny with me. He’s been… persistent. Really persistent. I thought moving to Hogwarts would make him stop, but he just doesn’t seem to get it."

Ni-ki’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something more serious as he stepped closer. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years," you confessed, your voice quieter now. "He’s been sending letters and gifts for a while. I’ve turned him down so many times, but he just doesn’t listen. I thought leaving would be enough, but clearly, he doesn’t know how to take a hint."

For a moment, Ni-ki was quiet. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a hard, focused look. His sharp eyes darkened with a seriousness you weren’t used to seeing from him. “That’s not okay,” he said, his voice firm. “Has he ever done anything else besides sending letters and gifts?”

You shook your head. “No, just… this. It’s annoying more than anything. But it’s getting worse. Every time I think it’s over, he sends something else, and it’s like I can’t escape it.”

Ni-ki clenched his jaw, his hands tightening at his sides. "And you don’t want anything to do with him?"

"Not at all," you answered without hesitation. "I’ve told him that so many times, but he’s just… I don’t know. Stubborn? Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s like he thinks if he keeps trying, I’ll suddenly change my mind."

Ni-ki’s eyes narrowed, his protective instinct kicking in. "He’s harassing you, Y/N. That’s not stubbornness—that’s ignoring your boundaries. You shouldn’t have to deal with that."

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. You’d always seen Ni-ki as playful, and maybe a bit smug, but seeing him like this—serious and genuinely concerned—threw you off guard.

"It’s fine, Ni-ki. I’ve handled it so far," you tried to reassure him, though even as you said it, you felt the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Ni-ki shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He was tall, and the way he looked down at you with those serious, sharp eyes made your heart race. “It’s not fine, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. He’s not respecting your space, and that’s a problem.”

His protectiveness was unexpected but comforting. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, realizing that you didn’t have to keep brushing it off as something small.

“Listen,” Ni-ki continued, his voice softening but still laced with a steely edge. “If he keeps this up, you need to tell someone—McGonagall, Dumbledore, anyone. But I’ll also make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Ni-ki smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Let’s just say I have my ways. If he keeps trying to reach you, he’ll have me to deal with. And trust me, he won’t want that.”

You laughed lightly, though a part of you believed him. Ni-ki had always been protective, even in his teasing ways, but this felt different. He wasn’t joking—he was genuinely upset at the thought of someone bothering you. And in that moment, you realized that Ni-ki wasn’t just teasing or flirting anymore. He cared about you deeply, enough to step in and make sure you were safe.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed by how much his concern meant to you. “I appreciate it.”

Ni-ki reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You’re not alone in this, okay? If you ever need anything—anything at all—you come to me.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I will.”

With one last look at the ashes of the letter on the ground, Ni-ki nodded resolutely. “Good. Because I’m not letting this Harrison guy get away with thinking he can mess with you.”

You had no idea what Ni-ki had planned after learning about Harrison’s persistent harassment. In fact, Ni-ki had been hard at work behind the scenes, determined to send a message that Harrison would finally understand.

It started with Ni-ki reaching out to your old friends from Ilvermorny. He’d always been clever, resourceful even, and after hearing everything from you, he had a plan in mind. A letter from him had made its way to your Ilvermorny friends, explaining the situation and his idea. To his surprise—and relief—they didn’t hesitate to help. They were as fed up with Harrison as you had been, and they quickly agreed to assist Ni-ki in making sure Harrison knew it was over for good.

But there was one particular evening that made Ni-ki’s plan easier to execute—though you had no idea how much you’d helped.

That night, you’d been studying in the library, trying to cram for an upcoming exam. But the weight of everything, the sleepless nights, and the stress of school had caught up with you. Without much thought, your head had gently rested on your open book, and soon after, you’d fallen fast asleep, your arms crossed on the desk.

Ni-ki had been lucky to find you in that state. He had wandered into the library to check on you, noticing you hadn’t been around for a while. When he saw you peacefully asleep, your face resting on the book, a small smile spread across his face. He didn’t hesitate to quietly grab a blanket, gently placing it over your shoulders. His movements were careful, not wanting to wake you, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching as you slept soundly.

His next move had been far more mischievous.

With a grin, Ni-ki pulled out his wand and, with a quick flick, summoned his camera from his bag. He moved in closer, leaning down beside you. His face hovered right next to yours, his lips gently brushing your cheek as he kissed you softly, snapping a picture at that very moment.

It was perfect. The picture showed Ni-ki as he kissed your cheek while you slept, completely unaware. And it was exactly what he needed to complete his plan.

Without a second thought, Ni-ki sent the photo, along with a very threatening letter, straight to Harrison. The letter was brief but left no room for misinterpretation:

Harrison, She isn’t interested and never will be. Stop sending letters, gifts, or anything else. This is your final warning. From here on out, she’s got someone looking after her. Do yourself a favor and back off, or things will get ugly.

The message was crystal clear, especially with the attached photo showing Ni-ki close to you, practically staking his claim. He knew it would rile Harrison up, but that was the point. There was no room left for Harrison to misinterpret anything now.

And after that, to your great relief, Harrison’s letters and gifts stopped. You thought, maybe, he had finally understood that you weren’t interested and had backed off. You hadn’t given much more thought to it, just grateful that the ordeal was finally over.

It wasn’t until you found yourself in the owlery one quiet afternoon that you learned the full truth. A letter had arrived from one of your friends at Ilvermorny. You smiled, opening it with excitement, eager to hear from them. But as you read the letter, your eyes widened in shock.

Dear Y/N, Hey! We heard about what Ni-ki did. That guy really knows how to handle things, huh? Harrison needed that wake-up call, and we were more than happy to help Ni-ki out. We're so glad you're not getting any more of those creepy letters. You deserve to enjoy your time at Hogwarts without that hanging over you. By the way, you looked adorable in that photo he sent. Ni-ki’s a keeper, just saying! Take care, and write back soon! Love, your friends.

You stared at the letter, your mouth slightly open in disbelief. Ni-ki had done what?

As you stood there, shocked, two photos slipped out of the envelope and fluttered to the ground. Bending down, you picked them up and examined the first one. It was a picture of Harrison sulking in class, his shoulders slouched and his expression defeated. You breathed out a sigh of relief—he had finally gotten the message. But when you turned your attention to the second picture, your heart skipped a beat.

The photo showed Ni-ki in the library, leaning down and kissing your cheek while you were fast asleep. Your fingers instinctively went to your cheek, where he had kissed you.

"Oh," you whispered to yourself, still processing the moment.

"Hey, Ilvermorny!" a familiar voice called from behind you.

You jumped, startled, and quickly turned to see Ni-ki standing at the entrance of the Owlery, a relaxed smile on his face. He must have just arrived, but his sharp eyes immediately noticed your expression—and the photos you were holding. As he approached, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"What’ve you got there?" he asked, though the smirk on his face told you he already knew.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your mind was still reeling from the image of him kissing your cheek. Ni-ki glanced down at the photos in your hand and chuckled.

"Guess he finally realized," Ni-ki said with a grin, nodding toward the first picture of Harrison. Then his gaze shifted to the second one, and his smirk softened into something more playful. "Ah, so you saw that one too, huh?"

You stood there, frozen for a second, your heart racing. "You… you kissed me while I was asleep?"

Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck casually. "Couldn’t resist. You looked too cute, and, well… I figured Harrison needed a clear message." He winked, his tone teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his words.

"And what if I had woken up?" you asked, trying to sound stern but failing as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Then I would’ve played it off and told you it was a dream," Ni-ki replied smoothly, his smirk growing wider. "But you didn’t wake up, so… I guess you’ll have to take my word for it."

You shook your head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "You're unbelievable."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of you, his gaze warm but mischievous.

"No," you admitted quietly, unable to keep from smiling. "It's not."

Ni-ki’s eyes sparkled, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging in the balance.

"So," he said after a beat, his voice softening. "No more letters from him, huh?"

"Yeah, no more letters," you confirmed, feeling the weight of that relief settle in. "Thanks to you."

Ni-ki shrugged, his grin turning softer. "I told you I’d handle it. And honestly? I’d do it again."

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "Next time you want to kiss me, maybe let me be awake for it?"

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in surprise at your bold comment, clearly caught off guard. His usual confident smirk faltered as he stared at you, the realization of your words settling in. Slowly, a blush crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks and even the tips of his ears. You watched in amusement as the typically smug Slytherin boy, always so composed and quick with his teasing remarks, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

Sensing his flustered state, you decided to push further. With a mischievous smile, you reached out and grabbed his green tie, giving it a gentle tug. He didn’t resist, allowing you to pull him down until his face was close to yours again. The tie twisted around your hand as you toyed with it.

You glanced up at him, your other hand moving to brush his dark hair aside, revealing more of his sharp, handsome features. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, his eyes locked on yours, completely entranced. His gaze softened, and you could swear that if hearts could literally appear in someone’s eyes, they would be in Ni-ki’s right now. He was utterly, completely captivated by you.

"You know," you began, your voice teasing as you let your hand slide down from his hair to his broad chest, your fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his robes, "for someone who's always teasing me, you sure do get quiet when the tables are turned."

Ni-ki swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But the blush deepened on his face, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to respond, only for no words to come out. You could feel the tension between you two building, his gaze never leaving your lips as he remained perfectly still, letting you take the lead.

"You look so cute like this," you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in just slightly, your lips hovering near his ear, "I didn’t think I’d ever see you blush, Ni-ki."

His breath hitched again, and you noticed his hands twitch at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to pull you closer. He was melting at your every word, at your every touch. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world he cared to focus on right now.

"I—" Ni-ki finally tried to speak, but his voice came out shakier than you’d ever heard it. His usual cocky demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a boy who was hopelessly wrapped around your finger.

"What’s the matter, Ni-ki? Cat got your tongue?" you teased, your grin growing wider.

Ni-ki let out a shaky breath, finally regaining enough of his composure to smirk, albeit weakly. "You really like testing me, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, though the blush on his face betrayed just how affected he still was.

You shrugged innocently, your hand still resting against his chest. "Maybe. You make it so easy."

He let out a soft laugh, finally reaching up to gently take hold of your hand that had been toying with his tie. He brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I think you’re the one who’s going to be trouble," he said, his voice soft but filled with warmth, his blush still faint on his cheeks as he smiled at you. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

He then leaned in even closer, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Your breath hitched, and almost instinctively, you bit down on your bottom lip, unsure of where this was heading. The playful banter that had filled the air moments ago dissolved into something much heavier, more intense.

Ni-ki's eyes lingered on your lips, and for a brief moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The distant hoots of owls and the rustling of wings around you faded into silence, leaving only the sound of your breathing and his. His proximity sent a thrill through you, and you swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous under his intense gaze.

"Please..." Ni-ki whispered, his voice low and breathy, barely audible but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You blinked up at him, feeling your chest tighten with anticipation. "Yes," you murmured, the word slipping out without a second thought.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Ni-ki’s hand came up to cradle your cheek, his fingers soft and warm against your skin. Then, before you could process it, his lips were on yours, soft yet firm, capturing you in a kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your entire body. The world seemed to stop for that moment as you melted into him, your heart racing as if it could burst from your chest.

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded instinctively, letting go of his tie and slipping your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, like it was something the two of you had been waiting for all along.

Ni-ki kissed you as though he’d been holding back for ages, his lips moving gently against yours, exploring, savoring. The intensity of the moment took your breath away, and you found yourself completely lost in him, every sense heightened as his scent, his warmth, and the soft press of his lips consumed you.

When he finally pulled away, you both stood there, faces inches apart, breathing heavily, neither of you speaking right away. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"That was…" Ni-ki began, but he trailed off, his voice catching slightly.

"Yeah," you whispered, not needing him to finish. You knew exactly what he meant.

He brushed his thumb lightly across your cheek, his gaze lingering on your lips once more before he smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

"I’ve been wanting to do that for a while," Ni-ki admitted, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."

He chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with that familiar playful glint. "Guess I should thank Harrison for pushing me to finally make a move, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing along with him. "Yeah, maybe. But don’t tell him that."

Ni-ki grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. "Trust me, I won’t."

Just then, a loud hoot echoed through the Owlery, breaking the enchanting atmosphere between you and Ni-ki. You both turned around to see your snow-white owl, Yuki, perched on a wooden beam above you, her feathers fluffed up as if she were trying to make herself appear larger.

The way she stared at you both, with those big, knowing eyes, made you feel like she was judging the situation. You swore that if an owl could look smug, Yuki would have been the picture of it.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, breaking the tension as he glanced at your owl. "I think she approves," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he straightened up, brushing off the lingering awkwardness.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh as you crossed your arms, looking up at Yuki. "Oh, don’t you start too," you said, feigning exasperation. "I already have enough pressure without you acting like my guardian."

Yuki hooted again, her head tilting slightly, as if she understood every word. It was almost as if she was telling you to go for it, to embrace the moment with Ni-ki.

“Seriously, though,” Ni-ki said, taking a step back, still chuckling at your owl’s antics. “Is she always this judgmental?”

You nodded, still laughing. “Every time I try to have a moment, she swoops in. It’s like she’s a personal bodyguard or something.”

“Maybe she just knows you deserve the best,” Ni-ki teased, a hint of admiration in his voice as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I think she’s just trying to make sure I’m good enough for you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, she has pretty high standards, so you better step up your game, Ni-ki.”

He smirked, the playful spark returning to his eyes. “Challenge accepted. I’m up for anything if it means keeping her happy.”

“Good luck with that,” you replied, shaking your head playfully. “She’s not easily impressed.”

Just then, Yuki fluttered down from her perch and landed on your shoulder, nuzzling her head against your cheek. You laughed at her affectionate gesture, and Ni-ki watched the interaction, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Looks like you have a wingwoman,” he said, his gaze shifting between you and the owl.

You smiled, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “Or a winged guardian,” you corrected, running your fingers gently over Yuki’s soft feathers. “Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sneak around with her watching.”

“Good,” Ni-ki replied, stepping closer again, his gaze earnest. “I’d rather have her around to keep an eye on things anyway.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the earlier tension bubbling back up between you two, even with Yuki perched there. The way he looked at you now, a mixture of admiration and mischief.

“Looks like you’ll have to share me with Yuki,” you teased, nudging Ni-ki playfully with your shoulder.

He laughed, the sound warm and inviting. “I don’t mind sharing, as long as I get my time with you too.”

#enhypen fic #enhypen #niki x reader #ni ki x reader #nishimura riki #niki imagines #niki fluff #enhypen riki #riki x reader #fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #fanfic #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen niki #ni ki #hogwarts au

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sp4ceboo · 8 months ago

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Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

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starlessea · 19 days ago

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Hii! Could you plz write a fic where the reader finds out that Daryl's ticklish and a tickle fight break outs between them?

You obviously don't have to if you don't want to! :))

Boots And All

Drabble: Based on this ask. I strayed a little but hopefully it scratches the itch (no pun intended).

Masterlist

It had taken some time for Daryl to become comfortable around you.

Sure, the two of you had been a thing for some time—sneaking off here and there, swapping shirts for purpled neck bruises.

But those were fleetings moments; there was no real comfort in them. They consisted of rushed encounters, usually when the tension had become so unbearable that the pair of you were at each other’s throats.

Things were different now. Alexandria had given you the space to slow down. And slowness was something Daryl wasn’t accustomed to. He couldn’t get used to the porch-watching, the grass-mowing, and the domesticity of it all.

Especially now, as he found himself at the entryway of the shared house, struggling to find the words to say to you.

‘I’m home’ didn’t sound right; neither did ‘I’m back.’

You hadn’t been waiting for him after all—or had you?

Daryl stood dumbfounded. He'd never had trouble with this stuff before, but this suburbanite hellscape had him guessing his every move. What if you didn’t want him anymore?

He shook his head. Footsteps echoed across the hall, and not wanting to get caught mid-agonising, Daryl tried to busy himself.

"Dixon," you greeted, before a furrow pinched your brow. "Boots."

Daryl’s eyes followed your pointed finger, landing on the trail of mud he'd dragged over the ornate welcome mat.

"Damnit, woman," he cursed. "Been gone all day an' tha's all I get—boots?"

“Boots,” you confirmed, and disappeared back into the living room.

Daryl grumbled before sinking to his knees to undo his laces. Here he was wracking his brain for the perfect greeting and you’d settled on fucking boots.

It could be worse, he thought. At least that meant you wanted him to stay.

The fire crackled low as Daryl trudged into the living room. You were slumped down on the couch, legs tucked under you with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Your attention was on a book he knew you'd already finished.

Daryl deliberated for a moment dropping into the space nearby. He kicked his legs up onto the stool before him, watching the way your eyes flickered over before returning to your page.

There was a tension in the air—subtle but persistent. He wondered if this was as strange and new to you as it was him. Perhaps you didn’t like him all that much now there were other options. He scowled, and tried to put the thought away from him.

“So…” you began after a moment, setting the book down onto the table. “How was it? Find anything good?”

Your voice was softer now, and Daryl felt himself relax slightly. “Nah,” he muttered. “Same ol’ shit. Few walkers—not much else.”

You shifted, and as you did, your hand brushed against his foot. A jolt sparked through his body; he kicked his leg out instinctively.

“Jesus, Daryl," you yelped. "What was that for?”

Daryl opened his mouth to retort, but as he did, you readjusted once more, grazing the base of his foot with your fingers.

He immediately recoiled. “I swear to sweet shit, do that again an’ there’ll be hell.”

A look of realization flashed across your face—and god, did Daryl hate it.

“Are you…” you paused, the disbelief in your voice too great to conceal, “ticklish?”

Daryl groaned. He suddenly felt five-years-old again, wishing he could keep a straight face.

His lack of reply spurred you into action. “You can’t be,” you announced, goadingly. Daryl felt his muscles grow taut, preparing for the worst. As much as he wanted to escape, part of him missed this—missed that look in your eyes when they weren’t clouded by worry and expectation. “Everywhere?”

“Don’t ya dare,” he warned, though it lacked any real bite.

You grinned before edging closer, until you were sat straddling his lap. Daryl stiffened. His hands hovered above your hips, not quite confident to let them rest there.

“All the times I’ve touched you here,” you murmured, tracing a line up his chest, “or kissed you here”—your breath brushed against his ear, and he shivered despite himself—“did it tickle you?”

Daryl swatted your hand. “Yer fuckin’ ridiculous,” he growled.

You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from your lips. It chipped away at Daryl's defences, leaving him even more exposed.

"And how about here?"

You tested a light prod at the ribs, to which he bucked beneath you, trying to unseat you.

“Fucking—cut it out,” he snapped.

And again, that smile of yours tugged at something deep within him.

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, raising your hands in surrender. “I’ve had my fun.”

He was about to bite something back, but the words caught in his throat. Your hair was splayed, catching the light of the fire as it framed your face, and on it, your expression was one of pure warmth. For a moment, all Daryl could do was stare. How many days had it been—weeks even—since he’d seen you like this?

You were so beautiful.

“I missed ya,” he admitted. The words came out of their own accord, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to get back to ya.”

His hands found your hips, and his thumb began tracing circles there.

"If you'll have me an' my muddy boots."

Your expression softened, and as you leaned down, Daryl left himself completely open.

You kissed him; it was unlike any of the others you shared before. It wasn't urgent, nor desperate—like the ones brought about by fear of getting caught.

You took your time with him, since there was enough now to spare.

“I missed you too, Dixon,” you murmured against his lips. “And I'll gladly take you, boots and all.”

A/N Sup... It's been about 2-3 years but I want to confirm that I'm alive. To be honest, I still read every comment I get and I can't believe people still love my work. I started this page when I was a wee 19-20 year old student, and now I'm 24, have bought a house, a dog, and am heading a company (crazy, I know). That said, I wish I could go back to the days I would write and write and write. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time (and I'm a lot slower now due to the mental block I developed from aiming for perfection)... Though, my wish for 2025 is to devote a little time back to my hobby - no matter how small, nor how long it takes me. To anyone still here, firstly holy shit go touch some grass (just kidding), but truly thanks for sticking with me. If you want to reach out, I'd love to rebuild some bridges and hear your suggestions! P.S I know it's been a hot minute so if you want to be added / removed from my tag list, please let me know x

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peavhyshy · 22 days ago

Text

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - THE LOVE CLUB (pt.1)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ heir!rafe cameron ⋆ life!coach!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ love island au - in which love island contestants, you and Rafe, are drawn to each other despite being coupled up with other people, leading to heightened tension and drama in the villa.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ angst, drama, explicit language, suggestive language, sexual tension, love triangle, alcohol use, competitive/aggressive behavior, jealousy/possessiveness. mention of substance abuse. mention of family dysfunction, manipulation/deception, and pick me behaviors.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 15,791

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ this skips around a lot, it's not clear what day it is but according to people who actually go on the show that's accurate so whatever. part 2 coming out before or after Christmas. also, if you do celebrate christmas, hope you have a great time.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･The Love Club･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lorde)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sun beams down on the pristine villa courtyard as the contestants gather for their first challenge. Rafe lounged on one of the plush outdoor sofas, his expensive designer swim shorts and carefully styled hair marking him as distinctly out of place among the more casual islanders.

Sarah Hyland stepped onto the challenge platform, her heels clicking against the decorative tiles. "Islanders! Welcome to your first challenge - 'Spill the Tea'!"

"Each of you will take turns reading a secret about someone in the villa," Sarah continued, gesturing to the ornate box of cards placed center stage. "If you guess correctly, you can pour this lovely pitcher of 'tea' over them. And trust me, these secrets are... explosive."

The ten contestants arranged themselves on the stools, Rafe's fingers drummed against his thigh, his other hand adjusting one of his gold rings.

"I'll go first!" volunteered Emma, a kindergarten teacher practically bouncing off her stool excitedly. Her cotton candy pink bikini matched her equally bubble-gum personality. She reached into the box, pulling out the first card with theatrical flair.

"Ooh, this is interesting," she giggled, clearing her throat. "This islander once crashed their father's luxury yacht while trying to impress a date."

Rafe's jaw clenched involuntarily, his eyes narrowing as several heads turned toward him. The memory of that particular incident - and the subsequent screaming match with Ward - flashed unwelcome through his mind.

"That's got to be Richie Rich over there," drawled Marcus, the personal trainer and chef, jerking his thumb toward Rafe. "Am I right?"

Emma clapped her hands together. "Correct! Sorry Rafe, but it's tea time!"

As she approached the pitcher, Rafe's entire body tensed. The cold liquid splashed over his shoulders, and for a brief moment, his mask slipped - revealing a flash of genuine rage before he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Real mature," he muttered, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. Lilly, the girl he’s coupled up with, reached over to sympathetically pat his arm, but he shrugged her off with barely concealed irritation.

"Next up," Sarah announced, maintaining her host's enthusiasm, "James, you're up!"

The motorcycle trainer moved forward, his tattooed arms flexing as he selected a card. He unfolded the card, a mischievous glint in his eye as he scanned the contents.

"This islander," he read slowly, building suspense, "once got fired from their job for starting an unauthorized therapy session during a corporate team-building exercise."

Rafe's attention immediately snapped to you, his fingers absently twisting one of his gold rings. He watched as several other contestants shifted their gazes between you and the others, clearly trying to piece together who might've done something so boldly inappropriate.

"Got to be our resident life coach," Rafe called out before anyone else could speak, his voice carrying that distinctive entitled drawl he'd perfected over years of private school education. The corner of his mouth twitched into something between a smirk and a sneer as he adjusted his still-damp designer swim shorts.

"Correct!" Sarah announced, her voice carrying across the villa's outdoor space. "James, go ahead and serve that tea!"

As James readied the pitcher of cold tea, you let out a genuine laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well damn, you got me!" You stood up from your spot and smiled. "But for the record, that corporate team needed way more help than HR was willing to admit."

The other islanders chuckled as James approached the pitcher. You raised your hands in mock surrender, your black bikini already glistening with sweat from the sun. "At least make it quick!" You called out, closing your eyes as the cold liquid splashed over your skin.

"Fuck!" You gasp, wiping tear from your face while laughing. You glanced over at Rafe, still damp from his tea shower. "Good catch there, Cameron. I see you've been paying attention," you teased, wringing out your hair. "Though I'm starting to think these producers are just trying to get us all wet."

Lilly giggled from her position next to Rafe, her perfectly manicured fingers trailing along his forearm. "Babe, how did you know that one so fast?"

Emma leaned forward on her stool. "I mean, it kind of makes sense. Like, imagine being stuck in some boring meeting and suddenly someone's trying to psychoanalyze your childhood trauma."

"Some people just can't help themselves," Rafe drawled, his tone dripping with calculated disdain. His comment earned a few uncomfortable chuckles from the other contestants.

The game continued, with the social media manager Blake drawing the next card. "This islander," she read, "has a trust fund worth over fifty million dollars but has never held a real job."

Rafe's entire body tensed, his knuckles whitening around the edge of his stool. The familiar anger bubbled just beneath his carefully maintained surface, threatening to crack his composed exterior. He could feel the weight of the cameras tracking his reaction, waiting for him to snap - just like everyone always expected him to.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, his leg resuming its anxious bouncing. The morning had barely started, and already he could feel the familiar itch under his skin, the one that usually led him to make regrettable decisions back home. The kind that Ward would have to clean up with carefully placed phone calls and generous donations.

The tension in the air grew thicker as Blake's eyes scanned the group, clearly weighing her options.

You sat perched on your stool. "Well, that's obviously Rafe," You spoke up, your voice carrying across the challenge area. Your eyes fixed on him with an amused glint. "I mean, the designer swim shorts kind of gave it away." You gestured toward his expensive attire, earning a few snickers from the other contestants.

"Time for more tea!" Sarah announced with exaggerated enthusiasm. As Blake approached with the pitcher, you couldn't help but notice how Rafe's jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around the edge of his stool.

"Looks like someone's having a rough morning," You commented. His barely contained rage was evident in the way his eyes darkened, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

Emma leaned over to whisper something to Marcus, but your attention remained fixed on Rafe. As a life coach, you’d dealt with plenty of volatile personalities before, but something about the way he carried his anger - like a loaded weapon ready to go off - made you wonder what exactly was simmering beneath that carefully maintained surface.

"Oh, someone's feeling brave today," Lilly chimed in, tossing her platinum-blonde hair over her shoulder. The Instagram model's voice dripped with manufactured drama as she shifted closer to Rafe on her stool. "I mean, at least he earned his trust fund. What's your claim to fame? Giving pep talks?"

You rolled your eyes, wringing out the last drops of tea from your hair. "Honey, I help people become their best selves. But clearly, some need more help than others." Your gaze flickered meaningfully between Lilly and Rafe.

Finn the travel photographer let out a low whistle. "Damn, the life coach's got claws!" He high-fived Lee the accountant, their muscled arms flexing in the sunlight. "This is way better than watching rich boy sulk all morning."

"Can we just get on with it?" Rafe snapped, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.

"Ooh, my turn!" Lilly reached for a card, "This islander once..." she trailed off, eyes widening. "Oh wow. This islander once punched a hole through their bedroom wall after losing a golf tournament.

Aish the research chemist gasped dramatically. "Another Rafe special?" She turned to you with an exaggerated whisper. "Girl, I think your professional services might be needed here."

All eyes turned to Rafe. You watched as his fingers pressed harder against his chest, his breathing becoming more rapid. You recognized the signs of an impending anxiety attack, but before you could say anything, Rafe stood up abruptly, knocking his stool backward.

"Fuck this," he snarled, storming away from the challenge area. He disappeared into the villa, leaving a wake of stunned silence behind him.

Sarah cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, islanders, let's take a quick break, shall we?"

As the other contestants dispersed, whispering among themselves, You remained seated, your eyes fixed on the villa entrance where Rafe had vanished.

"That was intense," James commented, moving to stand beside you. "You really got under his skin."

You shook your head slightly, your wet hair leaving droplets on the tiles. "That wasn't about me," you reply softly. "That's about something much deeper." You stood up, adjusting your bikini. "And I think it's about to explode."

You lounge by the pristine infinity pool, your skin glistening with a light sheen of tanning oil. James sat beside you on the adjacent lounge, his tattooed arms flexing as he adjusted the umbrella to better shade you both.

"I'm just saying," James continued your discussion about the morning's drama, his voice low enough that the microphones would struggle to pick it up, "the way he stormed off was intense. Like, who gets that worked up over a game?" His fingers absently traced patterns on your shoulder, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the figure aggressively lifting weights nearby.

Rafe's jaw clenched as he watched the interaction, nearly dropping the dumbbell he was curling. Lilly hovered around him like an attention-starved butterfly. "Babe, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep lifting that heavy," she pouted, reaching for his arm. "Besides, I thought we could maybe go somewhere more... private?"

Your trained eye caught every micro-expression that crossed his face. The way his nostrils flared slightly when James leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. The tightening of his grip on the weights when you laughed in response.

"You know what's funny?" James mused, his fingers now playing with a strand of your hair. "I don't think he's actually interested in Lilly at all. Man's spent more time staring over here than at his partner." He paused, studying your face. "Unless it's not me he's watching."

Rafe abandoned his workout entirely, stalking toward the pool with Lilly trailing behind him like a designer-clad shadow. His blue eyes locked with yours for a brief, electric moment before he dove into the water, the splash deliberately sending droplets toward their loungers.

"Real mature," You called out, but there was an undercurrent of amusement in your voice that made Rafe's eyes narrow as he surfaced. Water ran down his chest, his wet hair falling into his eyes in a way that somehow managed to make him look even more attractive – and he knew it.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" Lilly squealed, hovering at the pool's edge. "You got my new bikini wet!" She shot a venomous glare at you as if somehow this was your fault. "This is designer!"

James snorted, pulling you closer in a possessive gesture that made Rafe's hands curl into fists beneath the water. "Everything here is designer, babe," he says. "Including some people's personalities."

Rafe hoisted himself out of the pool, his eyes never leaving your face, even as Lilly rushed to hand him a towel.

"At least my personality didn't get me fired," Rafe shot back, his voice carrying that distinctive mix of arrogance and barely contained aggression. "Some of us actually know how to maintain professional boundaries."

"And some of us," you replied smoothly, "know how to process our emotions without putting holes in walls." Your eyes sparkled with a challenge as you watched his jaw clench at the reference to the morning's revelation.

James's arm tightened around your waist, his expression falling as he watched the exchange. "Babe," he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the microphones to catch, "maybe we should take this somewhere more private?" His suggestion was clearly meant for Rafe's benefit, and judging by the way the other man's knuckles whitened around his towel, it had the desired effect.

"Actually," You stood up, stretching languidly, "I think I need a swim too." You moved toward the pool with fluid grace, very aware of how Rafe's eyes tracked your movement. "Unless someone's afraid of a little competition?"

"Afraid?" Rafe scoffed, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he took a step closer to the pool's edge. "Of what exactly? Your amateur lap swimming?" His blue eyes raked over your form with barely concealed interest, despite Lilly's attempts to recapture his attention.

You gracefully slipped into the water, the cool liquid a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. "Amateur? Please," you laughed, pushing your wet hair back from your face. "I was captain of my college swim team. But hey, if you're not up for it..."

"Y/N, babe," James called from his lounger, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. "Don't waste your time. Richie Rich never had to actually compete for anything in his life."

Rafe's jaw clenched at the comment. "First one to the other end and back," he said, diving into the pool with practiced precision. "Unless you're all talk, life coach."

"Rafe!" Lilly whined, stamping her foot. "We were supposed to go get ready for dinner!" Her complaints fell on deaf ears as you and Rafe lined up at the pool's edge, your bodies coiled with competitive energy.

Other islanders began gathering around the pool, drawn by the mounting tension. Emma clapped excitedly from her spot next to Marcus. "Oh my god, this is like the Olympics but with sexual tension!"

"On your mark," James called out, his voice tight with irritation. "Get set..." He paused, watching as you both swimmers tensed, ready to spring forward. "Go!"

Water exploded around you as you pushed off, your bodies cutting through the crystal-clear pool in powerful strokes. You matched Rafe stroke for stroke, your competitive energy is palpable even underwater. You reached the far end, executing near-perfect turns within split seconds of each other.

"Come on, Rafe!" Lilly's shrill voice carried across the water. "Show her what you've got!"

The return lap was even more intense, your bodies practically parallel as you both surged toward the finish. You could feel Rafe's presence beside you, the water churning between you as you both gave everything you had. Your hands slapped the pool's edge simultaneously, sending a spray of water over the gathered crowd.

"It's a tie!" Finn shouted, earning a chorus of excited reactions from the other islanders. "Holy shit, that was intense!"

You and Rafe trod water, both breathing heavily as you stared at each other. Droplets ran down Rafe's face, his eyes with something that wasn't just competitive spirit.

"Not bad for an amateur," You teased as you moved closer to the pool's edge, "Beginner's luck," Rafe shot back, but there was a new note in his voice that made James shift uncomfortably on his lounger. "Best two out of three?"

Before you could respond, Lilly's voice cut through the tension. "Seriously? We have to get ready for dinner!" She grabbed Rafe's towel, holding it out like a peace offering. "Come on, babe. You've proved your point."

The moment shattered as reality reasserted itself. The other islanders began dispersing, chattering about the impromptu race. James appeared at the pool's edge, offering you his hand.

"Thanks," you murmured, accepting his help but not missing how Rafe's expression darkened at the gesture. Water ran down your skin as you stood, the late afternoon sun casting golden highlights across your shoulders.

"Whatever," Rafe muttered, hauling himself out of the pool with fluid grace. He snatched the towel from Lilly's hands, his jaw working as he watched James wrap his towel around your shoulders. "Dinner it is."

The glam room buzzed with excited chatter and the whir of hair dryers as the five girls prepared for dinner. Lilly perched at the main vanity, meticulously applying her third coat of mascara while boring everyone with tales of her poolside encounters with Rafe.

"And then he just, like, totally showed off his muscles during that workout," Lilly gushed, adjusting her hot pink mini-dress. "I mean, did you see how he was looking at me? He's obviously totally into me."

You sat cross-legged on one of the plush ottoman chairs, applying a light coat of mascara to your lashes. The reflection in the mirror caught your subtle eye roll as Lilly continued her monologue. You’d chosen a simple but elegant black dress maintaining an air of sophistication.

"Girl, are you sure about that?" Blake interjected, pausing in the middle of curling her dark hair. "Because from where I was sitting, he seemed more interested in..." she trailed off, shooting a meaningful glance at you through the mirror.

Emma, who was struggling with her false eyelashes, piped up from her spot on the floor. "Oh my god, that pool race though! The tension was, like, totally insane!" She giggled, nudging your leg. "James looked ready to throw hands!"

"Please," Lilly scoffed, now aggressively applying lip gloss. "Rafe was just being competitive. He likes to win, that's all. Right, Aish?"

Aish, who had been quietly perfecting her winged eyeliner, looked up with a knowing smile. "If by 'competitive' you mean 'eye-fucking Y/N the entire time,' then sure, honey."

"What?!" Lilly spun around so fast that she nearly knocked over her makeup bag. "That's ridiculous! Tell them, Y/N. Nothing is going on there, right?"

You carefully applied a coat of lipstick, taking your time before responding. "I don't know what you want me to say, Lilly. I'm coupled up with James, remember?" You stood up to smooth down your dress, the fabric clinging in all the right places.

"Besides," Blake added, unplugging her curling iron, "didn't Rafe basically ignore you the entire time you were trying to get his attention at the pool?"

"He was focused on his workout!" Lilly protested, but her voice had taken on a slightly hysterical edge. "And anyway, he chose me at the coupling, so obviously-"

"Because Y/N was already coupled up with James," Emma pointed out, finally managing to attach her second eyelash. "Come on, Lilly, even the cameras caught those looks they were giving each other."

"You're all just jealous," Lilly snapped, gathering her makeup with shaking hands. "Rafe and I have a connection. You'll see at dinner tonight. I'm wearing his favorite color and everything!"

You caught Aish's eye in the mirror, both of you sharing a knowing look. Lilly stormed out, her pink dress flouncing dramatically.

"Well," Blake drawled, applying the finishing touches to her hair, "dinner should be interesting." She turned to you with a sly smile. "Especially since you look absolutely killer in that dress, hun."

"James is a lucky man," Emma agreed, but her tone suggested she wasn't thinking about James at all.

You finished touching up your makeup and couldn't help but wonder what Rafe would think of your outfit choice - not that it mattered, of course. You were coupled up with James, after all.

But as you gave yourself one final look in the mirror, adjusting the delicate gold necklace that drew attention to your collarbone, you couldn't quite silence the small voice in your head that wondered if Rafe would notice.

The kitchen buzzed with activity as the guys prepared dinner, pots clanging and the sizzle of food filling the air. Rafe leaned against the marble counter, his fitted black button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, watching the others work with barely concealed disdain.

"Mate, you could actually help instead of just standing there," Marcus called out, chopping vegetables with practiced precision. His chef's background was evident in the way he coordinated the meal preparation. "Or is cooking beneath the trust fund baby?"

James snorted from his position at the stove, stirring a pot of sauce. "Probably never had to cook a day in his life, right Rafe?" He shot a challenging look over his shoulder, his tattooed arms flexing as he worked.

"I have people for that," Rafe drawled, taking a long sip from his wine glass. His eyes tracked the movement in the kitchen with calculated disinterest. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't poison everyone."

Lee, who was attempting to plate appetizers, rolled his eyes. "Right, because standing there looking pretty is such hard work." He carefully arranged prosciutto on a platter, his focus intense. "How does Lilly put up with your attitude?"

"Speaking of putting up with people," Finn chimed in, pausing in his task of chopping herbs, "what was that pool situation about earlier?" His eyes darted between Rafe and James, testing the waters.

The tension in the kitchen shifted immediately. James's grip on the wooden spoon tightened noticeably, while Rafe's casual posture became more rigid. "Just a friendly competition," Rafe replied, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested otherwise. His fingers absently played with one of his gold rings, a sign of his agitation.

Marcus laughed, the sound cutting through the tension. "Friendly? You looked ready to drown each other." He pointed his knife at James. "And you weren't exactly thrilled about your girl getting cozy with Mr. Wall-Puncher here."

"Watch it," Rafe snapped, his composure cracking slightly. He set his wine glass down with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"Or what?" James turned from the stove, his expression challenging. "Gonna put another hole in the wall? Maybe throw a tantrum and storm off again?"

Lee stepped between them, holding up his hands. "Guys, come on. The girls will be down any minute. Can we not turn dinner into a testosterone-fueled disaster?"

"Too late," Finn muttered, just as the sound of heels clicking on tile announced the arrival of the girls. James immediately moved to greet you, but not before catching the way Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. Lilly bounced in behind you, her pink dress a stark contrast to your choice.

"Something smells amazing!" Emma exclaimed, trying to break the obvious tension as she entered with Blake and Aish.

"Yeah," Marcus drawled, his eyes moving between Rafe and you. "Something definitely does."

The kitchen fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the bubbling of pots on the stove. Everyone gathered around the long dining table. Marcus proudly presented his carefully crafted main course - a perfectly seared sea bass with roasted Mediterranean vegetables.

"Alright everyone, dig in!" he announced, beaming with pride as plates were passed around. "And yes, before anyone asks, I did most of the actual cooking while some people just supervised." He shot a playful glance at Rafe.

Emma clapped excitedly as she took her first bite. "Oh my god, Marcus! This is incredible!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, drawing genuine smiles from around the table. "You could totally be on MasterChef!"

"Please don't inflate his ego more than necessary," Blake teased, reaching for the wine bottle. "He already thinks being a professional chef makes him Gordon Ramsay."

The evening continued with stories, laughter, and several bottles of wine. As dinner wound down, Emma suggested they all play a game of Never Have I Ever, earning both groans and excited agreements from around the table.

"Never have I ever..." Emma giggled, holding up her wine glass. "Had sex in public!"

The villa's outdoor dining area erupted in a chorus of groans and laughs as several islanders, including you and Rafe, took long sips from your glasses.

"Okay, spill!" Blake demanded, pointing at you. "Where was it?"

Before you could answer, Rafe's voice cut through the chatter, his eyes fixed intently on you. "Let me guess - some corporate team-building exercise got really out of hand?" His smirk was challenging, provocative.

"Never have I ever," Marcus interrupted quickly, sensing the mounting tension, "hooked up with someone just for their money."

Lilly's perfectly manicured hand hesitated halfway to her glass, earning several raised eyebrows. Rafe didn't move to drink, but his jaw clenched noticeably.

"Never have I ever," Aish continued, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously, "fantasized about someone else's partner in here."

The silence that followed was deafening, Rafe's fingers tightened around his glass before he deliberately raised it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with you as he drank.

James's arm around your waist tightened as Lilly's voice rose to a shrill pitch. "Rafe! What the hell?"

"It's just a game, babe," His eyes never left your face. "Besides, everyone's thinking about it. I'm just honest enough to admit it."

"Never have I ever," Lee jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation, "gotten fired from a job." He shot an apologetic look at you. "Sorry, but that story was too good not to bring up again."

"Never have I ever," Finn announced, "wanted to punch someone in this villa." His eyes darted between Rafe and James meaningfully.

Both men drank without hesitation, their mutual animosity barely concealed beneath the surface of forced civility. The other islanders watched with bated breath, waiting to see if this would be the moment the tension finally snapped.

"Never have I ever," Blake declared, her voice cutting through the thick atmosphere, "kissed someone just to make someone else jealous."

The game paused as everyone waited to see who would drink. The cameras captured every subtle glance and loaded moment as glasses were raised or remained untouched, telling stories without words.

The Love Island bedroom was dimly lit, filled with the soft sounds of sleeping contestants and the occasional rustle of sheets. Rafe lay rigid in his bed, hyper-aware of Lilly's presence beside him as she slept soundly, one arm draped possessively across his chest. The white silk sheets felt suffocating in the warm night, but that wasn't what kept him awake.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracking the shadows cast by moonlight filtering through the villa's windows. Three beds over, he could make out your silhouette, your hair spilling across your pillow. James's muscled arm was wrapped around your waist, and the sight made Rafe's jaw clench involuntarily. His fingers twisted in the sheets, fighting the urge to get up and pace - a habit he'd developed during particularly bad nights back home.

You shifted in the bed, careful not to wake James as you adjusted your position. The thin black silk nightgown you wore rode up slightly, drawing Rafe's attention before he forced his gaze back to the ceiling.

Lilly stirred beside Rafe, murmuring his name as she pressed closer. He resisted the urge to push her away, instead lying perfectly still as memories of the day's events played through his mind. The pool race, the loaded glances during dinner, the way your dress had clung to you.

Across the room, you found yourself equally restless. James's arm felt heavy around your waist, his breath warm against your neck. But your thoughts kept drifting to blue eyes and gold rings, to the way Rafe had looked at you during the drinking game. You could feel his gaze on her even now, burning through the darkness that separated your beds.

The night stretched on endlessly, filled with unspoken tension and desires that couldn't be acted upon.

The morning sun streamed through the glam room windows as the girls went about their usual routines. You sat cross-legged in front of your vanity, carefully applying eyeshadow while Blake and Emma debated the merits of different self-tanner brands. Aish was attempting to teach Lilly how to properly contour when Rafe appeared in the doorway, a plate of elaborately prepared avocado toast in hand.

"Special delivery," he announced, his voice carrying that familiar hint of arrogance. He was already dressed for the day in fitted swim shorts and an unbuttoned linen shirt that showed off his chest. His gold rings caught the light as he handed Lilly the plate.

"Oh my god, babe!" Lilly squealed, abandoning her makeup to inspect the breakfast. "You actually cooked? This is like, so totally romantic!" She bounced excitedly, her pink silk robe fluttering around her thighs.

You caught Rafe's reflection in your mirror as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flickering between Lilly's excited chatter and your carefully neutral expression.

"I thought you didn't cook," Blake commented innocently, though her tone suggested nothing innocent about the observation. "Wasn't it just yesterday you were too good to help with dinner?"

"Maybe he's turning over a new leaf," Emma giggled, nudging Aish with her elbow.

Lilly took a big bite of the toast, making exaggerated sounds of appreciation. "This is amazing! See? My man can do anything he sets his mind to." She preened under Rafe's attention, though his gaze seemed more focused on the way your silk robe had slipped slightly off one shoulder.

"Anything?" Aish raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with suggestion. "Like staying faithful to his partner, perhaps?"

Rafe's jaw clenched, his fingers drumming against the doorframe in that nervous tick of his. "Just wanted to make sure my girl was taken care of," he drawled, but his eyes betrayed him as they drifted once again to your reflection.

"How thoughtful," You finally spoke, your voice carefully neutral as you applied some lip gloss. "Though I have to wonder what inspired this sudden domestic gesture."

The unspoken challenge in your words hung heavy in the air. Lilly's excited chatter about the breakfast faded into background noise as Rafe and you held each other's gaze in the mirror, the intensity of your eye contact making the other girls shift uncomfortably.

"Sometimes," Rafe replied, his voice low and loaded with meaning, "a man just wants to show his appreciation." His emphasis on the word 'his' was subtle but unmistakable.

Blake coughed dramatically, breaking the moment. "Well, this has been fun, but I think we should finish getting ready. The boys are probably waiting by the pool."

"Right," Rafe straightened, his casual demeanor returning like a mask sliding back into place. "Enjoy your breakfast, babe." He dropped a quick kiss on Lilly's head before leaving, but not before one final glance at your reflection.

As his footsteps faded down the hallway, Emma let out a low whistle. "Girl," she addressed Lilly, who was still happily munching her toast, "I don't think that breakfast was meant for you."

You carefully closed your lipgloss tube, your expression unreadable.

The villa's backyard had been transformed into a makeshift stage, complete with a single chair positioned center stage and colorful strobe lights. The men sat lined up, shirtless and wearing heart rate monitors strapped to their chests, their nervous energy palpable. Rafe lounged in his designated spot, affecting an air of casual indifference despite the slight tension in his jaw.

Sarah stood beside an oversized wheel adorned with all the girls' names, her enthusiasm infectious as she addressed the group. "Alright, islanders! Time for our sexiest challenge yet - the Heart Rate Monitor! Let's see who can get these boys' hearts racing!"

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest as he watched the wheel spin. The tension mounted as it slowly came to a stop, landing on your name.

"And our first dancer will be... Y/N! And she'll be dancing for..." Sarah spun a second wheel with the boys' names. The wheel turned seemingly endlessly before landing on Rafe's name with a decisive click. "Rafe!"

You walk over wearing a black lace bodysuit your skin gleamed under the stage lights. "Remember," Sarah announced, "the boy with the highest heart rate spike wins a special prize for himself and the girl who caused it!"

His eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made the air crackle with electricity, his hands gripping the sides of the chair with barely contained tension.

The opening notes of "Pony" by Ginuwine filled the air as you began to move. The heart rate monitor's steady beeping began to increase as you circled his chair, your fingers trailing across his shoulders.

"Oh my god," Emma whispered loudly enough for the microphones to catch. "His heart rate is already at 90!"

You move with fluid grace as you position yourself between Rafe's legs. His breathing visibly hitched as you rolled your body against his chest, your hands sliding up his arms to pin his wrists to the chair.

The monitor's beeping increased rapidly as you lowered yourself onto his lap, grinding slowly to the music. Rafe's mask of indifference cracked as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging his head back to expose his neck. His heart rate spiked to 120 when you traced your lips along his jaw, never quite making contact.

"Fucking hell," Marcus muttered, watching the numbers climb on the display. "Man's about to have a heart attack."

James's expression darkened as you executed a perfect body roll against Rafe's chest, your back arching as you pulled away only to drop back down onto his lap. The monitor hit 135 as Rafe's hands instinctively moved to your hips before you quickly pinned them back to the chair.

"No touching," you whispered, loud enough for the microphones to pick up. The smirk in your voice was evident as Rafe's heart rate jumped to 140.

Lilly stood fuming at the side of the stage, her face growing redder with each beep of the monitor. "This is ridiculous! She's obviously trying too hard!"

The song reached its climax as you performed one final grinding motion against Rafe's lap before pulling away completely, leaving him visibly affected in his seat. The monitor showed a final spike of 150 before beginning to slowly decrease.

"Well!" Sarah announced, barely containing her excitement. "I think we have our number to beat! Rafe's heart rate peaked at 150 - that's our highest spike yet!"

The cameras captured every reaction: Rafe's attempts to regain his composure, James's barely contained anger, Lilly's outrage, and your satisfied smirk. As the challenge continued, the tension in the villa's backyard reached a fever pitch. Lilly was up next, strutting onto the stage in a purple lingerie that left little to the imagination. Her dance for Rafe barely registered a 95 on the heart rate monitor.

"Next up," Sarah announced, trying to maintain the show's energy despite the growing drama, "let's see who's dancing for James!"

The wheel spun again, landing on Blake. Her performance was sultry but safe, earning a respectable 110 on James's monitor. But everyone noticed how his eyes kept drifting to where you stood with the other girls, your black lace bodysuit still drawing attention.

"This is such bullshit," Lilly hissed loud enough for the microphones to catch. "She obviously practiced that routine beforehand. Like, who even moves like that naturally?"

Emma, who had just finished a playful routine for Marcus that earned a 105, patted Lilly's shoulder sympathetically. "Hun, I don't think practice was what got his heart racing..."

The challenge continued with each girl taking their turn, but none came close to matching the spike you had caused in Rafe's heart rate.

"And now," Sarah declared as the final performances wrapped up, "it's time to announce our winners! With a heart rate spike of 150 beats per minute, Y/N and Rafe have won tonight's challenge!"

Rafe maintained his casual stance, but his eyes burned with intensity as he watched James's hands on your waist.

"Your prize," Sarah continued, "is a romantic dinner for two in the private dining area!" She paused for dramatic effect. "However, you'll each be taking your current partners, not each other."

The relief on James and Lilly's faces was palpable, but the cameras didn't miss the flash of disappointment that crossed both Rafe and your expressions.

"Congratulations," Rafe drawled as he passed you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Nice moves, life coach. Didn't know they taught that in corporate training."

Before you could respond, Lilly appeared at his side, practically dragging him toward the villa. James's arm tightened around your waist as he watched them go, the muscle in his jaw twitching with barely contained anger.

"Well," Blake commented to no one in particular, "dinner should be interesting."

Later that night after your dinner with James you made your way toward the outdoor daybed. The cameras tracked your movement through the darkness, catching the slight hesitation in your steps as you approached the familiar figure already lounging there.

Rafe sat with one leg propped up, his gold rings glinting in the moonlight as he absently twisted them around his fingers. He wore black silk pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt that did little to hide his frame. His blue eyes followed your approach, taking in your oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, his voice lacking its usual arrogant edge. The night seemed to have stripped away some of his carefully maintained facade, leaving something more raw and vulnerable in its place.

You settled onto the opposite end of the daybed, tucking your legs beneath you. "Too many thoughts," you admitted, your eyes studying his face in the dim light. "That dinner was..."

"Fucking awful," Rafe finished, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Lilly wouldn't stop crying about the heart rate thing. Like I could control it or something." He paused, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Though I guess James wasn't much better?"

"He kept trying to prove something," you sighed, absently playing with the hem of your shirt. "Making sure everyone saw how 'together' we are. It was exhausting."

"My dad would love this," Rafe suddenly spoke, his voice taking on a harder edge. "His fuck-up son making a mess of things on national television. Another disappointment to add to the list."

Your training as a life coach kicked in automatically. "Tell me about him," you encouraged softly, recognizing the pain beneath his sarcasm.

Rafe was quiet for so long you thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Nothing's ever good enough for him. Sarah - my sister - she's the golden child. Can't do anything wrong. Me?" He laughed humorlessly. "I'm just the family embarrassment he has to keep cleaning up after."

"Is that why you..." you gestured vaguely at his chest, where his hand often went during moments of anxiety.

"The panic attacks?" Rafe's jaw clenched. "Started after Mom died. Dad remarried within a year - couldn't have the press thinking the great Ward Cameron was anything less than perfect." His fingers unconsciously moved to his chest as he spoke. "Rose tried, I guess. But she wasn't Mom."

The vulnerability in his voice made you shift closer instinctively. "My dad left when I was eight," you offered quietly. "Just... walked out one day and never came back. Mom had to work three jobs to keep us afloat."

Rafe's eyes met yours in the darkness, something shifting in their depths. "Is that why you became a life coach? Trying to fix broken people?"

"Maybe," you admitted. "Or maybe I'm just trying to fix myself."

"Sometimes," Rafe confessed, his voice rough with emotion, "I think about just walking away from all of it. The company, the expectations, the whole fucking Cameron legacy." His hands shook slightly as he ran them through his hair. "But then what would I be?"

You reached out without thinking, your hand covering his. "Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is choose ourselves."

The touch sent electricity through both of you, the chemistry you’d been fighting suddenly impossible to ignore. Rafe's fingers intertwined with yours, neither of you pulling away despite knowing you should. You listen intently as he talks about his drug addiction.

"It started after a particularly bad fight with Ward," he finally spoke, his voice rough. "He'd just promoted Sarah to junior executive, completely bypassing me. Again." His bitter laugh cut through the darkness. "Barry - this dealer I knew from college - he was at this party I went to. Said he had something that would make everything stop hurting for a while."

You remained silent, your thumb unconsciously stroking the back of his hand as he continued.

"First time was... fuck, it was like everything finally made sense, you know?" His eyes looked almost black in the darkness. "All the pressure, all the disappointment, all of Ward's fucking expectations - they just disappeared. For a few hours, I could breathe."

He pulled his hand away to run it through his hair. "But then you need more. And more. And suddenly you're calling Barry at 3 AM because you can't handle being in your skin without it."

"The holes in the walls," You spoke softly, understanding dawning in your eyes. "They weren't just about anger, were they?"

"Cocaine's a hell of a drug. Makes you feel invincible one minute, then you're punching walls the next because the crash is so fucking bad." His hands were shaking now, the gold rings catching the moonlight as he twisted them. "Ward tried to buy Barry off, of course. Throw money at the problem like always. But by then..."

"You were already addicted," You finished gently.

"Seven months clean now," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not that anyone in there would believe it." He gestured toward the villa where your fellow islanders slept. "Easier to just be the rich fuck-up everyone expects."

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air between you. You shifted closer, drawn by an instinct to comfort that went beyond your professional training. The daybed creaked slightly under your combined weight.

"Is that why you came here?" You asked softly. "To prove something?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his vulnerability striking in its rawness. "Or maybe I'm just trying to escape Ward's shadow for a while. Fat lot of good that's doing." His bitter laugh held an edge of self-loathing. "Still fucking everything up, aren't I?"

Without thinking, you reached up to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Hey, you're seven months clean. That's not nothing, Rafe. That's strength."

The touch seemed to break something in him. His hand came up to cover yours, his eyes intense with a mix of vulnerability and desire. You sat frozen in that moment, both of you acutely aware of how close you’d gotten.

The night stretched on as you continued talking, sharing pieces of yourselves you’d kept hidden from the cameras and other islanders. The weight of your respective partners sleeping inside the villa seemed to fade away.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the villa's kitchen windows as you and Rafe moved around each other with surprising synchronicity.

"Pass me those eggs," Rafe murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. He wore sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair adorably mussed from the few hours of sleep you’d managed after your late-night conversation.

You reached across him to grab the eggs. "I thought you didn't cook," you teased, referencing his earlier claims.

"I said I had people for that," he corrected, a genuine smile softening his usually sharp features. "Didn't say I couldn't." His hands moved with unexpected confidence as he diced vegetables for an omelet.

The kitchen was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the rich aroma of brewing coffee.

"You're doing it wrong," Rafe commented, moving behind you to adjust your grip on the whisk. His chest pressed against your back as he guided your hands in a circular motion. "Like this - it makes the eggs fluffier."

"Where did you really learn to cook?" You asked softly, aware of the sleeping islanders and not wanting to break the peaceful morning atmosphere. You began plating the first batch of omelets while Rafe handled the bacon.

His jaw tightened slightly before answering. "Mom taught me," he admitted quietly. "Before she got sick. Sunday mornings were our thing - just us in the kitchen while everyone else slept in."

Your hand found his arm, squeezing gently in understanding. The touch lingered longer than necessary, both of you hyper-aware of the contact.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs. You moved apart naturally, though something intimate remained in the air between you both. Emma appeared first, her eyes widening at the spread of food.

"Oh my god, this smells amazing!" she exclaimed, though keeping her voice low for the others still sleeping.

More islanders began trickling in, drawn by the smell of breakfast. James appeared and Lilly wasn't far behind, immediately attaching herself to Rafe's arm.

"Babe, you made breakfast?" she squealed, too loud for the early hour. "That's so sweet!"

"Actually," You started, but Rafe caught your eye with a subtle shake of his head. You understood - let Lilly have this moment. Some truths were better kept between you like whispered confessions under starlight.

"Morning lovebirds," Finn called out as he descended the stairs, his camera dangling from his neck as usual. His eyes took in the domestic scene before him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Something smells amazing."

Marcus followed close behind, already in his workout gear. "Damn, who knew Richie Rich could cook?" He grabbed a plate, piling it high with eggs and bacon. "This is actually good, man."

"Don't sound so surprised," Rafe drawled, though his usual sharp edge was softened by the early morning atmosphere. He moved around you to reach the coffee pot, your bodies brushing in a way that didn't go unnoticed by the newcomers.

Aish entered next, her silk robe trailing elegantly behind her. "Mmm, proper breakfast for once instead of protein shakes," she teased, nudging Marcus playfully. Her dark eyes tracked the subtle dance between you and Rafe as you navigated the kitchen space.

"Is that fresh coffee?" Blake appeared, making a beeline for the pot. "Thank god. I thought I was going to have to suffer through another morning of instant." She accepted the mug Rafe handed her, raising an eyebrow at how naturally he and you worked together.

Lee stumbled in last, still half-asleep. "Food," he mumbled, dropping into a chair at the kitchen island. "Need food."

"Here," You handed him a plate of perfectly fluffy eggs, your movement bringing you close to Rafe again. Your fingers brushed as you reached for another plate, "So," Finn spoke up, his photographer's eye missing nothing, "how long have you two been up? Must have taken ages to prepare all this."

Lilly's grip on Rafe's arm tightened possessively. "My baby just wanted to do something nice for everyone, didn't you?"

"Actually-" You started again, but this time it was Blake who cut you off.

"Please, Lilly. We all know Rafe wasn't alone in this kitchen this morning." She took a deliberate sip of her coffee, her eyes moving between the two of you. "The question is, were you two up early... or just never went to sleep?"

The tension in the kitchen shifted as James's fork clattered against his plate. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Aish intervened smoothly, though her expression suggested otherwise. "Just that it's nice to see people getting along, isn't it?"

Marcus snorted into his orange juice. "Yeah, 'getting along' is one way to put it."

You busied yourself with cleaning up, very aware of Rafe's presence as he moved to help you despite Lilly's attempts to keep him by her side.

"These eggs are perfectly seasoned," Lee commented, oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. "What's your secret?"

"Just something my mom taught me," Rafe replied quietly, his eyes meeting yours across the kitchen. The shared memory of your early morning conversation hung between you, invisible but palpable to everyone in the room.

"Your mom?" Lilly's voice rose an octave. "You never talk about her!"

The muscle in Rafe's jaw ticked as he turned away, focusing intently on wiping down the counter. You instinctively moved closer, your presence offering silent support that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"Well," Finn broke the awkward silence, raising his coffee mug. "Here's to unexpected culinary talents and..." he paused meaningfully, "new connections."

The kitchen buzzed with unspoken tensions and growing suspicions as the islanders enjoyed their breakfast, each of them watching the subtle dance between you and Rafe with varying degrees of interest and concern.

The makeshift gym area buzzed with energy as the islanders gathered for their morning workouts. The sun catching the sweat is already beginning to glisten on toned bodies. Marcus had claimed the weight bench, showing off as he spotted for Lee who struggled with his final rep.

"Come on, man! Push through it!" Marcus encouraged his muscles on full display in a tight tank top. "You got this!"

Rafe occupied the pull-up bar, his movements controlled and precise as he executed perfect reps. His white tank clung to his chest with sweat, gold rings glinting as he gripped the bar. His eyes kept drifting to where you struggled with adjusting the resistance bands, clearly frustrated with the equipment.

"Here," Blake offered, moving to help you. "These things are tricky. You have to..." She demonstrated the proper technique, her athletic background evident in her form.

James paced near the dumbbells, his tattooed arms flexing as he curled weights that were clearly too heavy for proper form. His jaw clenched each time Rafe's gaze wandered toward you.

"Babe, can you help me?" Lilly whined from the yoga mat, her pink workout set more suitable for Instagram than actual exercise. "I can't get this pose right."

"Kind of busy," Rafe grunted, dropping from the bar with fluid grace. He grabbed his water bottle, deliberately moving past your station. "Your form's off," he commented, his voice low. "You're going to hurt your shoulder like that."

Emma bounced between machines, her endless energy making everyone else look lazy in comparison. "This is so fun! It's like we have our own private gym!" She attempted a burpee, nearly colliding with Finn who was trying to get the perfect shot of everyone working out.

"Watch it!" Aish called out, stepping back from her kettlebell swings. "Some of us are actually trying to exercise here."

The air grew thick with tension and sweat as the morning workout continued.

"Fuck!" You swore as the resistance band snapped back, catching your arm. The sharp sound drew everyone's attention, especially Rafe who moved instinctively toward you before catching himself.

"Let me see," James stepped in quickly, his possessive concern obvious. "You need to be more careful, babe."

"I'm fine," You brushed him off, irritation clear in your voice. "I can handle myself."

"Clearly," Rafe muttered, just loud enough to be heard. His smirk earned him a glare from James and an eye roll from you.

The workout continued, the villa's gym equipment getting a thorough use as the islanders pushed through their routines. Rafe and you kept finding reasons to occupy the same space, your respective partners grew increasingly agitated with each interaction.

Rafe had moved to the cable machine, deliberately positioning himself with a clear view of your struggle with the resistance bands. "You're still doing it wrong," he called out, his voice carrying that familiar mix of arrogance and amusement.

"Then why don't you show me?" You snapped back, frustration was evident in your voice as you untangled yourself from the equipment.

"Babe," James interrupted, stepping between them with dumbbells still in hand. "I can help you. You don't need-"

"Jesus!" Marcus's strained voice cut through the tension. The barbell wavered dangerously above his chest as Lee scrambled to help him. "Little help here?"

Rafe moved first, his quick reflexes getting him to the bench before anyone else. Together with Lee, they helped Marcus rack the weight safely.

"Fuck," Marcus gasped, sitting up with a sheepish grin. "Maybe I should stick to cooking."

"Maybe you should stick to your own workout," James muttered, still hovering near you who had returned to fighting with the resistance bands.

Lilly's voice carried across the gym, high-pitched and demanding. "Rafe! Come show me how to use these weights properly!"

"In a minute," Rafe replied absently, his attention still fixed on your increasingly frustrated attempts with the equipment. Without warning, he moved behind you, his hands covering yours on the bands. "Like this," he demonstrated, guiding you through the proper motion.

The air in the gym grew thick with tension as James watched Rafe's hands on your waist, adjusting your stance.

"I said I can handle it," You insisted, but you didn't pull away from Rafe's guidance.

"Clearly," Rafe's breath ghosted across your neck as he corrected your form again. "Just like you handled that band snapping earlier?"

"Rafe!" Lilly's voice had taken on a whining edge. "I need help too!"

"Better go," you murmured, finally stepping away from his touch. "Your girlfriend's calling."

The muscle in Rafe's jaw ticked as he watched you move to the other side of the gym, deliberately putting space between you. He turned back to the cable machine, his movements more aggressive than necessary.

"Show-off," Blake commented under her breath, but loud enough for the cameras to catch. She exchanged knowing looks with Aish as they continued their workouts.

The villa's backyard had been transformed into a spicy challenge arena. A long table was set up with ten chairs, each place setting containing a row of increasingly intimidating hot wings and a glass of milk. The cameras captured the nervous energy as the islanders took their assigned seats, Sarah Hyland standing at the head of the table with a stack of cards.

"Welcome to 'Spicy Confessions'!" Sarah announced, her enthusiasm infectious. "The rules are simple - answer the question truthfully, or eat a wing. Each round, the wings get spicier, and the questions get... spicier too!" She winked at the cameras.

Rafe lounged in his chair, affecting his usual air of casual indifference despite the way his fingers drummed against the table. He was seated directly across from you.

"First round!" Sarah held up a card. "These wings are seasoned with jalapeño - barely a warm-up. The question is... What's the most public place you've ever hooked up?"

Emma giggled nervously, eyeing the first wing. "Do we go in order, or...?"

"Let's start with..." Sarah made a show of choosing, "Rafe! Set the tone for us."

Rafe leaned forward, that familiar smirk playing at his lips. "Easy. The Met Gala bathroom, last year." His eyes locked with yours across the table. "Sometimes the most exclusive venues provide the best... opportunities."

"Babe!" Lilly squealed, hitting his arm playfully. "You never told me that story!"

"Probably because you weren't there," Blake muttered under her breath, earning a sharp look from Lilly.

"Y/N," Sarah continued, "your turn! Answer or eat?"

James's hand found your thigh under the table, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the cameras - or by Rafe, whose jaw tightened slightly.

"Well," your voice carried across the table, a challenging glint in your eyes as you met Rafe's intense stare. "There was this corporate retreat in Aspen. The CEO had this private ski lodge with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountains..."

"Oh my god," Emma leaned forward eagerly, nearly knocking over her milk glass. "Please tell me you didn't!"

"Let's just say," You continued, your lips curving into a knowing smile, "the view wasn't the only thing that was breathtaking that weekend."

"Next question!" Sarah announced, flipping to a new card. The second row of wings glistened ominously with a deeper red sauce. "These babies are made with habanero peppers. And the question is... What's your biggest turn-on that you've never told your current partner?"

"Pass," Lee immediately reached for a wing, taking a brave bite before his eyes widened in panic. "Holy shit!" He grabbed for his milk, chugging it desperately as the others laughed.

"Rafe?" Sarah turned to him again, the cameras zooming in expectantly.

Rafe absently twisted his gold rings as he considered the question. "Power," he finally said, his voice low and deliberate. "I get off on having complete control."

Lilly shifted uncomfortably beside him. "But baby, I thought you said-"

"Moving on!" Sarah interrupted smoothly. "Blake?"

"Easy. Watching," Blake smirked, shooting a meaningful look between Rafe and you. "Especially when the people being watched don't know they're putting on a show."

The tension around the table thickened as more confessions spilled out. Marcus admitted to a thing for rope play, while Emma surprised everyone by confessing her love of public exhibition.

"Y/N," Sarah's voice cut through the charged atmosphere. "Your turn. What's that secret turn-on?"

"Control," you answered, your eyes meeting Rafe's directly. "But not having it - losing it. Completely." You paused deliberately. "To the right person."

"Next round!" Sarah's voice was almost too bright as she held up another card. The third row of wings glowed an alarming shade of orange. "These beauties are made with ghost peppers. And your question is... What's the most inappropriate thing you've ever fantasized about someone in this villa?"

"Fuck that," Marcus reached for a wing immediately but froze with it halfway to his mouth. "Actually... there was this one time in the shower when-"

"Just eat the damn wing," Aish interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Some of us would like to keep our breakfast down."

"Next question..." Sarah held up a new card, the late afternoon sun catching the sweat beading on everyone's foreheads from the previous rounds of spicy wings. "If someone other than your current partner is actually your ideal type in here - who is it and why? Or face the ghost pepper wings."

"I'll go first," Blake offered, breaking the awkward silence. "Marcus, sorry babe, but Lee's actually more my type. Those surfer vibes just do something for me." She shrugged apologetically at Marcus, who took the confession with good humor.

The question continued around the table, some islanders choosing to brave the wings rather than admit their true attractions. Emma confessed to having a crush on Finn, while Aish admitted she found Marcus's chef skills irresistibly attractive.

When it came to your turn you straightened in your chair, very aware of James's presence beside you. Your eyes met Rafe's across the table, holding his gaze as you spoke.

"Rafe," you stated simply, your voice steady despite the way James's entire body tensed beside you. "He's exactly my type - damaged, complicated, with just enough danger to make it interesting."

"Plus, I've always had a thing for guys who think they're unfixable."

The silence that followed your confession was deafening. Lilly's face had turned an alarming shade of red, while James's grip on his glass was so tight it looked in danger of shattering.

"Your turn, Rafe," Sarah prompted, the cameras catching every nuance of the charged moment. “Tell us who’s your type or what’s your biggest regret so far?”

His eyes never left your face as he spoke. "My biggest regret here was the safe choice instead of going after what I really wanted."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lilly's voice had risen to a near-shriek. "I'm right here!"

"It means," Rafe continued, still holding your gaze, "that sometimes playing it safe isn't worth the price of denying what you really need."

"Well!" Sarah's voice was overly bright as she tried to diffuse the situation. "That was... enlightening! Next question-"

"No," James stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the patio tiles. "I think we've heard enough 'enlightening' confessions for one day." His voice was tight with barely controlled anger as he stormed away from the table.

"James!" You called after him but made no move to follow. Your eyes returned to Rafe's, the heat between you palpable even across the table.

"Drama!" Emma stage-whispered to Finn, who was busy capturing every moment with his camera. "This is better than any reality show I've ever watched!"

Lilly tugged desperately at Rafe's arm. "Baby, you didn't mean that, right? Tell me you didn't mean that!"

But Rafe's attention remained fixed on you, his expression intense with something that went beyond mere attraction. It was clear that the real heat in the villa had nothing to do with ghost peppers.

That night, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the villa's fire pit area as the islanders gathered for what Sarah had cryptically called a "special surprise." The men sat blindfolded, their partners beside them on the curved benches.

"Islanders!" Sarah's voice carried across the space. "Tonight, we're shaking things up. Boys, keep those blindfolds on tight!"

The sound of heels clicking on stone drew everyone's attention to the villa entrance. Tessa emerged, dressed in green lace lingerie. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the firelight as she moved with deliberate sensuality.

"Holy shit," Blake whispered, loud enough for the microphones to catch. "She's not playing around."

You shifted uncomfortably next to James, very aware of how Rafe sat directly across from you, his blindfolded face turned in your direction despite not being able to see. Lilly's grip on his arm had become almost desperate.

"Boys," Sarah continued, "you're about to meet our newest bombshell. Tessa, why don't you tell us what brought you here?"

Tessa's voice was honey-sweet with an underlying edge as she circled the fire pit, her fingers trailing across each blindfolded man's shoulders. "Well, Sarah, I've had my eye on one particular islander from the start." She paused behind Rafe, her hands sliding down his chest. "I always get what I want, and what I want is sitting right here."

Tessa leaned down to whisper something in Rafe's ear, her lips brushing against his skin. The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he remained still under her touch.

"And what exactly do you see in Rafe?" Sarah prompted, though the question seemed redundant given how Tessa's hands continued to explore his shoulders.

"Where do I start?" She moved to stand in front of him. "The bad boy exterior hiding daddy issues? The complicated relationship with authority? The addiction struggles?" She smiled predatorily. "I work in addiction counseling. I know exactly how to... handle cases like his."

Your hands clenched in your lap, your professional mask slipping slightly at Tessa's casual mention of Rafe's personal struggles. "You can remove your blindfolds now, boys," Sarah announced with barely contained glee.

The reaction was immediate. Lee whistled low under his breath while Marcus muttered a quiet "damn." But all eyes were on Rafe as he took in Tessa's appearance, his expression unreadable behind his usual mask of indifference.

"Like what you see?" Tessa asked, deliberately positioning herself between Rafe and your line of sight.

"Seen better," Rafe drawled, but his voice held an edge that the cameras quickly focused on. His eyes kept trying to find you around Tessa's deliberately positioned form.

Tessa made herself comfortable on the bench next to Rafe, forcing Lilly to scoot over. "Well," she smiled, "you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Sarah, should I tell them the best part?"

"Go ahead," Sarah encouraged, clearly enjoying the mounting tension.

"Tonight," Tessa announced, her hand finding its way to Rafe's thigh, "I get to steal one of you for a private date in the Hideaway. And I think we all know who I'm choosing."

"Rafe," Tessa's voice cut through the night air as she stood from the fire pit, extending her manicured hand toward him. "Let's have that chat, shall we?"

"This is bullshit!" Lilly exploded the moment they were out of earshot, her voice rising to a pitch that made several people wince. "She can't just come in here and-"

"And what?" Blake cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Do exactly what you did to Y/N when you picked Rafe at the first coupling?" The cameras caught you slightly flinching at the reminder.

Emma tried to diffuse the situation, her perpetual cheerfulness somewhat strained. "Come on, guys. It's just a chat. It's not like-"

"Not like what?" Lilly snapped, mascara already starting to run. "Not like she's practically naked? Not like she's obviously trying to steal my man?"

James shifted closer to you on the bench, his arm sliding around your waist in what appeared to be comfort but felt more like possession. "Maybe some people's men are worth stealing," he muttered, just loud enough for the microphones to catch.

Tessa led Rafe to the day beds, her body language deliberately seductive as she settled beside him. Even from a distance, the islanders could see how she kept touching him - a hand on his arm, fingers trailing across his chest, playing with his gold rings.

"I can't watch this," Lilly stood abruptly, wobbling slightly in her heels. "This is... this is just..."

"Karma?" Aish suggested sweetly, earning a death glare from Lilly.

You remained silent, your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding at the day beds.

"You're being awfully quiet," Blake observed, studying your face. "No professional insight into this situation, life coach?"

Before you could respond, a burst of laughter carried across from the day beds - Tessa's, high and deliberately performative. The sound made Lilly sink back onto the bench, tears now flowing freely.

"I mean," Marcus spoke up, trying to be diplomatic, "she is fit. And she seems... interested in helping with his issues."

"Oh please," Blake scoffed. "The only thing she's interested in 'helping' with is getting him out of those shorts."

Your fingers tightened around your glass at Blake's words, though your face remained carefully neutral. "Well," Finn mused, his photographer's eye taking in the whole scene, "this should make for some interesting footage. The addiction counselor and the recovering addict - it's like a bad romance novel."

"Or a tragedy waiting to happen," You muttered, speaking for the first time since Tessa had arrived.

The daybed creaked softly as Tessa shifted closer to Rafe, her perfume - something expensive and deliberately chosen - filling the space between them.

"So," her voice has an underlying edge, "tell me about your recovery. It must be so hard, being in here with all these... temptations." Her emphasis on the last word made it clear she wasn't talking about substances.

Rafe's jaw ticked, but his usual sharp retort died on his lips as Tessa's hand found its way to his thigh. Her touch was different from Lilly's desperate clutching - more assured, more knowing. "What makes you think you know anything about my recovery?"

"Please," Tessa laughed, the sound carrying deliberately across to the fire pit. "I've worked with enough addicts to recognize the signs. The way you fidget with those rings when you're anxious, how you rub your chest during moments of stress..." Her fingers trailed up his arm. "The constant need for control, yet the desperate desire to lose it with the right person."

Rafe's eyes flickered toward the fire pit, seeking your silhouette before Tessa deliberately blocked his view. "And you think you're the right person?" His voice held its usual sarcasm, but there was something else there too - a hint of genuine curiosity.

"I know how to handle men like you. The ones who push everyone away because they're scared of being seen. The ones who use anger and arrogance to hide their pain."

"The ones who need someone who understands their demons." Rafe's breath hitched slightly as Tessa's hand moved higher on his thigh. Her words were hitting closer to home than he'd like to admit, striking chords that you had first exposed during their late-night conversation.

"And what about Lilly?" He asked, though his tone suggested he didn't really care about the answer.

Tessa's laugh was dismissive. "Please. We both know she's not equipped to handle someone like you. She wants the bad boy image without the complicated reality behind it." Her fingers found the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. "I, on the other hand, specialize in complicated realities."

Her words were perfectly chosen, each touch deliberately placed to break down Rafe's defenses.

"I could help you," she murmured, her lips dangerously close to his. "Really help you, not just play at being your savior like some people." Her pointed glance toward the fire pit made it clear who she meant.

Rafe's hand found her waist almost unconsciously, drawn in by her promises of understanding and acceptance. Tessa had done her homework well, knowing exactly which buttons to push, and which wounds to probe. And despite himself, Rafe found his carefully constructed walls beginning to crack under her expert assault.

Time passed as Tessa made her way over as the tension around the fire pit crackled. The islanders watched as she positioned herself next to Sarah, her lingerie still managing to catch every eye despite the hours that had passed.

"Well," Sarah's voice carried across the space, heavy with anticipation. "Tessa, you've had the chance to chat with all our boys. Time to make your choice for that private date in the Hideaway."

Lilly had practically melded herself to Rafe's other side, her mascara-stained face a stark contrast to Tessa's perfectly maintained appearance. You sat rigidly beside James, your eyes fixed on some point in the distance as if trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"It's not really much of a choice, is it? From the moment I walked in, I knew exactly who I wanted."

"Rafe, obviously."

"Rafe," Sarah turned to him, "How do you feel about spending the night in the Hideaway with our new bombshell?"

His blue eyes flickered briefly toward you before settling back on Tessa. "Why not?" His trademark smirk slid into place, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Could be interesting."

"Interesting?" Lilly's voice rose several octaves. "That's all you have to say? After everything we've-"

"Babe," Tessa cut her off smoothly, "it's just a date. Though..." her hand trailed down Rafe's chest suggestively, "I can't promise we'll stick to just talking."

"Well then," Sarah clapped her hands together, clearly delighting in the drama. "Rafe, why don't you go get ready? Tessa will meet you in the Hideaway in thirty minutes."

As Rafe stood to leave, Tessa pulled him down for a deliberately passionate kiss, making sure everyone - especially you - had a clear view. His hands remained at his sides, not quite participating but not pulling away either.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," She released him, her voice carrying clearly across the fire pit.

The night air grew thick with tension as Rafe disappeared into the villa.

The islanders gathered for breakfast, the tension from the previous night still hanging heavy in the air. Lilly sat at the counter, her eyes red and puffy from crying, while the others tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

"This is all your fault," Lilly suddenly spat, her voice cracking as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. "If you hadn't been throwing yourself at him during that stupid spicy challenge-"

"Excuse me?" You set down your coffee cup with deliberate control, though your hands shook slightly. "I'm not the one who chose to go to the Hideaway with someone else."

Blake and Emma exchanged worried glances while Marcus continued flipping pancakes, trying to appear absorbed in his cooking.

"Oh, please!" Lilly's voice rose higher. "We all saw how you've been looking at him! Those late-night conversations, the workout flirting, the breakfast cooking together - you've been trying to steal him from day one!"

"That's rich," Blake interjected, coming to your defense. "Considering how you coupled up with him in the first place. Or did you forget snatching him away from Y/N on day one?"

James, who had been silently brooding beside you, suddenly spoke up. "Maybe if Rafe wasn't such a fucking player, none of this would be happening."

"Don't you dare," Lilly whirled on him. "This isn't about Rafe! It's about your girlfriend being a homewrecking-"

"Careful," Your voice cut through the kitchen like ice. "Think very carefully about what you're about to say."

Aish leaned against the counter, watching the drama unfold. "Oh honey, if anyone's doing any homewrecking, it's that blonde bombshell upstairs currently wrapped around your man."

"She's not wrapped around anyone," Finn corrected, unable to help himself. "Rafe came back down after an hour. Apparently, they just talked."

"Then why isn't he down here?" Lilly demanded. "Why is he avoiding me?"

"Maybe because you're acting crazy?" Lee suggested, immediately regretting his words as Lilly turned her fury on him.

"I'm acting crazy? My boyfriend just spent the night with another woman, and everyone's acting like I'm the problem!" Tears started flowing again. "And it's all because she," she jabbed a finger at you again, "had to go and admit he was her type!"

"At least she was honest," Blake shot back. "Unlike some people who pretend they're okay with their partner clearly wanting someone else."

James stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on," Emma finally joined in, her usual cheerfulness replaced with exasperation. "We all see how Rafe looks at Y/N. And how she looks at him. And how you and Lilly are both trying to pretend it's not happening."

The kitchen erupted into chaos as everyone started talking at once. The cameras panned frantically between faces as accusations flew and alliances formed. Marcus abandoned his pancakes to hold back Lee, who looked ready to physically intervene as James stepped threateningly toward Finn.

"Enough!" Your voice cut through the noise. You stood slowly, your composure cracking slightly. "I'm done being everyone's scapegoat. Rafe made his choice last night - multiple choices, actually. None of them involved me or you," you looked pointedly at Lilly. "So maybe instead of blaming everyone else, you should ask yourself why he's so eager to explore other options."

The silence that followed your outburst was deafening. Your hands trembled slightly as you walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind a group of stunned islanders and a breakfast that had gone cold in the wake of their confrontation.

The sound of footsteps on the villa's stairs drew everyone's attention as Rafe appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair still messy from sleep. He wore sweatpants and no shirt, his gold rings catching the morning light. Tessa followed close behind, wearing one of his t-shirts like a trophy.

"What the fuck is going on down here?" Rafe's voice cut through the tense atmosphere as he took in the scene - Lilly's tear-stained face, James's aggressive stance, and the obvious divide among the islanders. "I could hear the shouting from upstairs."

"Oh, just your girlfriend having a complete meltdown," Blake supplied helpfully, earning a death glare from Lilly. "Apparently, it's Y/N’s fault you chose to spend the night with Barbie over there."

Tessa's perfectly manicured hand found its way to Rafe's bare chest, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. "Where is Y/N, anyway?"

"She left," Emma explained, fidgeting nervously with her coffee cup. "After Lilly accused her of trying to steal Rafe and-"

"She what?" Rafe's voice dropped dangerously low, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His eyes fixed on Lilly with an intensity that made her shrink back slightly.

"Baby, I can explain," Lilly started, her voice wavering. "It's just... the way you two are always looking at each other, and then that confession during the challenge-"

"So you decided to attack her?" Rafe stepped forward, shrugging off Tessa's touch. "Make her responsible for your insecurities?"

Tessa’s confident smile faltered slightly. This clearly wasn't how she'd planned the morning going."I'm not insecure!" Lilly protested, fresh tears spilling. "I'm trying to protect what's mine!"

"Yours?" Rafe's laugh was harsh. "When exactly did I become your property, Lilly? When you picked me first? When you decided to ignore every sign that this wasn't working?"

James pushed off from the counter where he'd been brooding. "Rich coming from you. Playing with both of them while you've got a new toy upstairs."

"Careful," Rafe's warning was soft but deadly serious. "You might want to think about why your girlfriend's name keeps coming up in conversations about me."

Marcus and Lee moved closer, ready to intervene if necessary. "Nothing happened upstairs," He continued, his voice carrying clearly. "We talked. That's it. Because, unlike some people, I actually give a fuck about not hurting people unnecessarily."

"Could've fooled me," Lilly sniffled. "You didn't seem to care about hurting me when you were confessing your regrets during the challenge."

"Maybe because they were true?" Rafe's words fell like bombs in the quiet kitchen. "Maybe because I'm tired of pretending this is something it's not?"

Tessa stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. "Rafe, baby, let's go back upstairs and-"

"Don't," he cut her off sharply. "This isn't about you. This isn't even about Lilly anymore." His eyes scanned the kitchen. "Where did Y/N go?"

"The beach," Finn supplied, ignoring the warning looks from several islanders. "She headed down to the water."

Without another word, Rafe turned and strode toward the villa's exit, leaving behind a stunned kitchen full of islanders.

"Well," Blake broke the silence, reaching for the coffee pot. "I guess we know whose side he's on."

The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided cover as Rafe reached behind his back, yanking off his microphone pack and tossing it onto the sand. His eyes fixed on you near the water's edge, your hair whipping in the ocean breeze.

You stood with your arms wrapped around you as you stared out at the horizon. You didn't turn when you heard his footsteps in the sand, but your body tensed slightly, recognizing his presence.

"If you've come to defend your girlfriend's tantrum, save it," Your voice carried over the sound of the waves, deliberately steady despite the emotion underneath. "I'm not interested in being everyone's villain."

Rafe moved closer, positioning himself beside you but not touching.

"She's not my girlfriend," he stated simply, his voice rough. "Not anymore. Maybe she never really was."

The wind whipped around you, carrying the salt spray and the weight of unspoken words. You finally turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his blue ones with an intensity that the cameras, even from their distance, couldn't miss.

"What are you doing, Rafe?" Your question held layers of meaning - about Lilly, about Tessa, about the growing tension between you that neither could deny.

"Something I should have done from the start," he moved closer, his body angling toward yours like a compass finding north. "Stop playing it safe. Stop pretending I don't feel what I feel."

The ocean crashed behind you, providing a dramatic backdrop as Rafe reached out, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. The sun caught his gold rings, creating patterns of light that danced across your skin.

"And what exactly do you feel?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body moved slightly toward his, drawn by the same magnetic pull that had been there since day one.

"You know exactly what I feel," Rafe's voice dropped lower, more intense. "You've known since that first night. Since every fucking moment after." His hand finally made contact, fingers brushing your cheek with a gentleness that contradicted his usual sharp edges.

The beach stretched empty around you, the distant villa forgotten as the space between you charged with electricity.

"This is a mistake," You breathed, but you didn't pull away from his touch. "The villa, the cameras, James, Lilly, Tessa-"

"Fuck the villa," Rafe cut you off, his other hand coming up to frame your face. "Fuck the cameras. Fuck all of it." His thumbs traced your cheekbones as he held your gaze. "The only mistake was denying this for so long."

The waves provide a rhythmic soundtrack to your moment of truth. But was soon interrupted by a text about a new challenge.

The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink as the islanders gathered in a circle on the beach. The tension from the morning's drama still lingered in the air as they settled onto the sand, carefully maintaining space between certain couples.

"Alright, islanders!" Sarah's voice carried across the beach. "Time for Beach or Deep! The rules are simple - when the bottle lands on you, you choose Beach for light and flirty, or Deep for the real tea!"

The glass bottle glinted in the sunset as it spun, eventually slowing to point at Blake. The cameras zoomed in on her confident smirk as she considered her options.

"Deep," she declared without hesitation. "Let's start this right."

Sarah pulled out a card. "Who in the villa do you think is playing the biggest game?"

Blake's eyes swept the circle deliberately before landing on Tessa. "Our newest bombshell, obviously. Coming in here pretending to be some sort of addiction counselor savior when we all know she's just trying to create drama for the cameras."

Tessa's perfectly maintained smile tightened slightly. "Interesting theory from someone who's been trying to get with Lee behind Marcus's back."

The bottle spun again before the argument could escalate, landing on Emma. "Beach!" she chirped quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Give your best cheesy pickup line to the islander of your choice," Sarah read.

Emma turned to Finn with an exaggerated wink. "Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!"

The groan that went around the circle was interrupted by the bottle's next spin, landing on Rafe. "Deep," his voice carried that familiar edge of danger. The other islanders shifted nervously, aware of the morning's unresolved drama.

Sarah's smile was almost predatory as she read the card. "Have you caught feelings for someone else's partner?"

The beach seemed to hold its breath as Rafe's blue eyes locked with you.

"Yes," he stated simply, his voice carrying clearly across the circle. The bottle spun again, this time landing on you. The sunset cast dramatic shadows across your face as you considered your options, very aware of Rafe's intense gaze.

"Deep," you finally decided, your voice steady despite the charged atmosphere.

"Reveal your biggest villa secret," Sarah read, barely containing her excitement.

Your eyes met Rafe's across the circle as you spoke. "The night after the heart rate challenge, I couldn't sleep. I went outside and found someone else there too. We talked until sunrise about things we've never told anyone else." You paused deliberately. "And every night since I've gone back hoping to find them there again."

The game continued as the sun sank lower, the bottle spun again, catching the last rays of sunlight as it landed on Rafe. The tension around the circle thickened as he leaned forward, his gold rings glinting in the dying light.

"Beach," he drawled, though his blue eyes held something deeper as they fixed on you across the circle.

Sarah's smile was wicked as she read the card. "Kiss the islander you find most attractive. And make it count - we want to see some real passion!"

"Finally," Blake muttered under her breath, loud enough for the microphones to catch. "About damn time."

Rafe crossed the circle with deliberate steps, his intention clear in every movement. James started to shift protectively closer to you, but your hand on his arm stopped him. The sunset painted everything in shades of gold and red as Rafe reached down, pulling you to your feet.

"Been wanting to do this since day one," he murmured, just loud enough for the nearby microphones to pick up. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness.

The beach seemed to hold its breath as Rafe leaned in, his other hand sliding into your hair. The kiss started soft, almost tentative - a stark contrast to his usual aggressive demeanor. But as your hands found their way to his chest, something shifted.

The kiss deepened, becoming something raw and desperate. Rafe's fingers tightened in your hair as you pressed closer, both of you forgetting about your audience, about your partners, about everything except this moment you’d been denying yourself.

"Jesus Christ," Emma whispered, fanning herself. "Is it getting hot out here?"

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, the sunset had painted the sky in deeper shades of purple and red. Rafe's forehead rested against yours for a moment, his hands still tangled in your hair.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. The microphones barely caught his next words, meant only for you. "This changes everything."

"Well," Sarah's voice carried across the beach, heavy with satisfaction. "I think that answers quite a few questions, doesn't it?"

The night was settling in around you as Rafe and you returned to your spots in the circle, though something fundamental had shifted in the villa's dynamic. The game continued, but no one could focus on the questions anymore - not after witnessing what had clearly been more than just a dare.

Rafe's eyes kept finding yours across the circle and you touched your lips unconsciously throughout the rest of the game.

The villa's glam room buzzed with nervous energy as the girls prepared for the recoupling ceremony. The air was thick with hairspray and perfume as they flitted between mirrors and makeup stations, their conversations a mix of excitement and anxiety.

You stood at your designated area, rifling through your suitcase with uncharacteristic excitement. Your fingers brushed against the silky material of your chosen dress - a deep burgundy number that hugged you. The kiss on the beach still lingered on your lips, making you smile softly at your reflection.

"Someone's in a good mood," Blake observed, applying another coat of mascara. "That kiss must have been even better than it looked."

Tessa's perfectly manicured hand paused midway through applying lipstick. "Don't get too excited, honey. The night's not over yet." Her voice carried a sharp edge beneath its sweetness.

"Oh please," Emma chimed in, wrestling with her curling iron. "After that beach display, we all know where this is heading. Even Lilly must see it by now."

As if summoned by her name, Lilly emerged from the bathroom, her eyes still red and puffy despite layers of concealer. "You're all acting like it's some great love story," she sniffled. "When really, it's just Y/N stealing someone else's man. Again."

Your hands stilled on your dress. "I haven't stolen anything," you replied calmly, though your grip on the silk tightened. "And maybe if you spent less time playing victim and more time actually seeing what's in front of you-"

"What's in front of me?" Lilly's voice rose sharply. "You mean how you've been throwing yourself at him since day one? How you manipulate him with all those late-night talks about his addiction?"

"That's enough," Blake stepped between you two, her dress half-zipped. "We all saw what happened on that beach. That wasn't manipulation - that was something real."

Aish nodded from her position at the vanity. "Girl, that kiss had more chemistry than my entire science degree. And trust me, I would know."

You turned back to your suitcase, pulling out your heels as the other girls continued their debate. Your hands trembled slightly as you laid out your outfit - the dress, the shoes, the delicate gold jewelry that would complement Rafe's rings.

"You know," Tessa spoke up again, her voice carrying clearly across the room, "it's interesting how quickly some people forget their partners when something shiny and new catches their eye. James has been nothing but loyal to you, Y/N. But I guess that doesn't matter when there's a bad boy to fix, right?"

The room fell silent as you slowly straightened, meeting Tessa's gaze in the mirror. "You want to talk about loyalty? How about coming into the villa specifically targeting someone else's partner? At least I didn't have to strip down to my lingerie to get Rafe's attention."

"One of us is definitely going home tonight," Emma voiced what they were all thinking, nervously adjusting her dress straps in the mirror. "With Tessa here now, someone's getting dumped."

You smoothed down your dress, watching the other girls' reactions in the mirror. "It won't be Y/N," Blake stated matter-of-factly, applying another coat of lipstick. "Not after that kiss. Rafe's made his choice pretty clear."

Tessa's laugh was sharp as she adjusted her deliberately revealing white dress. "Has he though? Men say a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Trust me, I know exactly what kind of conversation we had in the Hideaway last night."

"Oh please," Aish rolled her eyes, fastening her earrings. "You mean the conversation that lasted all of an hour before he came back downstairs? That really sounds like true love."

"This isn't fair! I've been with him since day one. We were happy before she," Lilly jabbed a finger at you, "started playing her mind games!"

"Happy?" Blake scoffed, turning from her mirror. "Girl, he's been looking at Y/N like she hung the moon since the moment she walked in. The only person who couldn't see it was you."

Emma tried to diffuse the situation, ever the peacemaker. "Maybe we should focus on looking our best? I mean, it's not just about Rafe. Any of the guys could switch things up tonight."

"Right," Tessa's smile was predatory as she adjusted her cleavage. "James seemed pretty interested in our chat earlier. Maybe he's ready for someone who won't abandon him for the first broken bad boy that comes along."

Your hands stilled on your jewelry. "Careful, Tessa. Your desperation is showing." Your voice was calm but carried an edge that made the other girls shift nervously.

"At least I'm honest about what I want," Tessa shot back. "I don't pretend to be some noble life coach while stealing other people's partners."

"The only thing you're honest about is your push-up bra," Blake muttered, earning a few nervous giggles.

Your confidence seemed to grow with each passing moment, while Lilly's anxiety manifested in increasingly frantic makeup touch-ups.

"Ten minutes, ladies!" A producer's voice called through the door.

"Well," Aish stood, smoothing down her dress. "I guess we're about to find out who's going home and who's staying to fight another day."

"May the best woman win," Tessa's voice carried across the room as they prepared to leave, though her eyes fixed challengingly on you.

"Oh honey," Blake linked arms with you as you headed for the door. "I think she already has."

The fire pit crackled with tension as the islanders gathered for the recoupling ceremony. The girls stood in a line, their evening wear glinting in the firelight while the boys sat on the curved benches, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. Sarah stood at the head of the fire pit, her expression promising drama.

"Islanders," Sarah's voice carried across the night air. "Tonight's recoupling will determine who stays in the villa and who goes home. Boys, you have the power. When I call your name, please stand and tell us who you want to couple up with, and why."

"Rafe," She called first, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "You're up."

The fire cast dramatic shadows across Rafe's face as he stood, his blue eyes intense in the flickering light. His gold rings caught the flames as he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of barely contained emotion rather than his usual arrogance.

"The girl I want to couple up with," he began, his voice carrying clearly across the pit, "is someone I should have chosen from the start. Someone who sees past all my bullshit, who isn't afraid to call me out when I'm being an ass." His eyes found you across the flames. "Someone who makes me want to be better, even though that fucking terrifies me."

"She's the first person I've ever met who makes me want to face my demons instead of running from them. Who doesn't try to fix me, but makes me want to fix myself." He paused, his intensity making the moment electric. "The girl I want to couple up with is Y/N."

The fire pit crackled in the silence that followed as you stepped forward, your eyes never leaving Rafe's. The burgundy dress caught the light as you moved, creating the illusion of flames dancing across your skin.

"Took you long enough," You murmured as you reached him, just loud enough for the nearby microphones to catch.

Rafe's hand found your waist as you settled beside him, his touch possessive yet gentle. The cameras didn't miss how perfectly you fit together, or how his thumb traced small circles on your hip - a gesture that seemed unconscious yet intimate.

"James," Sarah's voice cut through the moment. "You're next."

The tension ratcheted up another notch as James stood, his expression barely contained with fury. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before sliding to where Tessa stood, her white dress practically glowing in the firelight.

"Well," his voice carried an edge that made several islanders shift uncomfortably. "Seems like loyalty doesn't mean much here anymore." His gaze lingered pointedly on you, who remained steady under Rafe's protective arm.

"The girl I want to couple up with," James continued, his tone shifting to something calculated, "is someone who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. Someone who understands the value of... professional expertise." His eyes fixed on Tessa, whose white dress seemed to glow against the night sky.

"I choose Tessa," he declared, watching your reaction from the corner of his eye. "At least she's honest about her intentions."

"Thanks, baby," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I promise you won't regret it."

The recoupling continued as Marcus chose Blake, Lee picked Emma, and Finn selected Aish, leaving Lilly standing alone in her pink dress, mascara-stained tears tracking down her cheeks.

"Lilly," Sarah's voice held false sympathy. "I'm sorry, but as you weren't chosen, your time in the villa has come to an end. You have thirty minutes to pack your bags and say your goodbyes."

Your slight flinch of guilt was quickly soothed by Rafe's tightening grip on your waist, Tessa's had a triumphant smirk as she pressed closer to James, and the varying expressions of shock and satisfaction among the other islanders.

"This isn't fair," Lilly's voice cracked as she looked pleadingly at Rafe. "We were happy. We were good together until she-"

"Don't," Rafe cut her off, his voice firm but not unkind. "We both know that's not true. We were never really together, Lilly. Not in the way that mattered."

The night air grew thick with tension as Lilly's sobs echoed across the fire pit. The other islanders began to move, some following Lilly to help her pack, others lingering to watch the aftermath of the dramatic recoupling.

"Well," Blake muttered to Emma as they headed inside. "I guess we know who the real player in the villa is now." Her meaningful glance toward Tessa and James.

You turned in Rafe's arms, your eyes meeting his blue ones in the firelight. "You okay?" You asked softly, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

"Better than okay," he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "For the first time since coming here, everything feels... right."

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girlkisser13 · 6 months ago

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dionysus cabin headcanons

children of dionysus

• HUGE theater kids.

• being highly emotional, wine children make great actors.

• they throw the best parties.

• they have extra beds in their cabin for people who pass out and can't handle their liquor.

• when one of them is upset, others around them get upset too, due to dionysus having influence on the mind.

• they hate the indoors and prefer open spaces.

• even when sober, they can't pass a breathalyzer test because they naturally have the scent of wine on them.

• they are all great cooks and know which wine to pair with each meal.

• they are all very good at directions and are rarely lost (a blessing from their stepmother).

• gender fluidity is common with dionysus kids.

• they all have thick, curly hair and strange color eyes.

• they are prone to depression and anger and are often bipolar.

• daughters of dionysus are rare so they are as powerful as big three kids (canon in the myths).

• they are harder to charmspeak due to their connection with the states of mind.

• arguments last for months because anger runs in their blood and the wine influence makes it worse.

• when they’re sad, they can make vines wilt by just looking at them.

• on very rare occasions, wine children can be born with the ability to affect another's mental state temporarily.

• this ability makes them feared by many, because they can cause hysteria and hallucinations, but they are also sought out by some suffering from depression or anxiety to help relax them.

• they get really thirsty really easily. they always have a bottle of water on hand.

• they are able to recognize all kinds of alcohol with just a sniff, but they all hate wine-tasting.

• they can automatically tell if a beverage has been tampered with, laced with something unwanted or if the ingredients used to make said alcohol are not safe for consumption.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is draped in grapevines and ivy, with the plants growing in a seemingly chaotic yet aesthetically pleasing manner.

• the exterior features vibrant and rich colors like deep purples, greens, and golds. they are reminiscent of a vineyard in full bloom.

• their cabin has a rustic, almost ancient greek villa vibe, with wooden beams, stone walls, and terracotta roof tiles.

• strings of fairy lights, lanterns, and other festive decorations hang around the cabin, creating a lively, celebratory atmosphere even when there's no party.

• comfortable outdoor furniture like hammocks, cushioned chairs, and wooden benches are scattered around for lounging and socializing.

• the doors in their cabin occasionally change colors and vines tend to move on their own.

cabin interior

• their cabin is almost entirely purple on the inside, which makes everything a little bit dark and dramatic. it's also usually very cool and damp inside- the perfect climate for storing wine.

• plush, comfortable furniture in rich fabrics and colors create a cozy yet opulent atmosphere. think velvet couches, silk cushions, and ornate rugs.

• they have a central bar area with stools and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks (and a secret stash of wine). nearby, they have a lounge area with low tables, bean bags, and cozy chairs for socializing and relaxing.

• soft, warm lighting from chandeliers, lanterns, and fairy lights create a magical, inviting ambiance. there are also be candles and fireflies in glass jars scattered around.

• the interior also features plenty of natural elements, like potted plants, hanging vines, and flowers. some walls might even have living plants growing on them.

• decorations include garlands, streamers, and masks hanging from the walls and the ceiling, giving the cabin a perpetual party vibe.

• the walls are adorned with art pieces, ranging from classical paintings to more whimsical, modern interpretations of dionysian myths. sculptures of satyrs, nymphs, and other mythological creatures are scattered around the cabin.

cabin traditions

• when a child of dionysus falls in love, it's a cabin tradition that they give their partner a hideous leopard print shirt.

• they put on regular plays, improv sessions, or storytelling nights, often featuring greek and roman myths and tales related to their father.

• new wine children undergo a playful initiation rite, involving a series of fun challenges and games, ending with a toast (with grape juice) welcoming them into the cabin.

• inspired by traditional wine-making, they hold an annual grape-crushing competition, with teams competing to crush the most grapes by stomping on them, followed by a big party to celebrate.

divider by @plutism

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #pjo series #hoo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #dionysus #bacchus #dionysus cabin #cabin twelve #cabin 12 #children of dionysus

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mysterystarz · 7 months ago

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black tie losers

geto suguru x f!reader

in which you’re at a charity gala and come to the realization that maybe being best friends with suguru is no longer an option

a/n: when i thought of this i ran to write bc geto in a suit

feedback is so appreciated <3

“stay still. if you keep moving, you’re going to look like a clown.”

geto sits in front of you on a stool, tie messily done up as he holds a lipliner pencil in his hands. he’s grinning at his work — because true to his words, you looked like a clown.

“suguru, you can’t line lips for shit.” you sigh, rummaging through your things to find some makeup remover. “remind me why i let you do this again?”

geto laughs, grinning at you in a way that was oddly wholesome. “because i wanted to help you get ready for tonight. there’s nothing better than taking credit for the date on my arm.”

date indeed—a platonic one.

you and geto were attending your university’s biggest charity gala tonight. as one of the most successful black tie events on campus, each attendee was required to look straight out of vogue magazine to ensure they raised enough money to make a difference.

geto—ever the gentleman—asked you to be his date. he wouldn’t get hounded by the customary droves of girls, and you’d have someone to match with.

of course, being your best friend, he decided to help you get ready.

he watched patiently as you dabbed the streak of lipliner away, smiling gently when you turned back to meet his eyes. he wordlessly moved forward to cup your cheeks, finishing up lining your cupids bow.

“there,” he said softly, “now some lipstick.” you gestured to the various tubes on your desk as you moved to dust some highlighter on your cheeks.

geto picked a particularly lovely shade and smoothly glided it across your lips. he seemed proud at his handiwork, beaming at you happily as soon as he finished.

“take a look,” he smirked, and you did just that. the mirror showed you someone beautiful.

somehow, stupid suguru had actually done a good job.

“nice job,” you mumbled, feeling oddly shy beneath his gaze. he cleaned up nice tonight—a bit too nice. so nice that you weren’t sure how to act around him when he attempted to tie his tie.

“you mean sensational job,” he laughed, flinging his tie around. “also please help. i can’t do this.”

you sighed as you moved closer to fix his tie. you could catch a whiff of his cologne — something fresh and oddly mouthwatering and it nearly made you screw up the final flip of the fabric.

suguru was acting a bit different, and it was driving you crazy. his presence was much closer than usual, and with every passing day, it seemed impossible to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that’d been looming over you for weeks.

geto suguru, your best friend, was an extremely attractive man.

you still weren’t sure how to handle this information. so far, it’d been unwarranted blushes and a whole lot of random butterflies where there shouldn’t be.

you supposed the gala would give you time to think—but you were wrong.

geto walked in through the ornately decorated doors with a smile, an arm threaded through his hair and the other wrapped around your waist. from this point, you could see all your fellow students interacting with the heads of various charities, and donations racking up by the second.

suguru stayed close, his touch firm and steady and searing and confusing in ways you couldn’t understand.

“would you like to explore a bit?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

too flustered to speak, you wordlessly nodded as he dragged you to the photo booth at the edge of the venue.

“these are awesome,” he laughed, holding up a particularly unclassy mustache prop. you cringed, distancing yourself as much as you good within the tiny space to show your disapproval.

suguru pulled you closer again, his hands caressing your waist in a way that was more reverent than anything you’d ever felt. he was too close…it was too much.

he leaned close to you, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“maybe i did too good of a job tonight,” he said lowly, tracing your lips with his finger.

“suguru,” you breathed out, “what is going on?”

he pulled away grinning. “you had a dusting of highlighter a bit too close to this one spot of your nose. i had to distract you so you wouldn’t stop me from touching your face.”

you groaned in frustration while suguru posed jubilantly for the camera.

the gala was beautiful. the pictures with suguru were super candid. neither of those were your major takeaways.

as you returned to your room for the night, you knew one thing for certain. suguru geto had become someone more than a best friend to you and there was nothing you could do about it.

unknown to you, suguru fell asleep that night dreaming of you, and all the ways he’d kiss you if he had the chance.

#nova scribbles #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk headcanons #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto fluff #geto headcanons #geto drabble #suguru geto fluff

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landinrris · 3 months ago

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Football AU snippet in which Carlos asks about Lando's willingness to participate in a friends and family football match for charity. (Very much inspired by Lando's PlayStation match)

Lando’s busy unloading a few vases from the kiln when he hears the back door to his studio unit open. He slides one of the vases onto a shelf and glances down at his watch to see that it’s around 5:30. Probably Carlos then.

He finishes unloading the vases onto the nearby shelf before he picks up a couple and walks back out into his main workshop area. Sure enough, Carlos is there in a pair of joggers and a hoodie sitting on the stool in front of Lando’s painting and glazing workbench. He’s busy inspecting the centerpiece bowl Lando had been painting intricate designs on earlier.

“What’re you doing here?” Lando asks, walking the two vases in his hands over to the table where Carlos is. He places them down to the side before making his way to Carlos and sitting on his leg. He loops his arms around Carlos’ shoulders and leans forward to kiss him.

Carlos grins against his lips and winds his arms around Lando’s waist to tug him closer. He smells like the shampoo and soap from the club's shower stalls and not at all like he’d been working out all afternoon.

“I figured you were still here, and I wanted to see what you were up to.”

“Mmm, just finishing up unloading some things, and then I was gonna head home. But now that you’re here, guess I don’t have to take the tube.”

“That is the only reason?”

Lando scratches absentmindedly at the nape of Carlos’ neck and smiles back. “Yeah, the only reason, clearly.”

Carlos pinches Lando’s ass, and Lando very resolutely does not react to it.

“This piece is beautiful. Is it for anyone specifically?” Carlos asks, nodding towards the bowl. Lando’s done pieces like this in the past, but not this specific kind of ornate pattern.

He’d wanted to try something new, something that inspired him about the way Carlos had been playing these last few months at his new team. He thinks the swirling red and black lines get at that magical way Carlos moves across the field-- that he captured it pretty well. He doesn’t tell Carlos as much now, not yet sure what he wants to do with the piece once it’s finished.

“Haven’t decided yet. I’m glad you like it though. Maybe I’ll keep it for us.”

Carlos squeezes his arms tighter and presses another kiss to Lando’s lips. Lando melts into it, never one to not take Carlos’ kisses when offered. It’s not quite late enough that Lando’s confident they’re truly alone or else he might let himself escalate things.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” Carlos eventually says, his thumb moving back and forth beneath Lando’s hoodie and against his skin.

Lando pulls his head back to a more respectable distance so that he can look at Carlos for whatever he needs to say. “What’s up?”

“The team is having a family and friends friendly match in two weeks for charity. I think I mentioned it last week briefly.”

Lando nods. Carlos had mentioned it in passing in the context of Lando donating a few pieces. They'd decided on a few mugs and vases for the online charity auction.

“They were trying to get a headcount of who planned to have a family member or friend to sign up. They are beginning to draw up the rosters. I told them that I would have to ask, but you might be interested?”

Lando chokes on a laugh. “Me? When have I ever been known to play football more than to help you train every so often?”

“Exactly. You will know more than half of the people who will come to play. And there will be a coaching session before any matches are played. Think of the children, Lando. You will do so much for them.”

“Am I not already doing enough?” Lando teases. He rolls the idea around in his mind and thinks about being the one on the field looking up to see Carlos in the stands. What it might feel like. To get a taste of what Carlos experiences every week. The thought admittedly thrills him.

“And who exactly are they getting to play?”

“They are putting together a mixed team. Some of the guys’ girlfriends and wives have agreed to play. A few of their friends. I convinced Teto to come play, and you would be a person as well.”

“Be your wag representative?”

“I do not think you are a wife or a girlfriend the last time I checked.”

“Oh sorry, sorry, your hab representative then.”

“Yes, much better. I cannot make any promises you will be on the same team as Teto though.”

Lando can’t help but groan. He might be allegedly better than half of the people coming to play, but he’ll not be better than Teto of all people. “Play the marginalized card.”

“Lando, I cannot do that.” He drops his face down onto Lando’s shoulder and huffs out a laugh. Lando holds him close and lets the giggles consume him as well, ever the one to feed off of Carlos’.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it. Let you be the one cheering me on for once. Just tell Teto to go easy on me if we’re not on the same team.”

Carlos lifts his face from Lando’s shoulder and looks at him with a serious expression. “Of course. I cannot tell you how excited I am to be the one watching. I know you will be brilliant.”

Lando swallows and scratches a hand around Carlos’ neck and up to his cheek. He searches for something to say, but nothing comes to his mind. Nothing to do the swirling thoughts and emotions in his mind justice. All he can figure to do is smile and swipe his thumb back and forth over Carlos’ cheek.

Eventually, Lando sighs. “This is gonna be some kind of roleplay kink for you, isn’t it?”

The laugh Carlos barks out is perfect. “Oh, do not think this hasn’t crossed my mind, don’t worry. Maybe after the match though. We need you in peak condition.”

Lando scoffs. “Figures. Okay, let me finish unloading the kiln and then we can go? Maybe we can do something that’s not one of your meal preps for dinner.”

Carlos clenches his hands against Lando’s hips and back and smiles. “Sounds perfect.”

#football au #writing tag #husbands™#carlando #making slow and steady progress! she's at 29.2k rn and we're trucking along nicely

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name.

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge.

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging.

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded.

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot.

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name.

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir.

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm.

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen.

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you.

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind.

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance.

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters.

You do this for quite some time.

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more.

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night.

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work.

You can’t deny his appeal.

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box.

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened.

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat.

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders.

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake.

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop.

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?”

“How many what, sir?”

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now.

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?”

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass.

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on?

He called you pretty.

And his.

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat.

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble.

“I want the exact answer.”

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion.

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him.

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack.

One.

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear.

“Still good?”

“Yes sir.”

Two.

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you.

Three, four, five, six.

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready.

Seven, eight, nine, ten.

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing.

Twelve.

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you.

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses.

Thirteen.

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap.

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole.

Fourteen, fifteen.

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new.

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off.

You swore you felt something press against your forehead.

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with.

It’s as if nothing happened at all.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks.

He barely even looks at you.

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible.

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up.

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand.

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head.

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass.

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place.

He’s welded them together.

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place.

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks.

He put his fucking hammer inside you.

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.”

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected.

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?”

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him.

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace.

Ask for it.

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.”

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace.

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm.

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him.

He doesn’t let up for a second.

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for.

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there.

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt.

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod.

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?”

You grin.

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain.

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him.

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down.

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge.

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand.

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work.

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : best kept secret #one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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takeariskao3 · 2 months ago

Note

they meet each other with different names and fuck in a hotel

sexy

He saw her as soon as he walked through the front door. The glittering lobby was reasonably busy with new arrivals, but she stood out like a beacon. A pillar of warmth and light that drew him in almost involuntarily.

Ignoring the short queue at the counter, he readjusted his hold on his duffel and went straight for the little lounge adjacent to the foyer. She leaned against the bar top with her back to him, her flaming hair spilling down her back and shining brighter than the ornate chandelier and the Italian sunset combined.

He dropped his bag next to a stool and sucked in a steadying breath.

His action was futile, however. As soon as she clocked his approach, she turned toward him and all the air in his lungs left in one jagged oophh.

A slow smile stretched across her face. There was something coy… yet… challenging about it. It made his insides twist in anticipation.

Before he could find a coherent sentence, much less utter a word, an overly attentive bartender stopped by to see if he wanted anything. He politely declined.

“You’re not staying?” she asked in disappointment.

“Need to check-in,” he explained, motioning to the front desk. “Line isn’t getting any shorter and… I’m supposed to be meeting someone…”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Lucky girl.”

The lingering eye contact had his blood buzzing with phantom electricity.

He made no move to exit.

“I have a room.” She spoke low, for his ears only. “If you need to freshen up?”

He blinked. “That’s awfully generous of you.”

She shrugged.

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the linen sundress draped around her waist. “You sure you aren’t meeting anyone?”

“He’s late,” she waved in dismissal. “Something about a black market deal and a runaway Chimera.”

“Unlucky for him.”

She hummed in agreement. “Shall we?”

She downed her flute of sparkling wine as he grabbed the strap of his bag. Leading him back through the lobby, she stopped in front of the lifts and jammed the call button.

“What’s it going to cost me?” he chuckled darkly, registering the slight flush creeping up from the neckline of her dress.

Her answering expression could only be described as igniting, and damn if he wasn’t willing and ready to be set fire.

“I’ll bet it’s nothing you’re not willing to give.”

They stepped into the lift, her pressing for the third floor and him doing everything in his power not to adjust the growing tightness in his trousers.

As soon as the doors slid closed, they collided. He couldn’t be sure who moved first, but within nanoseconds, he had one hand in her hair and the other squeezing her pert little bum. Meanwhile, her arms snaked around the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers with such force, he couldn’t be sure if he’d ever stand straight-backed again.

Her mouth took up an intoxicating rhythm, her skin scorching everywhere she touched him. The scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, mottled his brain so throughly that he had less and less thought and feeling, and more and more instinct and compulsion.

Distantly, a soft ding! permeated his failing faculties, and he barely got a hand out to stop the doors from closing on the two of them again.

He kicked his bag out onto the landing at the same time she mumbled against his mouth, “Third on the left–”

How they made it down the hall without breaking their necks, he would never know, but they arrived the aforementioned door still in one (very tangled) piece.

She fumbled with the lock only a moment before it clicked and they fell into the room, nearly wrecking a side table. He only had a few seconds respite as he straightened the tea set before she hauled him across the room and shoved him onto the bed.

The next two minutes passed in a flurry of sensation. Clothes were discarded, love bites were given, hair was tugged… until finally–finally–he sank so deep into her that stars erupted in his vision.

“Christ, Ginny–” he gasped. “I missed you…”

She let out a raspy little moan. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Harry obliged.

#smutty wednesdays?#hinny #anon #answered

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dmitriene · 1 year ago

Text

— pornofilm.

summary: the desire to become more for him than you are now has finally corroded you from the inside. content: simon ghost riley x fem! reader tags: nsfw, angst, smut, comfort/hurt, confused relationship, sex partners without relationship, receiving fingering, receiving-giving oral, unprotected p in v, marking. (let me know if i forgot something) authors note: this is my first time writing an intimate work and i hope you enjoy it, even though i'm not very familiar with tags regarding this topic! please enjoy your reading) 🍷 (18+ warning)

« you said that you wanna be my girl / just gonna get me now / i take my coat and go away »

you tried to keep your secret desires to yourself and they always silently stretched between you like a black thread, a thread that deftly wraps around your fingers and pulls you to each other to plunge into the viscous darkness together and surrender to its cold with your head.

you never thought that meeting a person who will look like a ghost incarnate will lead you to something infinitely good and warm, maybe even bright, just like the picture of the future that you let pop up in your head from time to time.

and it’s not that the situation and the place in which you both found yourself conducive to something long lasting, just like the answers to your questions that he deftly parried and hid in the viscous pitch darkness somewhere deep in himself — he didn’t want to give all the details about his life to you on a pretty saucer with a golden border, you simply didn’t have the right to know anything, because your joint meetings didn’t consist of that, which crossed the line of awkward acquaintance at some bar counter unknown to you in something more, something more reassuring to your naive head.

Simon.

the first glimpse into the personality of a man who seemed to you colder than a winter storm and darker than the unknown, the first and last of his personality that you will recognize while his cold, truly alien palm wraps around your warm one, and fingers are intertwined with each other.

all the touches of a man are surprisingly gentle and light, as if you appear before him as a small fragile figurine, which he is afraid to break.

he carefully places his palm dangerously close to your pubic tubercle, touching with his fingers the most intimate place of your girlish body — a small pea, starting to draw ornate patterns, looking through a fan of his light eyelashes at how your body shudders with a small shiver, causing your head to tip back and rest against the leather car seat.

feeling the moisture, he leans lower, helping himself — pushes your labia minora apart and broadly smears your clit with his tongue, lifting his dark mask to the level of his nose bridge.

tenderness slowly begins to give way to passion, and his movements become more sweeping and faster, because the main task facing him now is to please you and save himself from unnecessary questions, allowing your arousal to fill the narrow space of the car and stain his chin.

this was your first acquaintance with him, and which gradually dragged you into the abyss of the unknown and the desire for more.

most erratic and unrestrained encounters with him ended in sex and began with nothing more than alcohol.

you spent most of your evenings at the bar, tapping your foot on the iron legs of a high bar stool and enjoying the oblong glass of bright liquid that was handed to you, gracefully grasping the pipe with long fingers with a pair of gold jewelry, and adjoining it with your lips, taking the first sip of the evening.

a tart relish is immediately felt on the tongue, which indicates the presence of alcohol in the cocktail, and you again take a few sips, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste that warms your throat, as well as the warmth that viscous lava spreads throughout the body.

but the sharp feeling of a heavy hand on your shoulder is more intoxicating than alcohol, because you know what your meeting with him leads to.

the car smelling of his perfume and tobacco already seemed to you as a familiar place in which your weekend's ended, while your bare knees rested on the uncomfortable rug near the car seat, and your palms fit on Simon's tense hips, squeezing them tightly and massaging the clogged muscles with fingertips.

you kissed an already raised cock through the fabric of his underwear, and without stopping, lowered the elastic of his boxers enough to open yourself up to a bright pink head, covering it with your lips, at first only playing with it, treacherously slowly running your tongue along the urethra and circling each protruding wreath, feeling the saltiness of the pre-eculate, causing the muscles on his thighs under your fingers to tense more noticeably again, and an impatient growl slipped from the male lips under the mask.

you skillfully absorbed his cock deeper and deeper, with the fingers of one hand making your way to the scrotum, massaging the rough skin in circular motions, in order to then swallow his cock to the very foundation, squeezing your lips to blue and letting out a small vibration.

you innocently look at him from under your eyelashes, watching his eyes roll back in excitement, and the veins on his hands swell slightly from the firm grip on the leather seat.

squirming in place several times, trying not to pay attention to your own surge of arousal, you diligently, as far as possible, planted your throat even deeper on the pulsating organ, while your head movements became more confident and faster, and tears immediately came to your eyes from such pressure.

the only thing that now filled your head were only the sounds of wet pleasure and hoarse deep moans from above

— «F..fuck, dove, you driving me cr-razy»

as you changed the pace of your movements in an attempt to bring him to a note of orgasm, you felt his fingers intertwine with strands of your hair at the back of your head, trying to pull you away, while his bottomless eyes look at you half closed, before they roll back and you feel how his cock shudders, warm jets of sperm fill your mouth and paint your throat white, forcing you to obediently swallow and release his limp cock from your mouth, watching his chest heave heavily and brown eyes are again directed in your direction, because of what you don't even notice the gentle touch of his thumb on the soft skin of your cheek, because you are focused on how wrinkles appear around his eyes in the dark, referring to the fact that he smiled.

and this was your last meeting, which was nothing new for you, because you both always encountered in absolutely strange coincidences without plans in advance, even if it was a meeting in your apartment.

but for some reason, this time, another pause made your mind reach a strange point and freeze on it, provoking thoughts and ideas about what would happen if this mysterious man were with you, and how different would your life be after that?

and these thoughts dragged on for weeks, not leaving your head even until today, when you sat on the sofa in the middle of a living room dimly lit thanks to the TV screen, for the first time in a long time spending your weekends not in some disgusting bar or any other party place, but at home.

the hopelessness of being alone in silence gave access to unpleasant feelings and thoughts to grab onto your head, while you just stared blankly out the window, beyond which it was impossible not to notice huge gray clouds somewhere in the distance, which began to cloud the sky very actively.

the sun disappeared behind them, a light breeze rose, and suddenly timid drops of rain suddenly began to rush down from the sky, soon to turn from a timid downpour into a terrible one.

and while your unvoiced thoughts and desires were eating away at you from the inside painfully slowly, forcing your whole body to tense up from something uncertainty and unpleasant, restless tangle of feelings inside, a loud knock sounded through the apartment.

you slowly take your attention away from the window, your head turns to follow the movement of your eyes that are looking around the apartment, and your ears catch another loud thud.

Front door.

someone knocks on your front door in the late evening in the downpour, and you have no idea who it is, but something inside you is tearing and tossing with strange feelings.

and legs on their own to reach for the floor to feel its cold in contrast to your warm enough body, and they intuitively find their way to the front door as you reach for the handle and pull it open and shudder from contact with the cold street wind to see him on the threshold, the one who makes the voice slip from your lips in some uncertainly hoarse

— «Simon?»

bottomless brown eyes darting into yours, and something in them makes you flinch before opening your eyes at the sharp feel of his warm lips on yours, feeling him shamelessly pushing his nimble tongue into your hot lips.

blurred movements, fluttering lush eyelashes, wrinkled eyebrows and warm breath — all this makes every kiss special.

and you no longer remember how quickly he was inside, while shoes and layers of clothes flew off him, and your body was felt helplessly in his strong hands as he explored every corner of your mouth with his tongue.

your body falls on the black sheets of the big bed, the extra thin fabric of the pajam outfit is forgotten somewhere in the corner of the gloomy room, while he moves away from your lips with a quiet smack, and your hands ring the strong male neck, briefly clinging to each other and breathing heavily.

— «Wanted you so bad»

his voice is like a velveteen, caressing at the same time both your hearing and those thoughts that previously filled your head, allowing a small prick of selfishness to be born in the depths of you and paint a picture of your unfulfilled dreams.

Simon sweeps his tongue across your striped lips, weaving his fingers into the strands of hair at the back of your head, squeezing them hard.

he adjoins your lips, wet from constant licking, shamelessly pushing his tongue into your mouth, running it over an even row of white teeth.

his free hand slides smoothly over the bare flesh of your skin along your belly, outlining your hip bone, and finally stopping perilously close to your underwear.

his long fingers with a certain haste move away the thin line of panties, revealing a view of the innermost place of your girlish body.

it only takes him a few seconds to take the following actions — he covers your womb with the back of his hand, deliberately touching the inconspicuous pea of the clit.

fingers spread labia in the manner of scissors, draw various ornate patterns on delicate skin, and then in an instant plunge into your aching crotch, brazenly pulling out demanding whining from your lips

— «Simon, p-please!»

you can hear a slight chuckle from him as he starts fictitious movements with the utmost care, freeing his free hand from your strands to aggressively begin to explore your body.

for a moment, his gaze rests on your face, closely watching your reaction, how quiet sobs of satisfaction pour from your trembling lips, he teasingly picked up the pace with his fingers and slowed it down until you begin to feel how near the pubic tubercle everything blooms with a beautiful bud, endowing the body with a pleasant firework of mixed feelings.

ragged moans escape your lips, to be drowned out by a deft touch of his tongue to the back of your mouth, swallowing everything you were about to say before you squeezed out hoarsely

— «Need you, Simon.. need your cock..»

and another chuckle, you glimpse a satisfied grin on his lips through a thin veil before his velveteen voice touches the shell of your ear in a whisper

— «I know, dove, i know.. you will take everything that i'm willing to give, aren't you?»

the words gather in your throat and your head makes one slight nod, and it doesn't require words because you both know that's not what he's here for — and for the first time, that realization makes you cringe inside.

he hangs over your fragile body and does not plan to hesitate, so in one movement he turns you on your stomach, and he rests one hand on your lower back, forcing you to bend slightly and stick out your magnificent ass, resting your face on the pillow.

he runs his finger over his bare cock, smearing pre-cum on his urethra before lightly brushing his cock against your skin, allowing himself to slide inside your already throbbing hole.

he pushes further, enters completely, pressing his hips against your rounded buttocks and watching as marks form on your skin under the pads of his fingers.

his movements become bolder, he removes his hand from your lower back and completely leans on your body, pressing it with all his weight into the mattress.

the thrusts are sweeping, fast and rough, causing the whole room to fill with hysterical groans and erratic sounds that mix with his low growls

— «Fuck, just like that, so fucking good and so fucking tight!»

you bite your lips almost to the blood, laying your head sideways on the pillow, demonstrating your neck, on which scarlet buds will eventually bloom, while whining is endlessly heard from your lips

— «S-simon..»

Simon is sensually and passionately attached to your neck, his hot lips collide with delicate skin, leaving several crimson hickeys on it, bright watercolor stains immediately spread all over your neck, and even the most ruby roses are not able to convey the shade of blossoming traces under his lips.

your body writhed restlessly like a snake, thereby forcing the sheets to flow under your naked body, and the very fact of closeness and heat in the lower abdomen drove you crazy.

he sucked and nibbled at the skin of your neck, watching with tremulous pleasure as patterns and marks gradually formed and unfolded on your once pure flesh, and your head was spinning and your legs were becoming cottony, the tension in the lower abdomen became unbearable, while a wave of ecstasy enveloped the two of you, and eyes intuitively rolled in pleasure, provoking indistinct muttering

— «G-going to.. f-fuckgh, c-cum!»

— «Good, go on, love»

fictitious movements became more and more lethargic and uncontrollable, a few last pushes on a sensitive ball of nerves become the last for you, and you immediately shrink, freezing in a silent moan, while your knees tremble uncontrollably in time with a strong orgasm, feelings sharply aggravate and you feel how Simon is pushing into the hot insides for the last time before filling you with warm jets of sperm and falling exhausted onto the soft covers, pulling your limp body to his.

— «Simon?..»

— «Hm?»

the silence was interrupted by your quiet voice, to which a hum was heard in response, while your finger slowly led the strip along his wide chest, because otherwise you would now nervously intertwine your fingers with each other, anxiously trying to collect yourself in order to raise the topic that torments your thoughts

— «You know..»

for some reason it seemed to you that now you sounded noticeably insecure, like a squeak, and a lump gathered in your throat again, which shook even more because his bottomless gaze again turned in your direction, but you still found the strength to weakly squeeze out

— «I just thought.. about our..relationship, yeah»

your voice trembled treacherously, and he hummed again, hoarsely pronouncing

— «Continue»

maybe it would be easier for you if he interrupted your attempts to speak from the very beginning, but he only untied your tongue for a continuation, so your eyelashes trembled after you closed your eyes to gradually open them and monotonously utter something that still makes you not times to regret

— «What if we could be more than we are right now to each other?»

you fall silent waiting for an answer, and for the first time you are frightened by the silence and the night darkness of the room, which seems to wrap its arms around you and pull you into a secluded corner, causing your chest to tighten before realizing that simon removed his hands from your body and left the warmth of your bed, and with this time you truly tremblingly whisper

— «Simon?»

he is silent, silently pulls on his clothes and the sound of his iron belt buckle painfully rings in your ears, and you no longer wait, you begin to demand an answer, because you do not like the pressing sensation formed on your neck, making you almost suffocate

— «Simon, what happeni..»

— «You shouldn't bring this up»

you do not finish, because the next second you are left without words and air in your lungs, the only thing you can do is let your eyes follow his dark figure, which hastily leaves your room towards the corridor of your apartment.

and you, as if in a dream, rise from the black sheet, hiding your naked flesh under the first layers of clothing that came to hand to jump out the door into the corridor, stopping in your steps and silently looking at how he pulls his coat from the hanger in order to throw it over himself in the next second and leave your apartment out.

he didn't look into your eyes, he didn't say a word.

he just disappeared from your life as if he was originally a ghost, leaving you in the pitch darkness of the corridor, which gradually ate your figure in its tones and painful silence, forcing your knees to treacherously bend to touch the icy floor with a blow of the kneecaps, and now the only sound around you — the sound of your own sobs and hopeless attempts to stop the hysteria pulling you deeper and deeper.

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #ghost smut #[ ✒️july writing ]

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Arrest, Admittance of feelings. Think that's it.

Word Count: 7.01k

A/N: And we're back!! I decided to combine chapters nine and ten together, hence why the chapter is so long. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

It had been weeks since the moment on the train, and you were starting to wonder if maybe you should move back to Baltimore. You hadn’t said a word to Jake since you stomped on his foot, save for the occasional comment about farm chores, and he had certainly done his damndest to avoid even looking at you it seemed.

You found yourself lying awake at night, thoughts drifting towards those of mossy green eyes and gentle touches that made your heart sing and your skin burn with longing. What little sleep you were getting was cut short by nightmares of faceless threats that grabbed at you, tearing your clothes and leaving you gasping for breath as you shot up out of bed. It wasn’t until your eyes would skim over the small, ornate wooden box that your heartbeat would slow and your shoulders would relax. You would crawl slowly out from underneath the sheets, padding over to your dresser where the box sat and run your fingers gently over the ornately carved flowers. Your heart would clench in your chest, and you would try to fight off the tears that gathered in your eyes to no avail.

Stupid, stupid man, you’d think to yourself, scrubbing furiously at your eyes before grabbing the box and trudging back to bed, laying it by your side with a hand on top before drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.

“You look like hell,” Bunny muttered to you one day, polishing a glass as Birdie sat beside you. The teacher had been teaching Bunny how to read, and she had started giving the other girl small writing assignments that she would check over.

“Your penmanship is getting better!” Birdie chirped at Bunny, beaming brightly as she slid the paper back across the bar, casting you a sideways glance. “And she’s right. You look awful. Have you been getting any sleep?”

You grimaced, scratching anxiously at the wood of the bar.

“I have,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. “But it hasn’t been much.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond that’s been moping around my bar for the past three weeks, would it?” Penny asked, giving you a knowing look as she set a crate of beers down on the counter. You refused to meet her eyes, glancing up when a familiar brunette sat down on the stool next to you.

“Your brother is worried too, you know,” Nat told you, studying you closely. “He says you’ve hardly been eating and that it’s like watching a ghost walking around the house.”

“He’s exaggerating,” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Nat gave you an unimpressed look, and you looked around to see matching expressions from the other women. You sighed, burying your face into your arms atop the bar.

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Nat muttered.

“Are you even going to tell us what happened between the two of you?” Bunny asked, face a mask of indifference as always despite her tone of concern.

“Does it matter?” You mumbled, glancing up at her. Penny huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she leveled you with a look.

“It does when I’ve had a moody cowboy practically drink through all of my beer every night for the past three weeks,” she frowned, concern still evident in her eyes despite her disapproving tone. “Whatever happened between the two of you, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

You didn’t say anything, eyes focused on the grains of wood underneath your fingernails.

“I…” You trailed off. “I said such horrible things to him.”

“What did you say?” Birdie asked you, leaning forward and resting a hand on your arm in comfort. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you sniffled slightly.

“I told him that he didn’t know me, that maybe I wanted to move back to Maryland and marry someone there.”

Silence. You glanced up to see the other four woman all glancing at one another. Penny sighed, looking back at you with a grimace.

“It’s not so bad,” she offered. “You could have said worse, I’m sure. It’s nothing you can’t apologize for.”

“You didn’t see his face,” you countered, sitting up straighter. “And I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Jake is stubborn, that’s for damn sure,” Nat muttered, shaking her head. “He always has been, ever since we were little. You know he refused to take a payment for fixing Mr. Benson’s roof last spring? And then when Jake went to buy that emerald necklace for whatever reason, Mr. Benson had to practically shove the necklace down his throat because he wouldn’t accept the money from Jake. Pretty sure Jake snuck some behind the counter when the old man wasn’t looking, anyway.”

“Did you say emerald necklace?” You asked her, head shooting up from where you had rested it back on your arms.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, it was that really pretty one that sat in the window for forever! I wonder what he did with it? I haven’t seen Sarah with it at all, and she’s the one he buys jewelry for.”

“You mean,” you swallowed, “he didn’t steal it?”

“Jake’s not that kind of man, honey,” Penny smiled. “He sure likes to give off that impression though, doesn’t he? He’d rather you think the worst of him before he corrects you. Thinks it’s the same as humility, the fool.”

“I,” you breathed, feeling your face grow pale. “I told him I wouldn’t accept it because I thought he stole it or bought it with stolen money.”

“Wait, he tried to give it to you?” Birdie asked, eyes wide. “And you told him no?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hanging your head once again. “I’m such a fool.”

“I hardly doubt that it was your own doing,” Bunny muttered, storing the glass she had just finished polishing. “Sure, you’re just as much a fool as he is, but it’s his own damn fault for not telling you.”

“That’s right,” Natasha nodded, turning to face you fully. “You two just need to sit down and talk, tell each other exactly what you mean and what you feel. Christ, I thought your brother was going to chuck that damn pocket watch at Jake’s head when he came slinking into the firm to give it to Benji.”

You sat straight up as your heart stopped, tears gathering in your eyes.

“He did what?” You choked, eyes wide in horror, skin pale and clammy.

Natasha regarded you, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “He came into the firm just last week, trying to give Benji this old, silver pocket watch. Said he picked it up while with you in Baltimore, and that he wanted to return it to where it belonged. I’ve never seen your brother so mad, Scout. I thought he was going to pass out from how loud he was yelling. Told Jake to keep the damn watch and get his head out of his ass.”

You were vaguely aware of Birdie blushing at Nat’s coarse language beside you, but your mind was reeling from the brunette’s words. He had tried to give your father’s pocket watch back? You thought you were going to be sick as you stood, moving to leave the saloon.

“Are you okay, Scout?” Bunny called after you, worry in her voice that was mirrored by the look on Penny’s face.

“I just remembered I have chores that need tending to,” you murmured, moving more on auto-pilot than anything in that moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Natasha offered, already moving to stand, but you waved her off.

“No, no,” you frowned. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you. I have some thinking to do.”

Nat didn’t seem too sure, but slowly sat back down on her stool as you walked briskly out of the saloon and onto the street. The wind whipped at your cheeks, the cold biting your skin and turning it red. You made your way home, mind numb as you replayed Natasha’s words over and over again in your head. He wanted to give the watch back? Was Penny wrong? Were you too late to make amends?

Your heart beat quicker in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, hardly noticing the ranch hands that rode up from the far field as you moved mechanically towards the barn. The horses would need fresh hay, and you were running behind on your to-do list for the day. You made your way up to the loft, pushing a large bale of hay towards the ledge, watching as it fell to the ground floor with a large thud. Making your way back down the ladder, you didn’t notice the figure that hovered at the barn door, too absorbed in your own thoughts.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind as you moved to lift the hay bale that you were snapped back to the present.

“God dammit, Scout,” Jake hissed, picking you up and setting you down behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a job for you?”

You stared at him, saying nothing as he turned around to start sorting out the hay into the different stalls.

“I can do it,” you muttered, taking a step forward. Jake glanced over his shoulder at you with an unimpressed look before going back to what he was doing. You took a step towards him, then another, and then another, and then more until you were standing by the hay, kneeling down as you pushed his hands away.

“I can do it,” you snapped this time, scooping up as much of the hay as you could before moving to stand, stumbling slightly in the process. Jake started towards you, hand outstretched to help you, but you stepped away, glaring up at him. You wouldn’t cry in front of him, you couldn’t.

Jake frowned down at you, dropping his hand back to his side as he regarded you. You felt your bottom lip begin to tremble, and you turned away, trudging towards the nearest stall and dispersing the hay.

“Scout, stop” he sighed, and you ignored him, moving to continue your task. As you made to make your way over to the next stall, Jake grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Stop,” he repeated, eyes earnest, shifting to worry as they took you in. You ripped out of his grasp, immediately going on the defensive.

“What?” You growled at him, mustering up all of the false bravado that you could as you met his green eyes. The eyes that you missed so dearly. He seemed to hesitate before squaring his shoulders and rummaging through his pockets.

“I wanted to give you something before you left for Maryland,” he said. You saw a flash of silver as he pulled his hand out. “It seemed only fair that you should have this back.”

He held the pocket watch out to you, the small bird still swooping at the bottom of the ornate design.

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as you stared at the watch. You couldn’t stop the tears that flooded your eyes, and you let out a choked sob as all of your emotions came crashing down at once. Stumbling to the side, a hand stretched out to brace against the stall door, a wail tore from your throat. It was a sound that even surprised you in how raw and unfiltered it was. You gasped for air, but none seemed to come to you as you choked out sob after sob, hardly being able to tell when one ended and the next one started.

Jake’s eyes widened as you fell apart in front of him, watching you wearily as if you were a wild animal that would turn on him at any moment. He took a tentative step towards you, waiting for you to push him back, but was instead surprised when you grasped at him, falling into his arms and latching onto his shirt as if it were the one thing that could keep you grounded. Your wails and sobs still rocked your body, tears now staining the white cotton of Jake’s shirt as you pressed your face into his chest. His arms enveloped you, holding you gently but firmly as he swayed you from side to side. A hand rested on the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair as he pressed his face into your temple. This was what you wanted.

Your cries and tears slowed to a trickle, sobs replaced by hiccups as you regained control of your breathing, Jake gently cooing at you the entire time. Jake moved to pull away, but you clung to him tighter, glancing up at him with wet eyes.

“Please don’t let me go,” you begged him softly, and you saw a whirlwind of emotion in his gaze as he looked at you. He seemed unsure on how to respond at first, but with a set of his jaw, he nodded down at you slowly.

“I’ll be right here until you’re ready to go,” he said. “I’ll hold you until you don’t need me anymore.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed yourself firmly against him.

“I’ll always need you,” you whispered, another sob wracking your body. Jake chuckled bitterly.

“No, you won’t,” he muttered, ire in his tone. “You’ll go back to Baltimore, and you’ll find yourself a husband. Someone who can give you all the things you want. Someone who can make you happy.”

He pulled away with more success this time, just enough to hold up the watch.

“You’ll give this to someone who’s deserving of you,” he whispered, his own eyes shining now. “Someone who you love.”

You stared at him, so many emotions swirling within you. This beautiful, stupid man who had insulted you the first time you met him. This man who had inserted himself into your life with little regard to social etiquette. This man who had pulled a gun for you when you were vulnerable and scared. This man who had carved you not one, but two beautiful presents. This man that had threatened to kill for you simply because you had cried. This man that listened to you and respected your moral code enough to go out and get an honest job. This man that stood before you, ready to let you leave without a second thought because he thought it was what you wanted.

“I’m not going back to Baltimore,” you said finally, face grave as you spoke. Jake’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“You’re not?” He asked you.

“Jake, it’s been three weeks since we returned,” you replied, frowning. “If I was so eager to go back, don’t you think I would have left by now?”

“I think there’s a lot of planning that goes into something like that,” he countered. You scowled at him, pulling away completely now and putting some distance between the two of you.

“Nat told me you tried to give the watch to Benji,” you accused, glaring at the offending silver pendant.

“Did she tell you that he wouldn’t take it?” He countered with a frown.

“She did,” you confirmed, clasping your hands in front of you. “Said that my brother practically threw it back in your face, he was so angry.”

“That temper appears to be a family trait,” he muttered, and you had to suppress a smile.

You were still mad at him, after all.

“I figured,” he continued, taking a step forward, “that he just wanted me to give it back to you. It’s a family heirloom, and he has his own. It’s an important thing to you, and it’s only fair that you should give it to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He held the watch out to you, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and took the watch from him. You ran your fingers over the plants and birds etched into the sides with care, contemplating your next words.

“You’re right,” you hummed, glancing up at him. His jaw was set, eyes glistening as he watched you. “This watch should go to someone who I can call my husband. Someone who can give me the things that I want and who will make me happy.”

Jake sucked in a breath, shifting from one foot to the other as you continued.

“Someone who is deserving of me,” you breathed, eyes shining as you gazed up at him. “Someone who I love.”

Jake hung his head as you finished, and you caught the faintest hint of a sniffle as you stepped forward. You took his right hand in yours, squeezing it lightly before opening it and placing the pocket watch back into his grasp. You gently curled his fingers around it, holding his hand in both of yours as you looked up at him.

His green eyes bore into yours, a questioning look on his face as he frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, moving to wrap your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips hovered over his.

“You idiot,” you chuckled, eyelids drooping as you stared into his eyes, willing him to see what the two of you had known all along. “I love you.”

Jake stared at you, eyes widened in shock. He studied you, seeming to try and find any trace of deception. When he saw that there was none, a grin broke out on his face.

“You do?” He asked quietly, eyes sparkling with joy now.

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning in closer so that your lips brushed his gently. “I love you, Jake.”

His lips crashed against yours, desperate to feel you. You kissed him back with just as much passion, breaking away after a few moments. Jake’s lips chased after yours, but you pulled away from him with a giggle.

“Come with me,” you said in a hushed voice, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the barn. Jake followed you eagerly, practically racing you up the steps and into the house. Your home was silent, indicating that no one else was there, and you quickly pulled Jake up the stairs and into your room.

Once you had crossed the threshold, Jake slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were pressed up against it. His lips grazed yours as his hands ran around to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and locking them around his waist. His lips molded to yours as he pressed against your core, and you gasped as you felt the hard evidence of his desire press into your most sensitive parts, and Jake used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours in languid strokes.

“Need you,” he moaned desperately, nipping at your bottom lip. Your hands ran across his shoulders, your right running up to tug on the strands of blond that curled at the nape of his neck. He let out a moan that had you grinding your core back against him, earning a whimper from the man in front of you.

“You have me,” you promised, pulling him back in for a kiss. His tongue was hot against you as you continued to grind down onto him. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as he thrust up into you every so often. His lips pulled away from yours as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your earlobe. He sucked the flesh in between his lips, nibbling on it lightly before letting it go.

“Say it,” he breathed, hand palming at your breasts as you let out a wanton moan. You tilted your head as he began to suck on a patch of sensitive skin, making you see stars as he nipped every so often, laving the spot with his tongue. “Come on, honey girl. Say it.”

“I love you,” you gasped when he gave a particularly hard bite to the same spot just as he thrust up into you. Jake smirked against your neck, letting your legs drop from around him as he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact, which only made Jake’s smirk grow bigger.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he cooed, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. “Can’t do what we’re about to do with clothes on, can we?”

It took you a second to understand what he was saying. You supposed you should have felt apprehension at the very least, but in that moment, all you could feel was a mixture of desire and…love.

You quickly undid the buttons of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. You then removed your socks and shoes, followed quickly by your shirt and then your bloomers. You were soon left standing in front of Jake in nothing but your corset and chemise. While you had undressed, Jake had removed his own clothing, now standing in front of you in just his drawers. You felt a blush creep up your neck as he stared at you, a familiar warmth in his green gaze.

Jake walked back over to you slowly, raising a hand to unlace your corset. You sucked in a breath as it fell away from you, hitting the floor with a light thud. His hands moved to the bottom of your corset, pausing as he looked at you for permission. You nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers gripped the bottom of the garment, pulling it up and over your head. You were completely exposed to him now, and you moved to cover yourself out of embarrassment.

“No,” Jake murmured, shaking his head as he gazed at you. “I want to see you, honey girl. Want to see what’s mine.”

You shuddered at his words, a jolt of pleasure running up your spine as you pressed your thighs together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jake who chuckled lightly before turning you gently so that the backs of your knees brushed the bed. He laid you down, shifting you so that your head rested against the pillows. You reached for him, and Jake leaned down to press his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth with soft, deliberate strokes.

You gasped when you felt his fingers trace your folds, gathering the wetness that lay there and stroking back up to your clit. Your hips jolted off the bed, and he hushed you, pressing his lips in gentle kisses back towards your ear.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” he chuckled, drawing small figure eights onto your clit, and you mewled at the sensation. “Always so responsive for me. Always such a good girl for me. How did I get so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like you in my life, hm?”

“Jakey,” you breathed, locking eyes with his as he pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch off the bed.

“It’s okay, honey girl,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke your hair. “I’ve got you, sweet thing. Always feel so tight and warm. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words and he added a second finger, scissoring you open as he continued to stroke into you.

“You like the sound of that, huh?” He chuckled, placing a tender kiss to your jaw. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Giving you what you need?”

You nodded your head vigorously, eyes never leaving his. He smirked once again, looking down at where his fingers disappeared inside you before glancing back up.

“Tell me what it is you need, baby,” he whispered, watching you fall apart as he added a third finger and hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You mewled, throwing your head back. Jake kissed down the column of your throat and over the curve of your breast. He took your right nipple into his mouth, laving the bud with his tongue. The sensations were becoming too much, and you felt the familiar tingle begin to grow in your lower stomach.

Jake let go of you with a quiet pop before switching his attention to your other breast. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as your hips raised in time with the stroke of his fingers, desperately chasing your high.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he rasped, gazing up at you from between the valley of your breasts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Need your cock, Jakey,” you whimpered, grinding down on his fingers. “Need you inside me. Need to feel you fill me up. Need you.”

Jake reached up to take your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before pulling it and letting it go.

“You have me,” he echoed your words from earlier. “Now come.”

At his command, the pleasure inside you burst, washing over you in waves as you cried out, clawing at his shoulders as he continued to pump his fingers into you slowly, riding out your high. As you came down, he slipped his fingers out of you, and you felt bereft of his touch. You watched in awe as you raised his fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth as he made a show of licking them clean.

“Just like honey,” he hummed. You reached for him, pulling him to you as you kissed him. You licked into his mouth, moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.

“Want you inside of me,” you breathed, staring into his eyes, the green swallowed whole by the black of his pupils. “Want you to make love to me.”

Jake’s breath hitched as he studied you.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded, reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grasp his hard length. Jake nearly choked as you ran your palm up and down him, grasping lightly every so often.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes bore into yours before nodding, shuffling out of his own drawers, baring himself to you. Your eyes widened as you took him in. His shaft curved towards his stomach, the tip an angry red as it leaked pre-cum.

You swallowed thickly, reaching your hand out once more to run your fingertips over the head, moving down to grip him firmly. Jake let out a low groan, throwing his head back as you stroked him experimentally.

“So good for me, darlin’,” he moaned, reaching down to remove your hand. He shot you a playful wink as he slipped his fingers through yours, resting them by your head. “But if you keep that up, I’m going to come before we even get to the fun part.”

You smiled shyly up at him as he took a hold of himself, running his length up and down your folds to gather the wetness you so freely gave him. You let out a high-pitched whimper every time the tip brushed against your clit, and you threw your head back at the pleasurable feeling. Finally, Jake rested the head against you, glancing up at you once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Please, Jakey,” you whined. Jake pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back. You gasped as you felt him press the head of his cock into your tight hole, the sensation foreign but not altogether unpleasant. He pressed a little more of his length in, pausing to let you accommodate to his size. He cradled you in his arms, leaning back down to whisper gentle words of encouragement into your ear as he slowly pressed more and more of himself into you. After what felt like ages, you finally felt the coarse hairs of his base press against your clit, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine that had you clenching around him. Jake let out a hiss, pressing his face into the column of your throat. Jake took your other hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing them on the other side of your head mirror to the ones on your right. He pulled back to look at you, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded, whining as he pulled back out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He continued his movement, brushing his nose against yours as his pace built, the head of him hitting that spot inside you with every pass. It wasn’t long before the vague discomfort gave way to pleasure, and soon your hips were raising to meet his.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, giving you a kiss that was more teeth than lips. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this. Taking me so well, yeah? Can feel you squeezing me, gripping me like you don’t ever want me to leave. Your cunt is so greedy for me and my big cock, huh? Such a greedy pussy, and it’s all mine now.”

You moaned wantonly at his words, your head thrown back into the pillows as he continued to rut into your soaked core. A squelching sound could be heard from where your bodies connected, but you didn’t have it in you to feel embarrassed. Not when his cock was hitting you in all the right places, his filthy words only adding to your excitement.

“Jakey,” you cried, feeling the pleasure begin to peak. Jake grunted as you clenched particularly hard around him.

“That’s it, honey girl,” he cooed, releasing your hand to cup your cheek as he gazed down at you. “Want you to cum around me, milk me dry. Milk me for all I’m worth. My balls have been aching for weeks. Havin’ to jerk off at the thought of what this sweet cunt would feel like when she drains me dry. Oh, fuck.

He gasped as your pussy spasmed around him.

“That turn you on, baby? The thought of me jerkin’ off to the thought of fillin’ you up with my cum? This pretty, little pussy is just begging me to come inside her, huh?” He groaned, thrusts becoming harder, and you could feel the coil begin to tighten.

“You close, huh, honey? I can feel how close you are. Can feel how hard your grippin’ me. That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

His words were all the permission you needed, and you came with a loud cry, body spasming underneath him as he continued to stroke in and out of you as you rode out your high. Jake’s hips began to move faster, chasing his own high as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room.

“Gonna fill you up, honey girl,” he groaned, eyes glazed over as pleasure washed over him. “Gonna fill you up, and maybe even knock you up. How’s that sound? Just thinkin’ about you all round and swollen with my baby has me goin’ crazy. Want you leakin’ with my cum by the time I’m through with you. Everybody in town is going to know you’re my girl, and they’ll know how good I make you feel. How good I take care of my girl. Fuck.”

His words had you tightening around him. They shouldn’t have made you feel the way you were feeling, but the sight of Jake so lost in the feel of you as he neared his end had another orgasm ripping through you, right off the back of the first one.

“Knew you’d like the sound of that,” he smirked, thrusts becoming sloppy. “I’m gonna come so hard for you, baby. Gonna fill you up with so much cum you’ll be leaking me for days. Shit. Need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you told me earlier. Be my good fucking girl and tell me.”

“I love you,” you keened, barely coherent as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Want you to fill me up, Jakey, please. Wanna feel you.”

“Shit, darlin’,” he gasped hips stuttering, and you felt red hot spurts begin to fill you. Jake pinched his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure as he began to babble. “Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming for you, baby. It’s all for you, that’s it. Take it. Take all of it and milk me. Jesus Christ. Oh, I love you. I love you. I love you so much, Scout. Oh…”

His hips slowed as his orgasm subsided, and he practically collapsed on top of you as the last tremors of his release rocked through him. You ran your fingers through his hair, skin hot and sweaty as you both calmed down. Jake’s head rested against your chest, and you let out a contented sigh as he placed a gentle kiss to the swell of your breast before looking up at you. His green eyes were filled with love and awe, emotions that you were sure reflected in your own.

“I love you,” he murmured, earning a small smile.

“I love you too.”

You awoke the next morning feeling a soreness between your legs, but a pleasant buzz filling you nonetheless. You shifted, taking note of the strong arms that held you tighter against a broad chest at your back. Warm lips pressed gentle kisses up the curve of your shoulder and to your temple.

“Good morning, honey girl.”

You smiled turning to meet the bright green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, turning so that you faced him. His head was propped up against his hand as the other one traced up and down your side. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I figured you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” He chuckled, shaking his head, leaning forward to meet you in a lazy kiss before pulling back. “I’ll never get sick of you, pretty girl.”

“So,” you hummed, glancing at him slyly. “What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, smirking lightly. “I figured we’d get dressed, and we’d go downstairs so I could make you breakfast, and then we have a repeat of last night.”

“Is that all you want?” you asked him quietly, insecurity rearing its ugly head as he spoke. His smirk dropped into a frown, and he shook his head.

“No,” he stated firmly, looking at you seriously. “No, Scout. I meant what I said. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I intend to make an honest woman out of you if you’ll have me.”

You smiled at his words, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

“I suppose you’ll do,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from the blond.

“You’re such a tease,” he admonished, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to him, letting him stroke your tongue with his in easy strokes.

“Jake!”

The two of you jumped as you heard the front door slam shut, Bradley’s voice carrying up the stairs. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to get out of bed, searching for some article of clothing to throw on to preserve your modesty.

“Jake, I know you’re in here. I need your help!”

Jake cursed from the other side of the bed, throwing his trousers and shirt on as you threw your chemise over your head just as Bradley burst through the door. Jake scowled at him, moving to shield your body with his.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” He snapped, glaring up at the brunette. Bradley rolled his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Scout,” he greeted briefly before turning his attention back to Jake. “Look, I’m glad that the two of you have made up, but this is serious. I need your help to wrangle the group.”

“What’s going on? Did Javy sleep with someone’s wife again?” Jake scowled, watching you as you moved to put more clothing on. “If you hadn’t guessed, I’m kind of busy, and Javy is a big boy. He can take care of his own messes.”

Bradley shook his head. “It’s not Javy, it’s Bob.”

Jake and you became more alert at that, eyes shooting up to look at Bradley as he stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

“What do you mean?” Jake questioned, scrambling to put his boots on.

“Some men down at the saloon were saying some pretty nasty shit to Bunny, and Bob stepped in. That’s when I came to get you ‘cause I knew it was about to get nasty, and I need all the help I can get.”

“Shit,” Jake muttered, turning to look at you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I need you to stay here, honey girl.”

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Scout, please,” he pleaded, looking at you with furrowed brows. “This could get ugly, and I’d feel a lot better knowing that you are here at home. Safe. Will you please just do this for me?”

You regarded him for a moment, nodding finally, and Jake let out a relieved sigh. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning to follow Bradley out the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He disappeared down the hall, and a few moments later you heard the front door slam shut once more. You sighed, looking around the room before deciding to strip your sheets. It took you a few minutes to gather all of them, placing them in the basket by the door and moving with it downstairs. You placed the basket by the back door, eyeing the kitchen before shaking your head.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, making for the front door. You walked briskly down the road and towards the saloon where a small crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, earning jeers and curses from the people around you. Just as you made your way to the front of the crowd, your heart dropped, ice chilling your bones. You saw Marshal Simpson slam Jake up against the side of the saloon, cuffing his hands behind his back. Jake winced at the rough treatment, Simpson hauling him back so roughly that he stumbled a ways, glaring back at the older man.

“Is this all really necessary?” Jake drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Simpson scowled.

“Yes,” the marshal snapped, pushing Jake forward as they began to walk. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he moved, eyes landing on you, softening. He paused in front of you, and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he whispered, glancing back at Simpson who glanced between the two of you. “Everything is going to be alright, yeah? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be out as a free man before you know it.”

“You shouldn’t lie to her, Hangman,” Simpson said, casting you a sympathetic look. “We all know that this is the end of the line for you.”

Jake frowned at his words, moving to say something before Marshal Simpson pushed him forward towards the town jail. Jake cast looked over his shoulder at you, giving you a tight smile before being ushered through the doors.

Your eyes scanned the street for anyone who might be able to help, but you didn’t see any of the other Daggers as the crowd began to disperse. You felt despair and hopelessness fill you. You had been so close to happiness, and you knew in your heart that Jake was a different man from the one the marshal was sent to track down.

Your eyes continued to rove over the townsfolk before landing on a familiar face. The pit in your stomach dropped, terror gripping at you as your breath came out in short gasps. Black, bottomless eyes stared right at you, a malicious grin on Isaac’s face as he watched you. You choked back a scream as he tipped his hat to you, and a wave of realization hit you.

This had been a setup, a trap. Isaac had planned this, and he had set the Dagger Gang up to be arrested. As far as you knew, Jake was the only one that had been caught, but that would have been enough for the man who stood on the opposite side of the street. You gathered your skirts and ran in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from the evil man. You had to find the other Daggers. You had to find Maverick or Tom. Someone had to have a plan on how to get Jake out of this mess.

You rounded a building off of the main street, leaning against it and sinking to the ground. You let the tears flow freely, the sense of helplessness overtaking you as you realized just how much trouble Jake was in. Even if you managed to get him out, there was no guarantee that it would be legally or without injury to someone, and yet you were determined to try.

You had just had a taste of what it would be like to lose Jake, and the thought alone sent another wave of tears rolling down your cheek. No. No, you would not lose him again. You scrubbed at your eyes, putting on a brave face as you stood. Squaring your shoulders, you glanced around to find you were alone. You made your way back, heading for Maverick and Penny’s home.

Someone would have a plan, and you were bound and determined to help.

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