#and and and their eye being shut because of that???
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in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.
being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.
fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.
until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.
rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.
all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”
there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.
“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.
unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”
“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.
a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”
“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”
“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“
he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.
it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”
you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”
the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”
“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”
“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.
“you hate sarah,”
“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”
“…this is weird, rafe,”
“how?” he asks.
“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”
“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”
“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”
“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”
“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“
“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”
he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.
you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”
rafe just smiles.
#౨ৎ isa writes#NOT PROOFREAD#this is bad sowwy#obx#outer banks#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron prompt#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x you#exbf!rafe
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Permanent attachment
in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around
content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best
Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.
Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.
Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"
You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.
"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”
You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."
A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”
“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.
“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”
“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”
Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”
“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."
“That definitely sounds less creepy.”
“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"
“You’re definitely making a case for it.”
“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”
His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”
His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.
When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”
His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.
"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”
You pout immediately. “Why?“
“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”
“Water is overrated. Stay.”
“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”
“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”
“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”
“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”
You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”
“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”
You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.
And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.
“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"
“I thought you wanted to come along."
“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”
You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”
The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”
He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”
You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”
“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”
“I thought you liked doing all the work.”
His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”
“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”
With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”
“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”
“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.
You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.
If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.
“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.
You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.
He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.
“What?”
“You are so sexy.”
He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”
Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”
The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.
“You just love me?”
“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”
His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”
“That’s it?”
You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."
"I think you can do better than that."
He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."
You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”
The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.
“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”
The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.
A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.
You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid drabble#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fanfic#lou answers#criminal minds fanfic#Spencer reid imagine#lou writes
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CAN U PLZ DO BABY DADDY SUKUNA AND SURUGU TOO?? (i love u)
THAT'S JUST MY BABY DADDY! #3 — GETO + SUKUNA
SYNOPSIS...geto and sukuna being annoying baby daddies that still make their way into your pants
INFO...sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, p in v, sloppy kisses, baby daddy drama (yk the drill), jealousy, alcohol mentioned, possessiveness, choking, spanking
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thanks for the request anon (i love you too)
part 1 part 2
SUKUNA
you finally got your daughter down to sleep, placing her stuffie beside her, shutting her light off and walking out her room. Just as you were getting ready to wash the dishes, your doorbell rang, an annoyed sigh leaving your lips. “Who the hell is ringing my doorbell so late?” You stomp over to the door. “Who is it?” You call out.
“Ryo!” No one other than your baby daddy. As if you weren’t already annoyed, you roll your eyes and open the door to see him standing there. His eyes rake over your body as if he didn’t see you just an hour ago when he dropped his daughter off. “I left her blanket at my place. Thought I bring it back.” He stepped into your house without hesitation.
“Damn, well come on in,” you scoff, shutting the door behind him. He tosses the blanket on the couch. “She’s sleeping, so don’t wake her.” You walk towards the sink, turning it on.
He hums in response, walking around your house, seeing how tidy you keep it, remembering all the moments you two shared before breaking up. He ever so carefully walks up behind you, leaning against the counter. He just looks at you, smirking to himself. “I can feel you staring, weirdo.” You glance over your shoulder.
He laughs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Can you blame me?” He exhales, stepping closer and closer until he’s inches away from you. His hands reach out and snake around your waist, startling you. “How’ve you been?” He asks, his sultry tone sending chills down your spine.
You shake your head at his weak attempt to get in your pants. “Leave me alone, Ryomen.” You nudge him with your elbow.
“Come on! I know you’re not getting good dick anywhere else. When was the last time we did it, huh? A month?” He questions. You groan in annoyance, turning the sink off and drying your hands on the towel.
“That was the final time.” You stare at him. “We promised no more after that.”
“You really think I meant it? Think a promise is gonna keep me away from you?” He cages you in between him and the counter.
“I’m not just some girl you’re gonna fuck when you wanna get your dick wet.” You push him away from you and walk over to the couch to grab your daughter’s blanket. “Find someone else.”
He laughs at your stubbornness, trailing behind you. “You know no one tastes or feels as good as you. Why do you think I keep coming back, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you.
“Ryomen, I’m not doing this shit with you tonight. Get your dick wet somewhere else,” you say, annoyance in your tone. His warm hands find your waist once again and he’s pulling you closer to him. His soft lips kiss down your neck and back up towards your jaw.
“Just once more. I swear that’ll be the last time,” he whispers. And you don’t know if he casted some type of spell on you or something because within the next five minutes he was in your bed.
Your knees were pushed to your chest, a long whine leaving your lips every time he hit your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Feel so fucking good around me,” he grunts, pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s right, lemme look into those eyes, show me how good I make you feel.”
You’re clinging onto his biceps, nails leaving crescent marks in his skin the harder and faster he goes. God, you hate to admit how good it feels. How good he feels. “Mmmm, Ryo. Fuck!” You moan, your jaw slack as pushes his cock deeper.
“Can feel this pussy squeezing me. You gonna cum, baby? Yeah? Yeah?” He coos, a smug smile on his face as he pushes your legs farther. “There you go, baby. Yes, cum all on my dick. Goddamn.” He watches your eyes roll back, a soft cry leaving your lips, your body shaking.
“This…this is the last time!” You manage to speak, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Shut up.” He kisses you sloppily, swiping his tongue against yours, continuing to pound your poor cunt. He knows this won’t be the last just as much as you know. You’re only saying it to make yourself feel better about cumming on his dick so easily.
GETO
after a stressful week, you were finally able to go out and have fun with your best friend, Shoko, while Utahime offered to watch your daughter for the night. It felt good to get out, drinking, dancing, a change of scenery compared to being cooped up in the house all day. You’re swaying your hips to the music, taking shots and you can already feel the regret coming next morning.
“Hey!” Shoko shouts. “I think Suguru is here!” She looks in the direction where he’s sitting.
“What?” You lean in closer towards her.
“Suguru! He’s here!” She points towards the crowd and to where the seating area is. You follow to where to points and see Suguru talking to some random girl on his lap, laughing his way into some mediocre sex.
“So what?!” You shout back, shrugging your shoulders. “He probably doesn’t even know I’m here! Fuck it!” You smile at Shoko, grabbing her to dance.
“I’m gonna go grab another drink!” She lets go of your hand and walks towards the bar.
You’re too tipsy to even care, in your own little world, dancing and eyeing all the handsome men around you. “Excuse me?” You feel hands on your waist and turn to see a tall, muscular man looking right at you. “Sorry, I just wanted to say you’re beautiful. I saw you dancing from over there!” He points to his seating lounge. “Wanna come sit?”
“Thank you!” You smile, placing your hand on his broad chest. “I’m here with my friend. Can we wait for her—oh there she is. Shoko!” You wave her over and she hurries through the crowd. “He invited us to sit with him, come on.”
“Fuck it, I’m down.” She sips from her drink.
The man grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd of people. It felt good to sit after standing in heels all night. After settling down you could finally get a better look at the man, noticing his sharp features and the scar on the corner of his lip. How handsome he was. What you didn’t notice was how closely Suguru was watching you, eyeing your every move. He took notice of the way your hand ended up on that guys thigh, how easily you laughed at his jokes.
“I’ll be back, gonna grab us some shots.” The girl got up from off his lap.
“Yeah, you do that.” He said without moving an inch, so fixated on you and you only. He couldn’t deny how good you looked tonight. Hands and toes freshly did, your hair in a style he’s never seen, and that dress that hugged your body so tight, showing off every curve you had. Without hesitation, he got up from his seat and walked over.
Shoko looked behind her just in time, eyes wide before immediately turning to face you. “He’s coming over.” She tapped your leg.
“Huh?” Your brows creased.
“Suguru!” She yelled in a whisper. “He’s walking over—heyyyy!” She smiled up at him.
“Hey, Shoko. Hey, y/n.” He greeted you.
You ignored him, sipping from your glass, hugging against the man who you knew as Toji, his arm wrapped around your waist. There was an awkward tension in the air, Shoko clearing her throat as she smiled.
“Y/n, can I talk to you really quick?” He stood in front of you now. “We’ll just be five minutes.” He looked at Toji, grabbing you away from him.
“Ugh, what do you want? Do you have to ruin every fun thing I do?” You follow him into the bathroom. He locks the door, standing before you, looking into your eyes. “What, Suguru?” You fold your arms over your chest.
He knows he’s tipsy, and so are you but he can’t deny what he’s feeling right now and from the looks of it, he can tell you’re feeling the same exact way. “You piss me off. But fuck, you look good doing it. Hugging up on that random ass guy, touching him.” He grits his teeth.
“Don’t be a hypocrite. I saw your little girlfriend sitting on your lap earlier. Where is she now?” You raise a brow.
“She’s a random girl. Don’t even know her name. Why? You jealous?” He walks closer towards you, closing the gap.
“Are you?” You retort, never breaking eye contact with him. There’s several seconds of silence besides the blaring music in the background, until his lips are suddenly on yours, stealing every breath.
Minutes later, you’re bent over the bathroom sink, your skirt bunched up at your waist while he pounds into you. His hand is wrapped around your throat as you grip the sink, feeling like your legs were about to give out any second. “Sugu…fuck!” You whimper. His hips slam against yours, your body jolting forward.
“That’s right, pretty. This is my pussy. Look at how well she’s taking me,” he chuckles, looking down at the way his cock disappears inside of you so effortlessly. “My god.” He lands a few harsh slaps on your ass.
You’re reaching out, pushing back on his stomach in attempts to get him to slow down, feeling like you were going to crumble beneath him. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” You cry. “You’re so fucking deep!” You gasp.
“Yeah?” He pulls you flush against his chest, nibbling on your earlobe. “That’s just how you like it. Deep and slow, hard and fast. I know all the ways to make you cum,” he whispers. He grips your throat tighter. Plap! Plap! Plap! “Better hope your new boyfriend doesn’t realize how long you’ve been gone. Don’t want him to get suspicious.”
Your body convulses as a harsh orgasm takes over you. “Ah! I’m cumming!” You whine before your jaw drops. Geto can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, making it hard for him not to cum inside. But, now that he thinks about it…that wouldn’t be all too bad.
#—☆classyrbf#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader smut#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna x reader smut#ryomen sukuna x reader smut#jjk x reader smut
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godspeed - rafe cameron
pairings- rafe cameron x maybank reader, established relationship
SZN 4 SPOILER!!!!!!!!!!!! you’ve been warned
this takes place in ep 10 right after everyone’s fighting and all that
———————————————————————————
The adrenaline was still running through your vains, like the hot, dusty sand you all found yourself in over the past couple of hours. Your hands are shaking, can’t fully grasp the weight of what you’ve just done.
“Baby?” You snap out of your shocked haze when a pair of comforting, familiar hands come to rest on the side of your waist , “a-are you ok?” His blue, stress ridden eyes bore into yours.
You take a shaky breath in, letting the gun you held drop to the ground below your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jump up into him. “He almost killed you, Rafe. I thought I was gonna lose you, I-I didn’t have any other choice, he was so close to-“, your rambling was paused by him shushing you quietly and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down your back, his other gripping the back of your head like his life depended on it.
“I know, I know, breathe Y/N, breathe” You were sobbing now. Not out of remorse for one of Dalia’s men, whom you had just shot dead out of defense for Rafe, but because you almost lost the love of your life.
Rafe pulls away, still keeping a hand on your back, keeping you close. “You just saved my life, Y/N. I’m so proud of you for being strong, it’s gonna be ok.” He was now using a thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.
You nod frantically in understanding, sniffiling and leaning into his palms touch. Bringing a hand to his on your cheek, you intertwine fingers. “Are you o-ok? I mean you almost just got stabbed, Rafe. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if-“. He places both hands on your face now, demanding your attention.
“Hey, listen to me. You did exactly what I would’ve done if you were just in my situation, ok? Hell, I would’ve beat that fuckers face in before I let him get the chance to even go near you so don’t overthink this for a second, do you understand? I love you so much.”
You licked your lips and nodded. After Rafe had told you to stay with Kiara when he went to bide JJ some time with the crown, he got into trouble with one of Dalia’s men and hadn’t come back. You couldn’t stay still knowing he was by himself.
Despite protest from Kiara and how your brother needed you right now, you ran to look for Rafe. You could hear the sound of distress and punches being thrown before you could see them. Even through poor visibility you knew it was Rafe, your Rafe, being attacked. As you got closer you could see that he was being held at knife point and without thinking you pulled the gun out that rested at your hip and fired at the man’s back.
With JJ’s constant tutorials and a little bit of practice over the years you hit your target dead on. Except this time it wasn’t a beer bottle or a teddy bear, it was a human being and nothing could’ve prepared you for that.
Rafe continued to try and work you down from the shock and complete panic, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your hairline. He eventually brought a smile onto your face when he praised your accuracy and said how bad ass it was, “that’s my girl”.
“It was kind of badass wasn’t it?” He let out a laugh at your rebuttal. Even in your state of mind, the sound of it made your stomach tingle with butterflies.
“If I’m gonna be honest, after I realized what just happened and saw you standing there, I got a little turned o-“, you scoffed at his antics and pushed him away from you playfully. “Shut up.”
He pulled you back into him before you got any farther, wrapping both arms around your waist, in turn you grabbed his biceps, looking into the eyes that you love so much.
You let your smile fade a little when you saw his eyes glaze over, knowing he was about to get emotional.
“I’m serious, Y/N. You saved me and I couldn’t possibly thank you enough, please don’t feel guilty or anything like that. I would do anything for you too, y’know that.”
“I know, and seeing you like that, in that danger, made me sick and I-I just blacked out.” He nodded slowly in understanding, “but I’d do it again if it meant that you were ok.” you continued.
You were now the one stroking his arms in comfort, his head nodding up and down telling you he was processing it all. Now putting yourself on your tip toes to reach his face, you placed your lips on his in a loving kiss.
Pulling away, you placed your forehead on his. “It’s you and me, Cameron. Always.” He pulled away and placed a loving peck on the crown of your head, “Damn right, sweetheart.”
Taking his hand in yours, you began to walk back towards the direction that Kiara and JJ were. “Let’s go see if J found this fucking thing.”
Rafe scoffed but followed your lead, “I’ve had enough of this fairytale pogue sh-“, you gave him a ‘really?’ look, to which he held his hand up in defense and shrugged.
“They’ve made it this far, you’ve gotta hand it to them and besides, this is a little exciting don’t you think?”
He frowned and shook his head, “Almost just got stabbed to death but yeah, sure, having a grand old time.” You giggled at his sarcasm, used to it by now.
Walking up the hill, you exaggeratedly began to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to which he protested against immediately stating “this isn’t a rom-com, please stop” but deep down, he loved seeing you make light out of a shitty situation.
He knows it’s due to you being so used to doing it because of Luke growing up, which never fails to make his heart beat in rage, but everything in his world is ok, perfect, when he gets to see you smiling like this.
When you both reach the top, there’s an absence of your little brother and Kiara that causes your smile and stomach to drop. The sandstorm passed yet they’re still nowhere in sight.
“JJ?” you call out, in hopes that they’re possibly somewhere in ear range. Nothing.
“J! Kie! Guys?” You let go of Rafe’s hand, heading to go circle around the statue.
“Woah, don’t go by yourself. If they’re someplace close by they sure as hell didn’t stick around here, let’s head back towards the buildings. They probably met back up with John B and Sarah.”
You shook your head, “No, if they got the crown and were ok, they would’ve just came and found us. Rafe, somethings not right.” You started to head more towards the statue in hopes that they went a different direction but Rafe steps infront of you before you can get any further.
“Hey, stop. I know you’re worried but incase you forgot, it’s not just them that Daria’s men are looking for, ok? I’m not letting you get hurt in the process of trying to find them.”
You took the arm that he held out to his side as a barrier and shoved it. “Rafe, that’s my brother, please we need to at least look around the area and see-“ He began to side step along with you so you couldn’t move around him.
“I understand that, Y/N/N, but let’s use the brain I know you have and think rationally, alright? They probably went back with the group assuming we were there too, ok? Let’s start there.”
You shook your head in annoyance, you’ve always been stubborn and you’re certainly not budging about this. “All I’m saying, Rafe, is that we check around the area first, m-maybe they didn’t hear me when I yelled.”
“Baby, please listen to m-“
“John B! Pope! Y/N!”
You whipped your head to the direction of Kiara’s wail echoing through the air. A sound of desperation like you’ve never heard and don’t wanna hear again. “Oh my god.” you whispered in fear.
Rafe looked at you with agony in his eyes, recognizing the same fret in her voice that you did. Without any hesitation you took off down the hill, not listening to Rafe’s protest to “wait for him”.
Your mind was moving as fast as your legs, you didn’t know where you were going but it’s like your body knew exactly where to take you.
Weaving down and through the same maze like corridors that you had escaped from earlier led you closer to the sounds of your friends, “Kie?”, you yelled out in despair, now acknowledging Rafe’s footsteps a few seconds behind you.
You felt the room before you saw it, your stomach already declaring that somethings wrong, very wrong. Before you could brace yourself, you saw the image infront of you. Blood. John B shaking him. Kiara with her head on his chest and hands on his stomach. JJ.
“JJ?” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as it barely came out of your mouth, cracking and whispery, desperate and defeated.
Stumbling to a halt against Rafe’s chest, you felt your legs giving out from underneath you, a pair of arms coming to catch you before you collapsed. No, not him, please God, don’t do this to me, no. Rafe’s arms were the only thing keeping you stable while you began to crumble, him collapsing down to the floor with you as weeps exited your mouth, shaking your whole body.
You didn’t have to look at him very long to know he’s gone, you could feel it. Sobs and pleads from the group didn’t register against your own. It sounded so foreign coming out of your body. “He’s dead” you sobbed, physically feeling your heart breaking. “JJ, no”, you wailed. Your head feels a thousand pounds as you slowly lift it off the ground.
Rafe has his own placed against the top of your spine, his forehead making a known presence on your back, still gripping your arms as if you’ll go too if he doesn’t. To the best of your ability you try to stand, legs still feeling mush as you feel Rafe’s touch disappear the closer you get to your little brother.
Halfway through, you give up on the poor excuse for walking and collapse back to the ground again, now crawling towards his lifeless body. “JJ, wake up, please!”. The only sounds you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your sobbing screams and your heart breaking.
Your palm meets his face, already feeling so cold and lifeless, the exact opposite of JJ Maybank. “Please don’t do this to me. W-wake up, JJ!”. You continue stroking his cheek, patting it lightly a few times, hoping, begging, pleading for your brother to wake up.
Stroking his hair, you shake your head out of disbelief. Hushed whispers exit your lips, trying to reach the deepest parts of him.“I can’t do this without you JJ, don’t leave me.” It’s been you and him against the world, the shit hand you’ve been given wasn’t too bad when you had each other to fall back on.
Growing up you found solice in each other, you didn’t need anyone to help you or comfort you, you had your little brother and he had his older sister. When Luke was to drunk to help JJ get ready for school in the morning, it was you brushing his hair, picking out his outfit, making his lunch. With your mother long gone, you took pride in being that figure in his life and it was your greatest achievement, seeing the man he had turned into, no matter how rebellious and defiant, you loved him like your own, and now that he’s gone, what’s left for you?
“Who was it? Kiara, who did this to him?” you now turned your attention from JJ to Kie, her looking just as horrified as the rest of the group. A look of disgusted rage took over your face, your stomach bubbling with hatred.
She sniffled before speaking, “Chandler, h-he stabbed him, I- JJ saved me and gave him the crown, I don’t know- I can’t.” She began to sob, recalling the traumatic moment.
Motherfucker. If the betrayal wasn’t enough, knowing JJ was just trying to save his loved one and this is how he’s repaid?
You can’t see or think straight, one moment you’re mourning the loss of your best friend and the next you’re taking all the strength you have left and standing up with the gun on your hip, reloading the clip and heading towards the direction Kie said he went.
You don’t get very far before Sarah and John B rush to your side. “Y/N. Stay. We need you right now. Don’t do this.” You shake them off of you, sending your elbow into John B’s stomach in the process. “Get the fuck off of me.”
You whip around and point the gun at the group, they look at you in shock, not processing what’s going on. Your breathing is uneasy as you lick the forming sweat off your lips. “If any of you touch me one more time, I swear t-to God. I’m going to kill Groff and none of you are getting in my way.”
Looking around you see the faces of your best friends, sad, confused, and angry. The gun pointed at them has your stomach dropping. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” The gun you have aimed at them is making you sick all over again.
Rafe takes a few hesitant steps forward when he sees you begin to rub your chest anxiously, knowing it’s your way of trying to work your way down from a panic attack.
“Sweetheart, put the gun down, ok?” None of his words are registering with you. He’s gone, he’s gone, JJ’s dead.
Rafe catches you just before you start to collapse again, this time into the comfort of his chest and arms. He takes the gun that’s hanging loosely from your hand and reaches it behind his back for John B to take.
“Rafe, he’s dead. He’s g-gone.” sobbing the dreadful words into his chest, his shirt catching your tears. You’re both on the ground now, him cradling you like a toddler as he rocks you back and forth in comfort.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, baby.” He strokes your hair and rubs your back, soaking in all of your pain. Your sobs begin to muffle as the others join in with you, still begging JJ to wake up, to open his eyes and to come back.
The weight of the air feels similar to your chest, no matter how much comfort and apologies Rafe whispers into your hair, it’s still not enough, your baby brothers gone and he’s never coming back.
The warmth of the fire fans your face. Emotionally and physically drained is where you and the Pogues have found yourself. Rafe keeps a steady eye on you as your head leans against his shoulder, knowing the last time you spoke was a few hours ago when he buried JJ, none of you being able to bring yourselves to do it.
Stray tears slip down your face, your expression remaining uninterested and dry. The only sound that can be heard is an occasional sniffing from the group and the cracks of the wood in the dying out fire infront of you.
You feel Rafe’s heartbeat against your back and his chest move when he talks. “I don’t know. If it was my friend I’d probably go after the guy that just killed him, yeah?” You take a steady breath in, getting ready to defend him when Pope tells him to “shut up”.
“You guys think that JJ would just sit here if it was one of us?” The whole group turns its attention to you, knowing you’ve been far too quiet for far too long, like JJ, you can be a ticking time bomb in moments like these.
John B is the first to speak up, “We all know what JJ would do. He’d get even.” You nod, still looking at the fire, kicking some sand as you stand up to begin pacing in rage.
Rafe watches your moves carefully, ready to defend you and back you up for whatever you’re about to say. He trusts you and he’s knows your best interest, you could tell him the sky was purple and he’d agree, while placing a loving kiss on your cheek.
You shake your head in agreement, feeling the never subsided rage bubble back up into your throat.
“Revenge.”
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#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#outerbanks rafe#outer banks#jj maybank#obx fanfiction#john b routledge#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#angst
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if you would've been the one ─ rafe cameron (part 2)
summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out
warnings: addiction, dr*g use, angst, mentions of drinking, sad rafe, infidelity (don't cheat guys), sensual moments
author's note: i wasn't sure if i was going to write a part two, but some of you requested one so here you go <3
It has been a month since that fateful encounter with you, since he last held you while you sobbed in the middle of town. The sight of you—broken down, vulnerable, crumbling in his arms—haunts Rafe like a tortured ghost, a specter that clings to him, refusing to be exorcised. It plays on a loop in his mind, a visceral memory he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the way your voice cracked, the way you trembled against him, and the sound of your broken cries feels like a knife twisting in his chest, again and again.
Sofia moved in with him just a few days after that night, boxes stacked in the living room, her laughter filling the house as she unpacked their future together. On the surface, everything looked perfect. Rafe played his part well—smiling, planning the wedding, talking about the life they were going to build. He made everyone believe that his life was finally on track, that he was happy and settled. But the truth was far from the polished facade he showed to the world.
In reality, his nights had become a battleground of regrets. He would lie awake long after Sofia had drifted off to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as the images of your tear-streaked face replayed behind his eyes. The memory of your sobs haunted him, an echo that reverberated in the dark corners of his mind, refusing to be silenced. The sound of your voice—broken, raw, filled with so much hurt—was something he couldn’t shut out, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.
While Sofia lay beside him, dreaming about their wedding, their future, and all the things he had promised her, Rafe was stuck in a different kind of dream—a waking nightmare. He relived that night over and over, his subconscious torturing him with the choices he’d made, the words he couldn’t take back. He would wake up in a cold sweat, his chest tight, the ghost of your presence lingering in the room. He could almost feel your tears soaking through his shirt again, the phantom weight of your body pressed against his as you cried out every last bit of hurt he’d caused.
It was like being trapped in a loop he couldn’t escape from, a purgatory of his own making. Every smile he gave Sofia, every kiss, felt like a betrayal—to her, to you, and to himself. He was playing the role of a man who had everything figured out, but inside, he was unraveling, piece by piece. Because he knew the truth he couldn’t admit to anyone—not even to himself. He wasn’t haunted by the life he was building with Sofia. He was haunted by the life he’d lost with you. And it was a loss that was slowly eating him alive.
Rafe picked up his old habits like an old, familiar coat—one that he’d hoped to never wear again. In the days and weeks following that night, the weight of his regret and guilt became unbearable, pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. He tried to push it all away, to bury himself in his plans with Sofia, to drown out the echo of your words in the monotony of his new life. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t escape the sound of your broken voice, the look in your eyes as you told him how much he had destroyed you.
That was the night his sobriety came to a screeching halt.
He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed, Sofia already asleep beside him, her breathing soft and steady. He stared down at his hands, the same hands that had held you, that had pushed you away, that had made all the wrong choices. It was like he could still feel the ghost of your touch, the imprint of your fingers as you shoved him in a fit of anger. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, and he needed something—anything—to numb the pain.
Rafe knew where to go, who to call. It was frighteningly easy to slip back into old routines, to let the darkness swallow him whole. He took his first line of coke that night, the familiar burn hitting him hard, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he felt relief. The crushing weight of his emotions lifted, replaced by a rush of artificial euphoria. It felt like he had control again, like he could breathe. But it was a lie—a dangerous, seductive lie that he willingly bought into.
The weeks that followed were a blur of late nights and reckless choices. What had started as a desperate attempt to cope quickly spiraled into something darker. His addiction came back with a vengeance, tenfold worse than before. It became a weekly ritual, then every few days, until it was nearly a daily habit. Rafe would disappear for hours, locking himself in the bathroom or sneaking off to the garage, cutting lines on the cold surface of the counter, inhaling deeply as the familiar numbness washed over him.
Sofia was oblivious. She’d look at him with concern sometimes, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly when he thought no one was watching. But Rafe was good at hiding it. He knew how to play the part, how to keep up the facade of the doting fiancé, the man who had everything under control. He’d smile, kiss her on the forehead, tell her everything was fine. And she believed him. Why wouldn’t she? To her, he was still the man who had turned his life around, who was ready to settle down and start fresh.
But in reality, Rafe was spiraling, falling deeper into a pit of his own making. The regret of losing you, the guilt of betraying what he once felt for you, was a constant gnawing at his soul. He’d lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with all the what ifs that he couldn’t shut off. What if he had fought for you? What if he had chosen you instead? What if he had never let things fall apart?
The only thing he felt like he had control over was the drugs he was putting into his body. It was the one thing that numbed the pain, that quieted the screaming in his head, even if just for a little while. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the reality he had created, a reality where he was haunted by the ghost of you, the woman he still loved, but had pushed away.
And with every line he snorted, he knew he was digging himself deeper into a hole he might never climb out of. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not anymore. Because in his mind, this was his punishment—his self-inflicted penance for the life he had ruined, not just yours, but his own as well.
The weekend finally arrived, and Topper’s invitation to the Pelican Yacht Club felt like an aid thrown into the raging sea Rafe had been drowning in. Topper had insisted he come out, promising a carefree day of drinks and laughter with old friends—a chance to forget about the chaos that had become his life. Rafe had been hesitant, rightfully so. The yacht club wasn’t just a place anymore; it was a scene of memories, and there was a good chance you’d be there. It was your workplace, after all, and Rafe knew that running into you could rip open wounds that were still fresh and bleeding.
But as he stood there in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, he realized he had nothing left to lose. His spiraling had already reached its peak. He was a man standing at the edge, and avoiding you now felt pointless. The drugs had dulled the pain, numbed him enough to survive each day, but they hadn’t erased the hollow ache in his chest. In his mind, he reasoned that maybe seeing you would bring him the closure he never got—an end to the nightmare he’d been living since that night he held you while you cried.
He agreed to go. He left the house with Sofia behind, her cheerful wave and bright smile not reaching him the way it once might have. She asked him if he’d be home for dinner, her voice laced with hope, as if she sensed the growing distance between them but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. He told her he’d try, planting a kiss on her forehead out of habit more than affection, and walked out the door without looking back.
The drive to the yacht club felt like an eternity. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, the weight of anticipation gnawing at him. He couldn’t tell if he was hoping to see you or praying that you wouldn’t be there. When he arrived, he took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of the car and into the blazing afternoon sun. The humid air clung to his skin, reminding him of countless summer days spent here with his friends, with you. It felt like a different lifetime.
He spotted Topper almost immediately, surrounded by a familiar group of friends, their laughter echoing across the dock. The sight was almost comforting, a sliver of normalcy in the midst of the chaos his life had become. Rafe plastered on a smile and made his way over, clapping Topper on the back as he was handed a drink. He took a long sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat, and for a moment, he felt like he could pretend that everything was okay.
But it was fleeting. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you almost unconsciously. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you, but his heart knew better. He could feel it racing in his chest, an unsteady rhythm that only worsened when he finally caught sight of you. There you were, behind the bar, moving with a practiced grace, serving drinks and laughing at something a customer said.
You looked good. Too good. It made his stomach twist with a mix of longing and regret. He wasn’t sure what he expected—that you’d be as broken as he was, perhaps. But you looked like you were surviving, like you had picked up the pieces of your shattered heart and put them back together, even if the cracks were still visible beneath the surface.
Rafe felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. This was it, the moment he had been dreading and anticipating all at once. He had braced himself for what might happen, but seeing you again, looking so effortlessly beautiful and so painfully out of reach, knocked the air right out of his lungs.
He turned back to his friends, forcing himself to join in their conversation, to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He could feel the weight of your presence across the bar like a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. He took another long swig of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves, but it only made him feel more on edge.
Rafe knew he had to make a choice—approach you and risk tearing open old wounds, or avoid you and leave things unresolved, the way they’d been left that night in town. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling slightly as he set down his empty glass. He glanced back over at you, his front faltering as he watched you laugh with a customer, the sound of your laughter piercing through the haze of noise around him.
Suddenly, the conversations around Rafe begin to fade, the laughter and chatter of his friends muffled like he’s underwater. He forces a smile, offering a half-hearted chuckle here and there, but his mind is miles away. He keeps sneaking quick glances over his shoulder, looking for you across the bar, though every look is so brief you never notice. It almost pains him, the way you seem oblivious to his presence. But he tells himself it’s busy; you’re too focused on the flow of customers to scan the room. Still, he can’t shake the sting, a dull ache in his chest that grows stronger every time he catches sight of you, the girl he let slip away.
You hadn’t noticed him yet. The thought stings more than he expected it to. How could you be so unaware of the agony ripping him apart from across the room? But he knows it isn't fair to think that. The bar is packed, filled with the usual weekend crowd; your focus is split between orders, conversations, and the rhythm of your job. It's easier this way, he tells himself. If you noticed him, it would complicate things, make the air heavy with unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Yet part of him—a selfish, desperate part—aches for you to look up, to lock eyes with him, even if only for a second. Just to see if he could read something, anything, in your gaze.
Rafe is at war with himself, stuck between the urge to keep his distance and the desperate need to get closer, to say something—anything. His fingers tap nervously against his glass, the buzz of alcohol not strong enough to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.
Then one of his friends speaks up, snapping him back to the present. “We’re running low on beer, man. Someone should get another round.”
Without thinking, Rafe jumps in, his voice a little too quick, a little too eager. “I got it,” he blurts out, pushing himself up from his seat. His friends barely notice his sudden enthusiasm, already lost in their own drunken conversations. For them, it’s just Rafe doing a favor. But for him, it’s an excuse, a chance to approach the bar and maybe, just maybe, get a moment alone with you.
He moves through the crowd, weaving between bodies as he makes his way toward the bar. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he’s about to do something reckless. In a way, he is. He hasn’t seen you up close since that night a month ago when he held you in his arms while you broke down in tears, and the memory of it still haunts him. He doesn’t know what he plans to say, or if he’ll even say anything at all. But he has to see you, has to face whatever feelings linger between you.
As he reaches the bar, he spots you right away. You’re busy, turning to grab a bottle from the shelf, your hair falling in loose waves over your shoulder. The sight of you hits him hard, a wave of emotion crashing over him so violently it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like seeing you for the first time all over again, except now there’s an insurmountable distance between you that wasn’t there before.
He wipes his sweaty palms on his khaki shorts, trying to calm himself, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. When you turn around, you don’t notice him at first, focused on passing a drink to a customer. He takes a deep breath, his voice caught in his throat, but he forces the words out anyway.
“Hey, can I get a round of beers?” he asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but enough for you to hear.
The moment you look up to meet his gaze, it's as if time itself halts. The crowded, bustling room fades into the background, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it’s just you and him. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across your face before you can mask it. It’s a split-second crack in your facade, but you quickly snap yourself back into place. The shock, the pain—it all gets shoved down as you force yourself into a state of icy calm.
You give a curt nod, your expression stone-cold, devoid of any trace of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. You glance away, reaching for a stack of glasses without missing a beat. To anyone else, it would look like he’s just another customer, another face in the sea of people.
“Gotcha,” you reply flatly, your voice monotone and unreadable, like a wall going up between you. You don’t give him the satisfaction of anything more, no warmth, no bitterness—just cold indifference. You’re determined not to let him see how much his presence unsettles you, how the mere sight of him brings back every hurtful word, every sleepless night spent crying over the pieces he left behind.
You focus on the task at hand, pulling a few cold beers from the cooler and lining them up on the counter. The silence that stretches between you is suffocating, thick with all the unspoken words that hang in the air like ghosts. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something in your expression, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back.
Rafe swallows hard, the tension settling heavy in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his tongue. He watches your every move, hoping for a sign—anything—that might tell him you still care, even if it’s just a spark of anger or pain. But you give him nothing.
You slide the beers across the counter toward him, your movements quick and efficient. “Anything else?” you ask, your tone clipped and business-like, as if this moment isn’t ripping you apart from the inside.
Rafe stares at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, searching desperately for something—anything—that might hint at what you’re feeling. But you don’t let him see it. You hold his gaze with a cold, distant expression, one that feels foreign even to you. It’s a stark contrast to the way you looked at him the last time he saw you, broken down and vulnerable. The warmth that once lived in your eyes is gone, replaced by an icy shield you’ve built up to protect yourself.
His mouth opens for a second, and it almost looks like he’s going to say something—something important, something that might change the trajectory of this interaction. But he hesitates, words caught in his throat, and you see the flicker of conflict flash across his face. He bites his tongue, the sentence dying before it ever has a chance to leave his lips.
“Uh—no, that’s all. Thank you,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s awkward, hollow, like he’s a shell of the man you once knew. He picks up the beers off the counter, his hand shaking slightly, and without another word, he turns away from you. He moves quickly, as if he’s trying to escape the weight of the moment, the unbearable silence hanging between you.
You watch him leave, his shoulders tense, his movements almost robotic as he disappears back into the crowd. A part of you wants to call him back, to demand answers, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But you don’t. You stand there, rooted to the spot, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you remind yourself that he’s no longer your concern. He made his choice.
Rafe returns to his friends, dropping the beers onto the table with a thud that goes unnoticed by the group. They’re too caught up in their drunken laughter, their cheers filling the air as they reach for the drinks, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. He forces a smile, pretending to be present, but his mind is miles away.
The brief encounter with you replays in his head on an endless loop, each second of it magnified, dissected, and analyzed like a broken record he can’t turn off. He can’t stop thinking about the look in your eyes—so cold and unfeeling, a far cry from the warmth and love they used to hold. It’s like staring into the face of a stranger, and it makes his chest ache with regret.
He takes a long swig of his beer, hoping the alcohol will numb the gnawing feeling in his gut, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the hollow sensation grow worse. He questions every part of that brief interaction: Should he have said something different? Should he have apologized again, right then and there? Should he have tried to explain himself, to make you see how much he’s been suffering too?
But it’s too late now. The moment has passed, and he knows he can’t change it. All he’s left with is the echo of your monotone “gotcha” and the way you looked right through him like he was nothing. He clenches his jaw, staring down at the condensation forming on his bottle, the laughter of his friends now just white noise in the background.
Rafe tries to shake it off, telling himself to get over it, to move on like everyone else seems to have. But he can’t. He’s stuck, trapped in his own head, replaying the scene over and over as he mentally beats himself up for everything he did wrong. It feels like a downward spiral he has no control over, a reminder that no matter how hard he tries to pretend everything is fine, the cracks are still there, ready to shatter him completely.
The night drags on, hours passing by in a haze for Rafe as he tries to drown his thoughts in drink after drink. The buzz of alcohol settles over him, a dull hum that makes him feel lighter, even if just for a moment. It’s a temporary escape, a slight escape from the relentless torment of his own mind. By the time his friends decide to call it a night, the Pelican Yacht Club has long since closed its doors.
The group gathers outside, their laughter a little louder, their goodbyes a little sloppier as they make plans to meet up again soon. Rafe stands at the edge of the group, his smile forced as he nods along, contributing half-heartedly to their final jokes. He feels distant, like he’s watching the scene play out from somewhere far away. One by one, his friends leave, until he’s the last one lingering in the parking lot, alone.
He sways slightly, fumbling in his pocket as he searches for his car keys. His coordination is off, the alcohol making his movements clumsy. He curses under his breath, frustration bubbling up as he struggles to pull the keys free from the tight fabric of his jeans. His head feels foggy, and the dull ache of regret pounds against his temples, as if the night is mocking him.
Just as he finally pulls the keys from his pocket, the sound of the front door creaking open behind him makes him freeze. The noise cuts through the silence, startling him. He turns around, his heart sinking when he sees you standing there.
You step out into the faint glow of the parking lot lights, your expression unreadable as you lock up for the night. The sight of you is enough to sober him up slightly, his buzz fading into a sharp pang of anxiety and longing. He hadn’t expected to see you again, not tonight, and certainly not like this. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, his mind racing with what he could possibly say after everything.
You don’t notice him at first, too focused on locking up, the familiar clicks of the door securing in place as you twist the key. It’s been a long night, and you’re eager to get home, to escape the remnants of the day’s chaos. But when you turn around, ready to leave, you see him standing there, swaying slightly under the lights of the parking lot. Rafe’s figure is slouched, his face half-shadowed, and even from a distance, you can tell he’s had too much to drink.
You sigh quietly to yourself, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You cross your arms defensively, a barrier between the two of you, as if it might protect you from the emotions he still stirs up inside you. “Rafe, what are you doing?” you ask, your tone edged with annoyance and judgment. It’s a reflex, your way of keeping him at arm’s length, of pretending that the sight of him doesn’t affect you as much as it does.
Rafe stares at you for a moment, looking caught off guard. He struggles to find his words, his brain muddled from the alcohol. “I was just—uh, leaving,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out clumsily. He mentally curses himself, hating how weak he sounds, how pathetic he must look to you right now. He’s Rafe Cameron—he’s supposed to have it all together, but here he is, fumbling in front of you like a lost kid.
You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, we’re closed, so...” you say, your voice trailing off in a dismissive tone. You don’t finish the sentence, but the implication is clear: there’s nothing left for him here. Not tonight, and maybe not ever.
Your expression remains stone-cold, void of any emotion, and it sends a sharp pang through Rafe’s chest. He’s used to seeing fire in your eyes, whether it was anger, passion, or even sadness. But this cold indifference—it’s like a knife twisting in his gut. It’s as if you’ve already made up your mind about him, as if he’s just another inconvenience at the end of your shift.
Rafe stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, suffocating him with each passing second. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to undo the damage he’s done, but his mind races, desperate for something to break the silence. Your cold indifference cuts through him like a blade, and for a moment, he feels as if he’s drowning in his own regret.
You turn your heel to walk to your car, the sound of your footsteps sharp against the quiet night, but Rafe’s voice halts you abruptly. “Y/n, wait,” he calls out, his tone more urgent than he intended, the alcohol slurring his words slightly.
You pause, but don’t turn around immediately, your body stiff with tension. You can feel the heaviness of his gaze on you. You knew he was going to say something, but you didn’t know what. Did he even have the right to speak to you? After everything?
Rafe takes a tentative step forward, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with a kind of desperation. “Please,” he adds, almost pleading. "I... I just need to say something." His hand twitches at his side, as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t, knowing it’s the last thing you probably want from him.
You hesitate, your fingers brushing the handle of your car door, torn between the need to escape and the need to understand. Rafe’s presence pulls at something deep inside you, but it’s a complicated knot of emotions you can’t untangle in a moment. You glance between him and your car, the battle in your chest raging, before your shoulders slump in defeat. You can’t leave him like this—not without hearing him out.
With a sharp exhale, you turn, looking at him once more. He’s waiting, as if he didn’t quite believe you’d stay, his posture stiff with tension. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you allow him that moment to speak. You give him an inch, but that’s all you’re willing to give.
Rafe’s breath shakes as he lets out a small sigh of relief, as though your decision to stay has momentarily lifted a weight from his chest. He shifts his weight nervously, not sure if he’s even saying the right things, but it doesn’t matter now. The words come tumbling out, almost too quickly. “I can’t... leave things where they were when we last talked,” he admits, his voice wavering with something close to regret and need.
You stare at him, confused, eyebrows furrowing as you process what he’s saying. The statement doesn’t sit right with you. You’ve been through so much, and now, after everything, he’s just showing up like this? The anger and the hurt bubble back up, and you feel your guard rise even higher. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty and a hint of frustration. His words don’t add up. After everything he’s put you through, after how he left, now he’s trying to make things right? It doesn’t make sense.
Rafe’s gaze flits around the parking lot, his fingers tugging at his hair as if trying to find something solid to hold onto in this conversation. His thoughts are racing, but the words come out in fragments, stammering as though he doesn’t even believe what he’s trying to say. “I—I don’t think we should leave off this way, you know? Maybe we just need... some closure?” He glances at you briefly, but quickly looks away, the uncertainty in his voice giving the whole thing a shaky feel.
You stand there, arms still crossed tightly over your chest, your posture defensive as you process his words. You stare at him, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. “Closure?” you repeat, scoffing slightly, as if the very idea of it is laughable. Your voice hardens as the frustration and anger come rushing back, thickening your tone. “I don’t need any closure from you, Rafe. It’s pretty damn clear what your decision is here. You’re getting married. What else is there to say?”
Rafe’s face pales at your words, and for a moment, he looks almost defeated. The sting of your anger hits him harder than anything he could have prepared for. He expected you to be upset, angry—hell, maybe even hurt—but this... this is different. The bitterness in your voice, the coldness in your eyes, it cuts deeper than anything he’s felt before.
"I know, I know but—" he mutters, his frustration bleeding through as he paces, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to gather his thoughts. "I can’t stand the thought of you hating me for the rest of your life because of this." The words fall from his lips full of desperation, his voice strained as he looks back at you, trying to convey something—anything—that could undo the damage.
His gaze locks with yours, searching for any hint of vulnerability, any crack in the wall you’ve built between the two of you. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he swears he sees something in your eyes—hurt, maybe even a glimmer of sympathy—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. In its place, that same stone-cold, unreadable look that he’s grown all too familiar with tonight.
Your expression hardens again, and when you speak, your voice is quieter, but just as resolute. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to move on, Rafe. I don’t have anything left to say to you anymore that’s gonna change what happens." You take a deep breath, your body tense as you prepare to put an end to this conversation. "So go back home to your fiancée and leave me alone."
His heart clenches painfully at the finality of your words. The way you speak—so detached, so sure of yourself—it makes everything feel so much worse. He thought there might be a chance, even the smallest one, for him to explain himself, to somehow make things right, but with each word you say, that possibility slips further and further away.
“Y/n,” he says softly, and it feels like a plea, like he’s begging for something you can’t give. His eyes meet yours, desperation and regret clouding his expression. “I made a mistake. You were right, I didn’t try hard enough. I was so used to everyone in my life leaving me that I pushed you away before I thought you could do it to me.” His voice cracks slightly on the last part, and he takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch. You stay still, frozen by his words. “I can’t change that, but I need you to know that this is ruining me. I spend every damn day and night replaying what you said to me in my head,” he continues, his fingers tapping frantically at his temple, as if the memory of your hurtful words is a physical wound he can’t escape. “I can’t let you go, y/n.”
The air between you thickens, the words hanging heavily in the silence that follows. Your heart wrenches at the rawness in his voice, but there’s still so much anger, so much betrayal coiled inside you that you refuse to let it go. You were right. You knew, deep down, that the Rafe you loved—who you thought was yours—was gone, replaced by someone who could never give you what you needed.
"Stop," you finally say, your voice low, trembling with everything you've been holding inside. "Stop pretending like this is about me. It’s about you, Rafe. Always has been. You don’t get to come here, to pull me back into your mess, just because you feel guilty. You don’t get to destroy me and expect me to just pick up the pieces and put you back together."
You take a step back, the space between you growing, but your chest tightens. His words echo in your mind, but you can't let them have the power they once did. Not anymore.
“Y/n, please, don’t do this,” he begs, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and pain as he gazes up at you. Then, before you can even process it, he falls to his knees in front of you. The motion is sudden, startling, and leaves you frozen, speechless. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, as if he can somehow erase the past with his touch, his brokenness seeping into you like a virus you’ve already fought too long to get rid of.
“I need you,” he mumbles against your stomach, and you can hear the tears in his voice. The man who used to be your world is now kneeling before you, broken, crying, and pleading in a way you never thought you'd see. It's almost too much, the weight of it crushing your chest, but you fight it. You fight it hard, as though giving in would undo everything you’ve worked so hard to build.
You try to push him away, but your hands falter, shaking as they hover over him. You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to let him pull you back into his chaos. Not after everything.
“Rafe... please, just stop,” you say, but even to your own ears, your voice is weak, trembling with the same sorrow you’ve been trying so hard to bury. You don’t know whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself. Your chest tightens with every second he holds onto you, every second he doesn’t let go.
He doesn’t stop. His grip on you only tightens as he looks up at you, his face streaked with tears, eyes full of raw, untamed emotion.
“I’m sorry, y/n,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve let you go. I never should’ve pushed you away. I—” His voice cracks, and he buries his face in your stomach, unable to finish the sentence. The sound of his sobs against your skin is almost too much to bear. It stirs something in you, something painful, something you thought you’d buried so deep that it couldn’t hurt anymore. But it does.
You shake your head, fighting against the part of you that still wants to be there for him, that still wants to believe in the words he’s saying.
“I can’t look at you the same, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. You tense up, every muscle in your body recoiling from the touch that once brought you comfort but now only fills you with a deep, searing pain. Your face twists into an expression of disgust, your lip trembling as you continue. “I can’t look at you knowing you’ve proposed to somebody else. I don’t think I could ever forget that.”
Your words are laced with a solemn, heartbreaking truth that makes Rafe’s breath hitch. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. He looks utterly broken, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign that you don’t mean it. But he finds none.
“That’s not something somebody can just get over,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoes in his ears like a shout.
Rafe’s eyes well up with fresh tears. He drops his head, resting his forehead against your stomach as he chokes out a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispers, his voice filled with raw anguish. “I know I’ve ruined everything. But I still love you, y/n. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the pain of his words. “That doesn’t change anything,” you murmur, your hands still hovering over him, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “You made your choice, Rafe. And it wasn’t me.”
He flinches as if you’ve slapped him, his arms falling limply to his sides. The realization that he can’t undo what he’s done, that he’s lost you for good, washes over him, leaving him hollow. He looks up at you one last time, his expression a mixture of desperation and helplessness.
Once Rafe stands up, there’s a brief silence as he stares into your teary eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat as he takes in your appearance — even after a busy day, you still look beautiful and flawless. It’s one of the things he always admired about you, how you could be under a whirlwind of stress and still somehow look perfect. But as he gazes at you now, his eyes fill with dread and desperation.
“Listen to me, y/n, please just listen to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he points to his chest. You stay silent but don’t move, your eyes peering up at him with a painfully broken look that he wishes he could erase. “I fucked up, okay? I fucked up. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize it, but I did, and I’m so, so sorry.” His lip trembles, his eyes filled with tears and sorrow.
You stand there, unmoving, as his words spill out with raw emotion, almost tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out. The sight of Rafe, usually so composed, now crumbling in front of you is enough to make your heart ache. You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure, but you can feel your front wavering.
Rafe’s eyes are red and glossy, his lips trembling as he desperately tries to explain himself. He points to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to pull the words directly from his heart, like they’ve been buried deep inside him for too long.
“I still love you,” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips like they’re too fragile to say out loud. “This entire time, I never stopped. I just thought I was doing what was right by letting you go. I thought I was saving you from… from me. I couldn’t ruin your life anymore.”
You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat as his words hang in the space between you like a heavy fog. You want to be angry, to lash out, but instead, all you feel is a deep, consuming sadness. It’s like everything you’ve held back, every ounce of pain and longing, is suddenly sitting right there on the surface, impossible to hide.
Your voice is soft, almost trembling as you speak. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You don’t get to choose when you love me and when you let me go.”
Rafe’s face crumples at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know,” he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was so scared of losing you that I ended up pushing you away. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway.”
There’s a silence that follows, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of everything left unsaid is pressing down on your chest. You blink back the tears that have gathered in your eyes, finally allowing one to slip down your cheek.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” you admit, your voice strained and filled with a pain that’s almost unbearable to hear.
Rafe steps forward as if to reach for you, but he stops himself, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t expect you to,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I just needed you to know… I needed you to hear it from me. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”
You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely as his words wash over you. It feels like every emotion you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way back up to the surface, tearing you apart from the inside. You want to shut him out, to run away and pretend this conversation never happened, but you can’t. Not now. Not after everything he’s said.
With a shaky hand, you wipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “So what now, huh?” you ask, your voice strained with raw emotion. “You love me, but in a few weeks, you’ll be off marrying someone else?”
Your expression twists with anger and heartbreak, the frustration building up like an unbearable pressure in your chest. It’s like everything you’ve held back for so long is finally breaking free, and you can’t stop it anymore. You look at him with a fury born out of pain, your eyes ablaze with a mix of betrayal and sorrow.
Rafe flinches at your words, his face crumpling as if you’ve physically struck him. He shakes his head frantically, trying to find something — anything — to say that will make this right. But the truth is, he doesn’t have an answer. He’s caught in his own web of mistakes, and he knows it.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispers, almost to himself, as if he’s trying to convince himself that his actions were justified. But even he knows it’s a lie. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading for some kind of forgiveness, some kind of understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then why did you?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you let me believe that you didn’t care when you knew how much I loved you?”
The silence that follows is deafening, filled with all the things that neither of you can say. You’re both standing there, barely holding it together. Rafe takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if he wants to touch you, to comfort you. But you take a step back, shaking your head.
“No — don’t touch me!” you shout, stumbling back as Rafe reaches out for you. You throw your hand in the air, creating a barrier between you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracks, filled with a raw pain that you’ve been holding in for far too long.
The words escape your lips like a scream, your sobs growing louder as the reality of everything crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. It’s as if the dam you’ve kept up for so long has finally broken, and there’s no stopping the flood of emotions now.
Rafe’s hand drops to his side, his face pale and stricken as he watches you fall apart in front of him. He wants to say something, anything, to take back what he’s done, but the words seem to be caught in his throat, strangled by his own guilt.
“You ruined me, Rafe!” you cry out, your voice laced with a bitterness that makes him flinch. “You fucking ruined me!” You point to your chest, stabbing your finger against your sternum as if you’re trying to drill the pain into him, to make him feel even an ounce of what you’re feeling.
“And now you get to live your life with someone else,” you continue, your words heavy with despair, “and I’m still here, trying to get over you.” Your voice breaks on the last word, your face contorted in anguish as tears stream down your cheeks.
You look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of heartbreak and fury. It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing you for the first time, truly understanding the depth of the pain he’s caused. His lips part as if to say something, but no sound comes out. He stands there, helpless and broken, as he realizes the full weight of what he’s done to you.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you continue, your voice trembling. “To be replaced? To watch you make a future with someone else while I'm still stuck in the past?”
Rafe’s eyes fill with tears, his chest heaving as the weight of his own guilt crashes down on him. He shakes his head, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, strained with intense emotion. “I see what this has done to you, y/n," he says, his words trembling with sincerity. "And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like this. But this —” he gestures between the two of you, his hand trembling as he struggles to find the right words, “— this is hurting me too.”
His eyes are pleading, desperate for you to understand. “You don’t get what I’m saying, y/n. There is no future without you. I can’t even fucking look at Sofia without subconsciously comparing her to you. I can’t even imagine a life where you’re not there.”
You flinch at his confession, feeling your chest tighten as his words sink in. It feels like a gut punch, hearing him say out loud what you’ve feared deep down — that he still loves you, that he’s been pretending all along. You clench your fists, trying to steel yourself against the burning emotions his words bring up. It hurts too much to even look at him right now, the man who was once your everything, standing there and admitting he still wants you despite everything.
“You’re engaged, Rafe,” you choke out, as if reminding him — or maybe reminding yourself. “You’re about to marry her, start a new life with her. How can you say that to me?”
Rafe shakes his head frantically, wiping the tears from his cheeks as if trying to scrub away his own shame. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t fucking know how I got here. I thought I was doing what was right, I thought I was moving on. But the entire time I’ve been fooling myself. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
You stare at him, stunned into silence. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his voice cracks when he says your name — it’s too much. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, but it’s also everything you’ve feared because it complicates the pain you’ve worked so hard to bury.
“I can’t stand this,” he continues, taking a step closer. He looks at you with an anguish that you’ve never seen from him before, like he’s on the verge of completely unraveling. “I can’t stand the thought of spending my life with someone else when every part of me still loves you. I don’t want a future where I’m constantly wishing it was you beside me instead.”
“Then why?” you finally whisper, your voice breaking as you look at him through your tears. “Why didn’t you fight for us? Why didn’t you choose me?”
Rafe’s face crumples, a sob escaping his lips as he takes another step forward. “Because I was scared, Y/N. I was scared that I’d destroy you, that I’d ruin your life the way I’ve ruined everything else. I thought you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t drag you down with their bullshit. I thought letting you go was what you needed.”
Your lips tremble, your eyes glued to the ground as you stand there before him, openly weeping. The sobs come out in shuddering gasps, and it’s painfully clear that you’re waging a war with yourself, torn between the pull of your heart and the reality staring you in the face.
“This is wrong...” you choke out, shaking your head as you look down at the pavement. “This entire thing is so fucked up now, Rafe.” You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but your voice cracks with the weight of your words. “I can’t tell you I want to be with you knowing you have a fiancée. I’m not that type of person.”
Rafe looks at you, completely shattered. The realization of how deeply he’s hurt you, and how badly he’s messed everything up, is etched across his face. He steps closer, his hands reaching out, but he stops himself just inches away, as if he’s afraid that touching you would make it even worse.
“You don’t think I know that?” he whispers, his voice filled with a vulnerable, desperate plea. “You don’t think I’ve been tearing myself apart over this? I know what I did. I know I put you in this impossible position. But God, y/n, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”
It’s as if the sincerity in Rafe’s voice drags you into a tidal wave of emotions you can’t control. Your sobs grow harder, louder, as you struggle against the rising tide of everything you’ve kept bottled up inside. You wipe your tears with the back of your trembling hand, trying to steady your breath. It takes every ounce of strength you have left to lift your eyes and look at him, your voice barely a whisper, choked with disbelief.
"So what do you suggest, Rafe?" you manage to get out, your words laced with pain and anger. "Because I’m not a homewrecker, and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now." You say it with a force that surprises even you, as if you need to convince yourself just as much as him.
Rafe’s eyes widen, filling with a desperate, almost frantic light. He steps closer, his hands reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitates, letting them fall back to his sides. He’s trembling, his chest heaving as he struggles to get the words out. "I’ll... I’ll break things off with her," he stammers, his voice raw and pleading. "I’ll tell her I don’t want this anymore. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."
He looks at you with an earnestness that you haven’t seen in years, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He’s practically begging, his voice breaking as he continues, "Please, just... just let me make this right. Let me fix this."
You stand there, stunned into silence. The weight of his words, the sheer gravity of his promise, leaves you breathless. You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is desperation. He’s standing there, laying his heart bare before you, offering you everything he has left.
And yet, the fear and doubt in your chest tighten like a vice. It’s everything you ever wanted to hear from him, and yet it feels like it’s coming too late. "You’d break off your engagement?" you whisper, almost disbelieving, as if you need him to say it again for you to believe it.
"Yes," Rafe breathes out without hesitation, his voice cracking. "I would. I’ll do it right now if that’s what it takes. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her everything. Just—just don’t walk away from me. Not again."
You stand there, frozen in shock and grief. He’s offering to leave everything behind—his fiancée, his life as he knows it—all for you. It’s everything you once dreamed of hearing from him, but now it feels like a hollow promise, a desperate plea that leaves you at odds with yourself. Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the memories of the boy you first loved and the stranger standing before you now, a man who’s broken you more than anyone ever has.
You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy you once knew. "How do I know you won't do the same to me, Rafe?" you ask, your eyes filled with both heartbreak and accusation. "How do I know that you won't change your mind in a few months, or decide again that I'm not worth the fight? How do I trust you after everything you've put me through?"
Rafe's voice shakes, his eyes searching yours, desperate for any sign of understanding. "You’re my first love," he repeats, softer this time, as if the words themselves carry a burden he’s never let go of. His gaze is intense, filled with intense emotion that seems to pierce straight through you.
"I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I know I messed up, I know I hurt you—more than I ever should have. But you’re the one I keep coming back to, no matter what, no matter how hard I try to move on." He swallows hard, his voice cracking slightly. "I’ve been trying to tell myself that I could be happy with Sofia, that I could settle for what I have now, but I can’t. Not when I keep thinking about you. About us."
His hands twitch at his sides, a barely contained energy as he steps closer, but not enough to invade your space. He seems to respect the distance you’ve created, but you can feel the pull of his presence, the desperation in his every word.
"I made a mistake, y/n," he says, his voice breaking as if the weight of the confession is physically painful. "And I know that doesn’t change anything. But what I feel for you—it’s not something I can just walk away from. I can’t forget about you. I don’t want to forget about you."
You’re silent, your thoughts a tangled mess, but the truth in his words cuts through the chaos, and you can’t help but feel that old connection flaring inside of you. The love that was once so pure, so certain, but now feels like a distant memory, something impossible to hold onto in this moment.
But Rafe is still standing there, eyes pleading with you, waiting for you to speak. His words hang in the air, heavy. "You’re my first love, y/n. And that means something to me. I can’t just let it go."
The sincerity in his voice cracks your walls just a little more, and for a brief second, you want to believe him. You want to give in and let him in again. But the fear, the pain, the loss—it all rushes back. How could you trust him again after everything he’s done?
But his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much promise—are full of regret, full of a longing that makes your heart ache. And despite everything, despite the doubt that still lingers like a shadow between you, you can’t help but ask, "What are you asking of me, Rafe?"
His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m asking you to give me a chance. A real chance to prove to you that I won’t make the same mistake again. I’m asking you to trust me again, even if it’s just for a little while. To let me show you I’m not the same person who walked away."
You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. It feels like a decision that could change everything—everything you’ve worked for to protect yourself from him, from the hurt. But the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice, it pulls at something inside you. Something you thought was long buried.
"Please, y/n," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "just give me a chance."
You stand there, frozen for a moment, as Rafe’s words echo in your mind. Your heart is a battlefield, torn between the pain of the past and the ache for what could’ve been. You can’t ignore the emotions swirling inside you—the longing, the betrayal, the love that’s never really gone away.
You stare at him, your expression unreadable, as your eyes flicker between his. You’re caught in a moment of vulnerability, unsure of what to do next. But then, all the years of hurt, the anger, the love you’d buried deep inside you, rush to the surface in one overwhelming wave.
Without thinking, you reach up to him, your hand trembling as you pull his face toward yours. His breath catches as your lips meet in a kiss that’s electric, full of all the things you can’t put into words. At first, it’s tentative, a question in the way you both move, as if unsure if this is real, if this is the right thing to do. But the moment he responds, pulling you closer, you know you’re both lost in this—lost in the feelings that have always been there, buried beneath the hurt and the distance.
Rafe’s hands slide to your back, pressing you against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, the desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid to let go, like you might slip away again. His lips are soft but demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that’s been lost. Your heart races, and everything around you fades into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just the connection you once had, reigniting in a way that feels both comforting and painful all at once.
For a moment, everything is perfect. All the doubts, all the pain, fade away in the warmth of his touch, in the way his kiss deepens, as if he’s trying to pour everything he’s kept inside into you. But then, a sharp pang of reality stabs at you. This isn’t a fairytale. This isn’t a happy ending yet. Your hands push against his chest, breaking the kiss, and you take a step back, your breath ragged.
Rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with emotion. His hands are still outstretched, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go. His lips are swollen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this is real, that you haven’t just pulled away because of the past.
You pull away from the kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, any hint that this might be a fleeting moment, but you find none. There’s only sincerity and longing, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. The realization hits you all at once: this is real, and it’s all he’s ever wanted, too.
Before you can even process the thoughts racing through your mind, you’re pulled back into him. His lips crash against yours once again, but this time, it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession, a promise, a desperate release of everything you both kept inside for so long. The world around you disappears as your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as if you can’t get enough of him.
His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and in a heartbeat, your legs are wrapped around his waist. The cool air outside disappears as the heat between you both intensifies. He presses you against the truck door, his lips still capturing yours, and you can feel the weight of his desire in every movement.
Rafe groans against your lips, his breath ragged, his hands pulling you closer as though he’s afraid you might slip away from him again. He moves with a hunger you’ve never seen before, and yet, it’s familiar, as if every kiss, every touch is a reminder of something you both once had and now desperately crave. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.
You pull away, your lips swollen from the intensity, but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you gasping for air. His hands roam to your back, holding you against him as if he can’t bear the thought of letting go. The vulnerability of the moment is overwhelming, but it’s also freeing. In this moment, you don’t care about the past. You don’t care about the pain, the mistakes, or the fear. All that matters is right here, right now, with him.
"Rafe," you whisper, your voice breaking as you look up at him. “This is… too much, I—”
He cuts you off with another kiss, gentle this time, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I know. I know. But I can’t help it, y/n. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”
The words hit you harder than anything else, and despite every doubt that lingers, you know this is the real Rafe, the one you fell for all those years ago. He’s here. And he’s not going anywhere.
"I still love you, Rafe. I've never fully stopped."
Rafe’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your words. His entire body goes still for a moment, as if he's trying to process what you've just said. His fingers dig into your back, pulling you even closer as though he's afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.
His eyes search yours, desperate for confirmation, for a sign that you mean it, that you’re not saying it out of guilt or hurt. His heart races in his chest, the same way it always did when you were near. But this time, there’s something different in the way he looks at you—a sense of relief, of finally being seen and understood after everything that’s passed between you both.
“I never stopped loving you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I never fucking stopped, y/n.”
His hands cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. His gaze softens, a mix of regret and longing flooding his expression. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be what you need. I can be the man you’ve always wanted me to be.”
You lean into his touch, the weight of the words, of everything that’s been left unsaid, starting to settle in. It’s still chaos, and the reality of everything is still real and messy. But in this moment, you realize that you don’t need to have it all figured out right now. What matters is the connection between you two, the bond that’s never really broken, no matter how far apart you’ve been.
“I just want you to stay,” you say softly, your voice trembling, but steady. “No more running. No more pushing me away. Just stay, Rafe. I need you.”
Rafe’s eyes close for a moment, taking in the full depth of your words, and then he nods. A tear slips down his cheek, but it’s not one of sadness—it’s one of relief, of knowing that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance he’s been waiting for.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice filled with the certainty that comes with knowing exactly what he wants. “I’ll never leave you again.”
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#obx#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe fic#rafe obx
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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8
Or: a secret Admirer AU
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7
“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.
Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.
“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”
“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”
She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.
They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.
“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.
“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.
The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.
“Shut up.”
Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.
“What do you mean?”
She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.
But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.
He just wants.
Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.
Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”
She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”
Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.
They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.
It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.
“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.
His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.
Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.
***
Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?
He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.
It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.
So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.
Eddie —
How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?
I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.
I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.
I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.
Yours, Always
Your Secret Admirer
P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.
He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.
Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.
He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all.
He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy.
There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.
“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room, all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.
Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.
“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.
Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.
“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.
He never looks Eddie’s way at all.
“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.
“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.
Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.
Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”
Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?
Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.
Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”
And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?
It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.
Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.
“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.
The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.
Steve’s embarrassment suits him.
Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”
“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”
“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.
Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.
“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”
Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.
And they’re off!
It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.
He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.
Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.
Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.
After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show.
Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.
Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again. When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.
Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?
“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.
Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.
“At what, big boy?”
“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”
Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.
Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.
“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.
“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”
Neither of them wait for a reply.
The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.
“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.
“How the hell should I know?”
Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.
“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”
That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”
“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.
The only answer is the door swinging shut.
***
Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation.
When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.
“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.
“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.
It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.
“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.
“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”
Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”
“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”
Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”
Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”
It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.
Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”
Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.
Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”
Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.
Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.
Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.
Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.
“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.
“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”
“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?
Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.
“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”
Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.
Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”
Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”
“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”
Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.
He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.
Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.
He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.
For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.
PART 9
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He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part Two
Guess who finished this finally??? IT TWAS ME
Included is a lot of smut, some angst because of who I am as a person, after care, and snacks. Mostly it's smut though.
Lowkey could be in honor Deadpool and Wolverine being out on Disney+ today, but that's a coincidence I swear.
Hope you enjoy!
Part One
[Logan List]
[Masterlist]
Tagging all these lovely people who lowkey helped make this happen simply by telling me they wanted more
@katsukis1wife
@gothamnighthawk
@emotrash1
@squishyfruitloop
@angeiulst
@unitedbyfreak
@chubbyhedgehog
@jessie-baby-96
Anywho, at 9433 words (I am not sorry)
My body was on fire.
I tried to breathe through it, to keep whatever madness that wanted to consume me away. I couldn’t let it consume me. I shuffled in my seat, trying to put out the flames but it mostly just shifted them around.
I had to get us home.
By the time I landed the jet at the mansion, I figured I must have lost two to three years off my life from exertion alone. Holding even one person for so long took a toll on me, and since I refused to practice the skill, holding all five of them was basically me deciding to run a marathon when I hadn’t run so much as a mile in years.
Not to mention the angry gnawing that had picked up in my center that demanded I let Logan do what he had been aiming to do to me. At some point during the flight, he had shifted in my hold, trying to break free again. But all he managed to do was flop over and land with his face on my boot.
Luckily, he stopped fighting once he was using my foot as a pillow, perhaps the contact contented him for now. Unluckily, I could feel the warmth of him against me, even through leather, and the gnawing just grew sharper and sharper until I was softly moaning to myself, pretending that rubbing myself on the seat did anything to ease the fire.
But I was in no state to care by the time the supplemental staff came to get everyone. I watched them from my seat as three people in full hazmat came onto the jet to assess the situation.
“You good, Miss Y/N?” This was Hank’s voice but I couldn’t tell where it came from.
“Golden,” I managed, my eyes squeezed shut. “Just please, get these fruitcakes unloaded so I can unfreeze them,” I sounded a little drunk and I heard Hank’s chuckle.
“You did good getting everyone home,” I could hear the smile in his voice and had it been any other situation I would have preened at the proudness he was showing. But I was trying really hard not to shove my hand down my pants and all I really wanted was to get to my room and sort myself out. After all… surely, being away from the others, away from Logan, would be enough.
“Keep everyone separated for now,” Someone commanded. Logan groaned from at my feet and I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke free of my grasp. I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but I was pretty sure no one would want to witness all that… and knew I wouldn’t be able to fight him off for long in my current state.
I almost wondered why I’d even want to.
“We’ve got Scott and Jean secured,” I heard someone shout loud enough for me to hear. I let those two slip from my hold. It felt like pulling splinters out, a moment more of discomfort, and then a relief.
“Storm and Rouge are good,” A different voice called next. I let them go and I heard Rouge shout something profane which made me smile absently. She was apparently extra feisty when she was feeling some type of way.
Two hazmat suits came and pulled Logan away from me and I choked myself on the whine that tried to escape me at the loss. A third hazmat suit sat in the copilot's chair and I was dully aware that it was Hank.
“I did some research on Malachi Mitchelle.” His voice was soothing, in a way, to my foggy brain as his voice did not stoke the fire. I nodded. “I think I know what happened to all of you to make you so… affectionate.”
Somewhere outside the jet a roar sounded as Logan finally got free of my powers. There was a scuffle and his voice quieted down. Even the sound of him made my thighs tense.
“Not me, I’m just sleepy,” I lied. I just needed to get away, as far away from Logan, as I could. Because I was weak and getting weaker by the second, if he came asking, I’d likely give in this time.
And then I’d never be able to face him again.
“Good, that’s good.” Hank said. “But the others then, based on the readings we downloaded from the jet and what I was able to find on Malachi…” He coughed once, uncomfortable. “Well, let's just say, Malachi was known for making people feel good and he ended up making something that went a little too far. I’m sure that’s what they got into,”
“How do they fix it?” I asked. My eyes were blurry and I felt kinda like my uterus was going to melt down my legs at any second. I just wanted to crawl into bed and wait it out.
“The only way out is through I’m afraid,” Hank laughed nervously.
“Oh,” I managed. Maybe I’d have to be more active in my ‘waiting it out’ plan, but whatever. As long as I got away from Logan. As long as I didn’t make him hate me.
“Are you sure you’re ok, though? You weren’t exposed?” Hank asked again. I waved him off.
“I just beat my record time for freezing someone by a couple of minutes,” I managed a smirk as pain shot up my spine. “And I did it times five. I just need a really, really, really long nap.” Hank chuckled at my tone but nodded his head.
“Alright, you still need to be decontaminated.” He stood. “And I’ll have someone come check on you, just in case,”
“Ok,” I mumbled. But I was not going to stick around to find out what they wanted to check. I could already feel myself straining to hear Logan’s voice, but so far all I could hear was machinery and the hazmat shower.
Someone came to get me, but it took all of my brainpower to focus on being normal. I grumbled through the decontamination spray, which was dry and unpleasant like getting sand blasted.
“Wait here,” The hazmat suit that had decontaminated me said. I didn’t recognize this voice, not that I tried hard to while I was sitting on the edge of a chair, trying really hard to not call out for Logan. I knew he was in the medbay somewhere, we all were. I also knew that if I called his name he would come running and he’d be able to ease the burning ache in my core.
But I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want him to want me just because of some stupid sex pollen. I knew Hank said the only way out was through, and from the bits I’d understood from the conversation around me, that meant you had to bang whomever it was that your body craved. Which was why I hadn’t felt the urge to jump any of the staff that were helping.
And also why I could hear Jean and Scott going at it from across the medbay, which was as awkward as it was unhelpful to the heat in my blood.
Before the hazmat suit that had helped me returned, I decided it would be best for me to just leave. Go somewhere where I couldn’t hear the sounds of Rouge and Ororo getting off too. The whole medbay sounded like a porn set and I needed to get out of it before I made a move I couldn’t take back.
I figured if I could get to my room, I could get my own rocks off enough times to get rid of this feeling. I had toys, I had batteries, I had my hands. It’d be fine. And then Logan and I could still be friends when this was all finally over.
Walking turned out to be a specific kind of torture.
Everything hurt. While it had kind of felt like period cramps at first, the pain had shifted and spread out. It was like my skin was trying to eat itself, like my bones were made out of razor blades. I stumbled along the hall and into the elevator to go up to where the adult dorms were.
I didn’t recall the dorms being so far away.
I leaned on the wall, thankful that the metal elevator wall was at least cool against my burning skin. Maybe I’d need to take a cold shower too. But the thought of even that made me whimper in displeasure. I knew what my body wanted, what I probably needed, and yet I so desperately denied it.
I just needed to get to my room. To cool off. To calm down. To hold on just a little bit tighter.
My suit was uncomfortable on my skin, I could feel the seams as though they were also razors like my bones. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the right decision. It wouldn’t be the first time my pride or whatever, got in the way of feeling better.
The hallway seemed longer than normal as I shuffled my way to my room. It wasn’t very late in the day, and most people that lived in this wing were elsewhere and preoccupied, so I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing my moaning as I made my way past each door.
Only three more doors until mine, but that felt like so far to go. Too far maybe. Maybe I could curl up out here in the hall and let the pain take me.
Every step shot lightning through my limbs that ricocheted around in my rib cage. My core felt like it had been filled with angry bees. I paused long enough to try to squeeze my legs together, to get some friction, hoping it would help somehow. But it did nothing. I tried to use my hand over my suit but the only thing that did was make my knees wobble and the bees inside me sting me harder. It wasn’t the correct hand, nor nearly enough touch.
I tried to gather my strength by leaning against the wall, but it didn’t seem to help me other than to keep me from falling on the floor.
“Y/N!” Logan’s voice was like fresh rain on a forest fire.
I didn’t have the energy to look behind me to see him coming. I did, however, feel those frustrated and angry tears that had plagued me since being on the jet finally break free. I knew I wouldn’t be able to push him away anymore and I hated that I was so weak.
“God, baby, look at me,” He sounded so worried for me. I wished it could mean something.
“Hurts,” Was all I was able to mumble at him. I felt his hands on my arms, turning me so my back was against the wall. So that he could look at my face. My blood seemed to hum at his nearness. Like a magnet reaching for metal.
“Hank said you didn’t get hit with the pollen,” Logan’s eyes were still hazy, but he was at least restraining himself now. “Seems you lied to him sweetheart,” His fingers brushed my cheeks and I whined as if his touch hurt.
“You…?” I tried to ask why he was handling this better than before but got cut off by a wave of pain that threatened to knock me to the floor.
“Come on,” Logan said instead. I shook my head at him and tried to pull myself off the wall, to walk away from him. But I couldn’t. I had always prided myself on being strong, a sick sort of triumph at my ability to deny myself anything I wanted and didn’t think I deserved. But with this?
I hated how all I wanted to do was bury my face in his chest or maybe just swallow him whole.
Logan got an arm around my waist to help me stand and I felt like I was drowning in his nearness.
I wanted to get away from him.
I wanted to pull him closer.
When I stumbled along with him, he cursed at my slowness. He paused long enough to make a decision. His hand on my chin made me look at him, but I struggled to focus on his face when I saw him lick his dry lips. I wanted him to lick me like that. Gently, softly, thoroughly.
“Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart, just gotta get to your room or I’ll have to fuck you out here in the hall,” Logan’s voice tried to remain light, as if it were a joke of some kind. But we both knew he would do exactly that if we didn’t get behind a door.
I could only whine, low in my throat, because the pain was blooming behind my eyes like solar flares. I wondered if it would kill me if left unchecked. I wondered if that would be better than giving in.
But when Logan’s lips pressed against my sweaty forehead, I leaned into him. Another kiss on my temple drew my focus away from the burning hum in my blood. The third one landed on my jaw and I turned, trying to catch his mouth without thinking.
I knew if he touched me just a little more, the pain would ebb. I knew it. I didn’t want to give in, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to taste him… just once. Maybe he’d be able to forgive me for just one kiss.
I heard him chuckle as I chased more contact. He was breathing hard, wanting more too.
He swung me up into his strong arms, bridal style, and I pressed my face into his neck while he carried me the last several feet to my room. If my brain hadn’t been so hazy, I would have marveled at how easily he’d lifted me, how easily he could carry me.
As soon as my door closed behind us, Logan set me back on the ground and buried his face in my neck, my back pressed against the wood. I had my arms around his shoulders still, fingers buried in his hair while he mouthed his way up to my ear.
“Say you want this, sweetheart,” Logan purred. I had one leg up around his hip, giving him room to press himself into me between open mouth kisses on my skin. My hips rolled into him of their own accord.
I felt like I couldn’t bring enough air into my lungs, but somehow, I managed to speak.
“No,” My voice was torn, and my face wet. It felt like someone else had pulled the word from my chest, someone so far away from the heat of my room.
I didn’t register the way his face contorted in confusion.
“Sweetheart,” It was his turn to whine. Annoyed at the thought I’d deny him. I knew the pollen was surely in his system still, making him want me as badly as I wanted him.
Which was the only reason I still tried to resist.
“Didn’t want…” I panted, too many sensations running through me. “Not like this,” My arms made no move to push him away from me but my body betrayed my lungs as my leg shifted, trying to pull him closer. With him close like this, at least the ache wasn’t getting any worse.
“Like how then?” Logan asked. His hips bucked up into me and I felt the ache in waves as his body teased mine with the promise of release.
Oh god, release.
I could only shake my head as I cried because I wanted things to be different. I wanted this to matter, wanted it to mean he liked me. But it was nothing other than a need we hadn’t asked for because of a mission that went weird, and that broke my heart.
Logan cursed to himself, kissing at the tears on my cheek.
“It’s ok pretty girl, it doesn’t have to mean anything, just… just let me help you, alright?” His voice betrayed an ache I didn’t expect in him. The kind of ache you couldn’t mask and you couldn’t fabricate.
“No, no… I want it to mean something… I don’t want - ahh - a pity fuck,” I said into his shoulder as my body tried to get more from him. I gasped each time his body bumped into mine while he held me against the door. Just being near him like this seemed to clear my head some though and I knew I should let my pride go.
That we both needed this.
That the only way out was through.
“It’s not pity,” Logan growled against my throat, something angry, something hurting.
I couldn’t respond as I felt a new wave of pain and wanting crash through me, pulling a low whimper from my chest. What we were doing simply wasn’t enough. We were knocking at the door maybe, but we needed to step into the home beyond the threshold.
We couldn’t get out if we didn’t go through.
“I need you to tell me you want this,” Logan groaned, his mouth against my jaw. Begging, hardly restrained. A gentleman even when dosed with sex pollen.
My chest ached for him.
“Won’t you hate me tomorrow?” I squeezed my eyes shut as he adjusted his grip on me, his hand was so warm on my thigh as he helped balance me.
“I could never hate you, sweet girl,” He said against my cheek, kissing a few more tears from my fevered skin.
I nodded finally.
I felt him grin against my cheek before he added, “I need to hear you say it, baby,” I could hear the same smile in his voice.
“I want… Want you,” It somehow still felt like a betrayal to admit it and as the moment drew on for a heartbeat too long, I thought for sure that he had realized he didn’t want me. That this had all been some elaborate ruse. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that I missed the way his face broke open into a pure joy smile.
I felt more tears in my eyes at what I thought was rejection.
“I need you,” I pressed again, sure that if he didn’t speak, didn’t keep touching me, didn’t fuck me, I was going to die. I opened my eyes and saw his smile and my chest thawed at the happiness he showed me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him smile like that before.
Logan’s hands squeezed my hips, pulling me tight against him again so that I could feel how hard his cock was straining in his suit.
“I need you too, sweetheart,” I felt his smile against my neck before he finally, finally, covered my mouth with his.
It was like wind after rain.
Something soft that whispers about tomorrows that are brighter and hurt less.
His mouth did not cool my blood completely, but suddenly, the pain was receding. I twisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me, daring him to try to pull away. But Logan’s hands were making their way into my suit, pulling zippers and searching for skin.
He had no plans to leave me. Thank god.
“You taste so good,” He purred, pulling away to look at my face. I was sure I looked a mess, but I had no willpower left to be embarrassed about it. His eyes were glittering with mirth and heat and something my brain wanted to believe in.
“You do too,” I panted. I didn’t remember him getting the top half of my suit off, but he was tugging the rest down my hips. When did my feet end up back on the floor?
I was wearing an undershirt and a pair of close fitting shorts under the leather suit and Logan growled at the next set of barriers.
“Too many layers,” He grumbled. I pulled him back to where I could kiss him and he seemed happy enough to lick his way into my mouth while his hand stumbled blindly along my stomach in search of the waistband of my shorts.
I mewled when his fingers brushed the skin of my hip, having found their way inside. Logan chuckled against my mouth as he glanced down to make sure he was where he thought he was.
“Bed,” I commanded, brain short circuiting at the mere thought of what was to come. His hands, one still in my shorts, moved to scoop me off my feet. Both of those wide, warm palms of his squeezing at my ass as he pulled my legs around his hips. I moaned again, surprised at the heat of him pressed into my ache, and also turned on by the very fact he could lift me so effortlessly.
“Wanted to do this for so long,” Logan murmured into my throat.
“Yeah?” Curiosity more than disbelief for once.
“Yeah, pretty girl,” He was all but purring, kissing any skin close enough to reach as he moved us deeper into my room, aiming for the bed, but not really looking.
“How long?” I wondered out loud. Surely it couldn’t be that long, but my brain was running at about 1% cognition so I didn’t bother thinking too hard about what I was asking.
“Since that time you subbed for my class,” He said without missing a single beat. He groaned at the memory. “You were wearing a dress with little flowers on it. It stopped right at your knees and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get under that skirt,” He pulled me tighter against him, cursing at the sensation while I gasped against his shoulder.
I felt blood rush to my ears at his confession, as I hadn’t subbed for him in months, but I didn’t get to revel in it long because we’d finally made it to my bed. Logan and I toppled over onto the unmade mess I’d left my bed in that morning.
“Fuck, I need you in my mouth,” Logan moved off of me so that he could kneel on the floor between my legs. “You going to let me taste you?” I nodded happily and he gave me a sharp-toothed grin that made me shiver.
He easily pulled off my shorts and underwear and as soon as I was exposed to him I felt the ache rear its head again. Like hot coals dropped into my pelvis, everything was concentrated and too hot.
“Logan, please,” I whimpered. “Hurts again,” He wasted no more time and lunged headfirst into my open legs. I almost screamed at the sensation of his tongue moving up to my clit. It was too good, pure honey, and yet, entirely not enough. I reached down and got both of my hands into his hair, tugging him closer, unable to stop myself from chasing the high that was nowhere near close enough yet, by rubbing myself against his face.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.
Logan moaned against me as he hoisted one of my legs over his shoulder. His free hand moved up my stomach, pushing its way under my shirt until he met with one final barrier, my sports bra. He grumbled vaguely, doubling down on his efforts with his mouth on my core. The lewd noise of him devouring me filled the room. If the pollen wasn’t clouding my head, I knew I’d be embarrassed, but he sounded like he was eating his favorite meal, slurping and sucking and making me see stars in a way I could only have dreamed about.
I felt his callouses slide under my bra, up through the valley between my breasts. He pulled the fabric up away from me and with a turn of his wrist, his claws sprang free just long enough to slice through the fabric that had dared hide my chest from him.
I gasped, startled, but also my core clenched at the show of force. Logan chuckled at my sharp intake of breath.
Logan made a noise low in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and whimper before he moved to explore this newly exposed skin. My fingers flexed against his scalp as his tongue brought first one, then the other, nipple to a hard peak.
My hands were beginning to shake as I clenched them tighter, pulling at his scalp. My body couldn’t focus on anything for very long, instead it simply demanded more, more, more.
“Fuck baby, you trying to pull my head off?” He teased, mindful not to leave me wanting while he spoke. He pressed his thumb against my clit and it shot electricity up my spine. I tried to shove his face back where I needed him, but he resisted me easily. I whined unhappily.
He pulled my hands from his hair so he could sit back on his heels. Logan seemed distracted as he ran his fingers through my sopping core again and I jumped and whined at each pass. He just continued to toy with me and I mewled.
“Need you,” I got out. I was breathing like I was worried I’d be pulled underwater at any second, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I could before the air got taken away.
“I know, baby, need you too,” He began to work his way out of his suit, but he kept getting distracted by my leg over his shoulder, my hands reaching for him, and his incessant urge to lean back in and run his tongue through my folds again and again and again.
As if just a single taste could sustain him.
The way we were sitting prevented me from seeing more than a flash of nudity before he settled again with his knees on the floor. Logan went back to his assault on my clit, but now he was teasing me with one of his thick fingers too. I groaned loudly when I saw his hips buck into the edge of my mattress. Simply knowing he was getting off with his tongue in me made the coil in my pelvis wind tight.
“More,” I demanded, feeling my orgasm finally building as he focused his tongue on my clit. “Logan, ‘m getting close,”
“Good,” Logan responded with his mouth still against me. “Cum for me, wanna taste you, dreamed about what you taste like,” I felt his finger press slowly into me, his tongue still working my clit, and I bucked my hips up as he stopped to look at what he was doing.
“Logan,” I complained. I felt his finger slide in farther and we both cursed at the feeling of my walls gripping him. I had never been so desperate for friction in my entire life.
“So tight, so perfect for me,” Logan murmured. I just nodded as he worked another finger in with the first and I arched off the bed, chasing my high. I felt his free hand press on my hip to keep me here on earth with him as he pumped those two wicked fingers in and out, licking at my clit all the while, as though it were his favorite brand of lollipop.
I couldn’t warn him before I actually came.
My ears were ringing as my body burst into a million pinpricks of light. Nothing else mattered as the waves came up and broke over me, Logan pushing me far past where I would have stopped had I been alone. When my pieces resettled into a sentient being I got only a few moments of clarity before the pollen pulled me back under.
But in those few moments, I saw how much love and affection Logan had in his eyes as he looked up at me from between my legs. He looked like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
“How was that?” Logan asked with the sort of grin that told me he knew exactly how that was.
“How are you not as horny as I am?” I complained. With a chuckle he kissed the inside of my thigh and then kissed his way up to my throat. My legs instinctively circled his hips, ready for more of him. I felt the heat of his length slide along my ass as I held him to me.
“Hank gave me something to take the edge off, some sedative,” Logan admitted dismissively. “Said he didn’t want me hurting anyone before we got ourselves sorted out,”
“Oh,” I felt his teeth teasing the soft skin below my ear and I wiggled a bit because it tickled.
“But it’s wearing off fast,” he added cheerfully. “So I hope you’re ready for another,”
“God yes. Please,” I whined at the thought of another orgasm. The first one had done wonders for the fire in my blood, but it wasn’t gone by any means. My bones were still feeling too sharp any time he stopped touching me.
Logan chuckled at my eagerness, but kissed me anyway. I happily parted my lips for him as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hand, warm on my hip, as he adjusted me so he could slot himself better between my thighs as our tongues took turns tasting each other.
We both groaned when his dick slid past my clit the first time. Another pass and we became creatures of feeling and nothing more.
Funny how you could dream of something and once you face the reality of it, it is so different. No matter what you think you know of the matter, you're so deliciously wrong.
When Logan finally pressed his tip into me, I swear the world ended. Inch by inch he filled that emptiness inside of me, pushing out any lingering thoughts of him not wanting me.
My fingers dug into his skin and he groaned lowly into my neck.
“Fuck,” he growled. “Relax for me, baby,”
“Can’t,” I forced the word out as my whole body tensed up. It felt amazing to be filled, but the intrusion was also new to me. My muscles didn’t know what to do with him, but they loved the feel of him simply being there, a pleasant burn, a wondrous sort of ache.
“Breathe,” he panted. “I can't move with you squeezing me so tight,”
“Sorry,” I had my eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on letting my body adjust to him. He was bigger than anything I'd even used myself and I had no idea how he'd managed to fit.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I felt Logan's hand rubbing circles on my hip. “Just take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” the pet name made me whimper as the pollen demanded friction I wasn't getting.
A shaky breath escaped me. Then another.
“That's it, keep breathing for me, just like that,” Logan praised me and I felt my face flame in pleasure. I could feel my muscles finally loosen as he pressed gentle kisses along my throat. “I'm gonna move now,” he warned. I nodded quickly, eyes still shut.
He pulled his hips back slowly, then pressed himself back in, this time somehow farther into me than he was before. My head felt hazy as he did it again. And again. And again. I could only let out little groans of pleasure as he split me apart.
“Look at me, baby,” Logan had a hand on my face again, holding me so he could look into my eyes when I finally opened them. “Doing ok?”
I nodded almost sleepily, feeling like every brain cell I'd ever grown was knocked out of my skull.
“I need you to say it, pretty girl,” he whispered, a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. The pet name made me clench around him and he cursed to himself at the feeling.
“I'm good,” I managed, wondering if I should pick a pet name for him too. But he seemed to be hogging them all.
“That's my girl,” Logan kissed my mouth again and I could taste his grin.
Pretty quickly it became clear his sedative had worn off completely.
The wild look from the jet came back to his eyes as he hoisted my legs up higher in his waist, drilling down into me as I continued to whimper. It felt like he was trying to mold me to the shape of him, so that no other dick would ever fit me quite right.
I wouldn't mind if that were true.
When his thumb pressed on my clit again I bucked up into him, arching off the bed. Logan chuckled and rubbed tight circles on the nub until I was crying from the stimulation.
“Need you to come for me again, sweetheart,”
“Trying to,” I huffed out, blinded by how easy it seemed for him to lift my hips and reposition me. I knew I weighed more than he did, it came up as a joke once and never left me alone. But he didn't seem to notice or care.
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he begged, his other hand, the one not preoccupied with my clit, moved to tug at one of my nipples. My fingers dug into his biceps as the orgasm wound itself tight around my pelvis. I swear I could feel my nails digging in, past his skin, into the meat of him. “Fuck - give it to me,”
If he noticed how far my nails dug into him, he didn’t care, redoubling his efforts with the movement of his hips against mine.
“Almost, almost,” I chanted. “Almost,” it was just babbling now but he understood.
It felt like heaven having something so large to clench around as the orgasm snapped through me. Doubly so when Logan's hips jerked a moment after my tremors ended and he filled me in a new way.
For a brilliant moment, the pain was entirely gone.
We lay panting, trying to catch the breath we’d stolen from each other. Logan chuckled, but it turned into a growl as he pulled himself out of me. I couldn’t help but gasp at the loss of him.
“You got another one for me?” Logan asked, pressing open mouth kisses along my neck and chest. I closed my eyes, trying to sear this memory into my brain so I could look back at the feeling of it, not just the knowledge that it had happened.
“Yeah,” I finally sighed, a contented noise, as the warmth that lingered in me spread out again and began to smolder. The pollen really must take a while to get out of one’s system… but I found that I didn’t really mind. “Just tired is all,”
“Poor baby,” Logan teased. “Come ‘ere,” He pulled me around so that he was behind me.
“Logan?” I questioned.
“Just let me take care of you,” He purred, nibbling his way across my shoulder to my ear. “Or don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you,” I said, confused as to what trust had to do with it. I trusted him with most things, if not everything outside of this room. So why not with this thing, inside the room?
“Good, now just relax and let me take care of my pretty girl,” he nipped at my earlobe as my face grew warm at his affections. This pollen was cruel if it made him so sweet only to take it away. But I didn’t find myself wanting to do anything I wouldn’t normally want to do, so maybe…just maybe…
“Ok,” I moved my head to catch his lips, and for a moment that distracted him from whatever it was he was originally planning when he got us situated on our sides, spooning, his front warm against my back.
When his calloused fingers bit into the meat of my thigh and lifted my leg up and and back to rest it over his, it quickly became clear what his plan was.
Logan shifted a bit so he could actually line himself up with me, but sank into me, deeper somehow, than ever before. I let out a pathetic noise at the sensation of being filled from this new angle.
“Shh, shh,” Logan hushed me, placing softer kisses on my exposed and sweaty skin. “Just like before, sweetheart, breathe,” It took less attempts to fill my lungs this time, my muscles relaxing enough to let him push and pull himself through me with practiced ease.
“Feels good,” I told him, wanting him to know I was still enjoying this.
“Good, baby,” I felt him smile against my neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” When he rocked his hips forward, I couldn’t help but moan instead of respond.
Logan slid his other arm beneath me, the muscles fitting perfectly into the curve of my natural waist. I’d have thought my stomach would be off putting to him, but here he was fondling it, fondling me, while also sliding so deep inside of me that I was surprised I was still breathing.
Somehow, the next orgasm felt deeper, stronger, and snuck up on me too.
I came with a cry, the sound a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure.
“Gonna cum again,” Logan warned me. “With you milking me like that, can’t…can’t help myself,” he clarified as though I’d asked or he was embarrassed.
“Please,” I begged, eyes wet. When I moaned, the drag of his cock through my folds beginning to overstimulate me, Logan bucked his hips harder once.
“Make that noise again,” he begged in return. I was happy enough to oblige. The next moan fed into his low roar as he spilled himself for the second time into my waiting heat.
When he made to pull himself out again, I whined and scooted back against him.
“Don’t leave me yet,” I mumbled, half asleep suddenly.
“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” His arms wrapped around me then and he held me close to his chest, still buried to the hilt inside me. I sighed happily.
“When you pulled out last time, the pain came back right away,” I told him.
“Oh, is that why?” He asked skeptically.
“And it feels good,” I mumbled, my eyes closing. “Like you inside me,” But right as I was about to fall asleep, a shot went through me. Like static pains as your limbs wake up, having been asleep too long.
I felt my heart rate pick back up and my breathing came out harder.
“Back already?” Logan mused.
“I guess so,” I mourned the loss of rest, but was not opposed to more shenanigans with the man in my bed. I’d thought if he stayed inside me the pollen would wait.
“Lucky for you, I can go all night, pollen or not.” Logan bragged. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know exactly how pleased with himself his smirk would be.
“Even with that sedative?” I smirked, but I whined as Logan pulled himself out of me. He just readjusted us so that I was flat on my back and he was looking down at me. He looked like heaven resting his weight on his elbows next to my head. He was so close, he smelled so good, and for at least this one moment, he was entirely mine.
“Sweetheart, that’s been out of my system for ages,” He leaned down to cover my mouth with his and I couldn’t help but reach up and tangle my fists in his hair. He chuckled against my tongue when I pulled to keep him close to me.
“Oh,” I said, rather shyly.
“Why? Have I not been giving it to you hard enough?” Logan’s voice was mostly teasing, but he moved to take my bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged enough that it pulled a gasp from my chest, before he let go.
“You saying you can’t go harder?” I wasn’t sure why I pushed him, and I could blame the pollen… or I could blame all the romance novels I’d read where every sex scene was dotted with harder, harder, harder!
“Oh honey, be careful,” Logan warned, mirth and something fiery in his eyes…animalistic joy at the thought of harder.
“Oh honey,” I mocked him. “I dare you,” I used the same mocking tone and was not surprised when he growled and descended on me like a lion on a baby gazelle.
All teeth and tongue and primal heat.
I lost count of the orgasms he pulled from me. All I knew was that I would never be able to face him if he decided that this meant nothing after all because I would never stop craving him. Having had a taste of Logan, even if it had been coerced by a silly plant, I knew I’d never crave anything else.
“You still with me, pretty?” Logan’s voice made me open my eyes again.
“Mhmm,” I murmured, reaching out to get my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, just hugging him to me like he was the teddy bear I needed to fall asleep. He pressed his forehead into mine. I hummed, happy to have him in my arms. He pressed a few chaste kisses to my lips, gentle and sweet.
“Do you need another?” Logan’s voice was slightly worried but I just shook my head. The feeling of the pollen clouding my head, clogging my veins… that feeling that my bones were too sharp… was entirely gone now. I was left to bask in the afterglow and tiredness of what we’d done.
“Do you, handsome?” The pet name tasted funny but I figured I could go one more round if he needed to. After all, it would only be fair.
“I was good two orgasms ago,” Logan admitted. I clicked my tongue, giving him a scandalized look.
“What?” I asked, sounding a bit like I thought he was lying.
“Yeah, the pollen was out of my head probably two ago,” He kissed the tip of my nose as I wrinkled it at him.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Didn’t want to cut the fun short,” Logan smirked. “Plus, you still smelled wrong,”
“Oh thanks,” I rolled my eyes, feeling more like myself than I had in what feels like weeks.
“You smell much better without that sickly sweet pollen on you,” Logan assured me. He kissed the edge of my mouth, asking permission to kiss me properly. I moved to catch his lips and he purred against me. “You taste better without it too,”
“Mmm,” I made a noise of agreement because the tiredness was back.
“I’m going to go get cleaned up, then I’ll be back to clean you up, ok sweetheart?” Logan asked, his knuckles running along my side. I nodded, feeling sleep coming for me. The last thing I heard was Logan chuckle as he moved across the room to my ensuite.
I was face down, when Logan returned. Most of my bedding had been tossed aside at one point or another, the pillows were gone and all that remained were the sheets. The fitted sheet had popped off one corner and the other sheet was only enough to cover my nudity, but it was cold and damp in far too many spots to be any sort of comfortable.
“How ya feeling, love?” Logan asked, crouching down next to where my head was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but it was clear he’d showered since I’d seen him last. I was the wrong way round on my bed, arms curled into my naked chest because I was cold.
“Sticky… sore… cold,” I mumbled. “And tired, but I really want a shower,”
“Come on,” He moved to help me up and I grumbled the entire time. Logan just chuckled as he helped me into the bathroom. “Want help showering?”
“No, I’m ok,” I told him. Something about how gently he was speaking kept me from making any snide comments that may have normally slipped free. I wondered if he was being nice because he was a gentleman, or if it was because he genuinely cared. I wondered if it could maybe be a bit of both.
He reached to start the shower anyway.
“Do you want me to be here when you get out?” Logan’s voice almost hid his fear of rejection.
“Do you want to be?” I countered him, unsure if he should want to remain in my space after… all that.
“Of course,” He turned to place a gentle kiss on my forehead and I leaned into him.
“Please be here when I get out,” I said, catching his eye. He nodded as I got into the waiting warm water.
As I stood in the shower, my brain finally clear, I couldn’t help but wonder what came next.
Would Logan want to date me after all this? Would he want to just fuck? Would he want anything to do with me at all?
Would he remember saying he wanted me?
Instead of spiraling, I forced myself to focus on washing the sweat off my skin. I found several spots marked with Logan’s teeth, all of which were bruised or bruising. I felt my face get the sort of warm that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water running down my back.
I washed my hair, I washed my skin. I washed the evidence of fucking from between my legs. Something in me mourned the loss, if only because with the mess gone, there was less evidence that, even for a moment, he’d wanted me like that.
Eventually, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in my towel, which was damp since someone had already used it.
“Logan!” I grumbled loudly. “You got my towel all wet!” It didn’t really matter but I was hoping he’d still be there for me to be grumpy with and it was easier than asking if he was there.
Logan appeared in the bathroom doorway, shirtless still, and wearing a pair of my sweatpants that were comically loose around his hips, even though he had the strings pulled tight.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” He moved away for a moment and came back with my spare towel. “I found this one while I looked for sheets,”
“Sheets?” I took the towel from him and turned around as though there was any need for modesty. I put the new towel around my shoulders before letting the damp one fall, then readjusted so the fresh towel was around me properly.
“I figured while you got cleaned up, I’d work on the mess we made of your bed,” Logan’s smirk was cheeky and proud. It made my skin flame.
“Oh, well thank you for that,” I said. I went through the motions of my normal after shower routine. Brushing my hair, lotioning my face, putting product in my hair… distinctly aware that Logan was watching me from his spot leaning against the doorframe.
I was brushing my teeth when Logan spoke again.
“I think we should talk about it,” He said with that tone he used on students when they were clearly lying to him. I wondered why he used that tone now, as I wasn’t saying anything. How could I be lying?
“What about it?” I asked, finishing up. I just needed to dry the rest of me and put some pjs on. I paused when I turned and Logan was still blocking the doorway with his shirtless chest.
“Are you good? I didn’t hurt you… did I?” Something vulnerable made its way into his eyes before he could stop it.
“I mean, you bit me in the ass, that stings a little bit,” I tried to joke. When he didn’t laugh, I shrugged. “You didn’t hurt me, but… It was a lot, I won’t lie.”
“It was a lot for me too.” He agreed. “I’d been hoping to ask you out before sleeping with you, but it seems we didn’t get much of a choice,” I choked on my own throat at his confession.
“You wanted to ask me out?” I fumbled with that idea, even after everything. No one asked me out, especially not when they meant to actually follow through. Logan nodded.
“I’d love to take you out sometimes, if you want,” He watched me with those hazel eyes and I felt a strange mix of fear and warmth at the way his face softened. “But we can talk about that later too,”
“I’d never had sex before,” I blurted out suddenly. Logan froze. “It’s fine, and I didn’t really think it mattered to me, but… but it feels like I should say something,”
“Well fuck,” He cursed. “That’s not how I would have envisioned it,”
“Can’t say I ever really envisioned it at all,” I told him, trying to make it sound like a joke.
His brow furrowed.
“Why not?”
“People never exactly lined up to take me out or sleep with me, and I made my peace with that,” I stepped closer to him and he watched until I shooed him from the door. “Let me get some undies on,”
“I wouldn’t mind if you left them off,” Logan smirked, enjoying the way my skin darkened with a blush.
“Oh shush,” I shot over my shoulder at him while I dug out some underwear and my pjs. I picked the prettiest underwear I had, which honestly were still pretty much granny panties, but they were a cute color and design at least. And for pjs, I picked something simple, a tank and shorts.
“Are you avoiding looking at me, pretty girl?” Logan hummed from close behind me. I shivered at his sordid tone.
“It’s not my fault you’ve decided to stay half naked and gorgeous,” I grumbled, pulling on my clothes. I felt somewhat better with clothes on, but also, it felt weird after being naked for so long.
“Can’t promise to change either of those things anytime soon,” When he pressed a small kiss to my shoulder, I jumped. “Sorry,” he purred, no longer advancing.
“I can’t believe you still want to touch me after all that,” I said softly. There was no anger in it. No malice. Just surprise.
“Sweetheart, I’d fuck you again right now if you asked me to,” The heat of his words tore through me like a stray bullet.
“I don’t think I could handle that just now,” I forced a smile thinking about how raw I felt inside and out. “Thanks though,”
“This ok?” Logan asked, taking my hand and turning me around. He set my palm against his sternum and his hands found new purchase, one on my hip, the other on my cheek. I nodded against his palm. “I want to make sure you’re really ok,”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I felt my throat closing on unexpected tears. I frowned at myself. “Why do I want to cry?”
“Go ahead and cry, baby,” Logan said softly in return. “If that’s what you need,”
“But I’m not sad,” I mumbled as tears, hot and fat, rolled down my cheeks. “What the heck,” This was more to myself and the tears streaming down my face. I tried to wipe them with my bare hand and it really only smeared them along my cheeks. Logan kissed my forehead and led me to my bed.
“It’s a lot, and new, and not exactly normal.” Logan assured me.
“What, your first time wasn’t with your crush dosed up on sex pollen?” I joked through the tears. I pulled a handful of tissues from the box that miraculously had remained unscathed on my nightstand and wiped my face with a pair of them. My lamp was in an entirely different spot. I guessed we’d knocked it over and Logan had righted it when he remade the bed.
“The first time with my crush might have been like that,” He teased back and I blushed.
“You saying you have a crush on me?”
“Maybe,” His smirk was boyish and if I didn’t know any better, I thought maybe his cheeks were a little bit pinker than they were before.
I crawled into the bed and watched Logan stand there in my sweatpants.
“Will you join me?” I asked carefully. I wiped at my face again and was happy to find that the tears were leaving as fast as they had come.
“Was just thinking about sneaking down to the kitchen,” Logan gave me a smile. “Unless you’ve got something else tasty hiding in here somewhere,” A sudden grumble came from my stomach as I realized I was starving.
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘something else’ tasty, but I’ve got a stash of snacks,” I stood again and went to my closet, kneeling down to pull out one of those sort of flimsy storage ottomans you get at big box stores. Logan followed me and chuckled.
“I mean other than you, sweetheart,” He shook his head when I scoffed. “You know, you are terribly hard to flirt with,”
“Do you want my snacks or to tease me?” I complained, leaning back so he could see my stash. I had a little bit of a lot of things in the ottoman. Everything from beef jerky and granola bars, to poptarts, to candy of all kinds.
Logan let out a low whistle.
“I wondered how you always seemed to have the good snacks,”
“Well Scott steals anything in the kitchen. That man is a menace to poptarts. Plus Rouge specifically takes any candy I’ve ever left in there, and I have no proof, but I’m pretty sure Ororo steals all the salty snacks, so I had to improvise if I wanted anything to be where I left it.” I sat crossed legged and pulled out a granola bar, opening it right there and taking a bite. “God, I don’t think I’ve been this hungry in my life.”
“It’s probably a side effect of the pollen… takes a lot out of you,” Logan joined me on the floor, our legs touching while we faced the ottoman and the bottom half of my clothes over it. Logan grabbed a pack of beef jerky and I nodded when he held it up to ask if he could eat it.
I opened a pack of pop tarts next while Logan watched me break it into pieces and pop them into my mouth one by one.
“What?” I chuckled as he absently chewed on his snack while staring at me with such adoration in his eyes it made my stomach flip. Which was surprisingly easy to handle on my current diet of poptarts and sugar.
“You’re pretty,” He told me and looked away only long enough to fish another chunk of jerky out of his bag. The bit he pulled out was one of the bigger ones and he held it out to me. “Pretty girls need protein too,”
“You’re pretty,” I snorted, pretending it was an insult. But I took the jerky from him anyway and tore it in half with my teeth. I caught Logan swallow hard at the sight and my cheeks grew warm yet again.
“I mean it, you know,” He added. “I’ve been around for a long time and you’re my favorite thing to look at,” I smiled at that. It was so much better feeling than the normal things he said that I didn’t believe.
“You’re my favorite thing to look at too,” I told him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. He moved to press his mouth into mine, a chaste kiss around sugared and salted lips. I chuckled, giddy, when he pulled away. Maybe I could believe him.
In the quiet darkness of my closet, watching him sift through my snack ottoman, it felt like it would be so easy to believe him. To believe that he might love me.
“I love you,” I told him suddenly. He paused with his own pack of pop tarts in his hand.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” Logan’s grin was soft and so full of love. For once I didn’t look away because I figured if I witnessed it enough I would believe it. I smiled as I watched him tear into his next snack. Maybe I should stop fighting my feelings and just believe him.
It felt so easy to just give into it.
So, I think I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part One
[Logan List]
[Masterlist]
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#wolverine#wolverine x reader#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett smut#sex pollen#james howlett logan#logan#smut#james logan howlett#james logan howlett x reader#logan 2017#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x female reader#logan smut#logan wolverine#logan x reader#logan xmen#logan howlett x you#old man logan#old man logan x reader#the wolverine#lackofpamcakes#He Brings Me Flowers (Logan)#imtherain
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Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl
MDNI- Explicit Yandere Gojo jerks off thinking about you, Geto's girlfriend, yandere Suguru decides he'll share you once.
Warnings: -yandere Geto and Gojo, oral sex -f receiving, M receiving, p in v sex, threesome, Eifel tower, choking, smacking, dollification, dumbification, lowkey misogyny lol
Part One ♡ Part Two ♡ Part Three
♡ Part Four ♡
Suguru starts slow with his flicks, tongue slid against your clit, the cool metal of his barbell shocking you, then his thick fingers are pumping into you, pulling more wetness out of your slick little pussy. Satoru's hand on your throat gets tighter, and tighter, until your eyes are watering and your vision swims with pleasure, his free hand is gripping and squeezing your breast, pinching your nipple.
"You like that?" He whispers, and you nod, eyes fluttering, because you do. You've never been with anyone but Suguru before, but Satoru's touch is driving you wild too, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head back so he can kiss down your neck, his breath warm and his tongue wet.
You rock your hips up against Suguru's mouth as he works you so well, you feel Satoru's teeth graze your neck, his grip on your throat loosening slightly as he kisses and licks his way down to your shoulder, teeth sinking in sharp and deep, his hand moving down to grip your hip, slipping around to your tummy and lower, sky blue eyes boring into you, watching you intensely.
"You're so wet, you like us both on you, hmm?" He murmurs, touching your pussy when Suguru pulls back, his voice thick with desire.
"Mmh..." You can't manage to say a word, leaning into Satoru's touch, arching your back as Suguru's thumb starts to circle your clit, his tongue sliding into you, lavishing your velvety walls, making your eyes roll back in your head.
"Close!" You gasp out, and they both chuckle darkly, their hands moving in tandem to bring you closer and closer to the edge.
"So greedy already." Suguru whispers, and Satoru tightens his grip on your throat again, making you whimper.
"So slutty. Look at her, she loves it." Satoru murmurs, watching your pretty face as he squeezes the oxygen out of your lungs. Your eyes go to Suguru's violet ones, he's smirking deviously just like Satoru, as you're soaking his hands and further. You're so close, so fucking close, and you know they can feel it, their hands moving faster, their touches growing more insistent, their breaths hot against your skin.
"Cum for us, baby," Satoru says, and you do, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm, your pussy clenching around Suguru's fingers as he keeps pumping, making you scream weakly, Satoru's grip tightening so much you see stars.
When you come down, you're panting, your chest heaving, your eyes glazed with pleasure, fuck you're so beautiful, Satoru thinks, when he finally lets your throat go, god he could have snapped your pretty little neck, you're so small compared to them. Satoru watches your eyes flutter shut, drool just barely spilling out of your open mouth.
"Already looking stupid, we're just starting." Suguru says, and Satoru glares down at him then.
"I will show you stupid when I fuck her."
"Oh yeah? We'll see. Princess, do you want Satoru to fuck you?" You nod weakly, Satoru eases you off him, you're so pathetic like this he thinks. He loves it. "She likes being on her back, but she also likes being on all fours."
"Aw is she a pillow princess, Sugu?" He teases, earning your cute little scowl.
"I can suck dick, thank you!" He's chuckling now, Suguru is chuckling too, when Satoru picks you up, making you squeak. "Hey!"
"She's so cute." Satoru says, Suguru nods in agreement, lighting up another blunt, walking to the bedroom as Satoru unceremoniously plops you right on the bed. Satoru has you on your back now, thighs spread as Suguru smokes, still with his pants on, sitting on the recliner and grinning at you too. "Did you wanna suck us, slutty girl?"
"Y-yes." You whisper, but Satoru's already leaning up, releasing his huge, thick length, with a pretty pink tip, veins wrapping it. He's as big as Suguru but a little thinner, curved up more, your pussy responds by throbbing, your hand sliding down to grip him.
"You can suck us in a bit, I'd rather feel this pussy."
"Condom."
"Suguru I swear to god." Satoru scowls over at him, and Suguru rolls his eyes. "I won't cum in her?"
"You won't be able to pull out." He challenges, making Satoru smirk down at you, raising a brow.
"Are you cum thirsty?"
"Fuck you, Satoru." You say with a glare, earning a mad grin from his face when he pulls a thigh over his elbows.
"Can she take it deep, Sugu?"
"Not at first." Suguru's leaning back and watching you both, licking his lower lip, dark silky hair falling just so. Your eyes meet, your heart racing at what you both were doing. "You have to ease in with her at first, she's tiny."
"Poor baby can't take dick?" He teases, earning you smacking at him, only serving to make them both laugh. "I'll be easy at first then."
Satoru sinks slowly into your entrance, his leaky tip pressing through the tight ring of muscles, then he moans, his eyes shutting those long white lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "Mmm!" You cry out, hips arching up for more, as he sinks slower and slower, finally shoved in so deep he's on your cervix. "Ah!"
"Tell him if you like it or not Princess." Suguru says, his voice husky, you look up at Satoru, who's no longer smiling, his lips are parted, his eyes dilated so much they're black almost.
"Fuck she's perfect. Oh my god." Satoru groans, easing back then shoving in, and you cling to him, whimpering. "Feel so tight, fuck."
"Y-yes, there..." You whisper, as his tip drags on your spot in your fluttering walls, you're soaking the length of his cock. He moans, starting to fuck you now, thrusting deep, one hand brushing your hair back as he moans, husky and deep.
"You've got her close already, throw one of her legs on your shoulders, she likes that." You peek at Suguru, holding your hand out now, he smiles at you, walking over. You stroke him over his pants, feeling his hard length.
"Ah-ah, look at me brat." Satoru grips your chin and shoves in deep, you scream out, he's squishing your cheeks as he fucks you harder, deeper now.
"Satoru..." Suguru warns, and he sighs, slowing and kissing you deeply, exhaling in your mouth. "You better not be in love with her."
"Too late." You blink in shock, gasping now, he eases up and pulls one of your thighs over his shoulders, going so deep you shatter, cumming all over his length. "Oh my god feel her tighten up..."
"That's my favorite part." Suguru is playing with one of your breasts now, plucking a nipple, as Satoru's grinding his cock inside you, and you're broken from them, completely fucked. You can barely see, blacked out vision, struggling to get a breath as you're fluttering around Satoru's cock. "You fall in love so easy?"
"With her, fuck yes, already have been since I saw her." You feel tears hot and sticky now, as Satoru's thrusts slow, he eases out of you now, making you cry out from emptiness. "Fuck I love you crying."
"Get back in." You huff, they both laugh now. "And you, get in here." You scowl up at Suguru, yanking on his belt.
"She's so demanding."
"I'm right here, Satoru." You stick your tongue out now, then Satoru has you on your knees, thighs spread, smacking your ass hard. "Ah! Fuck!"
"I didn't say you could smack her." Suguru says with a glare, and Satoru whines.
"But look at this hand print Suguru." Suguru sighs, tilting your chin up, you look up at him hungrily.
"Do you want him to smack you?"
"I want both of you to." You whisper, Suguru leans down and kisses you, as Satoru smacks you again. "Wanna see you Sugu..."
"Anything you ask, Princess. Satoru, not so rough." Satoru has smacked the fuck out of your ass cheek once more, now Suguru strips naked, and you reach out to stroke his thick length, earning his moan of approval. "Want me to smack you? Where."
"Face." You whisper, earning him gently smacking your face, as Satoru smacks your ass again, moaning and stroking your pussy with his tip.
"She's a freak? Surprising. Pegged her as a good girl." Satoru shoves inside you again, as Suguru's pulling at your hair with just the right pressure.
"Open that mouth, beautiful." He orders, and you eagerly do. "She is a good girl, Satoru. You have to ask her right."
"Mmm... fuck... You gonna suck him, baby?" Satoru is fucking into you, leaning over you with his long body, whispering in your ear as you lick Suguru's tip. You nod, hair still being pulled by Suguru, pussy getting pounded by Satoru. Your hands grip the sheets weakly, thighs shaking, arms locked. "I'll get jealous though."
"Satoru, you're pussy drunk. I'll cut you off." Suguru says with a glare, and Satoru pouts now.
"Oh fine! But I want her to suck me next." Suguru shoves his thick cock inside your mouth now, moaning and gently smacking your other cheek of your face, as Satoru eases, smacking your ass, and you're close again, as they're pushing inside of you, filling you, big strong hands hitting and grabbing you.
"She's so good at it..." Suguru's head falls back, as he's fucking your throat, you're breathing through your nose, struggling to take him deeper.
"Stop bragging! Her pussy though..." Satoru whimpers, this high pitched gasp, pausing inside your pussy for a moment, big hands digging into the plush of your hips.
"All her holes feel so good." Suguru murmurs, fucking your mouth faster now.
Satoru chuckles. "All of them, hmm?"
Fuck.
Disclaimer I guess- Yandere behavior isn't cool IRL, just in fiction with Gojo and Geto lmaoo <3
Tag lists seem to not work so I'm tagging in the comments lol! Comment for a part five!
Full Gojo fics: Cruel Duke Gojo story here - Sweet Lawyer Gojo here -Psycho Yandere Gojo here - Cocky CEO Gojo here - Doctor Gojo- Gojo Drabbles
#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#gojo smut#geto x gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satosugu x y/n#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#yandere satosugu#yandere gojo#yandere geto#gojo jjk#geto jjk#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you
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Welcome Home
Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: nothing!
Genre: Flufff
Summary: Your boyfriend Hyunjin is so excited to take you home for the very first time. The catch? He's the King of the Underworld, and his home is well...the Underworld.
You stood in the middle of your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes you were desperately trying to pack. You had a suitcase open in front of you, but you're not really sure what to pack, really. Because someone wasn't being really helpful with this whole packing thing.
You throw a glance at Hyunjin, who stood leaning against your doorway, arms crossed, watching you.
Hyunjin. The King of the Underworld. Your very own boyfriend, who was bouncing off the walls completely excited for your trip to the Underworld for the very first time.
You'd be spending six months with him in his world, which was an agreement you two came to, to make this thing work. Especially since him being a God restricted his prolonged periods of absence from the underworld.
"Are you almost done?" Hyunjin asked, his voice dripping with impatience as he came over and hovered over you like a shadow.
“You could help me, you know,” You said dryly. “Do I need sweaters? Is your dungeon cold?”
“Excuse you, I don't live in a dungeon.” Hyunjin scoffed dramatically, a hand on his hip. "You don't need a sweater. Actually you don't need half of what you're packing, trust me."
"Oh, I won’t? Then tell me what I should bring, Your Majesty," you said, raising an eyebrow as he discarded a sweater from your suitcase. "You won’t be cold because it's eternally warm where I live."
You threw up your hands in exasperation.
"Ok, fine, fine. What else?"
"Now, get rid of the rest. You won’t need anything." Hyunjin said as he plopped onto your bed, looking far too smug for someone who lived in a literal hellhole.
“Baby, can you please just-” You began, but Hyunjin groaned, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck.
"You won’t need any of these clothes anyway," he mumbled, dismissing a pair of jeans you had just picked out. “It’s just us down there. You’ll be fine in your skin."
"Excuse me?" You shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, I won't need any clothes?!"
Hyunjin giggled, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer.
"Well, if you really want to wear them..." He grinned, but then his smile softened. “But I think you’ll look better without them.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and tried not to smile. You were trying to resist, but the way he gazed at you made it impossible. Hyunjin knew exactly how to tame you.
“You're crazy,” You laugh, as he left soft kisses along the side of your neck.
“Darling, I’m the King of the Underworld. I’m prepared to have my Queen home. You really don't have to worry about anything.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek, just barely grazing your skin. "Trust me. It’s just us and Cerberus. Oh, and a few souls here and there…"
“Hyunjin, I'm genuinely worried now.” You managed, prying yourself off his grip.
“Don't be!! Cerberus will be there to protect you. He's the best dog in the world.” Hyunjin’s face lit up as he spoke of his beloved pet. “You’ll love him.”
“Sure I will.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Hyunjin as he discreetly pushed a stack of clothes away from your suitcase. “YAH! STOP IT!”
“Ok, I'm done,” you finally announced, slamming the lid of your suitcase shut. You turned to face Hyunjin and found him lying on your bed with his arms tucked behind his head.
You barely had a moment to lift your suitcase before Hyunjin was by your side. And the transition from your bedroom to the underworld was...well…unexpected, to say the least. You were surrounded by an eerie, otherworldly glow - and then, everything was bathed in shadows and lit by flickering torches.
As soon as your feet touched the black stone floor of Hyunjin’s home, he held you close and murmured, “Welcome home, my queen,”
You rolled your eyes, even though your heart fluttered. Before you could respond, a deep growl cut through the air.
You froze, whipping your head to the side. There, standing just a few feet away, was Cerberus, Hyunjin’s very own baby - with his three heads, and the most terrifying growl you’d ever heard. Hyunjin grinned as he stepped forward and hugged the massive dog.
“Cerby! There’s my boy! Look, it’s mummy!” Hyunjin called out excitedly. “Now, be a good boy and don’t scare her. We’re on a tight schedule here.”
And just like that, the beast started wagging its tail, all three heads giving you the most intense side-eye, but no longer growling.
“Come on, babe, don't be rude!” Hyunjin said, holding out his hand to you.
You could see how excited he is and you knew that he'd never put you in danger, so you take his hand, letting him pull you closer.
Cerberus let out a low whine and nudged one of his massive heads against you. You froze for a moment, and then reached out to pet him. Surprisingly, his fur was soft under your fingers, and his eyes literally glowed with joy as you scratched behind one of his ears.
Hyunjin’s smirk returned as he watched you interact with his son.
“See? Told you he’s the goodest boy.” He said, kissing your cheek. “And, he’s got your back, babe. He’ll protect you from anything.”
“Protect me from what exactly?” you asked, still petting Cerberus.
“From me, of course,” Hyunjin said with a teasing wink, his hold on you tightening. “You know…so that I don't get carried away.”
You laughed, and said, “This is called digging your own grave, Hyunjin.”
Cerberus huffed and gave an exaggerated snarl, the middle head baring its teeth at Hyunjin’s proximity to you.
“He’s just protective. He’s never seen me like this before, you know.” he said, completely unbothered.
You giggled, rubbing Cerberus's ear affectionately.
Hyunjin’s hands slid down your back and he pressed his lips against your neck.
“I’m so happy you're finally here, baby,” he said, his lips trailing down your throat, his hands now sliding over your waist, trying to pull you into him completely. His fingers caressed your jawline as he leaned down, his lips so close to yours. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Jinnie,” You whispered, and Hyunjin leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed as your fingers ran through his hair, and just then Cerberus let out a deep, low growl.
Hyunjin (clearly frustrated now) shot him a look and said, “I’ve got this under control, Cerby.”
You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing as Hyunjin’s hands slid lower, stopping right on your butt, just as Cerberus gave a gentle nudge to your side.
Hyunjin rolled his eyes and said, “I swear, you're such a cockblock.”
“He’s just trying to make sure I survive my first night here with you.” you said and Hyunjin laughed darkly, his eyes burning with mischief and desire.
“Oh, don’t worry, my queen.” He murmured, and kissed you again, slow and deep. “And believe me…you’re going to love it here with me.
As you walked through Hyunjin’s obsidian-tiled palace of shadow and flame, you couldn't help but admire the place. The tiles beneath your feet were lit by the golden glow of molten rivers that twisted like veins under the black floors.
Even as he led you to his bedroom, his hands moved down your back, and Cerberus let out a softer growl - almost like a sigh - as if he had given up on trying to stop Hyunjin.
“So what do you think?” He asked, stopping in front of a beautiful room.
You gave an appreciating nod, and said, “I love it.”
“Yeah? You do? Are you happy?”
“What's not to love? I've got the sweetest dog and a completely unhinged god here to protect me. This is perfect.”
Hyunjin looked down at you with that wicked grin of his.
“Babe, you have no idea just how good this is going to be,” he said.
And you couldn't help but agree
#stray kids#skz#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x you#hyunjin fluff#skz fluff#stray kids fluff
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Gentle Touch
✿ Sylus x fem!reader
✿ He got hurt protecting you. You return the favor by tending to his wounds.
✿ slight!angst/comfort. fluff. pre-established relationship.
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The soft touch of your hands on his skin sent a shiver down Sylus's spine, a stark contrast to the searing pain that had been consuming him just moments ago. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way your hair fell across your face as you concentrated on your task of tending to his injuries.
*She's always been beautiful.* He mused silently, *But seeing her like this... it's different.*
Gone was the cold hostility that had once defined their interactions, replaced by a gentleness that made Sylus's heart ache in a way he never thought possible. He reached out with his uninjured hand, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
"You know," He murmured, his voice low and rough, "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be touching me with such care."
You glanced up at him, your tired yet gentle eyes meeting his amused ones. A faint blush colored your cheeks, but you didn't look away.
"Don't read too much into it," You retorted, but there was no bite to your words. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."
Sylus chuckled, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. "Is that so? And here I thought you'd finally realized how much you need me."
He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about the way you looked at him now, something that made him want to test the boundaries of this newfound closeness.
You rolled your eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Don't push it, Sylus. You're in no position to be cocky."
"And yet," He drawled, leaning in closer with his hands resting on your sides on the bathroom sink where you sat, "You're still here, aren't you? Tending to my wounds like a dutiful nurse."
You huffed, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you continued your ministrations, your touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary.
Sylus let his eyes drift shut, savoring the moment. He knew it wouldn't last forever, that sooner or later they'd return to their roles as adversaries. But for now, he was content to bask in the warmth of your care, to let himself believe, even if just for a little while, that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between both of you.
"You're too reckless, Sylus," You frowned in frustration, unable to stop yourself from putting a bit of pressure on his wounded arm. "If you hadn't been so determined to protect me, you wouldn't be in this mess."
Sylus winced as your fingers probed a particularly deep gash, the sting of the disinfectant making his breath hitch. He knew he deserved your scolding, knew that he'd been reckless in the heat of the moment. But hearing your voice laced with frustrated concern, with a hint of something deeper, made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to.
"I didn't get hurt because of you," He muttered, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. "I got hurt because I was trying to protect you, kitten."
Your eyes narrowed, your brow furrowing in annoyance. "Protect me? By charging headfirst into an ambush without a plan? That's not protecting me, that's being a damn fool."
Sylus opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue as your hands stilled on his chest, right near his heart. You were looking at him with an intensity that made his heart race, your eyes searching his red ones as if trying to find the answers to questions you haven't yet asked.
"You can't keep doing this," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights. "You can't keep putting yourself in harm's way for me. I'm not worth it."
Sylus felt a surge of anger at your words, at the self-loathing that seemed to radiate off of you in waves. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Don't say that," He growled, his voice low and fierce. "You're worth everything to me, sweetie. Everything. And if that means taking a few bullets to keep you safe, then so be it."
Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment, Sylus thought you might push him away, might tell him to go to hell. But instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you let out a shaky breath.
"You're an idiot," You mumbled, but there was no heat behind your words.
Sylus smiled, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek and it took a tremendous amount of willpower to stop himself from taking you right then and there.
He didn't want to risk ruining what chance he could have with you, just having you near him brought him solace he desperately needed.
"Yeah," He agreed, his voice softening, resting his forehead against yours as he left out a shaky exhale. "But I'm your idiot."
And for now, that was enough.
#sylus x you#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds fanfic#lnds x reader#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds sylus
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can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)
i love ur writing sm!!
dating ellie williams ◡̈
cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.
note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!
ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.
ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.
ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.
now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.
ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.
for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.
for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.
ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.
“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”
“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”
“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.
another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.
“goodnight, els.” smooch.
ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.
if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.
speaking of cooking…
ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.
so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.
ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.
and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)
ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).
meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).
ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).
ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!
your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.
her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.
overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.
#🪅#millersfinest#ellie tlou#ellie williams#lesbian#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams smut
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Change of Heart
Summary: Harry's a protecter, a good man. She's a shy librarian with a dog named Pickle. He can't stand her, so why does it fuck him up when he finds out she's scared of him? (Enemies-to-lovers) Word Count: 17k+ Warnings: Harry being a dick, smut
Harry always tried to be a good person.
Key word: Tried.
Growing up, it was just him, his sister, and his mother, so he always felt as a natural protector for women, not implying that women can't hold their own, but he always keeps extra lookout because he can't count all the times his mother and sister have been put in uncomfortable situations with men.
So, he can't understand why all that being said, he can't feel anything but disdain for her.
Y/N has been a part of Harry's friend group almost as long as he has, and he can't stand her. She is the fakest person he's ever met.
He remembers his sister dealing with girls like her in high school. They start off kind and sweet, but then suddenly they have everyone wrapped around their fingers and doing anything they ask. He remembers his sister crying to him about girls like her, so he can't understand why he has to entertain her presence.
He's talked to Niall, his closest friend who's also in their group, about it, but Niall doesn't see the problem. Hell, Y/N has Niall and the rest of them wrapped around her manicured finger.
He really just can't stand her.
"Y/N, tell us how your job interview went!" Harry rolls his eyes and shoots back some of his beer. It was rare that his friend group actually went out to a bar instead of gathering at one of their homes, usually because Y/N hated going out. He feels Niall hit his leg at his eye roll.
"Oh, yes! It went really well, in fact, you're looking at a professional librarian!" Y/N says, her excitement evident in her voice.
"That's so great, Y/N. I'm so proud of you!" Sarah says while the others all chime in with their own praise.
"Awesome, a job almost as boring as you!" Harry says snidely. He usually isn't so blunt, but he's had a few drinks in him.
"Harry- dude, c'mon," Mitch sighs.
"N-no, I get it," Y/N interjects. "It definitely sounds boring just saying it, but I'll be fixing binding on really old books and helping people out with-" Y/N is interrupted when Harry starts dramatically snoring. Y/N looks around the table, getting visibly embarrassed.
"Alright, H, I think you're tapped out. You're being an asshole," Niall says and tries to push him out of the booth.
"Oh, come off it. I'm just joking," Harry rolls his eyes.
"It's fine, I got the joke," Y/N tries to laugh. "I'm going to go get another drink," she says before sliding out of the booth.
"Do you want me to come with?" Sarah asks, knowing about her friend's social anxiety.
"N-no, I'll be okay," Y/N reassures her and grabs her purse before walking off to the bar. She's wearing a big sweater and jeans to a bar, and it's pissing Harry off.
"You need to fucking lay off, man," Mitch says and throws a napkin at Harry. "Just because she doesn't work with lumber and hammers and whatever else manly shit that you do, doesn't mean her job isn't any less important."
"Actually, to be correct, I am a project manager for a multi-million-dollar company-"
"Shut up," Sarah groans.
"You're so mean to her- that's not you," Mitch sighs.
"I'm not fucking mean- she's just annoying. And look at all of you, wrapped around her finger, just like she wants."
Niall goes to speak but is interrupted by Sarah reading a message off of her phone.
I'm so sorry, but I started feeling really sick, so I went home. Hope you guys have fun!
Once Sarah finishes reading the message she looks at Harry with a glare.
"Well, how the hell is she getting home? Didn't you drive her?" Harry asks Sarah.
"Oh, are you worried?" She asks with a condescending tone.
"Shut up."
Y/N thinks this is the first actual party she's been invited to. Sure she went to her fair share of birthday parties and sleepovers, but they were all PG. Never had she seen so many red solo cups in one place before. One of her friends released an EP, and they're celebrating by hosting a huge party at their apartment.
Sarah helped her pick out her entire outfit and assured her she looks amazing. Y/N has always struggled with her appearance because her parents weren't around very much. Between business trips and trying to live their own lives, there wasn't time to acknowledge their daughter. She would be dragged to their business parties, and she would just feel surrounded by a bunch of white bigoted men who thought they were superior just because they get fat checks.
When they arrived, they were immediately greeted by the stench of alcohol and weed. The apartment was crowded and loud, and Y/N was beginning to get nervous.
"Hey, it's okay," Sarah assures her, and she nods in agreement. "Let's go find our people," Sarah suggests and loops her arm with Y/N's.
"I think I see Niall," Y/N points out, and her theory was proven correct when she hears his booming laugh. It eases her nerves, and she wraps her arm around her shoulder when she finally gets next to him. He's standing with Mitch, Harry, and a few other people she's casually met before. Sarah greets Mitch with a kiss and settles into his side.
"Y/N!" Niall shouts when he finally realizes who's hugging him. He embraces her, and she can tell he's a bit drunk with the way he leans his weight on her. "I didn't think you'd come!"
"None of us did," Harry interjected lowly under his breath, but she still heard him. They hadn't really interacted since that night at the bar.
"Harry," she nods to him when Niall releases her. He barely acknowledges her before he turns back to the guy he was talking to, but he can't help the way his gaze would sometimes drift back to her. It's so annoying how pretty she can be without even trying.
Harry hates how enamoring she is.
"Harry, oh my gosh, how are you?" He hears a voice come up from behind him then feels a hand wrap around his arm. Emma. A clingy girl he hooked up with about a month ago- a good distraction from the thoughts he's facing at the moment. He wraps his arm around her shoulder as if he cares about seeing her.
"Hey, babe, I'm good," he tells her.
Y/N watches the scene and tries to limit the disgust that wants to appear on her face. Niall wonders off, and she's left alone with the pair.
"Who's this?" Emma suddenly asks Harry, as if she is entitled to any kind of ownership over Harry. He wants to be pissed off, but he also wants Y/N to go away.
"My friend's friend," Harry tells her. Y/N feels her heart pang. He couldn't even call her his friend out of convenience.
"Oh, interesting," she says, and Harry can tell she's not convinced.
"Yeah, I'm Y/N! It's actually my first party, and you're really pretty! Do you-" She's cut off by the girl who's practically hanging off of Harry's arm.
"Do you have a thing for Harry?" She asks.
"Oh! What? No- no-"
"Chill, Emma," Harry says, and Y/N almost thanks him before he continues, "Don't worry, she's the complete opposite of my type," he assures with a cocky smirk. The two laugh, and Y/N wills herself to walk away.
It's an hour and a half later, and Y/N is more than ready to go home. She's leaned against a wall, her phone dead and her head hurting. She doesn't have the strength to go find her friends, and she's kind of hurt they've all left her at her first party. She knows that this isn't about her, but she's scared and nervous, and they knew that but still begged her to come. She's just sad and scared and wants to go home.
"Hey, are you okay?" She hears someone ask in her ear, and she almost jumps out of her skin.
"Oh gosh, you scared me!" She gasps and meets the eyes of who's talking to her. He's a very cute boy who's holding a red solo cup.
"Sorry!" He apologizes and touches her shoulder with a smile. She smiles back. "I'm Ian," He introduces himself, shaking her hand in his.
"I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you," she tells him.
"So, I take it you don't usually come to parties," He asks, and she nods.
"My first one actually," she grimaces.
"Let's go get you a drink," he suggests and takes her hand in his, not waiting for an answer before taking her to the kitchen. It's surprisingly empty when they walk in.
"I don't- I uh- I don't drink," she admits.
"Ah, c'mon. One drink won't hurt," he tries to persuade her.
"No, thank you," she says again.
"Alright," he settles. "I think this punch is non-alcoholic," he says to himself and grabs her a cup. She zones out as he pours her a cup. She thinks this guy is cute, but she really just wants to go home. She's broken out of her thoughts when a cup is being handed to her, and an arm is being thrown around her shoulder. Her eyebrows furrow as 'Ian' leans closer to her. "Are you going to say thank you?" He asks, and his tone makes her skin crawl. She laughs awkwardly and tries to shift away from him, but his hands move to her waist and his grip is too tight.
"Ah- that hurts," she tells him, but he only tightens his grip, so she can't move. "I- I want to leave," she whimpers.
"Yeah? Let's go to mine," he says and tries to lean forward to put his mouth on her.
"No- no," she says and tries to push at him.
"Just one little kiss," he tells her. Her first kiss was about to be took from her. Tears roll down her cheeks as he gets closer, but fortunately, he's suddenly being roughly pulled away from her.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Harry's loud and rough voice makes its way to her ears.
"Ay- the fuck, man? We're a bit busy," the scumbag tells Harry. "Didn't realize she was already claimed."
"A woman doesn't need to be claimed for you to not force yourself on her. Walk away, or I'm going to drown you in this punch," Harry warns, and the dude scurries off.
Harry's glare makes her want to cry all the more.
"C'mon," he says gruffly and with a gentle hand, he wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling her all the way outside and to his car. She doesn't even think twice about getting into his car and buckling. Her mind is a state of fog. Harry starts the car and rests his head against the steering wheel, his breathing rapid.
"Are you okay?" She asks gently.
"You- You're asking me if I'm okay?" He laughs condescendingly and buckles himself in before putting the car in drive.
"Well, you seem really mad, and- and maybe you shouldn't drive if-"
"I need you to stop talking," he says suddenly. "I mean seriously- what were you thinking, Y/N?" He asks with his voice raised.
"I don't- I don't-"
"Yeah, you don't think." Harry doesn't think he's ever been this mad before. He saw the beginnings of her and the guy- him practically dragging her to the kitchen and her just going along with it. He saw red. "Did you even watch as he poured you a drink? Do you even know this guy before you just ran off with him?" His questions upset her further, making her feel stupid.
"I was- I was just flustered, and I wanted to go home, and I didn't know what to do-"
"You don't fucking follow a random dickhead alone at a party!" His voice is loud in the small car. It's quiet for a moment, giving him a second to just focus on the road in front of him as he heads to her house when he hears a stifled cry that breaks him out of his moment. "Are you crying?" His anger falters.
"Well, yeah!" She sobs. "I was left alone at my first party- then I almost get molested- now, I was forced to get in the car with you, and- and- and I'm just scared!" She cries.
Harry doesn't particularly know what to do in this situation. All he knows is that his heart is twisting and pulling in his chest.
"There's nothing to be scared about now." His voice is incredibly softer than before.
"I'm stuck in- in the car of the guy who hates me, and I'm scared," she whimpers, her chest heaving as she tries to suck in air between each word.
Harry's heart dies.
"You're scared of me?" His voice is quiet and insecure.
"Yes," she says simply as if she doesn't understand the gravity of her words. Harry continues driving as he feels wet droplets fall down his cheeks. "Are you- Are you crying?" She asks, concerned but also confused. The tables have turned.
"Well, yeah!" He laughs sadly. He's never felt more like a piece of shit.
"Um- I don't- I don't know what to do," she admits. The car is silent until they pull into her driveway. Harry still has tears running down his cheeks, and Y/N feels frozen.
"Okay- we're um- we're here," he announces as if she doesn't know she's at her own home.
"Harry, why don't you come inside. I don't feel comfortable letting you drive home," she tells him.
"I'm f-fine," he tries to laugh it off, wiping roughly at his red eyes.
"If not for you, I really don't want to be alone right now," she admits.
"But I thought- You're scared of me?" He questions.
"I was merely being dramatic. Tonight was heavy, and you're the most unlikely person to be with at the moment," she explains. "C'mon. I'll brew us a pot of tea," she encourages and gets out of the car. Harry thinks for a moment before ultimately getting out of the car and sheepishly following her up. She unlocks the door and ushers him inside quickly before her mut could escape.
"Hi, Pickle," he greets her dog quietly.
"You remember his name," she says, shocked while bending down to scratch at Pickle's ears.
"'Course," he agrees and also pets her dog.
"Okay, I'm going to go put on a pot of tea. Make yourself comfortable," she tells him before scurrying off to her kitchen.
Harry, still feeling emotional, wanders around the room, looking at pictures. He notices he's not in any. He knows he had no right to be. Still, it makes him cry harder.
"Okay, I've got- oh," she freezes with two cups of tea in her hands as she watches Harry breaking down in front of her. She sets the tea down on her coffee table. "Why don't you come sit down, Harry?" She suggests with a soft voice and sits down on the couch herself.
"I'm sorry. This is so em-embarrassing," he cries and plops down on the couch, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake.
"Um do you- I can-" Y/N splutters words as she tries to figure out what to do. "Do you want a hug?" She finally asks. She thinks she's the one that should be being comforted right now, but it almost makes her happy to see this side of Harry. Not that she enjoys anyone's sadness, but it's nice to see him vulnerable instead of conniving. Harry slowly looks up at her, and she holds her arms out. He cries as he shuffles into her arms. His face is buried in her chest as she rubs at his back.
"I'm sorry, that's not who I am," he repeats over and over even though she shushes him. They stay in this position, Harry's arms wrapped around her and hers around him as Harry starts to calm down. Harry takes in the moment. She smells fucking divine and feels so soft against him. He never wants to move. Then her phone rings. She starts to get up, but he shakes his head groaning, "No."
"Okay, then," she sighs before shifting to get her phone out of her back pocket. Harry lays flat against her body as she answers Sarah's phone call, his nose nudging at her tummy as he continues to sniffle. She courses her fingers through his hair making him stifle back a moan. He can't believe the full 180 his brain has done on him, but he can't find an ounce of hatred he once felt towards her. He doesn't want to either.
"Hello?" She answers.
"Y/N? Oh, Y/N, I've been looking for you. Where are you?" Sarah asks frantically, and Y/N can barely hear her over the loud party music.
"I uh- I left," she tells her, and Harry rests his chin on her chest to look up at her. She hates to admit it, but her breath gets caught in her throat looking at Harry's red, puffy eyes. She's always thought he's the most attractive person she's ever met, but right now, he looks so effortlessly pretty. He looks gentle for the first time ever.
"Are you safe? Where are you?" Sarah continues to ask.
"I'm home."
"Oh, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry. I thought Niall would have stayed with you, so I thought it was okay to leave you with him, but he didn't and-"
"It's okay, Sarah," she assures. She doesn't want her friend to feel bad. The thought makes her stomach churn.
"No, it's not," Harry counters, and Y/N presses a finger to her lips, but it's too late.
"Is that Harry?" Sarah asks.
"Um, yeah. He took me home. There was a slight problem at the party- some guy wasn't leaving me alone," Y/N explains.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Can I come over? Mitch and I will bring food, and Niall can-"
"No, no, Sarah it's okay! You don't have to do any of that. Harry's not bothering me- we're good." Harry smiles at that and lays his head back down on her chest.
"Okay," Sarah replies, doubtful. "I'm going to make it up to you. It was so fucking inconsiderate of me, especially with your past and anxiety-"
"Okay, Sarah, I got to go!" She says. Harry caught the last of what Sarah said, and his eyebrows furrow. They say their goodbyes before hanging up. Y/N sighs and tilts her head up to stare at the ceiling. They sit in silence as Harry's sniffling comes to an end. "Feel better?" she breaks the silence.
"Uh, yeah," Harry answers. "What did Sarah mean by 'your past'?" Harry asks. He feels Y/N tense, and he immediately regrets asking. "I'm sorry- you don't have to answer. I was being-"
"No, it's okay," she sighs. "I just- my parents weren't the greatest, and I just struggle with crowded environments," Y/N explains loosely.
"Oh," Harry answers. "I'm sorry," he adds.
"It's fine. People have it worse than me."
"It's still okay to be upset by it," Harry rebuts.
"Thanks, Harry, but you're kind of the last person I will take advice from. No offense," she tries to explain gently.
"Fair enough," he laughs without humor. He feels her push at his shoulder, so he takes the hint and gets off her. He wants to whine from the loss of her touch, and it confuses him.
"You're really confusing me, Harry," Y/N admits as she sits up. She grabs her own tea and takes a sip before continuing. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen someone so beautiful doing something so domestic. "I mean, you've done a complete 180 in your behavior, and as much as I enjoy you not tormenting me anymore," Harry winces, "I don't understand it, and I don't trust it. I don't trust you."
"I know, I know," he sighs and covers his face with his hands. "I don't understand it either," he admits. Y/N scoffs and puts her cup down. "What?" he asks.
"You don't want to hear it," she mutters.
"Tell me," he encourages.
"It's just- It's really unfair, Harry. You do understand that, right?"
"I don't-" He looks at her in confusion. She continues.
"You can't just completely change your behavior in the course of an hour. I let you have peace for a while because I could tell you were really upset, but if you want to move forward- it's going to take a lot from the both of us," she explains.
A long silence ensues.
"I'm stupid- I'm sorry. You probably don't even care about any of that. Jesus-"
Harry realizes at the moment the exact mental state his actions have and still put her brain in. He makes her insecure and scared. His mom and sister would be so disappointed.
"Stop, Y/N, stop," he pleads. She stops. "Don't talk about yourself that way," he grimaces.
"That's how you talk about me to my face," she counters. "What the fuck else am I supposed to think?" Harry thinks that's the first time he's ever heard her curse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice like that," she sighs and ducks her head. Harry can't help but admire her now. His brain is so mushed and confused with this sudden switch.
"Don't- don't apologize. I deserve much worse," he admits.
"I just don't understand your motive. Is this a joke?" she asks.
"Y/N, I'm being honest when I say I don't understand myself either. When I used to see you, you would just anger me. You reminded me of girls in high school that would bully my sister. They all started out super nice and kind, but somewhere along the way, they would realize that they had my sister wrapped around their finger, and they would toy with her. I love my mom and my sister, and I will always protect them and those around me, and so I just hated you. Dad was never around, so I had to step up."
The confession makes Harry feel as if a pile of bricks was finally removed from his chest. He realizes this is how he would have felt if he had just talked to Y/N in the beginning.
"I guess I can understand more now where your behavior came from but- I'm not like that. You've known me for so long, and I've never- I'm not-"
"Y/N, I don't think you realize just how completely entranced everyone is with you. Anyone would do anything for you because of the spell you put on people," Harry explains. "And I see now that it's not a bad thing to be under your spell. You're kind and patient and good. I've always known that. I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to like you, but how can I not?" By the end of Harry's speech, they're both in tears.
The draw he feels for her is indescribable.
He's leaning in before he knows it. His hand on her cheek, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion. Their lips are close when she speaks.
"What- What are you doing?" she stutters.
"Please," he whispers.
"Please what?" she asks. He doesn't know if she genuinely doesn't know what he's doing, or if she's asking him to beg, but both ideas make his dick harden.
"Please let me kiss you," he begs. He places his lips against her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, relishing in the way she sighs and softly moans. He cups her face with both hands, but before he could place their lips together, she stops him. She places both her hands on his wrists and turns her head.
"Harry, no," she whimpers. He immediately stops.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I don't- I don't know," she stammers.
"Talk to me, what's wrong?" Harry presses.
"I just- Harry, I want my first kiss to be with someone who actually likes me," she admits.
"I- I do like you," Harry tells her. "Wait- your first kiss?"
"Yeah, my first," she says sheepishly. "And I want it to be with someone who is attracted to me."
"I am attracted to you!" Harry encourages.
"No- Harry, you said it yourself- literally tonight- that I am 'the opposite of your type'," you counter while using air-quotes.
"That wasn't-" Harry realizes he's dug himself into a deep hole.
"It's okay, Harry. I know that it's going to be harder to find someone who likes me, but I know it can happen, and I want all my firsts to be with that person," Y/N explains. "I'm not going to kiss someone who just feels bad for me," she says, shaking herself out of his grip to look away, but he turns her face back to him.
"I am, Y/N. I am so attracted to you, and I think that's why I was even more of a dick because I hated that I was so fucking attracted to you," Harry tries to tell her, but she softly shakes her head with a sad smile.
"But you don't like me."
"I do."
"I can't tell. You have to realize how absurd your behavior is to me, right now. Harry, you've been so awful to me for so long, and I'm just not ready to forgive or believe you, I'm sorry- it's too quick," she tells him, her eyes holding all sincerity. Harry feels his own well up again, and she cups his cheek because even though she doesn't trust Harry, she never wants to see anyone sad. "Thank you for- for explaining to me why you acted the way you did- while it doesn't excuse your actions, I do appreciate it and your heart for your family and friends, and I'm more than willing to begin trying now with you." Her explanation ends with Harry in tears and her thumbs whipping them away. "Do you- Would you want to stay the night?" she asks.
Harry feels new hope in his chest.
"You sure?" he chokes out. She nods her head with a soft smile and stands. Harry looks up at her with all the wonder in the world and presses his chin to her stomach while she holds his hand.
"C'mon," she whispers, and she gasps quietly when he presses a gentle kiss to her clothed stomach before standing up with her.
They hold hands as they go to her bedroom, and Harry can't help the way he smiles.
"Let me go get you a change of clothes," Y/N says before disappearing in her closet. He looks around her room for a minute and can't help the comfort and warmth he feels. It's just so her. After a moment, he hears her talking in the closet and thinks she's telling him to come in. He opens the door, and his eyes grow wide when he sees her standing in front of her mirror in just her jeans and bra. Harry purses his lips as his eyes take in her body, and he fights the groan that wants to fall from his mouth. "Harry!" She gasps and covers her chest.
"Sorry!" He's finally broken out of gaze. "I thought I heard you- Hey, what is that?" His eyes zero in on the bruises that cover both sides of her waist and ribs. She looks down as well and bites her lip.
"Um, I think they're from that guy," she whispers defeatedly. He slowly moves closer to her, giving her time to back away or tell him to stop, but she just stares at him with wide glossy eyes. He carefully and with the utmost gentleness he can muster, places his hands on her hips. Softly caressing them, and the bruises littering her skin. He takes a moment just to take her in before speaking.
"I'll kill him," he sneers. It makes her softly laugh.
"No, you won't," she disagrees and shakes her head. "I'm okay," she says. dipping her head down to meet his eyes.
"You're very pretty," Harry counters. She blushes before moving away to get him clothes. Once she hands him the oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, she leaves the room to let him change. She finds and extra toothbrush for him, and once they both finish their night routine, they crawl into her bed, keeping to their own reserved sides and both staring at the ceiling. "Thank you for letting me stay," Harry says, his head turning to look at her. His breathing falters as he looks at her. She just smiles in return.
"Just no funny business," she says softly before reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. They sit in silence before Harry adjusts himself. They both quietly gasp when his hand skims her own. His hand freezes over hers for a moment before he gently intertwines their pinkies. She makes the bold decision to, with her free hand, lean over and feel for his cheek before planting the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. "Good night, Harry."
Harry falls asleep with a smile on his face and new hope settling into his mind.
Y/N wakes the following morning to a loud banging sound and a heavy weight on her chest. Her eyes squint open, the sun shining through her curtains and to her irises. She groans and closes her eyes again until she hears the banging continue. Her eyes are wide now with fear and confusion. She tries to move to grab her phone but quickly realizes her body is immobilized because of a big sleeping Harry laying on her, his shirt now off his chest. His mouth is slightly agape, laying at the top of her breast. His arms are encircled around her waist and holding her tight. It was much different from the pinkies they had entangled the previous night.
"Harry," she whispers and tries to budge his shoulder. He doesn't move, just continues to heavily breathe against her clothed tit. The banging, which Y/N has realized is just loud knocking, continues, and she really needs to get up. "Harry!" she says louder and pushes at his head. He groans and yawns sleepily. "Get up!" she demands, but he's barely conscious.
"Morning," he sighs dreamily and settles back down on her, pressing a wet kiss to the top of her boob. He's broken out of his dreamy state when he finally hears the knocking. "What the hell?" he groans and sits up on his elbows, still caging her in.
"I need to go see who's at the door," she whines and pushes at him. He whines as well and gets up, taking her hand in his to take them both to the front door.
"I'm going to kill whoever is out here," he tells her, and she laughs because she doesn't believe he's fully awake yet. She likes morning grumpy Harry a lot more than normal grumpy Harry. As soon as he opens the door, people are barging in.
"Finally!" Someone yells, and Y/N's able to place the voice to Niall. She watches as he, Mitch, and Sarah all welcome their selves into her home with bags of food. The chill from the outside makes her shrink into Harry's side, and he wraps an arm around her before shutting the door. He rubs his hand up and down her arm to create heat for her.
"Is someone going to tell me what you all are doing in my home on this Sunday morning? Not that I mind, of course," she says and hugs each one of them as they get their coats and hats off.
"We felt like shit after being the shittiest friends ever last night," Sarah explains.
"Hey-" Y/N begins to stop her, but Niall cuts her off.
"No, it's true, Y/N. Felt like my heart shattered in my chest when Sarah and Mitch came to me all panicked cause they couldn't find you," Niall explains. His eyebrow quirks as he watches his best friend, who seemed to still despise the girl not even twenty-four hours ago, wrap his sleepy body around her, his chin resting on her shoulder as his body pressed against hers from behind. "Though it looks as if it might have been for the best that we lost you," Niall suggests and cocks his head. Y/N shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips, saying 'yeah, I don't understand it either'.
"Anyways," Mitch breaks the silence. "We thought we'd bring you breakfast then go to the winter festival in town."
"Sounds perfect," she says and moves away from Harry to set the table. Harry has to physically stop himself from whining, but Niall, Sarah, and Mitch all see his pout and look at him with questioning eyes. He blushes under their questioning stares. When she walks into the kitchen to retrieve silverware, they start asking the questions.
"What the hell is going on?" Sarah asks first.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry says innocently.
"You're acting like her pet, and not even a full day ago, you couldn't stand her. I'm definitely not saying it's a bad thing, but what-" Niall stops speaking because he genuinely doesn't know what to ask.
"Look, I don't understand it either," Harry begins, "But I just- I don't know. Something's changed. There was some weird fucking pervert at the party that was scaring her, and then when we were in the car, she admitted that she was scared of me, and it genuinely killed me to know that I was grouped in the same space in her head with that dickhead from the party," Harry explains. "I don't get it, but my mind has completely flipped, and all I want to do is just be around her."
"Wow," Mitch was the first to speak.
"Yeah, I know," Harry groans. "We had a really good talk last night, and I think she's willing to move forward."
"You know, Harry," Niall speaks, "There's a saying that there's a very fine line between love and hate," Niall sings with a mischievous voice.
"I'm not even going to argue with that," Harry sighs, and none of them have any time to speak on Harry's crazy admission because Y/N is coming back into the room with silverware, plates, and napkins. She eyes the tension in the room.
"What were you guys talking about?" she asks.
"Nothing, Angel. Let's get you some food," Harry tells her.
The town was decorated in the most beautiful festive decorations. Y/N felt real joy for the first time in a long time as she walked through the streets filled with vendors with her friends. She couldn't help how cute she thinks Harry looks as well. He borrowed a hoodie from her and was in his jeans and sneakers. He wore the hood up as he munched on a soft pretzel he bought. She couldn't help the urge to whip out her digital camera and snap a picture, not realizing the flash was on. She blushes when she realizes he caught her.
"Hey!" he accuses her. "I'm trying to eat my pretzel here!" He complains and pouts.
"Sorry," she laughs. "You just looked really cute," she admits. His cheeks flush red before he quickly shakes it away.
"Yeah? Well, you're cuter, and I'm keeping this hoodie by the way," he tells her before walking away. She follows him quickly and loops her arm around his waist to catch him.
Harry's cheeks seem as though they're now a permanent blush around her. He'd always seen how affectionate she was with their friends, and he thoroughly enjoyed finally being a receiver because he loves physical touch- especially from a very beautiful woman.
"You can't keep my hoodie, you thief. I barely have any as is," she complains and slips her hand under the hoodie to feel the plush at his hips. He always hated the extra skin at his waist, but now he thanks his mother for it. He feels overtly bashful at her touch, like he wants to smile and kick his feet like a teenage girl with a crush.
"I'll buy you some more, Angel. Just tell me if there's a shop you want to walk in," he tells her gently and wraps the arm that isn't holding his pretzel around her shoulder.
"Give me a bite," she suddenly says. Harry gawks.
"Uh- sorry, what?" He stutters.
"Of your pretzel, you perv!" she laughs at his flustered expression.
"Oh!" he laughs and reaches his hand out in front of her to let her bite the pretzel from his hand. He gasps when she takes the rest of the pretzel into her mouth. "Hey!" he whines and pouts at his empty hand.
"Sorry," she apologizes once she finishes chewing. She squeezes his side as she speaks, "I was hungry," she says with an evil smirk.
"Rude. Very rude," he comments though he pulls her tighter against him.
Little did they know, all of their friends were snapping pictures of them from behind, snickering and chatting about the newfound lovebirds.
Y/N and Harry seemed to be attached by the hip as the weeks went on. It had been almost two months since their new friendship was born, and neither of them realized how much they would click. Many nights were spent having dinner, singing karaoke, and watching movies together. When they were with their friends, they were always attentive to each other and sitting by one another.
It's a Friday, and Harry was on his way to visit her library right now. He'd been visiting her a lot and using it as a nice place to get work done. Work had been pretty stressful for Harry recently. He was managing a project for his company that's building a new stadium, and it's challenging in ways he hasn't been before, so while he's thankful for the opportunity, it comes with a lot more planning and map-outs than usual.
When he walks in, he sees her at the counter. Her shift is over in an hour, and he told her he'd pick her up once she got off, but he decided he could get some work done while he waited.
She's re-binding a book when he walks up, totally engrossed in the practice. So much so that she doesn't see Harry looming over her across the counter. He rings the bell that sits next to a box of tissues on the counter. She jumps and gasps when she looks up. A bright smile quickly covers her face.
"You're here early, puppy!" She walks around the counter to greet him as he blushes over the nickname. Ever since they became friends, their friends joked about how Harry follows her around like a dog, so she decided the nickname was fitting.
She squeezes him tight and wraps her arms around his waist as she looks up at him. Her chin rests on his chest as she speaks.
"How was work? Are you sore? I can give you a massage when we go to mine. I've been watching a lot of videos because I know your back hurts you a lot, and-" She tends to lose all sort of mind whenever he's around, and he has to reign her in.
"Angel," he interrupts her and laughs when she pauses abruptly.
"Sorry, I was rambling," she blushes. He kisses her forehead.
"It's okay. I love hearing you speak," he tells her honestly.
Harry never takes for granted the way she speaks to him because there used to be a time when she was too afraid to.
"I would love a massage, my love," he tells her and kisses her temple. "Work was good- fun. Got to tear down walls today, and that's always really fun, and before you ask, I promise I was wearing all the right gear, so don't go scolding me," he eyes her, and she smirks.
"Good boy," she says.
Harry damn near busts in his jeans at her praise. She continues talking like nothing happened.
"Why are you here so early? I don't get off for another hour."
"I- um. I- I know. I was- I figured I could get some work done," he stutters out.
"Okay, silly," she laughs at his speech. She unwraps herself from him and walks behind the counter. "You can sit back here with me. I'm the only one working," she offers, and he nods his head. She places a stool next to hers, and they both get to work for the next hour.
"We've watched this movie a billion times, H! Not again!" Y/N complains when Harry tries to put on The Notebook for the millionth time. They're both cozied on her couch after eating some takeout sushi. Harry's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. Y/N's wearing a new purple hoodie Harry bought for her and a pair of tiny sleep shorts. Harry had been fighting the urge to stare at her thighs since they got back.
"Well, until you get some good movie taste, we're watching mine." They're banter was playful and not harmful.
Y/N huffed as he started the movie and scooted to other side of her couch, away from him.
"Don't be mad at me, sweet girl," he says before pulling her sideways into his lap. "Be mad at yourself and your terrible movies," he laughs and tightens his arms around her when she tries to escape his hold. She continues to squirm until he pulls her close and bites down on her neck. She lets an airy moan escape her lips as he sucks and kisses at the spot.
"Teething at me like a needy puppy," she tells him and cards her fingers through his hair. Y/N has never been with a boy before, so she doesn't know if what her and Harry are doing is normal or not for just friends, but she doesn't care. She just likes what he does. "Are you seeing anyone right now?" she asks him out of nowhere. The angst she would feel if he said yes would make her cry.
"I'm seeing you all the time," he tells her and kisses at her chin and jawline. It was when Harry got like this that she had a hard time thinking clearly. She thinks she would say yes to whatever he asked if he was being as lovey as he gets.
"I mean are you dating any girl right now," she corrects him.
"I know what you meant, Angel," he tells her. "I haven't seen anyone but you since the night of the party," he says honestly, and it makes her smile and place her head against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair as he speaks. "It's totally okay whatever your answer is to this, but I wanted to ask you." Her head quirks up to look at him with a confused face. "Have you uh- Have you forgiven me?" He asks, and he immediately looks away. "It is more than okay if you haven't because I was incredibly awful to you for so long, and I know if I was you, I would have a hard time-" She presses her hand against his mouth to shut him up.
"I forgive you, Harry," she says. "Forgave you a long time ago," she tells him honestly and releases her hand from his mouth.
"You serious?" he asks, and she nods. His eyes well with tears, and he hugs her to his chest. "Thank you. I don't deserve you," he whispers into her hair and kisses her head. They watch the movie for a while until Harry speaks again. "You remember that night when I tried to kiss you?" He asks.
"'Course," she tells him, wondering why he's bringing it up.
"Have you kissed anyone since then?" She sits up to look at him.
"Now when would I have had the time to?" She gestures to his hold on her. "You've got me locked down 24/7," she laughs.
"Would you say no if I asked to kiss you now?" he asks, bracing himself for the answer. She takes a moment to think about it.
"I would definitely let you kiss me," she tells him, and he grabs her face, about to plant a big smooch on her lips until she stops him, laughing at his eagerness. "But wouldn't that make this weird?"
"Make what weird?" he asks.
"Us," she tells him.
"Nothing has to be weird unless you make it weird," he tells her.
"But- but we're in such a good place as friends-"
"Friends kiss all the time!" Harry counters, though it makes his heart clench at the thought of them just being friends. "Though I do think we're a bit more than that," he adds, and she smiles. He becomes serious again, holding both sides of her face in his strong, rough hands. "I'll make it so good for you," he promises.
"I don't know, puppy," she sighs, but they both know she wants it. She just wants to make him work for it a bit.
"Please, please," he whispers.
"Just one little kiss," she tells him. He nods his head and begins to lean forward. She cups both of his wrists like she had done that first night and breathes shakily until his lips finally meet hers. She sighs, her first kiss finally taken. She doesn't even know if it counts as a kiss because their lips are just pressed together until they start smiling against each other. She pulls back to giggle, but he pulls her back in, this time actually kissing her. His lips massage her own, and she doesn't really know what's she's doing, but she just tries to mimic his actions. He moans as she picks up on it quite quickly. "Okay," she breathes and backs away. Harry whines and cups the back of her neck to try and reel her in.
"Please. A little more. You're so good- taste heavenly," he comments. Harry feels like he's experiencing his first kiss again as well. Nothing had ever felt like that before. Nothing had ever felt so good. He could feel himself chubbing up in his pants just from the one kiss.
"I told you one kiss, Harry," she reprimands him, but he shakes his head.
"Was it not good for you?" He asks. He knows she enjoyed it. She's panting like a dog in heat, and he can see her subconsciously pressing her thighs together. He just wants her to kiss him again. "My lips not good enough for your perfect mouth, pet?" he asks with a pout and lets a finger caress her bottom lip.
"No, that's not it at all, Harry!" she says eagerly. "It was perfect. The best first kiss I could have asked for. I just don't want to complicate things," she tells him.
"It's already complicated, babe. That's our thing," he tries to reason, and she laughs. He can see her slowly start to let down her wall, and he takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss at her neck and jaw, trying to coerce her more.
"It did feel very good," she sighs and grabs the back of his neck, holding him against her own.
"Yeah?" he mumbles against her skin before sucking a hickey into her neck.
"Yeah," she moans softly. "Okay, okay, I don't care anymore. Just kiss me," she begs.
"Sound so sweet begging for me," he tells her and cups her cheeks, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Her eyes well as she waits for him to lay one on her.
"Harry, c'mon," she whimpers.
"Don't cry on me," he coos. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait. I'll give you what you want, my love," he assures her and with that, plants his lips back on hers. She's more eager this time around. Her lips move more feral against his, and he groans deeply when she nips at his bottom lip. The exchanging of saliva makes her feel dirty in the best way possible. She's still sitting sideways on her lap, but her body is aching for her to straddle his thighs and grind against his crotch as she pushes her tongue against his. Harry realizes very quickly how dirty she is for being a virgin. Her tongue found its way into his mouth first, and she didn't hesitate to mold hers against his. Harry fights the urge to move his hands lower and grasp at her body, but he doesn't want to scare her by moving too quickly. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait much longer until she's requesting exactly what he wanted.
"Can I sit in your lap?" she asks breathlessly. She doesn't let him speak, instead missing the way his mouth felt against hers too bad that she kisses him again, her fingers tangling in his hair and pulling in a way that makes him whine.
"You are sitting in my lap," he mumbles against her lips.
"No, I mean like- Can I just show you?" she asks impatiently. He nods his head and chokes on his own spit as she straddles his thighs and presses her crotch down onto his roughly. "This okay?" she asks.
"S-so okay," he tells her and grips her hips.
"Why does that feel so good?" she asks rhetorically and continues to roll her hips against his.
"Baby- I don't think you know what you're doing," he tells her. She shrugs and continues to do it because it feels good against her pussy. "Wait, wait, wait," he makes her pause.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"More than," he assures her. "But I want to talk to you first before we go any farther."
"Okay, well hurry up because I would like to continue." He laughs at her horny, foggy mind that's making her bolder than usual.
"I need to know what all you've done- sexually speaking," he tells her.
"You know I'm a virgin, Harry," she says. "I've never done anything with anyone- well, until now," she smiles, and he reciprocates.
"Right, but what have you done by yourself?" he asks, and she blushes. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassures her.
"I've touched myself before," she admits, and he tries his best not to whimper at the thought.
"Okay. Do you know all the terms of anatomy down there?" he asks.
"Yes, professor," she laughs.
"So, when you touch yourself, do you just play with your pretty little clit, or do you put fingers into yourself? Or do you have a toy?" She becomes bashful at his blunt speech.
"I usually do one finger inside and my other hand playing with my clit," she admits shyly.
"You're so fucking hot," he tells her honestly before grabbing her face to kiss her. She moans at his roughness. "Okay, okay, wait," he stops himself. She whines. "I need to know what you're comfortable with us doing, my love," he tells her.
"I just want to keep doing what we're doing," she whimpers.
"Okay? You like grinding yourself against me?" He asks, and she nods her head while biting her lip. Harry wishes he had his phone to take a picture of her. The embodiment of sex, and she didn't even realize. "We can both cum from that," he tells her. "You want to- Do you want to go that far?" he asks, and she nods her head eagerly. "Words," he commands.
"Yes, yes please," she begs.
"How would you feel about both of us stripping to our underwear, so we can feel each other a bit better?" he asks.
"Sounds really good, Harry," she says and immediately stands up to take her shorts off, but he stops her.
"You're incredibly cute with how eager you are," he laughs, and she turns red. He kisses her clothed stomach to assure her it's nothing to be ashamed of. "Let me take them off," he suggests. What she didn't expect was for Harry to sink to his knees in front of her and kiss at her thighs a bit first. It makes her feel extra hot having his mouth so close to her core. "Have you ever watched porn?" he asks suddenly as he bites a hickey into her thigh.
"Yes," she says breathily.
"What do you watch, dirty girl?" he asks as he sinks his teeth into the waistband of her shorts and starts to pull them down her legs.
"Um-" she stutters at the question.
"It's okay," he assures her. "It's just me," he says and squeezes her thighs in support. It was like those three words were all the encouragement she needed. He rests his chin between her thighs as she begins to speak.
"Well, I like to watch men um- eating out girls. I like to watch rough stuff, and I think I would like that a lot, but I think I would also like to just make love," she explains. "I also like watching girls giving blowjobs," she says suddenly like she had almost forgotten. "I also," she begins but stops herself in embarrassment.
"What is it? You're safe to talk to me, Angel," he assures her.
"I like to... read about things," she says.
"Okay. Explain," he tells her.
"Well, like- smut. I like to read little things people write about people fucking," she admits shyly.
"And what are the people doing in your favorite ones?" he asks.
"I like when they write the guy just being completely overtaken by his natural instincts to- to fuck the girl- almost feral- he's just taking what he wants, you know?" she explains.
"Did you know you're perfect? Like actually fucking enthralling?" he asks and basks in the way her face reddens. "I'm serious, Y/N," he tells her.
"Thank you, H. You're very captivating yourself," she comments.
"Oh?" he questions as he stands. His nose meets hers and they play tag with their mouth for a moment before she just leans forward and pecks him.
"You're an incredibly beautiful man. Always thought so- even before," she says honestly. His heart twists a bit at the mention of before. "The most alluring man I've ever seen," she tells him.
"You can't mean that," he disagrees, and his breathing shakes when he feels her play with the waistband of his sweatpants.
"I can, and I do," she tells him and presses her hand over the large bulge in his sweatpants. He actually moans from the contact- not expecting it from her.
"You're dirty," he gasps, and they both laugh. She doesn't waste another second before pulling his sweats down his legs and letting him step out of them.
She sits on her knees to love on him a bit. She's always loved his meaty sides, and now that she has the opportunity, she doesn't think twice before sinking her teeth into his loves handles. She smiles when he gasps as she kisses and nipples at his flesh. She surprises him once again when she presses her mouth against the bulge, letting her hot breath feed into the fabric and to his cock. He wants to push her away because he's afraid he's going to cum too soon, but he also knows that's the stupidest idea when he's got the most irresistible woman in the world with her mouth on him. It's when he feels her lick at his tip through his briefs when he back away and sits on the couch, shielding his clothed dick with his hands as if to protect himself from her.
She smiles at him as devilishly as an angel could. "You have an oral fixation," he notes, and she shrugs.
"Let's get to the fun stuff," she whines and crawls all the way to the couch and onto his lap. Harry doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on.
"You know you're every man's fantasy?" he asks, and she cocks her head in confusion. "A hot librarian," he expands, and she laughs.
"Yeah? You want me to read you a bedtime story, baby?" she asks, trying to make her voice sound sultrier, and it works. Harry's dick twitches in his boxers.
"I'm gonna cream in my boxers," he warns, and she laughs.
"Please, don't. We haven't even had any fun yet," she complains, and he shakes his head in amusement.
"Just start rubbing your cute little cunt on my cock," he instructs her, and she wastes no time before she puts her hands on his shoulders and begins to rut against him.
"Oh," she gasps. From the way his dick is positioned in his underwear, it's perfectly laid out for her to rub her clit against. "Is your- Is your dick big?" she suddenly asks. Harry, who was in a trance already from the way she was shamelessly grinding on him, splutters for words from her question.
"W-What?" he asks, his hips jutting up to press against her roughly out of instinct. They both moan at the sensation.
"It just- It feels really big, and sometimes you get a big bulge in your pants," she moans and bounces on his lap, trying to catch her clit on his tip.
"I have been told it is- yeah," he tells her. To be honest, he knows his dick is big. He knows it's really big. He usually would be cocky about it, but he doesn't want to scare her.
"Can I see?" she asks breathlessly.
"What?" he asks, his eyes bulging out of his head.
"Well," she begins, her hips stopping their movement. "I was just thinking that if maybe you were naked that it might feel better," she tells him. Harry's frozen in shock, but she takes it as him being unsure. "C'mon, please," she begs. "I'll let you cum on me," she adds.
"Where?" he asks.
"My- my pussy," she says quietly.
"Hop up," he tells her, and she quickly crawls to the spot on the couch next to him. She's about bouncing from how excited she is.
"Take your shirt off too." He laughs at how demanding the virgin is being.
"Need to spank your attitude out of you," he says as he takes off his shirt.
"Yeah, right," she scoffs but is silenced with his glare.
"I'm not going to show you my dick if you're going to be mean," he tells her and watches how her eyes round with wetness.
"I'm not being mean!" she complains.
"Yeah, you are, pet. And I'm being so nice to you- showing you everything, and you're acting like you don't care," he reprimands her. He's surprised when he feels her arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug.
"I'm sorry, Harry. Please, puppy. Show me, please. I'll be so sweet to you," she pleads, her voice muffled in his neck. Harry smiles, feeling like he's won the jackpot in life.
"Give me a kiss first," he commands, and she acts quick. Because she acted on fast movements, her hands lands his neck to stabilize herself. Harry moans at the pressure it provides for him.
"You like my hand around your neck?" she asks. He feels himself begin to nod submissively but remembers that he needs to be in charge for the moment. He switches on her, instead cupping her neck with his hand. She gasps, and her jaw falls from the movement.
"I do, baby, about as much as I like my hand around yours." He uses the grip he has on her throat to pull her closer and spit into her mouth. She moans and swallows easily. "Okay, enough foreplay," he tells her and releases her neck to shimmy his underwear off. The gasp he hears from her when his dick comes into view is welcomed gladly.
"It's so big, H," she tells him and continues to stare at it. She gulps at the thought of it being inside of her.
"Don't have to worry about it being inside you tonight, pet," he tells her as if he could read her mind. "It's gonna make you feel so good though."
"It's so pretty, puppy," she tells him, and she feels the urge to put her mouth on him, but she holds back, not wanting to upset him.
He pets her hair as he talks to her, "Can we try a different position than last time?" he asks.
"Whatever you want to do," she tells him, and he smiles.
"Just make sure to let me know if you don't feel good or like what I'm doing," he asks as he cups her face. She smiles softly and leans forward to lightly kiss him.
"Thank you for doing this, Harry," she tells him sincerely and places another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you for letting me," he says. They both lock eyes and their lips meet again, completely forgetting about what they were supposed to be doing. The kiss is passionate instead of rough. Their lips are eager but not rushed. Harry ends it with pecking her lips a few times, making her giggle. "Okay, enough sap. We can do that after. I feel like I'm going to burst," he says, and she laughs.
"How do you want me?" she asks.
"On your knees, face pressed against the couch," he tells her, and she blushes before complying. Harry moans as she sticks her ass in the air. He's quick to get on his own knees behind her. He holds his dick up and places himself against her, grabbing her hips once he's in place. They both groan at the contact. He slowly starts to use the leverage he has on her hips to grind her against him, making sure to angle her up, so her clit is grinding against him.
"That feel so good, puppy," she whines and begins to throw her hips back at him. His hold on her tightens, but he allows her to help his efforts in making them both feel good. Harry has never done anything like this before, and it feels so fucking good. He raises her up enough so that her clit is catching at his tip before he lowers her back down to rub along his length. He thanks his job for the strength he has to lift her up and down on him like this. He takes a break from the rubbing to harshly thrust his hips against her as if he was fucking her for real.
"I can't wait to have my dick inside you," he moans.
"Yeah, baby?" she asks breathlessly, and he whines a yes. He groans when he feels her wetness seep from her panties onto his cock.
"Creamy little pussy," he moans and takes his dick away from her for a moment to rub his finger on her clothed clit. Her hips just forward at the surprising touch, but he lightly spanks her as a warning to stay in place. His finger ventures up to press at her hold through the opening, and the whiny moan that she releases only makes him press harder.
"I wanna see your face," she says quietly, and he could almost cry from how sweet she sounds. He taps her hip, so she takes the hint and turns around to lay flat on her back. She smiles up at him once she can see him, and he can't believe there was ever a time where he hated this girl.
"You're so beautiful, and you're doing so good for me," he tells her as he cups her head and kisses her hair. "Do you feel good?" he asks.
"Very," she answers quickly. "I want to try something though," she says shyly.
"What is it? Whatever you want," he assures.
"Can I show you?" she asks, and he nods his head. He gasps when she wraps a gentle hand around his dick, a bit of precum slipping from the tip when she gives a little tug. He thinks he dies when she slips her underwear to the side and places her bare dick against her naked pussy. She throws her head back at the contact and more cum oozes from Harry's dick.
"Oh, baby," he moans and places a hand on the length of his dick to press down on it as he glides against her pussy. She isn't shaved, but she's trimmed and well-groomed like Harry is, and it makes it feel so much better with the extra sensation. He uses two fingers to spread her open, so his dick rubs right over her clit, and he thinks she might die at the expression she makes. Her mouth is dropped, and her eyebrows are scrunched together in pleasure. She holds her thighs up and apart for him, and he doesn't think he's ever felt so attracted to a human.
"You're leaking so much," she moans as she looks down at them together.
"It's for you- It's all for you," he whines and ruts against her harder. She loves seeing him so whiny and submissive. She moves her panties so that her dick is actually inside of them now, so he doesn't have to hold it down anymore, and it makes them both moan to watch the erotic scene unfold. Her cotton panties are becoming see-through with their combined wetness.
"Love your dick, H," she moans and presses on him through her panties.
"I love your pussy," he moans back. "So fucking creamy and soft," he adds.
"I'm gonna cum," she tells him and grabs him by the back of the neck to kiss him. It's sloppy, and they're basically just trading saliva, but it makes it so much hotter. They're both so far gone.
"Please, Angel. Baby, please cum for me. Let me feel it," he says and moans when he feels her push on his dick harder, the pressure making her orgasm. It's intense and prolonged because Harry never stops moving. He can't help but cum as well when he feels his tip catch her hole. He fights the urge to just stuff her full with his dick, instead cumming against her pussy that's still covered by her, now, ruined panties.
"Wow," she breathes as they both feel the aftershocks. She pulls her panties to the side, and they both moan at the mess they created. He takes his softening dick and spreads his cum all over her. He leans down to smear a wet kiss against her lips, and they both sloppily make-out until Harry's weak arms give out, and he lays on top of her. They fall asleep in each other's embrace.
It's Y/N's second party.
This one is already going much better than the last. Harry hasn't let one second go by that he doesn't have some sort of physical contact with her. It's been two weeks since their moment at her house, and he hasn't let her forget about it.
Right now, Harry and Y/N are standing in the kitchen talking to some of Harry's friends. Well, Harry's talking to them, Y/N's basking in the way he has her back pressed against his chest, and how his hand is casually resting at the bottom of her throat. His casual dominance makes her pussy throb.
"You okay, pet?" his voice in her ear spooks her until she relaxes back into his hold. His friends are occupied with themselves for the moment, so he takes the opportunity to love on her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and discretely squeezing at her throat.
"Y-yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought," she explains.
"It's okay. Just let me know the second you're ready to leave, and we can go," he promises her. She rolls her eyes and turns around in his hold to look at him. His hands gravitate down to hold her ass with a smirk.
"You know you don't have to babysit me, right?" she asks.
"Not babysitting. Why would I want to be without you?" he asks like she's acting dumb. She goes to speak, but she's interrupted by his fratty friends.
"Hey, H! Come play beer pong with us!" One of them shouts at him and shoves at his shoulder, making both him and Y/N stumble a bit. He goes to reprimand him, but Y/N stops him.
"He would love to!" she tells them when she turns around.
"Y/N-"
"No, H. Go have some fun. I'll be fine, I swear. I'll go find Niall," she assures him.
"Harry, dude, c'mon. Tell your babe goodbye for like twenty minutes, man," they all laugh at how whipped he is. Harry glares at them. Y/N makes the decision for him.
She kisses his cheek and says, "I'll see you later!" Before she scurries away to find Niall. Harry's grumpy as he goes to play beer pong.
Y/N somehow found Niall easily. All she really had to do was stop for a second and listen for his laugh to follow it. It had been about thirty minutes since she had seen Harry, and she was certainly missing him.
"Can't believe how whipped H is for you," Niall tells her as they walk outside to find the firepit. His arm is slung protectively around her shoulder, and her hand is holding his that's wrapped around her.
"He is not," she counters. "We just like to spend time with each other," she explains, and Niall gives her a knowing look.
"He told me about the other night," he informs her.
"He did not!" she says suddenly and releases herself from his hold.
"He's my best mate, of course he did," he says easily.
"I'll kill him," she says seriously and starts to walk off to find him.
"Oh, c'mon, Y/N!" Niall whines and hugs himself over her shoulders as she storms off, trying to find the culprit. "It's not like he told me what all did! Just that you got a bit intimate but didn't go all the way," he explains. She grimaces when she spots where Harry is with his friends playing beer pong. Well, where he's supposed to be playing beer pong. Instead, he's talking with a girl who's a bit too close for Y/N's liking. Y/N also doesn't like how into the conversation Harry looks. He's talking with his hands, and his facial expressions are animated.
"Let's go inside," Y/N says suddenly, and Niall furrows his eyebrows.
"Why-" he begins to ask but then stops himself when he sees the reason she wants to go inside. "C'mon," he tells her and doesn't give her an option to say no before he's wrapping a strong arm around her shoulder and pulling her along.
"No! I don't want to see this!" she complains, but Niall says nothing as they approach the group. Harry's telling the girl something when his eyes land on Y/N. It's like his whole world stopped, and Y/n doesn't have time to process anything before she's being engulfed in a rough embrace and kisses are being pressed all over her face.
"Y/N!" His voice is loud and joyful. "Niall, get off her," Harry scolds, and Niall just laughs.
"Don't be rude, H," Y/N tells him, and Harry pouts. He sinks his head into her shoulder and holds her tightly around her waist.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Niall," he says loud enough for Niall to hear. His words are slurred.
"It's alright, H," Niall just laughs.
"Harry, this is nice, but I can't breathe," Y/N tells him.
"I wish I was small, so I could climb in your lap," Harry says randomly, and Niall's loud laugh is heard for miles. "It's not funny!" Harry complains. "Oh, wait!" Harry abruptly turns around to face the girl he was talking to who's looking at him unamused now. "This is my wife, Y/N. She's who I was telling you about and why I did not want to make-out with you at all!" Harry looks and sounds disgusted at the thought of making out with the girl, and Y/N gasps. Niall's laugh somehow grows louder. "Once you've tasted her fucking mouth- oh, fuck," Harry groans just thinking about Y/N's mouth. "And her pussy- holy shit!"
"Harry!" Y/N scolds. The girl walks off coldly.
"Bye!" Harry tells her, but she doesn't even look back at him. Y/N turns around to find Niall bent over, hugging his stomach in amusement. "What are you laughing at, Niall?" Harry asks him and goes over to hug him.
"Nothing, H," he says once he's put himself together enough. "You drink a little bit, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry says with an evil smirk. "I was so shit at beer pong, so I drank like so much, dude," he tells Niall.
"I think we should get you home, buddy," Niall tells him, and Harry whines. Y/N comes up to Harry's side and wraps her arm around his hip. He seems to remember that Y/N was there and gasps.
"I missed you so much," Harry mumbles into her hair.
"Harry, I would like to go home," she tells him.
"Okay, let's go!" he agrees with ease, and Niall rolls his eyes. Y/N, Harry, and Niall all make their way outside and to Niall's car. Y/N gets into the backseat because she expects Harry to sit in the front, but she's surprised when he climbs in right after her and sits so close he should practically be on her lap.
"Oy, what do I look like? An uber?" Niall says when he realizes he's alone in the front. He starts his car up and starts driving towards Y/N's house.
"Sorry, Niall," Y/N says and grunts when Harry encircles her waist with his big arms and smushes his face into her neck.
"It's alright. I'm just messing with you, babe," he tells her.
"Hey, don't call her that!" Harry grumbles.
"Don't be rude, Harry," Y/N scolds and lightly swats at his head.
"She is my babe, H," Niall tells him, just to mess with drunk Harry some more.
"She's not your anything!" Harry cries.
"Niall, stop messing with him," Y/N now scolds the Irish man, and he just laughs in return. She suddenly feels a hand on her cheek and Harry planting kisses all over her face. He moves his hand down to rest at her neck, so he can angle her face however he wants. "Niall, can you hurry up? I'm being attacked," Y/N says.
"I'm a law-abiding citizen, Y/N," Niall tells her.
"Oh, please. I've seen you speed to go get a donut," she grumbles and grimaces when she feels a tongue lick her cheek. "Ew, Harry!" she pushes at him, but he doesn't move.
"You taste so good," he says before he erupts into a fit of giggles. "Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits," he groans randomly, and Y/N thanks God when they finally pull into her driveway. "Alright, goodbye guys," she sighs before getting out of Niall's car. She raises her eyebrows at Harry when he tries to follow her out. "Um, what are you doing?" she asks him.
"Uh, spending the night with you," he responds like she's acting dumb.
"H, I'm going to take you to your house," Niall tells him.
"What? No!" he cries and hugs Y/N's waist tight when she tries to walk away from where she stands outside the car.
"H-" she begins to say, but she's stopped when she sees Harry's eyes full of tears and his whimpery voice begging.
"Please, I'll be so good for you," he pleads, and she sighs. Niall doesn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted. He settles on taking a picture of a sad Harry practically wrapped around Y/N to send to him later. "Please, Angel. I don't want to be away from you," he cries, and how can Y/N argue with his pitiful little state?
"Alright, H. C'mon," she tells him and leads him out of the car.
"Good luck," Niall tells her before she shuts the car door and lets him drive off. Harry suddenly grabs her face and plants a sloppy wet kiss on her lips. She doesn't even have time to react before he's running up to her door.
"We're going to have so much fun!" he yells, and she shushes him, grumbling about her having neighbors. He waits impatiently for her to open the door, and once it's open, he's running inside in search of her dog Pickle. Y/N shakes her head, wondering what she's gotten herself into especially when she sees Harry laying on the floor with Pickle licking at his face. She grimaces, setting her stuff down and taking off her shoes before she makes her way to Harry.
"Let's get up and go to bed," she tells him, but he shakes his head and pouts like a toddler.
"I don't want to go to bed! You're being boring," he spits, but there's no real spite behind it.
"Fine, you can stay out here by yourself then," she says, knowing it will make him get up and follow her. As she's walking off to her bedroom, she hears Harry get up and scurry off in search of her. She quickly shuts herself into her closet to change before he catches up to her. Once she's changed into a large t-shirt and just her panties, she opens her door. She's not prepared to see Harry in just his boxers sitting at the edge of her bed pouting. She pretends to not notice him as she makes her way to her bathroom and does her nightly skincare and brushes her teeth. He follows after her quickly and shadows her routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth while looking at her expectantly the entire time.
Drunk Harry was needy for her.
Once they're both finished, they crawl into her bed. The lamp isn't even off before Harry is laying on top of her, weeping into her neck.
"I'm sorry," he cries. "Don't ignore me!"
"Why should I talk to you? Being so mean to me. Where's my sweet boy?" she asks, willing herself to not put her hands anywhere on him to mess with him more.
"I'm here, I promise," he whines. "You're not boring- not boring at all. You're the best person, and I love you." Y/N feels like the blood from her body was being drained at his drunk confession. "Don't be mad at me. I'm sorry. Am I being annoying? Oh, I am. I'm so sorry," he continues to cry.
"Puppy, I'm not mad at you," she tells him with a giggle. She finally lets her hand card through his hair, her other hand going to rub at his back.
"Okay, good," he says and begins to kiss at her neck again.
"You're incredibly needy," she sighs and leans her head back to give him more access to her skin.
"Yeah? Fuck, I'm so needy for you," he tells her, and her eyes grow wide when she feels him start to subconsciously hump at her leg. She feels his dick start to harden in his boxers.
"Maybe we should stop, H," she warns him.
"Why?" he whines like the thought of stopping brings him physical pain. His hips thrust into her thigh with more determination.
"Because you're drunk," she tells him.
"So? I want you just as bad when I'm not. I'm just better at being chiller about it," his speech slurs. "Can I suck on your tits?" he asks, and she feels one of his hands snake under her shirt to feel the bare skin of her stomach.
"Um," she stutters.
"Please? It'll help me sleep," he claims. "You can even turn off the lamp if you don't want me to see," he tries to convince her even further.
"Okay," she relents. She reaches over to turn off the lamp, so they're welcomed into the darkness. Harry wastes no time before his legs move to straddle her thighs, and he's lifting her shirt to feel at her breasts. They both moan when he glides his fingers over her taut nipples. He squeezes at them in handfuls and moans at the sensation.
"Fuckin' perfect," he sighs. She feels him scoot down so that he's resting his body weight against her now, and his mouth wraps around one of her tits. She gasps at the feeling and tries to work out the horniness she feels because she genuinely does want them to sleep. He spends some time swapping at both her breasts, biting, sucking, and kissing at both of them before he rests his head on her and keeps one of her tits in his mouth to lull him to sleep. The feeling begins to feel relaxing for her, and she feels herself start to drift to sleep as Harry sucks on her breast. She falls asleep with her hand in his hair and her boob in his mouth.
When she wakes in the morning, she's surprised to be in an empty bed. She thought for sure that Harry would still be resting on her chest or in her bathroom heaving over the toilet, but instead she feels no weight on her chest, yet she smells bacon and pancakes through her nose. She does her business in the bathroom and makes her way to the kitchen when she finishes. What she walks into is a sight she would love to wake up to every morning. Harry is in nothing but his boxers as he flips pancakes and sears some bacon on her stove. She says nothing for a long moment, just observes him. She finally decides to make her presence known when he walks over to the sink to wash some of his dishes once he finishes cooking the last pancake and piece of bacon. She feels his body tense then quickly relax when her hands wrap around him from behind and rub at his tummy.
"Good morning," his rough voice greets her, his body tensing with delight when her hands run over his abs and lower belly.
"Morning handsome," she greets him as well and rests her cheek on his back sleepily as her hands continue to wander. "How are you feeling?" Referring to his intense night of drinking.
"Better than I deserve," he laughs in self-deprecation. She laughs as well. "Honestly don't feel bad at all," he tells her and once he finishes the dishes, he turns around in her hold to see her beautiful morning face. He brushes a few strands of hair out of her face. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, I barely drank anything," she shrugs.
"Um, how are your- your uh," he stutters, and she's confused until he looks down at her chest. She laughs lightly.
"Not sure. Haven't seen or felt them yet," she says honestly.
"Can I look?" he asks. She gawks. "I just want to make sure I didn't hurt you!" he explains honestly. She eyes him.
"Okay," she agrees nervously and begins lifting her shirt. She looks away as he looks at her.
"Oh, shit," he gasps.
"Are they ugly?" she whines and goes to bring her shirt back down, but his hand stops her.
"No- they're- they're fucking perfect, but I- I fucked them up a bit," he admits honestly. Her eyebrows furrow before she takes a look for herself. She gasps too when she sees the damage he did. They're littered beautifully with hickeys and a few bite marks. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he tells her, and she looks up to see his eyes watering. She shakes her head as if to tell him not to feel bad.
"Is it messed up that I kind of like it?" she admits.
"You do?" he asks.
"I really do," she says and bites her lip. She finally drops her shirt to cover her abdomen again. She felt awkward just having her tits out in the middle of her kitchen.
"I really like them too," he admits as well and wraps his arms around her waist, bring her closer to him and leaning his face close to hers. He kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she sighs in contentment.
"Do you remember anything from last night? Anything in particular that you might have said?" she asks.
"Are you asking about me telling you I love you?" he asks boldly.
"Possibly," she replies.
"Well, what's to ask about it?" he wonders.
"Well, is it true?" she asks quietly and looks away from his gaze out of nerves. She feels his fingers gently grip her chin to make her look at him before he leans down and presses his lips against hers. She sighs into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck to press him against her harder. Both of his hands cup her throat, and his thumbs rest at her jaw to direct her in any way he likes. He parts once he feels he's running out of breath. He rests his forehead against her own, and she looks up at him with expectant eyes.
"I love everything about you," he admits.
"You also called me your wife," she says with a grin.
"You are my wife- just without all the legal papers and rings and whatnot," he explains, and she shakes her head with a laugh.
"Harry, I want to have sex with you," she admits breathlessly and watches as his eyes grow wide at her statement.
"Are you- Are you sure?" he asks.
"The surest," she tells him honestly.
"You want me to be your first?" he asks and presses a quick, light kiss to her lips.
"And my last," she adds and sees him swoon. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
"Okay. Okay- um. Well, let's eat first. We need- It's good to have energy," he stumbles his way through his sentence. She whines in complaint.
"No, we can do that after," she says and goes to pull at his briefs, but he snatches her hands and leans in close to her face. The dominance radiating off him makes her sink into herself.
"I'm not going to fuck you if you don't listen to me," he warns. Her eyes gloss over. "Be sweet for me and go set the food on the table. I'll get our drinks," he instructs, and she scurries off quickly to obey. She's standing awkwardly by her own table when he walks in, and he chuckles lightly. He sets the drinks down and slowly approaches her. He cups her cheeks, and she nuzzles into his touch. "You're not scared of me, right?" he asks, wanting to make sure her behavior isn't out of fear. She shakes her head quickly with furrowed brows.
"No, no," she assures. "Just... want to please you," she explains and turns her head to kiss the inside of his palm. He smiles at that and leans in to slowly kiss her.
"Good," he says against her lips. "Then be good for me and sit on my lap while we eat," he tells her and smiles when she blushes. He sits down first and guides her by her waist to sit down sideways on his lap. She wraps one arm around his shoulders, lightly scratching at his hair as he cuts her up some pancake. He feeds her a few pieces with one hand on keeps the other arm wrapped snug around her waist. He goes to give her another piece, but she shakes her head and takes the fork from his hand to feed him instead. It goes on like that until all of the bacon and pancakes are ate. There's a tension that settles in the room once the plates are cleared.
"Please," she whispers, and that's all Harry needs to hear before he's carrying her off to her bedroom. She giggles when he throws her on her bed and crawls after her, hovering over her excited body. She moans when he rests his body weight on her and kisses her like he's starved. His tongue finds its way into her mouth quickly, and the once innocent kiss becomes messy and sloppy. Harry's pulling away from her panting and with swollen lips. He moans at the sight of her- bare-faced and fucked out just from a little kissing.
"Can I take your shirt off?" he asks roughly.
"You can do anything you want," she answers seriously, making him laugh.
"Don't speak too soon," he tells her before shedding her of her shirt. He moans at her only clad in underwear, her breasts beautiful and littered with his markings. "Oh, baby," he whines and gently tweaks her nipples with his fingers. She gasps and arches her back away from the bed. "Are they sore?" he asks before leaning down to flick his tongue against her nipple.
"A bit, but that feels good," she tells him. She moans when he kisses down her body and to the edge of her underwear. He bites the waistband of her panties and pulls back only to let go of them and let them snap against her skin. She whines at his teasing and buries her hand in his hair to encourage him to do something. He grins at her impatience.
"Bratty little virgin," he remarks, and she tugs at his hair as a warning.
"Big annoying man-whore," she retorts back, and he laughs before lightly slapping her clothed mound. Her body jumps at the sensation, but he's quickly tugging her back into place. He presses his mouth against her clothed pussy and blows hot air against her. She squirms at the new sensation.
"You need to stay still," he tells her and places his hands against her thighs, spreading them in the way he likes. He spends more time licking at where he assumes her clit is by the sounds she makes. He flattens his tongue and licks over her panties, moaning when he begins to taste her wetness. "Can I take these off?" he asks, but his hands are already dipping into the waistband to take them off.
"Please," she tells him and lifts her hips to help him take them off. She feels a bit exposed now that she's naked. She nervously closes her legs, but he quickly snatches them open again.
"Don't do that," he warns her. His jaw drops when he sees her bare pussy, a moan tumbling from his lips. "I missed her," he groans, and she shakes her head in annoyance. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do to you," he tells her, and he's suddenly hovering over her face, her eyes wide. "I'm going to make you cum on my tongue- finger you a bit until you're stretched," he pauses to act like he's going to kiss her, only to pull back at the last second. "Then, I'm going to fuck your sweet little virgin pussy. That sound okay?" he asks, though it's not really a question. Y/N nods her head vigorously and throws her arms around his neck to kiss him. He moans against her mouth, but before she could slip her tongue into his mouth, he pulls away. "We can do more of that later. Let me taste you," he says, and she bites her lip as he pushes down her body.
"Harry, do something please," she whines and grips his hair in her fingers. He pries her thighs apart and begins with a long lick from her hole to her clit. She throws her head back and lets out a long moan, her fingers fisting in his hair hard enough to make him whine, so she immediately let's go and apologizes. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"
"No, baby," he tells her and places her hands back in his hair. "I like it, I promise, so pull all you want," he assures her and quickly gets back to eating at her. He essentially makes out with her pussy, not caring about how messy or wet anything was getting. He pushes her thighs apart farther and shoves his tongue as deep as he could push into her hole. Her moans and whines could barely be heard over his own. His tongue curls and tries its best to get all of her in his mouth. He's addicted to the way she tastes. He takes his thumbs, using them to spread open her hole wider, so he can really insert his tongue inside her and taste her better.
"Fuck, Harry," she moans. It's like nothing she's ever felt before. It's so much better than anytime she's gotten herself off. Harry himself is pure sex, and it's hard to not let her brain get all muddled around him. "I'm gonna cum," she warns and digs her fingers deeper into his scalp when he switches to flicking at her clit quickly and moving his head side to side. Her orgasm is strong and continuous, taking her a few moments to actually breathe her way to the end. She has to push his head away when the overstimulation begins. He crawls up her body and kisses her cheek.
"I'm gonna have to go down on you again some time tonight," he admits, and she laughs at his eagerness. "Do you feel good? Was that okay?" he asks.
"Yes, and yes," she answers.
"Let me know when you feel ready, and I want you to cum on my fingers at least once before I fuck you," he explains, and she blushes and is a bit taken aback by how he can just talk about this stuff so easily. He sees her blush and smiles. "Don't worry. You'll be as dirty as me soon." His hand moves to her throat, and he teases her lips with his. "Corrupt your innocent little pussy and have you begging for me all the time," he tells her and kisses the corner of her mouth. She shudders.
"You sound very sure of yourself," she tells him.
"And your pussy already loves me. Just let it happen, babe," he sighs, and she giggles.
"M'kay," she agrees in content. "I think I'm ready now." He smiles before he begins to move.
"I'm going to sit behind you, so it will feel a bit safer and more comfortable for you," he explains, and she could almost cry at how thoughtful he is. They maneuver around so that Harry's is against the headboard, and Y/N is leaning back against his chest. He starts by reaching around and grabbing her throat, turning her head so that he can kiss her. They make out for a bit until Harry gets too impatient. "I'm going to start with one finger. Let me know if anything doesn't feel right, okay?" He kisses her cheek for reassurance. "Why don't you rub at your pretty clit while I finger you," he encourages, and she nods. She starts to rub at her clit, and her body sinks further into Harry's. His hand wraps around her, and he brings it to her mouth. "Get it wet, baby," he instructs, and she doesn't waste another second before welcoming his finger into her mouth and getting it wet with her tongue. She sucks on it like it's a dick and swear she feels Harry's dick twitch in his boxers. He takes his finger out of her mouth and rests his chin on her shoulder, embracing her from behind to see what he's doing.
"Feels so nice already," she admits and leans her head back, so they're faces are pressed cheek to cheek. She kisses his cheek right as his finger begins to circle her entrance. She bites her swollen lip and rests her forehead against his temple. He slowly enters the finger, and her hips grind upwards to push it in deeper. "I can take it, H. I promise," she assures him.
"You're tight," he hisses, his own jaw dropping as he feels her warm gummy walls embrace his finger. "And so wet, fuck," he groans, and he can already feel her wetness dripping down his finger.
"Feels really good," she admits, her own fingers still working circles around her clit.
"Can I add a second?" he asks.
"Please," she begs and nods her head in encouragement. She moans when he feels his second finger prod at her hole. She's tight, but there's no resistance as the second finger slides into her.
"You're going to be my perfect cocksleeve," he tells her, his head turning so his mouth is pressed against her cheek, her jaw wide in pleasure. She's almost panting. "Pussy's gonna make me cum so fast and so fucking hard," he admits. "Are you on birth control?" he asks suddenly.
"Yes- yes," she nods her head, throwing it back when his fingers begin to curl inside her.
"Shit- you gonna let me fuck you raw?" he asks and punctuates his words by beginning to thrust his fingers inside her faster. Her pace on her clit quickens to his speed.
"Yes- Oh, fuck- that sounds so good. Wanna- I want to feel your cum in me. Want you to- oh- fill me up," she fights to speak as her orgasm approaches.
"Oh, yeah?" he asks, meaning for it to sound condescending, but it comes out whiney. He's on the verge of cumming himself.
"I'm cumming," she warns, but he just keeps his fingers moving inside her. Her orgasm seems stronger but doesn't last as long. The overstimulation comes quicker. "Okay- Okay," she winces and pushes his hand away. He removes himself gently as to not give her any pain. He doesn't waste a second more before he's sucking all her orgasm from his fingers, his eyes rolling into his skull at the taste. Once he cleans himself off, he wraps his arms around her waist to hug her to his chest as she gets her breathing under control.
"You did so fucking well," he praises, and she smiles.
"Thank you," she tells him and kisses his cheek. He looks at her, and when their eyes meet, they both feel the intensity. Their lips meet instantaneously, and she begins to turn around to straddle his lap. One of her hands goes to the back of Harry's head while the other cups his cheek tenderly. His hands settle on her waist, being careful not to make her grind over him in case she's still feeling any overstimulation. When she begins to mess with the waistband of his underwear, he pulls back.
"If you- We don't have to do anything else if you don't-" He's cut off by her hand groping his clothed dick. Harry's back slightly arches off the bed, and he moans quietly at the surprised touch.
"Trust me, I want to," Y/N assures him with a grin. She helps him get his underwear off and then gets back on his lap. They're positioned so that Harry is sitting up at her height as well, making it more intimate than if Harry was just laying down below her.
"It's going to feel deeper this way," he warns.
"Good," she says with a sly smirk, and he shakes his head with a smile.
"You're amazing," he says randomly. She smiles softly before leaning forward to kiss him. It doesn't last long because she's eager to have him inside her.
"I don't- I don't know what I'm doing," she suddenly admits with a laugh, and he laughs as well.
"I'll do all the hard work," he tells her. "Rub at your clit. It will help relax you," he explains, and she listens obediently. She has to raise herself a little so that Harry's dick can be placed at her entrance. "I'm going to push in, but I'll go very slow," he assures her with a serious look. He was so scared to hurt her.
"Thank you, Harry," Y/N smiles and continues to rub her clit when she feels the head of his dick press into her hole. They both gasp at the sensation, and Harry's presses her down until only his tip is inside her.
"Good?" he asks.
"Yes," she moans and fucks herself on the tip, in the process she sinks down about another inch.
"A fuckin' natural," he tells her. He's a little bit over halfway when she presses at his stomach. His eyes dart to hers that are closed shut. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take it out?" he asks in a panic. She laughs at his worriness.
"No, puppy," she tells him. "It's just a lot, and I've never felt anything like this before," she explains, and he nods his head in understanding. "Starting to feel really good, though," she admits and scratches at his abs. She sinks herself a little farther down.
Harry's trying to be on his best behavior, but his instincts are telling him to just grab her hips and start fucking up into her. It's the best pussy he's ever been inside of, and he knows she can feel him throbbing inside her. His balls are tight and round, stuffed with cum that belongs shoved inside her tummy. The thought almost sends him over the edge, picturing her belly and tits, that are still littered with his marking, round and swollen with him. His baby in her womb. The thought makes him whine.
"Are you okay?" she asks with a chuckle.
"Feels- feels too good," he whines and has to throw his head back when he feels her seated on his lap, having taken him all the way in. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing his orgasm away. He thinks all it would take at the moment is the sight of her innocent little body being corrupted, his fat cock shoved as far as it can be inside her pussy.
"It's deep," she comments, her voice almost as whiney as Harry's. Her eyes narrow at him and his distraught expression. He's still refusing to look at her. "Seriously, are you okay?" her voice suddenly worried.
"Yes. I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'm trying not to cum yet," he explains. "You feel- really, really lovely. The best pussy I've ever been in," he moans.
"It's okay if you want to cum, Harry. I've already cum so much, and this alone feels really good," she assures him, leaning forward to kiss his lips. He whines into her mouth.
"No, no- I think I'm okay for now," he sighs and finally looks at her. He feels as if he just brought himself back to square one. She looks so perfect sitting on top of his cock it almost makes him cry. She's rubbing at her clit and biting her lip with the cutest smirk on her face. "I won't last long," he admits.
"Me neither," she agrees and begins to move herself on him. Her hips grind against his pelvis, making his dick press into spots she didn't know existed. She stops rubbing her clit and instead presses her hands against his shoulders for extra help.
"Fuck- don't even need my help," he comments. "Already the perfect slut," he says through a moan. Her eyes narrow at him.
"I can f-feel your dick throbbing inside me. Who's the- the real slut?" she stutters, the feeling of him stretching her out making her brain foggy and incoherent. He whines at her assertive tone and feels his balls tighten. He sits up further so that he can hug her waist, pulling them close together. He uses his leverage on her to bounce her on him, and the new feeling makes her third orgasm approach quickly. The intimacy of the moment adds to the intensity of her approaching orgasm. They stare deeply into each other's eyes as they both begin to finish with each other.
It's like nothing Y/N's ever felt before when his balls start to leak his cum inside her. Her own orgasm hits her like a truck when Harry's seed starts to fill her womb. He looks so beautiful fucked out in front of her, his eyes welled with tears of pleasure much like her own.
"I love you," he moans and dips his head into her shoulder.
"I love you too," she moans back, wincing when she begins to feel the overstimulation, though Harry's still finishing inside her. "Damn, you had a lot in there," she laughs, and he blushes into her neck. His hips rut into her on their own accord until he finally begins to calm down.
Harry's face leaves its hiding spot in her shoulder, and he looks up at her like she's everything in the world to him. And she is.
She's his whole world.
+++++++++++++++++
im never fucking looking at this story again. took tooooooo long. hope you enjoy though 🤪
#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harrystyles#one direction#harry styles angst#smut#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader
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SVT and Jealousy
Requested? Yes!
Requests: "seventeen reaction to their partner being jealous" and "seventeen getting jealous over their partner? could be because someone’s flirting with their partner or maybe their partner is spending more time with a coworker or classmate to complete a project"
A/N: this one was a bit of a doozy since I decided to address both requests in one go.
A/N #2: This is the new and improved version which includes all of the members. Thank you to the person that let me know that one was missing. I'm not sure if reblogs that are already out there will contain this fix, but just an FYI.
Seungcheol
When he’s jealous: everyone saw this coming. It takes very little for him to be like, “hmm, that person is too close” or “that person’s talking to you too much”. Might insert him into the conversation both verbally and physically in a way that screams that you’re taken. Sometimes you’ll roll your eyes about it and call him a big baby, but sometimes you might have to have a serious conversation about whether he trusts you or not. Will still want to make it apparent that you’re taken even if it’s not super aggressive, so that’s kind of a non-negotiable here, I fear.
When you’re jealous: oddly, I think he’d be confused by this. Not because he doesn’t understand jealousy, but because he feels there’s no reason. He’s so unapologetically into you that he’s totally lost when you say someone was too close to him or talking to him too much. You’ll have to equate your jealousy to his own for him to ever get it - you know, the typical “would you like it if I did that?” He would not.
Jeonghan
When he’s jealous: such a rarity. He’s pretty secure in general, I think, so on a typical day it never occurs to him to be jealous. But I think if there were someone that you’re closer with or have a deeper history with (like a close friend that seems to blur lines or an ex that you still see from time to time), he might feel a little jealousy stir. SUPER passive aggressive if he’s ever feeling this way. You’ll leave an interaction and have to be like “what the hell was that???” Will never admit to said jealousy.
When you’re jealous: he actually wants you to be a little jealous. Starting to sound like a potential red flag, but hear me out. Won’t do anything crazy, but might not shut down a conversation that he recognizes as a tad too friendly right away, only to watch how you react. I believe he’d do this to reassure himself that you care. If you tell him something like that really bothers you, then I think he’d stop though.
Joshua
When he’s jealous: this absolutely manifests as insecurity. If you talk a little too much about one of your coworkers, it might make him think about what that coworker has that he doesn’t. Might not ever admit to the jealousy itself, but will certainly ask for a little extra reassurance when he’s feeling like this. 'Do you still love me?' 'Are you happy with our relationship?' 'Are there things I could do to make you happier?' Put this sweet, sweet man out of his misery.
When you’re jealous: oh, he never means for this to happen, I promise. He wants you to feel secure in the relationship, the same way he wants security himself. But he’s so friendly sometimes that both you and everyone else might misread it as something else. If you tell him you were bothered by something, he’ll make a real effort to eliminate the possibility of that happening again, but it is what it is sometimes.
Jun
When he’s jealous: it’s obvious because he clams up. Will give very brief answers with a little furrow in his eyebrows until you finally ask him if he’s alright and he falls apart. “Do you even love me anymore?!?” The drama!! You’ll have to press for specifics about what made him feel this way so you can avoid it in the future. At the very least, reassure this big baby that you still love him.
When you’re jealous: smug for only a moment. Quite literally a single second. He doesn’t like the idea that you doubt his love, just like you wouldn’t like it when he doubts yours. So he’ll be more cognizant in future interactions and if something can’t be helped, he’s reassuring you right away that it wasn’t what you might think.
Hoshi
When he’s jealous: so pouty and sulky. Where as Jun might bite his tongue for a little bit, I don’t think Soonyoung would. He’ll let you know right away that he doesn’t like this person and might even beg you to put some serious distance between you and them. Another big baby to reassure, but he’s really just nervous that you might not like him as much as he thought.
When you’re jealous: huge question mark floating above his head. Then when it clicks, he’s quick to assure you it’s nothing like that and you have nothing to worry about. Will lay it on thick just because he wants you to understand how into you he is. Will freely admit that there’s not a single thought in his head besides you a lot of the time. What you don’t know is that that conversation you saw across the room consisted of ‘my partner’ this and ‘my partner’ that.
Wonwoo
When he’s jealous: will never say it. He’s a lock box when it comes to this. If you do manage to pry this out of him, I think it won’t manifest in words as much as it would in actions in the bedroom. Would not be super possessive in public, but will want the reassurance that only he can do that and see you like that, you know?
When you’re jealous: smug for a moment as well, before he’s putting your mind at ease right away. Even if he won’t say when he’s jealous, he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks of that person that was just a little too close to him for your liking, even or rather especially if it’s mean. This might also manifest in the bedroom if only because he’s just not a man of many words.
Woozi
When he’s jealous: will become pretty irritable about it. When you leave this event, he’s snippy and seems annoyed with everything you say. This honestly might lead to a little bit of a fight and it might take some time to reassure him on where you stand. Really just wants to know that you’re his as much as he’s yours but won’t feel like he can come right out and say that.
When you’re jealous: totally lost. He works with a ton of artists, but why is it an issue now? If you say it’s because you’re sure this person is into him what with the messages that have been going back and forth, he’ll flat out say he doesn’t care about this other person. Would be pretty intentional about drawing boundaries with this person from then on because he trusts that you’re seeing something real there.
DK
When he’s jealous: oh boy. How can he draw attention to himself immediately? If his big personality doesn’t work, then he’ll resort to making it apparent that you’re taken, probably by just coming over and introducing himself as your boyfriend. If you raise an eyebrow at him about it later, he’ll shrug. “What, am I not?” Never mind that he’s praying that you agree and he didn't somehow miss an entire breakup.
When you’re jealous: much like Joshua, he’s perhaps a little too friendly for his own good. Totally oblivious about the other person’s intentions until it’s a little too late. The moment this person tries to touch him or say something flirty, he’s dragging you over to him, saying “hey, have you met my partner that I’m super in love with???” Not subtle at all and will not let you linger on those sort of thoughts.
Mingyu
When he’s jealous: Another one that could be a bit intense in making sure someone understands you’re taken. Like s.coups, it takes very little for him to get to this point. Talk about clingy anytime, but specifically in this situation. Doesn’t even have to say anything because he's already hanging all over you, but trust me he will. It’s ‘baby’ this and ‘love of my life’ that when he inserts himself into the conversation. Totally good once your attention is back on him, so another of the big baby club.
When you’re jealous: A natural flirt and absolutely won’t mean it. I picture that you will have to be just as aggressive as he is when he’s jealous for him to get that he’s letting a few too many little comments or touches slide. But he wants you to cling to him too, so while I don’t think he’d go out of his way to make you jealous necessarily, he doesn’t hate it if you are.
Minghao
When he’s jealous: ooo another passive aggressive one. After about the fifth snippy comment, you’re pulling him off to the side to ask what his deal is. “That person is my deal. They’re coming on to you.” No matter whether you realized it or not, if you say something like “so? I want you, not them,” he’ll just do a little ‘oh’ and let it go.
When you’re jealous: I’ll be honest, I think he’d be able to read the other person’s intentions and will never let it progress to something that could make you jealous if he can help it. But sometimes he can’t help it because it’s work related and he has to be friendly in front of cameras etc., so he’ll be quick to remind you of the same thing you tell him - that he wants you, not them.
Seungkwan
When he’s jealous: so damn snarky. This person will know that Seungkwan doesn’t like them. You’ll know Seungkwan doesn’t like them. Everyone will know Seungkwan doesn’t like them. You or someone else might have to even tell him to lay off a bit. That snark might be directed at you too, and you’ll have to wait until he’s ready to really talk about it before you understand the issue.
When you’re jealous: another one that the friendliness will get the best of him some times. He’s such a social butterfly, and to some extent you might have to accept it. Still, he doesn’t want to make you feel insecure about the relationship, so whether you’re around or not, he’s talking fondly of you to let others know he’s happily taken.
Vernon
When he’s jealous: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he’s not that aloof!!! Totally recognizes when someone’s coming on to you, but I don’t think it’s in his nature to act jealously. He sits back and watches, will maybe be a little uncomfortable, but you genuinely may never know that he feels that way. Feels better quite literally as soon as your attention is on him again. That’s actually all the reassurance he needs.
When you’re jealous: now I have to admit…. This might be where he’s a tiny bit aloof. May not recognize that someone’s hitting on him, like, ever. At least not until someone else mentions it. This might be tough at first, because he wants to recognize when this is happening to put a stop to it for you, but usually doesn’t realize until it’s far too late. Eventually, he’ll realize he can just casually mention you at the top of the conversation to imply he’s taken. He might even let himself look a little lovesick too for good measure.
Chan
When he’s jealous: retreats into himself and sulks. When you find him later, he might say something snarky like “where’s your friend?” Please shrug and say I don’t know so he can breathe for a minute about the fact that you don’t seem to care about that person. Might need extra reassurance here and there to feel secure about situations like this because, like I’ve said for others, he wants to know your his as much as he’s yours.
When you’re jealous: another one that’s sometimes too friendly for their own good. But he’s perceptive about it and when he realizes how you might take it, particularly if you’re showing signs of being jealous, he’s quick to abandon this person and smother you with affection until you get it. I mean, squishing your cheeks, kissing you, and loudly telling you he loves you and only you, regardless of how public the setting might be. Will lay it on thick because he doesn’t want you to have any doubts.
#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen reactions#svt reactions#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua#jun#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#dk#mingyu#minghao#seungkwan#vernon#dino
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Confessions of the Heart
Sylus x MCreader (female)
Warnings: angst to fluff, angry sylus and reader, hurt/comfort, kissing
Wrote this after being inspired by what @bookfreakk posted. I hope you guys enjoy!
Sylus was the most infuriating man you had ever met. Since the day you landed in the N109 Zone, you couldn’t stand his haughty, arrogant and smug nature. You two would always argue, especially after the man made you shoot his heart. It made you panic, though back then you never understood why. You always believed he had killed your grandma and Caleb, and your hatred for the man ran deep. But something about his battered, bloody self tugged at your heart, conflicting you.
As time went by, you grew to hate his teasing, his games, his schemes. In your mind, Sylus was everything you never wanted in a man- arrogant, cold, prideful and most importantly- a goddamn Criminal.
Then why was it that your heart skipped a beat every time you looked into those dangerous ruby eyes? Why was it that you found your heart searching for the silver haired man even after you returned to Linkon? It bothered you so much, after all you hated him, hated his guts…right?
Or so you thought. As you lay in bed alone at night, your mind kept recalling the memories of the time your evol linked the two of you together- the closeness of being in the closet, his deep, teasing voice calling you Kitten, his tall, buff body and his stupidly handsome face. Fuck, it was too much. That was when you realised, to your absolute horror, that you loved him. You loved Sylus, and as much as he infuriated you, as much as you wanted to claw his eyes out, you also wanted to grab his face and kiss him.
Fuck.
No, this was so wrong. You couldn’t love him, he was a criminal, wanted by the Hunters Association. Being with him meant bringing disaster upon your life. And that man could love no one. The Sylus you knew kept people around depending on how useful they were to him. He wasn’t one to get attached, no. He was the leader of Onychinus, he was a bloody murderer. There was no way you both could ever work out.
And as much as it made your heart hurt excruciatingly, you buried these ridiculous feelings for him deep down. Perhaps it was just a convenience crush, maybe it was because he was physically attractive. But no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had fallen for his teasing, his boasting, his pride. You had fallen for Sylus.
Perhaps that is what led to your current situation. You glared at the silver haired man sitting in front of you, breathing heavily as you seethed in rage. There he was, sitting ever so casually as he bled, having suffered multiple wounds all over him after a ridiculously dangerous mission you had no idea about. Luke and Kieran had called you over in a panic, never having seen their boss this way. Sylus was basically untouchable in the N109 zone, which is why seeing him battered and bruised like this did unspeakable things to your heart.
“Are you out of your fucking mind Sylus!? Why would you go face so many people ALONE!?” You spat in anger, watching as he simply rolled his eyes, his evol surrounding him to heal his wounds. “Seems like a certain kitten has her claws out tonight” He all but spoke teasingly, only fuelling your anger.
“Is everything just a fucking joke for you!? Why would you ever think that this was a wise choice!?” You raised your voice, agitated by his nonchalant behaviour. Sylus frowned at this, standing up to look you in the eyes. “Enough now kitten. I will tell Luke and Kieran to not bother you with such trivial matters in the future.”
Trivial? You looked at Sylus as if he had lost his mind, your eyes burning with rage. Did he not care about his own life? Did he seriously not understand why you were so angry? Oh of course he wouldn’t, he wasn’t capable of loving someone at all. “Shut up Sylus! Why are you always so arrogant and prideful!? You may be strong but you are not invincible! Walking into a room full of armed men and trying to kill them is a stupid choice!”
Sylus felt himself get agitated at that. You had no idea just why he had chosen to kill those men, just why he had put his life on the line. His ruby eyes glared down dangerously at you now, his tone sharp. “I said, enough. Do not speak on matters you know nothing about. I can handle myself.”
You scoffed angrily, hating that you really did not know anything about his mission. Sylus had been strangely distant with you over the last month, making your heart clench in pain every day. You hated how you still loved him, despite his recklessness. “Oh yeah? You can handle yourself? If you truly were able to then you wouldn’t be here nearly dead!”
Something in Sylus snapped as you yelled out those words. He hated being doubted, he hated being considered weak even after he had conquered the entirety of the N109 zone. And he hated being doubted especially by you. By the one woman that he loved more than his own life, the one woman for whom he was ready to risk everything he had. He clenched his fists in anger, glaring down at you as his own voice raised now “Don’t you even try to doubt my abilities. And frankly Kitten; why are you so bothered by me dying? A few months ago you were glad to put a bullet in my heart. So why the concern now huh?”
Hearing those words was your final straw. You could no longer contain your anger, nor your feelings. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! AND I HATE IT!”
Silence, pin drop silence was all you were met with after your outburst. Sylus stood there, motionless, not being able to believe what you had just said. A huge part of him felt relief, so much relief because only heaven knows how much time he had spent being hopelessly in love with you. But the other part? Heartbroken it was, because you admitted that you hated loving him.
For the first time since you’d known him, you saw a rare emotion in Sylus’ eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Was it..hurt? Your own hands trembled as you realised the weight of what you had done. Confessing your love for him was a dangerous move, one that could be potentially disastrous. But your heart could no longer help it. The sight of him bloody and injured, staggering onto the couch was too painful for you to bear.
“Why do you hate loving me kitten..?” You heard his deep voice say, much softer than before. Still as agitated as you were, you glared at him, responding. “Because I know you would never love me back. You..you don’t even know the meaning of love, do you? You only keep me around because I’m useful-“
You weren’t even able to finish your sentence before you found yourself pinned to the wall, Sylus’ face inches apart from your own. He was seething in anger once again, as if your words had hurt him more than the stab wounds he had a while ago. “How dare you assume that I do not know what love is, when I have spent Every.Single.Lifetime loving you, waiting for you..How dare you assume that I kept you around just to use you? After everything I do for YOU?”
You felt your lips part in shock as the weight of his words sunk in. Your anger slowly melted away as it was replaced by raw emotion. You looked into those hypnotising red eyes, searching for some form of mischief, some form of deception or teasing. But there was none. He looked at you with anger, but also with something so much more intense, something that made your heart race.
“You..you love me..? And..what do you mean by everything you do for me?” You asked him, voice soft as confusion swirled in your eyes. Sylus let out a shaky breath, his big warm hand cupping your cheek. “Sweetie..you have no idea how long I waited to meet you. I have always protected you from the shadows, keeping a watch to ensure your safety. Why do you think I went alone on such a dangerous mission? To wipe off The Nest, to wipe off the people who have hurt you, who have made you cry. I know you deemed me as someone incapable of love, but I have spent every second of my life loving you.”
Overwhelming guilt was all you felt at his confession. You had judged him so harshly, when he was out there seeking revenge on your behalf. Eradicating people who meant you harm. Putting his life on the line for you.
Tears filled your eyes as you cupped his cheeks, watching the way he immediately closed his beautiful eyes, nuzzling in your gentle touch. Your heart ached as you finally realised that the intense emotion he always looked at you with was Love. You were just too oblivious to realise it. “Sylus I..I’m so sorry..”
He looked at you again, chuckling softly as he shook his head, this time hugging you as he placed his hand on your head. “No need for any of that sweetie. I wasn’t exactly the best at showing my care for you. I may not show it but I do love you kitten. There is no love purer than mine.”
Tears rolled down your cheeks as you felt relief and happiness wash over you all at once. You hugged him back so tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you like that? I..I thought I’d lose you..” Hearing your shaky voice tugged at Sylus’ heartstring, leading him to hug you closer.
“Ah so that’s why my kitten was bearing her claws.” He teased you again, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing you cry was the last thing he wanted. But to his amusement, all he was met with was a gentle punch to his chest and a tearful “shut up” from you. That only made him chuckle more, leading him to pat your head.
“Don’t worry sweetie, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides..” he gently raised your chin, making you look into his eyes. “I will always find my way back to you, you have my word.”
You knew Sylus always kept a promise once he made it. You smiled tearfully, nodding as you got on your tippy toes to rest your forehead against his, making him smile affectionately. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you like he always had. “Don’t scare me like that again. You mean more to me than any revenge Sylus. I need you by my side..”
Oh you were gonna be the death of him. Your sweet words only increased his love for you even more, something he thought wasn’t possible. “I will always get rid of anyone who dares to even think of harming you. But, I will be more careful. Can’t have my kitten crying like this again, I prefer it more when you give me that exasperated expression of yours.”
You laughed at his words now, shaking your head. “God you’re so infuriating.” He chuckled at your words, looking at you with the same teasing glint in his eyes, only this time, they were also full of tender love. “And yet you love me sweetie.”
You rolled your eyes at his smug voice, but you weren’t able to fight the loving smile that made its way on your face. “Alas, I do” Sylus smiled wider at that, leaning closer until your lips were a mere inch apart as he whispered “And I love you more than anything else.”
The next thing you felt were his soft lips engulfing your own in a kiss that was filled with longing and passion. You kissed him back immediately, heart fluttering with love as you realised just how hopelessly you had fallen for this man. The big, bad leader of Onychinus; the criminal wanted by the hunter’s association, the prideful infuriating man. But now you realised that in this moment, with you, he was just Sylus. Your Sylus. World be damned, he was all you wanted.
Tags: @radiantbrilliance
#love and deepspace#lads#sylus qin#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#sylus x mc#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lds sylus#onychinus#n109 zone
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❧THROUGH THE CRACKS☙
warning: angst, swearing, talks of violence, lowkey sexual tension, she/her usage for reader.
summary: you hate Luke Castellan and he hates you, but when you see him in the woods crying your gentle nature slips through… just a bit.
Luke hissed in pain leaning against a tree, he squeezed his eyes shut which only made the pain in his face worse. His new scar throbbed as the stitches begged to burst, and his head was pounding like it had never before. He had run out of his cabin so he didn’t disturb his siblings and the other sleeping campers in there with his whining, so he was currently sobbing from pain past curfew and hoping that the harpies wouldn’t hear him.
It wasn’t like he’d be able to sleep anyway tonight, he didn’t want to face the nightmares waiting for him when he shut his eyes, he was grateful for the pain he was suffering from at that moment too because every time he shut his eyes shooting pains shot across his face.
He reached up to touch the cause of his misery feeling the rough fabric of the stitches and his bumpy skin that had been deeply sliced, it only made him sob louder. The feeling of pain, failure, and hunger mixed together, he hadn’t eaten for a while and he didn’t think he’d be able to stomach a meal, he’d just be picturing what he looked like in a mirror and it would all come back up instantly.
He’d been avoiding seeing people lately too, specifically you. Luke could already imagine the jokes you’d make and the look of disgust that would be plastered on your face, it made his stomach turn. You both made harsh comments at one another, no stone was left unturned when you two were being rude to one another, but he hoped you’d at least leave this situation alone when you finally saw him face to face.
You knew what had happened, word got around quickly at camp and you even felt a little bit bad for Luke, till the feeling of pity wore away and you started to get frustrated that he was ignoring you. You enjoyed picking a fight with the boy, he felt like the only one that could match you in a fight or argument.
That night you couldn’t sleep either, not for any specific reason you couldn’t seem to fall asleep so you took a walk in the woods, like you usually did when you felt restless. You expected to get caught by Chiron or Mr D catching you outside past curfew, but you didn’t care because you knew there wasn’t much they could do other than slap you on the wrist and ask you not to do it again.
What you didn’t expect was to hear soft sobs coming from behind a tree, and you definitely didn’t expect to see the noise coming from a teary-eyed Luke Castellan whose tear-stained cheeks turned bright pink when he locked eyes with you.
He groaned embarrassed and annoyed that he’d been caught, even more annoyed that it was you that had found him breaking down. Luke was waiting for a laugh to come out of your mouth or for a witty comment about how weak he is.
But you didn’t open your mouth at all, you were just in shock. Luke Castellan the camp’s golden boy who hasn’t stopped fighting since the day he was born, probably one of the toughest people you know (though you’d never admit it) was crying.
“I’m waiting.” He spat, sniffing and wiping his face preparing to be verbally abused by you.
You noticed how tired his eyes looked, he was paler than usual too, and it made your stomach drop. “For what?” you frown.
“For you to make fun of me, what else?” Luke didn’t look at you in fear of what your expression would be, disgust, joy or even worse pity.
“You think that low of me, Castellan.” You scoff crossing your arms, you then look around you for the possible chance of another camper popping out from behind a tree and catching the both of you. And when you realised that wasn’t going to happen you slowly sat down next to him.
Luke shivered, you weren’t the most comforting presence. You both sat in an awkward silence for a while, before you broke the ice with a stupid question. “Um- why… why are you crying?” You mentally curse yourself because you already know the answer to that but you couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“What do you think?” Luke snapped, he wasn’t in the mood for your games and he definitely was too mentally drained to play into them. He hissed again, his scar mocked him properly like how you were.
You frown again, catching a glimpse of the scar on his face, it looked swollen and incredibly painful. It reminded you of the time Chimera stuck its claws into the side of your thigh and every step you took made it feel like you were stepping onto millions of knives. The only thing that soothed it was this weird cooling cream the Apollo cabin made for you. And you were pretty sure you had some left in your cabin.
“I have something that will help calm that down.” You hum softly it not only surprised you but Luke too, why were you being so nice? Was it something to do with him being so broken that you just felt like you had to? Yeah, it had to be because of that.
“Really? You want to help… me?” Luke raised his brow hissing in pain completely forgetting his scar was there.
You rolled your eyes and got up off the floor crossing your arms, “You gonna accept my help or what, Castellan?” you stood over him but not in your usual intimidating way, actually, nothing about how you were acting right now was like how you usually acted and it was creeping him out.
He thought for a moment trying to ignore the possibility that this actually might be a plan to murder him and decide to place his trust in you it’s not like he had any other choice anyway, he was in pain and would do anything to get rid of it. He got up off the floor and followed behind you with his head down so that if he was caught they wouldn’t be able to see his red and puffy eyes.
When you got to your cabin you opened the door carefully and quietly so nobody would wake up, and dragged Luke over to your bed. He cautiously sat down looking around the quiet and dark room feeling extremely out of place sitting on your bed.
You open your bedside drawer wincing every time it made a noise and swiftly took out the ointment. Luke scrunched up his face when you opened the tub and a strong scent filled his nose and made him hold back a gag. “Smells like you.” You smirk slightly walking over to him and gathering some of the cream with your fingers.
Luke would’ve fought back but the words were unable to come out when he realised you were going to put the cream on him. You didn’t specify at all when you said that you were going to help him, you didn’t mention that you were going to be touching him, touching a specific spot that was extremely painful to be exact.
He backed away slightly from instinct and you huffed, “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m trying to show you how to use it, dummy.” You hadn’t really been planning on putting it on his face either, you just got carried away but you didn’t want him to know you made a mistake. You never make mistakes.
Hesitantly, he leans back in and you slowly move your fingers to his scar gently spreading the cream around and soothingly rubbing it in. It was cold but soothingly, he couldn’t smell it anymore once it was on his face and he also slowly started to not be able to feel the strong shooting pains across his face.
You were being so gentle and so soft, Luke had never seen you like this or act this way with any and if you ever did he never expected it would be him you were doing it too.
You were focusing so hard on not hurting him, and Luke noticed, you cautiously softened your pace when you got near spots that were even more tender than the others and made sure you put more of the cooling cream on those spots.
Luke didn’t know where to look, you were filling his view and everywhere he seemed to look felt inappropriate to do. At one point he felt his eyes lingering on your plump pink lips that always seemed to be stuck in a pout, he felt himself start to think about what they’d feel like and internally screamed when he realised what he was doing and tried to avert his eyes behind you.
“Stop moving.” You hissed quietly getting annoyed at his head moving around so much, that you didn’t wait for a reply and held his face still with your other hand not noticing how he shuddered at the contact.
“Why do you hate me so much.” Luke suddenly blurted out, not even knowing what he was saying till he said it. He was curious though, there wasn’t a day you weren’t mean to him, even the first day you both met you were so nasty and you didn’t even know his name. “I don’t even remember doing anything wrong, you’ve just always been such a… bitch.”
You rolled your eyes, scoffing “You're not the only one, so don’t feel too triggered.”
“Wow, good to know i’m not special.” Luke sarcastically gasped acting hurt, but when he realised you weren’t bothered one tiny bit he sighed and went back to his question. “Still, why?”
“Why what?” Your tone was sharp and harsh but your fingers stayed so gentle.
“Why are you so mean?” Luke asked hoping to get a breakthrough, seems though you were acting like a completely different person today maybe he could get some truth and vulnerability out of you.
Silence filled the room once again, not because you didn’t answer but because you genuinely didn’t know the reason. You just shrugged and continued to work, but Luke wasn’t satisfied with your answer. “Angel, be real for once. You owe it to me for seeing me… you know-”
“Cry?” You slightly grin and Luke groans the look of embarrassment on his face again, it makes you frown you didn’t mean to make fun of him. So you let out a loud quiet sigh and suck up every thought that was screaming at you to stay quiet. “I don’t know, I guess I’m like… scared.”
Luke raised his brow, surprised that he got you to open up even if it was just a tiny bit. “Scared? Of what?” You being scared was something Luke thought that could never be possible, you were the most fearless person he knew.
“Getting close to someone i think… trust doesn’t come easy for me.” You try not to look at his eyes to see if you could tell what he was thinking, but the temptation was driving you crazy. He probably thought you were so stupid and weak for thinking that, that being the reason you mean to so many people is pathetic.
But he didn’t, Luke thought the opposite. He’d never seen you be so honest and open, and he loved it, in some weird way he enjoyed seeing you be so soft.
“I get it.” Luke hummed softly.
You were taken aback by this, he agreed with you? “You do.”
Luke nodded because he did understand the person he was supposed to trust most in this world, his dad, was a complete asshole who sent his child on a dangerous, impossible quest that had already been done.
You bit your lip to stop you from trying to smile at that, you were probably going to hate yourself in the morning for this because Luke would definitely use it in the future against you and embarrass you in front of all your siblings who look up to you.
His eyes darted to your lips, you were driving him crazy right now and he hated it, he hated that you didn’t even realise it too. He finally stopped looking around and just settled his eyes on your face, softly smiling at how focused you were on his own face too. The pale and radiant glow that the moon shone into your cabin lit your face up, making you look so angelic which was fitting for the current situation.
Luke smirked, “Never thought you’d be helping me, and I’m on your bed. What has possessed you tonight, angel.” he teased. The Luke that was crying in the woods had disappeared and the cocky, arrogant Luke you absolutely despised was back.
“Don’t call me that.” You snap, your nostrils flaring as you grit your teeth. But your actions weren’t acting up with your expression and tone because you continued to treat him like he was made of glass.
“Never thought our faces would be this close either.” You felt his hot breath on your face and the feeling of your noses just barely touching, you hadn’t noticed how close you seemed to be moving to him and you also didn’t notice how his eyes were piercing into yours.
It made you shiver, why did it make you shiver? And why did your stomach flip when he let his gaze drop back down to your lips and then back up to your eyes? You hated this, you hated every second you spent with his eyes on you, looking at you like you weren’t you, like you weren’t his enemy. Yet you also didn’t feel like moving anytime soon, it was like you were too magnets just begging to be even closer than you already are.
You’d stopped touching his wound at this point, your body had frozen all together the hold his gaze had on you was frightening. Your heart felt like it was doing flips and you just wanted to bang against your chest till it stopped beating.
Luke didn’t seem to mind how much his mind was currently racing with thoughts of you and nothing but you, he so badly just wanted to place his hands on your waist, your hips just anywhere he could, anywhere you’d let him.
You were supposed to hate each other yet in this moment hate was nowhere to be found, the air was thick with something entirely different and it scared you both but it felt so intriguing.
Unconsciously the hand that was on his scar slowly started to move down accidentally brushing his lips in the process, the action drove Luke even crazier because he wanted to do the exact same to you. But it made you snap out of whatever trance you were in and you backed away from him.
“All done.” You blurted out ready for whatever that moment was to be over and done with for Luke Castellan to be off your bed and out of your cabin, and for him to stop looking at you like you're a gift from the gods.
“Uh- yeah, cool.” Luke shot up off the bed, praying that you couldn't see how hot his face was right now. He scratched the back of his neck that awkward feeling creeping back up on him, “Um, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, Castellan. I mean it, don’t ever or I’ll kill you.” You warn him, and he knows you meant it. You handed him the tub with the ointment and told him the instructions for putting it on when and how too, and after that, he rushed out your cabin leaving you flustered and so very confused.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fanfic#percy jackon and the olympians#imagine#pjo#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan x you#charlie bushnell x reader#enemies to lovers#luke castellan smut#luke castellan enemies to lovers
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You Can Have Me - Rafe
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader (Jj's twin sister)
** MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU ARE NOT UP TO DATE**
18+ ONLY!!
Written with the help of my darling BFF @fanficgirl429
This is my first dip into OBX and I am not disappointed in myself :P Leave some love if you like it xo
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I jolted awake, the torment of my latest nightmare abruptly dissipating. The early morning sunlight caressed my skin as it filtered through the delicate white curtains. The movement beside me anchored me to the reality that I was home in North Carolina, secure, if only for the moment.
“You good?” Kie asked beside me in a sleepy tone.
My body resisted as I cast aside the comforter and compelled myself to rise from the bed.
“I don’t think ‘good’ is the right word,” I muttered, grabbing my sports bra from the floor and moving toward the bathroom.
She mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out before rolling away from me.
Upon our return from Morocco, the stark reality of having lost both our home and business hit us with overwhelming force. Rafe Cameron, who seemed the most improbable of heroes, extended the hospitality of his beachfront home to us pogues. John B would say this was a gesture to Sarah and the fact Rafe would soon be an uncle. Conversely, Sarah claims it was because of me. I chose to ignore her.
It may be difficult to comprehend, but experiencing homelessness was not the most distressing event of the past month. Upon our return home, we found ourselves one member short of our original group. My sole family member, my twin brother, is now lost to me permanently. My heart has been irreparably broken, as the only true family I ever knew was taken away by our estranged and unstable father.
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
It has been more than three weeks since that happened. While I have not fully come to terms with the loss of a significant part of myself, I have become emotionally numb to it. I could not endure another expression of sympathy or inquiry about my well-being from anyone in the community. With that being said, for the past week, I have rarely stepped outside the small room that Kie and I shared.
I brushed my teeth and then swiftly threw my hair up in a loose ponytail. Once I was done, I grabbed some running shorts and paired it with a loose tee, desperate to release endorphins.
“I’m going for a run, I’ll be back in an hour.”
The door was already shut but I smiled at the muffled ‘be careful’ from Kie.
My sneakers slid on effortlessly, and before anyone had the chance to engage me in conversation, I exited. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I halted suddenly, intrigued by the sound of music coming from one of the open garages. It was a quarter past seven, and we were not particularly a lively bunch this early in the day.
As I approached the open door, Rafe came into sight. He was standing there, humming to the music, dressed in a snug white t-shirt and boxers. A wave of butterflies stirred in my stomach at the mere sight of him, evoking a mix of confusion and excitement within me. He glanced up from the bike, removing the black grease from his fingers onto his shirt.
“Y/N, hey.”
I smiled at him as I leaned against the frame to the garage. “Hey Rafe.”
A week prior to our departure for Morocco, I had spent hours wrapped up in this man. His skin pressed against mine, his lips caressing every inch of my body. The mere recollection of those moments left me feeling lightheaded. However, since our return, our communication had dwindled to almost nothing. I stood at the door to his bedroom one night, desperate to feel him inside of me again, but terrified of being denied. I went to bed tense and alone.
My body yearned for him once more as he gazed at me with his deep ocean blue eyes. It was evident that he was attempting to decipher my thoughts, his eyes narrowing while I remained silent.
“Are you ok?” he asked, leaning on his bike.
I pulled myself from the trance and stepped further into the garage. “Please don’t ask me that, I’m sick of people asking me that.”
He cocked his head to the side before dropping a tool in his toolbox. “Fine. Am I allowed to ask if you are having a good morning?”
“I am so far, but maybe check back later as things can change at any given moment. I’m going to go for a run.”
Rafe nodded and reached down for something I couldn’t see. “Cool, cool. I would have thought maybe you were going to the shooting range or something.”
I decided it was best to play dumb. “Why would I be going to a shooting range?”
His hand resurfaced holding a black gun.
Shit.
I looked at the gun then back at him. I was careless, and couldn’t remember where I’d left. It must have been in the back of his truck. “I can explain.”
“I actually have a few questions. One, where the fuck did you get this? And two, are you insane?”
This wasn’t at all how I was hoping this morning would go. “Look, I know how to use it. I’ve been practicing.”
“Oh, you know how to use it? That makes me feel much better,” he laughed, removing the clip and putting it back into the bag he pulled it out of. “What are you doing, Y/N? Are you planning on going and killing Groff yourself?”
“Why not?”
Rafe’s eyes widened as he straddled the bike. “For fuck sake, Y/N.”
I moved closer, standing right beside him and the bike. “Why not, Rafe? I don’t want anyone else hurt, and we know he isn’t above killing his own children let alone my friends. I can do this, I have to do this!”
“And what if he kills you first?”
As if I didn’t think about that. “That’s definitely a possibility.”
“A possibility…” He had that crazed look we all knew so well. “Do you even know where he is?” He asked, clearly irritated as he rubbed his eyes.
His question surprised me. “No, I don’t.”
Rafe nodded, then reached for a wrench in his toolbox. “Alright…”
I leaned forward trying to catch his gaze, “Alright what?”
“Once you know where he is, you let me know.”
This time I laughed. “Why would I do that, you’d try and stop me.”
“I won’t. When you know where he is, I’ll go with you and we’ll kill the son of a bitch.”
I stood there silent for a moment, confused at the sharp turn the conversation just took. He continued on his bike as if no words had just been exchanged. Like neither of us were just perfectly ok with committing murder three seconds ago.
“Rafe…I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask, I volunteered.”
He threw the wrench back into the box and reached out to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into him. “I’m supposed to be the crazy one, but right now you’re scaring me a little.”
My hand instinctively reached for his abdomen, applying a gentle pressure against his muscles.
“You scare me too.”
An unexpected rush of life filled my heart, which throbbed so vigorously that I worried it might burst from my chest. He moved in closer, our lips nearly aligned, brushing softly against one another without fully making contact.
His calloused hands traversed the bare skin of my waist, then stealthily slipped under the waistband, pulling me tightly against his thigh. He smiled at me, and I could feel the heat rising, a flush spreading between my legs.
“Y/N…” his lips brushed my cheek, before moving to my ear sending a shiver down my spine to where my body wanted him most. ”I need you, and if Groff takes you away before I even get to have you…let’s just say things won’t end well.”
I moved my hand down to his boxers, slipping beneath the elastic. My fingers curled around his firm erection, gliding back and forth. “Rafe, you can have me whenever you want me.”
Rafe moaned, biting softly on the nape of my neck.
He gently pulled me closer, lifting my leg so I could straddle the bike to sit on his lap. Our lips finally reunited, but this time there was no hesitation, only an intense desire. My arm encircled his neck as I leaned back on the handlebars, arching my back into him while feeling the ignition pressing against my shoulder blades. It didn't matter though, as I was completely enthralled with this man.
Rafe withdrew slightly, his fingers gliding up my leg until they encountered my shorts. With a delicate motion, he eased them down, removing them as if he had performed this action countless times before. As he leaned in once more, his lips met my thigh, placing rough kisses upon the exposed skin. I arched my back as his mouth connected with my pulsating center, his thumb teasing the thin, damp fabric.
“Oh, god.” I let out a soft sound as he moved the loose fabric aside, teasing my sensitive area.
His tongue swirled over my core, and my body threatened to tip over the edge. I could feel him smiling as he devoured me, the sounds escaping me only egging him on further. He momentarily withdrew, prompting me to reach out in protest.
“I like you begging, but I’m just getting these out of the way so I can ruin you.”
My underwear fell away effortlessly, and before I could utter another word, he returned to his position between my legs, guiding me nearer to my peak. The sensation coursing through me was the most intense I had ever experienced. His tongue glided over my center, while two fingers rhythmically entered and exited, propelling me toward the precipice of pleasure.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.”
The apparent struggle in my voice served only to urge him to quicken his movements, and I was unable to withstand it any further. A delightful tingling spread throughout my body as I reached my peak, my heart racing and my breath becoming erratic.
Rafe reclined slightly before rising to his feet, a smirk playing on his lips, fully aware of the effect his actions had on me. His blue eyes roamed over my figure as he extended his hand toward me. I placed my hand in his, and he swiftly drew me up and guided me toward the wall. His hands descended to my waist, and he pivoted me so that my back was firmly against the wall.
“Should we stop?” Rafe asked, his fingers playing with the hem of my t-shirt.
His boxers were halfway down his thigh when I looked up at him, towering over me with a devilish grin. “You’re so fucking funny.”
He suddenly placed his lips against my neck, leaving a series of kisses before ultimately returning to my mouth. In a swift motion, he elevated my leg and pressed his aroused tip against my core.
“You’re nice and wet, all for me.” He whispered, biting my already inflamed bottom lip.
His length entered me effortlessly, the sensation of his movements eliciting soft moans. One of his hands firmly grasped my thigh, elevating my leg, while the other hand held my backside, his fingernails creating delicate crescent impressions as they traced my skin.
Rafe's movements began with a deliberate yet pressing urgency, intensifying with each thrust. I felt myself tighten around him as the well-known pleasure surged within me. His lips met mine, our tongues intertwining amidst our shared moans.
“Damn, you feel so good.”
My hand clung to his shirt, pulling him tighter to me.
A wave of bliss enveloped me, my head tilting back as I softly uttered his name repeatedly. Rafe was just behind me, a deep groan escaping his lips as he nestled his face into the curve of my neck.
The two of us stood there for a moment, catching our breath. Rafe reached down and pulled his boxers back up before gently placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“For that, with you,” he smiled and took a breath. “…I’d kill a hundred Groffs.”
The expression in my face revealed my own satisfaction. He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and kissed me one final time, this time with significantly more passion.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally withdrew, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he returned to the project he had been engaged in earlier. "Are you still planning to go for that run?" he inquired, casting a glance in my direction.
I shook my head, “No, I think I’m good.”
#outer banks#obx season 4#obx#outer banks season 4#obx spoilers#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe smut#rafe imagine#outer banks imagine#rafe fanfiction#drew starkey#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron x y/n
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