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gothgoblinbabe · 4 months ago

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She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

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hoshigray · 6 months ago

Note

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!”

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure.

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby.

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet.

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room.

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff.

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows.

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.”

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold.

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie.

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes.

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly. “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by.

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies.

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit.

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!”

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.”

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more.

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?”

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure.

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance.

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

“Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict.

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity.

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.”

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax.

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth.

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior.

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub.

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane.

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?”

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh.

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

3K notes · View notes

satorulovebot · 2 months ago

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so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next chap. the husband and his wife

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen au #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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dellinah · 11 months ago

Note

I may be wrong but anon comes across as young-ish bc I think there's just a period of your young life where everything (especially when you grow up on the internet) feels just so big and important, no matter what it is.

And with how loud people are on the internet sometimes it feels like something is WAAY more important than it ACTUALLY is. Especially in fandom spaces.

What I'm trying to say is that although you may feel like this is a huge issue right now, at the end of the day if you step away from it you'll see it's just a cartoon and some people on the internet, anon. You're not making the world worse by watching it. You're not evil. You're not a bad person. I promise most people do not care what you watch, it's just that a small minority are REALLY loud.

This is not me saying that nothing on the internet matters, mind you. It very much does, especially when it comes to privacy and/or exposing people for really harmful things. It's just that things often get inflated in how bad they are. People have this tendency of having no nuance and suddenly you're a bad person for enjoying a show which is no different than commiting a real life crime in those people's eyes. But only one is an actual crime, you know

So, yeah, sometimes things feel a lot bigger than they are and a lot worse, but I promise they're not. Just enjoy whatever you want to enjoy

Hey, I'm really sorry for asking this, but do you and how do you deal with any guilt for liking Hazbin Hotel? I think the controversies and antis have got to me because I can't watch it or any content without thinking about those.

I love the songs (both the show's and PARANOID DJ's because they're bangers) but I also can't help but think "am I a terrible person with bad taste for liking this?"

Parts of this show also just make me happy, especially Angel Dust. He became such a comfort to me after I went through a similar situation. Not as extreme, but it messed me up. And Alastor is just the best character to ever be created. He sings and dances and kills and eats people, what more could you want in a man? But yeah, I just want to enjoy the silly demon show without feeling gross afterward and I don't know how to shake that feeling off.

First of all, I don't have any guilt watching anything I enjoy.

Second of all, neither should you. And this is the problem with antis and "critics". No one should EVER be made to feel bad about liking anything. Hell, I'll even extend that thought to those who like Velma. I'll never understand it, but I can't hate you for liking something.

I know Vivzie is tied to a lot of controversies, but so what? More than half of them have been debunked or shown to have changed as she grew older. Even if you still feel iffy, Hazbin is more than just Vivzie. There's an entire crew attached to this show and they should not suffer bc of one person.

I mean, you've most likely played a game or watched a movie that has had a problematic person connected to it. Yeah, that person is scummy, but you can still enjoy the content that has them featured or they created bc...that doesn't define you as a person. What you like in fiction does not translate to real life.

It's different when it comes to someone like Onision, who's content is nothing but his life and about him. I'd be more disgusted if you liked him vs you liking Hopper from A Bug's life, despite him being played by Kevin Spacey. Awful person, but Hopper is disconnected from Spacey other than voice. Or liking a song by a problematic artist. You like the song, not the person.

Once again, YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL GUILTY FOR ENJOYING SOMETHING! NO ONE SHOULD EVER FEEL GUILTY FOR ENJOYING MEDIA THAT'S MEANT TO BE ENJOYED! VIVZIE MADE THE SHOW BUT SHE IS NOT THE SHOW!

Anyone who dares to feel self-righteous over a cartoon needs to get that tree branch out of their ass.

#i hope this doesn't come across as condescending bc I genuinely have a lot of sympathy for anon #especially if they are young as I suspect they might be #I think most of us had that phase where you freaked out bc you said a bad word on the internet #or you made a weird drawing/fanfic that found its way into your group of friends when it wasnt meant to #or you enjoy a show that's been 'cancelled' in the eyes of the twitter people #and suddenly it feels like thats such an important issue and you are the worst person and this will follow you forever #and ruin your reputation #and we just lost sight of what's genuinely ok vs. not bc everything feels so important and big and oh my God Im a bad person #and like #step away from the computer from a moment and realize none of it is an actual issue #no one actually cares if you liked weird fanart on twitter or if you wrote some 'cringy' oc x canon fanfic #i PROMISE theres much more worse and pressing issues in the world and dont let some loud mouths take away your joy #block people if you need. dont search a tag that upsets you. just step away from it and i promise it suddenly will become a lot smaller #youre allowed to just enjoy things and i hope youre ok <3 #ps : obv this doesnt apply to people using the internet to commit crimes/groom minors/produce criminal content #bc those things actually MATTER #so dont let the internet dilute your perception of smth actually bad vs. smth thats just 'cringy'#and be happy with what you enjoy #best of luck to you anon. youre ok. virtual hugs and all that <3 #hazbin hotel

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months ago

Text

reserved chair

words: 10.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, college au, past car crash, anxiety/ptsd, shy!reader, virgin!reader, soft!rafe, fingering, female recieving oral, p in v sex, protected sex

you take a deep breath before pulling open the door, eyes scanning the lecture hall. despite being ten minutes early to class, most of the seats are already taken. you turn quickly towards the stairs, climbing them slower than your feet want to, desiring to speed up the stairs to stop being able to see everyone's eyes and just the back of their head.

you let out a second deep breath when you get to the top, only a few students in the back row. you walk until you're as far away as possible from any other students, sinking into your chair the second you're sat down. you allow yourself a moment to breathe before working on getting your stuff out, placing your head down to just focus on lessing your anxiety.

upon picking up your head, you swear everyone's eyes are on you. you glance around towards your fellow classmates, but they've almost all turned to stare at the back row, not even trying to hide looking at you.

“wh-what is it?” you whisper to the girl in front of you, the one closest who thankfully looks nice.

“that's rafe camerons seat.”

“who is rafe cameron?” you question. it's the first week of classes, how could he have already claimed a seat?

the doors open before she can respond, and despite other students entering without anyone caring, everyone's attention shifts, his energy and presence entering the room before he does.

you instantly know that he must be rafe cameron. his eyes land on you before you can scurry to a different seat, trapping you in place, a slight smirk on his face as he casually makes his way up the stairs, and then down the aisle until he is hovering over you.

“is-is this your seat?” you manage to mumble out. “ill move.”

“nah, pretty girl, you stay right there.” rafe grabs the chair next to you, pulling it closer than the allotted distance between work areas before sitting down, so close you can practically feel his leg hovering close to yours, making you shrink even more in your seat.

you can feel his eyes staring at you, paying no mind to anyone else in the classroom, even as the professor enters.

“do you need a pencil?” you ask, reaching down to place your bag on your lap, knowing your voice just came out pathetically timid and weak.

“nope.” he hums, placing a laptop on the desk from a bag you didn't even realize he was carrying onto the table. you should have known he was the type to write notes on a laptop. you wish you had that kind of funds, but you have to head to the library every time you need to use a computer, already struggling just from the tuition alone.

you nod, keeping your head turned down as you get out your notebook, favorite mechanical pencil, and the syllabus you pre-printed out and highlighted.

“what's this?” rafe questions, reaching over to tap your finger, making your eyes widen at the touch, even though he just taps the bandaids around three of your fingers.

“oh! um…” you move quickly to hide your hand. “i write a lot. i get sores on my hand from holding my pencil if i don't bandage them.”

“shit.” rafe laughs. “that's intense.”

you're not sure if he's making fun of you, if he's mocking or sincere. “yeah.” you just whisper.

“what's your name?” he questions, head tilting to the side out of curiosity.

“y/n.” you mutter out. he's probably the first person you've introduced yourself to at college, even going as far as to manage the extra money to get a single dorm, knowing you'd need the privacy and silence to recover from the social interactions.

“im rafe. rafe cameron. where you from y/n?”

“norfolk.” you whisper your answer, your professor starting to introduce himself, but rafe keeps talking as if he isn't going over the syllabus, and for some reason the professor ignores him.

“ah, nice. im from the outer banks.” rafe nods. “you must be pretty smart to get into duke.”

“i guess.” you shrug. you know your test scores are impressive, and you had plenty of time to start dual enrollment since you were homeschooled for high school. it's why you're technically a freshmen in a class full of sophomores and juniors.

“whats your major?”

“general literature.” you shrug. at least thats your major for now, you are considering changing to research psychology, knowing you have to figure it out soon.

“good class for you then.” rafe chuckles, looking at the screen on the wall, words blown up large to show the name of the class LIT 290: SPECIAL TOPICS IN INTERNATIONAL LITERATURE AND CULTURE.

“what's your major?” you question, whispering while rafe talks at a normal volume. you wait for the professor to scold him, occasionally giving him angry glances, brows furrowed together, but the shushing never comes.

rafe shrugs. “just kinda taking classes for now. i guess im technically in government. gonna take over my dad's development company once i graduate and he retires.”

“oh, like real estate development?” you quirk your head to the side, half listening to him, half listening to the professor as you scribble down notes.

“yup. you've probably heard of the company.”

your brows furrow as you think, not sure why he's so confident about having heard of it before, it's not like you can really name any real estate- oh.

“rafe cameron. cameron enterprises.” you mumble, eyes widening.

“exactly right.” he smirks. “you stay in one of our dorms?”

you nod, you do in fact. there's several cameron sponsored dorms around campus, you're in east campus: cameron.

“i guess that explains a lot.” you take a deep sigh. no wonder everyone was staring at him, why the professor refuses to say anything to him, his family's company practically sponsors the entire school.

“ill let you focus now.” rafe sits forward, hands coming to his keyboard as the professor begins the actual lecture.

you furiously write, nervous to miss any information, not wanting to waste the scholarship money allowing you to take this class.

“y/n.” rafe says, making you jump slightly, forgetting he was next to you, so focused in paying attention to the professor.

“yeah?” you hum, putting your notebook into your bag as the professor ends class, reminding everyone to review the syllabus and get their reading done.

“sit there next week.” he says, tapping the table in front of you before standing, striding out of the class without a care in the world, people stopping in their tracks to let him pass.

you can hear their whispers and footsteps, breaking the silence of the evening as you sit on front of your window, desk pushed up close as you take notes, textbook opened up, the lamp on your desk switched on as the setting sun turns the sky a warm orange with hints of pink, making the fall colors in the campus trees looking even more red.

there's a knock on your door, making you jump as the pencil clatters to the floor. you expected the whispers and footsteps to pass. certainly they must be at the wrong room.

you consider staying silent, but want them to go away, not try to knock again thinking that their friend just didn't hear them.

“hi.” you smile as you open the door. “i think you have the wrong room.”

“no, we've got the right one.” you recognize one of the three girls as the girl in front of you in lit 209, the one who told you whose seat you were in.

“im angie. this is chelsea and veronica.” she gestures to the girls behind her. “we saw you talking to rafe. i… kinda overheard some of your conversation. chelsea is also from norfolk and im also studying literature. i thought we'd invite you out to join us at the dining hall.”

it takes you a second to realize what she's asking you. finding commonalities, inviting you out, basically asking you to be friends without the direct words.

“yeah.” you nod. “let me just grab my bag.” you step into your dorm to grab your bag off the book, double checking that your student id is inside to get into the dining hall. you shove your phone into your back pocket before stepping out, not letting your anxiety stop you from making friends, you need at least one person to confide in and hang out with.

“so, where did you graduate from?” chelsea asks, the one also from norfolk.

“oh, i was homeschooled.” you hate having to explain it, but the reason why you had to drop out of public school is the same reason your heart beat is skyrocketing as you head towards the elevator, palms sweating and nervously swallowing.

“oh, nice!” chelsea smiles. “i graduated from maury high.”

you're thankful it's not the high school you pulled out of, there's no way that she would have heard about you, about your intense anxiety after you were in a car crash, then sudden disappearance from school.

the conversation shifts to the other girls high schools, veronica telling a funny story from her graduation. you occasionally chime in, but the girls seem happy to keep the conversation flowing between each other as you head out of the dorm room and through the walkways to the dining hall.

the conversation doesn't shift until you until you're sitting down at a booth.

“so, rafe, huh?” chelsea asks.

“i don't know him.” you shake your head. “i just sat next to him and offered him a pencil, really, that's it.”

“you do know who his dad is right?”

you glance around the cafeteria, even that has signs of cameron enterprises sponsorship. “oh, i know.”

“that's why he goes here.” angie says. “he wouldn't have gotten in if it wasn't for his dad.”

“he's so hot, right?” veronica giggles before taking a bite of her pizza.

“yeah, is he even better up close?” chelsea turns to ask you.

you shrug. “i mean, i wasn't really paying attention.” it's a half truth. you absolutely were aware of how attractive rafe was, but you spent all of the lecture and most of the conversation trying to avoid looking at him for fear of eye contact.

“i heard he's such a bad boy. apparently he broke like five girls hearts last year because he was sleeping with them all at the same time.”

“oh, jeez.” you cringe. you should have guessed rafe was a player, but you also don't know the truth behind the rumors.

the conversation shifts from rafe to about other boys at the school, allowing you a moment to breathe and center yourself, calming down slightly. the girls make you feel comfortable enough that you finish dinner and bid them goodbye without a major anxiety attack, but the second you get back in your dorm, you collapse into the bed and pass out.

you stare at the seats, wondering if you really should sit in the same one. angie looks back at you with a gentle smile, mouthing a quick “sorry.” as there's already people sitting on either side of her.

you shake your head. it's fine, you tell yourself, and pull out the chair and sit down, right in the same spot you were at last week.

rafe walks in moments later, a real smile on his face when he sees you. you glance at him quickly before looking down, fiddling with your pencil and writing random gibberish until he's sat next to you.

“so i didn't scare you off?” rafe questions, setting his laptop down and fishing out his cord to charge it. you notice the outlet inset into the table is directly in front of you, rafe having to lean over into your personal space to plug it in.

“we can switch spots.” you blurt out, despite the cord being plenty long enough to reach.

“nah.” rafe shakes his head. “you look pretty in my seat.”

you're not sure how you looking pretty relates, and how you would look any different sitting in the opposite chair, but your face blushes and you stammer something intelligible, making rafe smirk.

“you're real cute, you know that right?”

“oh, i um- noooo.” you chuckle awkwardly.

“even cuter when i make your face all red like that.”

you don't say anything in response, not sure you can even form words as you reach to press your fingers over your cheeks, willing them to cool down.

“i got something for you.” rafe reaches into his bag. he pulls out his computer and then a second laptop, making your brows furrow as he sets it in front of you, along with a charger and bluetooth mouse.

“what is this?” you question. you’ve heard of loaner laptops through the school, but this brand is way too nice to be the one they’re handing out to dumb college kids to give back at the end of your semester.

“a laptop. for you.” rafe says, like it’s obvious.

“i-i can’t!” you shake your head as the professor begins his lecture. for once, you don’t even bother to pay attention as you pick up the laptop and move it back towards rafe. “i can’t afford it.” “it’s already paid for.” rafe places it back in front of you, opening it up. “the password is my name.” he smirks as the screen turns on, illuminating your face.

“its too expensive, i really can’t accept this.” your hands go to the keyboard despite your words, typing in his name rafecameron. you click enter, the computer unlocking for you to a clean home screen.

“its pennies to me, really. i want you to have it.” he glances at your still bandaged fingers. “so you can stop wrapping your fingers.”

“i-i don’t know how to thank you.” you shake your head.

“oh,” rafe reaches back into his backpack. “i got this for you. its touchscreen.” he sets the pen for the computer next to the mouse. “in case you prefer to write over type, but please, try typing for the sake of your fingers.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, opening up a browser and logging into your email, quickly opening up google docs to take notes, attention turning only half to the professor, the other half of your mind stays focused on rafe smiling at you.

“how did i know i’d find you here?” the voice makes you jump. it’s strange to hear rafes voice outside of the lecture hall, even as the weeks have gone by and you’ve hung out occasionally with angie and the few friends you’ve made, you’ve never seen rafe outside of class.

“no one is ever here.” you look around the empty room. it’s a study room, technically met for literature majors, but you’re sure no one would say a word about rafe being inside.

“thats how i knew you’d be here.” he plops down on the seat across from you.

“do you need help with your homework or something?” you ask. your professor assigned you an essay, maybe rafe is seeking out your help.

rafe lets out a scoff, looking at you with an exasperated expression. of course. you should have known he didn’t need to really try on his homework to get straight a’s.

“i want to take you on a date, come on.” rafe cocks his head toward the door.

“oh!” your eyebrows rise in surprise. sure, rafe has always been flirty before and after class, but you thought it was mostly out of teasing you, riling you up, not serious enough to actually ask you on a date.

“your choice. now or in two hours.” rafe glances at the clock on the wall.

“now is fine.” you also look at the clock. you don’t want to stay out too late, needing to get back in your dorm and work, and you also don’t want to end up at a party, it’s probably your worst nightmare to be surrounded by drunk college kids shouting and dancing.

“perfect.” rafe picks up your bag when you put your stuff away, slinging it over his shoulder as you follow behind him, having to pick your pace up to keep up with his long strides.

“taking you to dinner off campus.” rafe says, leading you out of the building and towards the parking lot. you freeze ups, eyes widening. rafe doesn’t realize you’ve stopped following him, stuck in place on the sidewalk, until he’s feet away from you.

“hey…” rafe says softly, approaching you carefully. “you alright?” “i-i-” you hate how much you’re stuttering, you can’t help it when the nerves take over and your hands start to shake. “i don’t like- um. i don’t like being a passenger.” just uttering the words make that night come back to you, you trusting your friend, getting into their car, only for them to roll it repeatedly, somehow all walking away, but the scars inside of you are mental ones.

“you can drive then.” rafe holds his keys up like an offering. “or we can eat dinner here, whatever you want.”

“im okay driving.” you trust only yourself. maybe someday you’ll learn to feel safe with someone driving you, but it took you weeks to get behind the wheel with even your mom, having to use calming techniques every time you’re on the road.

“perfect.” rafe stays pretty quiet, only making small comments about how to turn on his car (you’ve never been in a push to start before) and how to get to the restaurant. he doesn’t even turn on the radio, seeing how nervous you are, letting you concentrate fully on driving. you do feel better when you’re in control of the vehicle, but the fear of a rogue driver hitting you is always there.

“i want to tell you something, rafe.” you say shyly, now sat at your table at a nice restaurant, wishing you would have changed into something fancier, but rafe doesn’t seem to care, so you don’t either.

“okay.” he nods.

“i was in a car accident in high school. that’s why i don’t like being a passenger. thats why i have…” you take a deep breath. “so much anxiety.”

“hey.” he says softly, reaching across the table. “its okay. you don’t have to explain yourself to me. i like you just how you are.”

the comments angie and chelsea come to the front of your mind. “why do you even like me? everyone says you’re some sort of bad boy.” you don’t have to point out that rafe has only ever been nice to you, ridiculously kind and generous.

“when i walked into the classroom that first day and saw you sitting in my seat, looking at me like that…” rafe shakes his head. “you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. i love that you’re shy. it’s cute, i swear.” “you like my anxiety?” you giggle, sure that no man could actually mean that.

“well, no.” rafe shakes his head, his eyes bright. “i like that you’re like a puzzle, waiting for me to solve.” “i-i don’t know what to say. im not mysterious or anything.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“maybe not, but i want to figure out what makes you tick. how you like to be kissed, held…” rafe raises an eyebrow and you don't need him to say the next word as you're suddenly very interested in staring at your food.

“there's that blush i love so much.” rafe smiles. “you're so gorgeous.”

“there's like, way prettier girls than me at the college. i don't get your interest in me at all. awkward and… shy.” you shrug.

“don't sell yourself short.” rafe reaches across the table, squeezing your hand in his. “you're beautiful. plus, half the girls just want me for my dad's money, and the other half hate me for sleeping around last year.”

“yeah, i kinda heard about that.” you admit, trying to concentrate on your palm to keep it from getting sweaty. “angie told me you were sleeping with five girls at the same time.”

“they were all just hookups.” rafe shakes his head. “never went farther than that with any of them. it isn't like that with you.”

“well… it's nice to know you're serious about me.”

“hold your hand out.” rafe says, still sat in the same classroom, the rest of the students long gone, and with no other classes scheduled for the rest of the day, you feel like you could stay here with rafe all night.

you cup your hand and wait for whatever surprise, unsure how anything could beat the laptop he gifted you.

rafe unclips his gold chain from around his neck and drops it into your palm. “for you to wear. if you want of course.”

“is this the college equivalent of giving me your letterman jacket?” you giggle, perception of high school skewed towards idealized versions in books and movies since you missed out on most of the personal experience.

“i would love to call you my girl.” rafe smiles softly, so genuine it makes you almost want to lean forward and plant your lips on his.

“like… exclusively?” you wiggle the chain in your hand, feeling the weight shift around. certainly real gold.

“of course. i told you, im serious about you. i want you and only you, but im willing to move at your pace. if you're not ready yet, ill wait.”

you take a moment to think about it. weighing the pros and cons. con, you're inexperienced. pro, you really like rafe. con, rafe could get bored with you after a week. pro, you really like rafe. con, a boyfriend would distract from your schoolwork. pro, you really like rafe.

you hand the necklace back to rafe, watching the way his face falls, thinking it's a rejection, before you pull your hair up. “put it on for me?”

rafes smile is brighter than the sun as he strings the necklace around you, fingers gently teasing your skin, grazing against you anytime he can while he does the clip.

you smile back at rafe as you turn back towards him, feeling giddy. “so, what now?”

“what do you mean what now?” rafe chuckles. “now i kiss you.”

rafe leans in as your eyes widen, heartbeat skyrocketing as you suddenly shout out. “im a virgin!”

rafe sits back in surprise and confusion.

“im a virgin, ive never had a real boyfriend and ive never had a first kiss unless you count one that happened in second grade with a boy named lincoln on the playground-” you know you're rambling, so you're thankful when rafe cuts you off.

“that's okay.” rafe says. “i like that you're untouched. just means i need to do things right for all your firsts.”

you nod, not really understanding what he means, but knowing that you like the sound of it.

“as much as id love to lay you out on this table and wreck you-” your eyes widen at that very image. “your first time will not be in an empty classroom, and your first kiss definitely won't be either. are you free tomorrow night?”

“im… kinda free whenever.” you admit. you only have homework and studying, but you're willing to move those around for dates with rafe, as long as your grades don't slip.

“well, im about to make sure you are a very busy lady.”

rafe doesn't try to kiss you the following night. or the date a day later. or at your next class when you end up staying after again. you expect it to be that moment every time, but rafe keeps it slow, almost too slow.

he started with holding your hand. then wrapping his arm around his shoulder. he finally advanced to kissing you on the cheek, and while you appreciate his thoughtfulness, you're starting to go crazy.

“you're lost in thought.” rafe says, making you shake your head and refocus on him. “i just hope it's about me and not about your upcoming assignments.”

“it's always about you.” you smile. your grades are still perfect, you just spend all your study time working hard to complete everything perfectly and quickly to get back to rafe.

“just what i like to hear.” rafe is sat on the end of your dorm bed, twinkling fairy lights above your head as you just relax, both in casual clothes.

“do you think you could stay the night?” you blurt out before quickly going to explain yourself. “not to… have sex. but just to sleep in the same bed.”

“are you sure? you don't have to-”

“rafe!” you squeal. “i want this! i want you!”

rafes eyes widen at your outburst, probably the loudest he's ever heard your voice, before he dissolves into laughter. “ive been taking this too slow, haven't it?” rafe asks as you pout and nod.

“jesus, ive been trying so hard to hold back and not fuck it up, i ended up just fucking up in the other direction. im not used to caring about girls, or anyone, this much. im sorry, y/n. you dictate the pace, not me.”

“i want you to kiss me. tonight. and i want you to stay over and cuddle and hold me.” you allow the sudden rush of boldness to loosen your tongue.

“then that's what we will do.” rafe nods.

he doesn't kiss you immediately, he waits for the perfect moment. the lights are still on, now set to slowly fade in and out.

rafe is laying facing you, not touching you at all, but you can feel the presence, practically itching to reach out.

you're nervous, but you're not letting it stops you. as the lights dim again, your hear the movement on the bed, and then feel rafe move closer.

the second the lights begin to turn back on, rafe is on you, his lips pressed against yours. he doesn't let your first kiss be a simple peck as an arm rounds your back and pulls you into him. he leads the kiss, leaving you just to follow his movements and not stress about being perfect.

rafe slows the kiss down gradually until he pulls away, both of you taking a deep breath.

“that… was amazing.” you giggle, watching the way rafes eyes light up as you laugh. “oh my god! how have i been missing out on that?”

“wanna do it again?”

“yes!”

rafe kisses you until you start to feel dizzy, having to remind yourself to breathe as he holds you close, but it's still not enough.

you sling a leg over his hips, attempting to pull your bodies flush together when rafe suddenly turns onto his back.

“i don't think you want to do that, baby.”

“why- oh!” you're about to question the sudden change of attitude when you look down rafes body and see how your kissing has affected one particular part of his body.

“i can't help that you're really sexy, but we aren't doing this tonight in your college dorm. i need to lay you out and make you cum many times in a place where you can be as loud as you want.”

“should i… put on a tv show until it's gone then we can cuddle and sleep?” you offer, trying to ignore his words despite knowing your face is now beet red.

“i don't know if ill ever be fully soft when laying in bed with you, but that will definitely help.”

“you have to tell me everything.” angie says, a plate of fries pushed between you to share.

“oh my god he's just… such a gentleman, which i never expected just based off-” you wave your hands around. “everything.”

“that's good because i don't care who his dad is or how rich he is, if he was treating you bad id kick his ass.”

you let out a soft giggle. “i don't think he's gonna mess this up but if he does, ill remember that.”

you both groan as you glance at the clock. you can only spend so much time talking with your new friend when you're supposed to be studying.

“alright.” you pull out your textbook along with the laptop rafe gave you. rafecameron. you didn't even think about changing the password.

“how many words is this essay supposed to be again?” angie hums, also powering on her laptop.

“2,000.” you roll your eyes. “which is just so ridiculous you know the professor isn't reading everyone's.”

“he probably puts them into some ai grader shit.” angie agrees. you both quickly get to work, even getting a refill of fries. you've found that when you have a friend with you you prefer working in the dining area.

“hey baby, i figured you were down here.” rafe slides into the seat next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “how's the essay?”

“actually im pretty much done.” you shrug. you know you have a talent for writing, but its when the topic genuinely interests you. “just don't really know how to end it.”

“can i help?” rafe asks. you nod and angle the screen towards him, letting him read over the words.

“oh my god.” angie mouths to you, glancing between you and rafe.

you blush and duck your head, resting your shoulder against rafes as he reads, watching as he types out a couple sentences to finish off your conclusion paragraph.

“wait, shit, thats perfect.” you pull the laptop back close, checking the word count quickly to confirm you've hit your minimum amount.

“jeez, can you help me with mine too?” angie asks, her eyebrows furrowing together.

“ill read over it.” rafe shrugs. “afterall,” he looks to you. “y/ns friends are my friends.”

you gasp when you get back from your shower to find rafe laying in your bed. he immediately tosses aside his phone that he was mindlessly scrolling on.

“missed you.” rafe tugs on your hips as you step closer. your mouth presses against him, the kisses calming your anxiety rather than spiking it like you originally worried it would.

rafes hands stay on your hips as he pulls you down onto the bed, allowing you to fall forward against him, bouncing softly on the springy mattress.

“you're gonna end up missing me a lot over break.” you chuckle softly, knowing a week off is coming up soon.

“about that…” rafe flips so you're both on your sides, facing each other. “what's your plans? driving home to norfolk?”

“actually, i was just gonna stay here.” you shrug. “the college let's out of state kids stay in their dorms during the holiday breaks and i applied for special permission.”

“well, you won't need that.” rafe says. “that is, if you want to come to the outer banks with me.”

“oh- oh my god! yes.” you nod quickly. despite not living far away, you've never actually been to the area before, and you've grown used to rafes constant presence. you're not sure what a week would be like without him.

“my family is out of town until friday anyways, so we will have the place to ourselves for most of the time…” rafes hand moves to your lower back, tugging you in close to him. you understand the implication and despite everything, you only feel excitement and anticipation.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you his car keys. you never had to reiterate your need to be in control of any vehicle, rafe just went along with it without pushing.

“actually…” you swallow harshly. “you can drive.”

“baby.” a smile breaks out on rafes face as he talks softly, carefully helping you into the passenger seat, making sure to keep everything slow and relaxed.

“i trust you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “just… don't speed.”

“i wouldn't even think about that.” rafe says, kissing your forehead. “ive got special cargo.”

you giggle and roll your eyes, surprised how corny rafe has become as you both fall further.

rafe seems to have a sense of when your anxiety spikes. he moves to the drivers seat and just stays there for a moment while you breathe, not even turning the car on until you give him a slight nod.

you can tell he's going the long way, turning around a couple side streets to avoid getting onto the highway home too soon.

“ill go this speed the whole way if that's what you need.” rafe says when he pauses at a stop sign.

“just a little more around the neighborhood and ill be fine.” you assure him. you reach over and lay a hand on rafes arm as he drives, the physical connection allowing you to take a deep breath.

when rafe eventually pulls onto the highway, you find yourself breathing regularly, mind racing through all the coping mechanisms the therapist who saw you after the car crash taught you.

“im… im actually doing okay.” you admit to rafe, leaning forward to turn the radio on but keeping the music turned downed low. “thank you.”

“im just glad you trust me.” rafe reaches over and squeezes your thigh before quickly putting both his hands back on the wheel. “it's a long drive for you to do solo.”

in truth it's not much longer than the drive from duke to norfolk, but you're glad that you can relax as the hour passes.

everytime your mind wanders, or worry strikes about a crazed driver hitting you, you just look to rafe and allow yourself to breathe.

you even manage to lay your car seat back.

rafe smiles over at you as he watches your eyes blinking slowly, recognizing the sure signs of sleep as you end up napping the rest of the way to his house.

“darling…” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your thigh.

you wake up with a start, gasping and sitting up, looking around rapidly.

“hey, hey.” rafe says softly, pulling you into a somewhat awkward hug over the center console. “it's okay. you're safe. we're at my home.”

you press your face into rafes chest and inhale his familiar scent. he doesn't bring up the anxiety spike as he gets out of the car.

you're about to step out when you look at your surroundings, jaw dropping at the stunning house in front of you.

“rafe- this. this place is beautiful.” you allow rafe to help you stand, stretching your legs out. your bags can come in later, you need a tour immediately.

“welcome to tanneyhill.”

“we'll have to go out on the boat tomorrow.” rafe twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “what do you want to eat? we can make something or we can order in…”

you let out a yawn, the nap on the drive just making you more tired now that the excitement of seeing rafes home has worn off somewhat.

“pizza is fine.” you hum, snuggling closer to rafe on the expansive couch. “your house is very pretty.”

“but…”

“but what?” you look up at rafe. “i mean it's… it's so grand.”

“but impersonal, right?” rafe reads you so well. “it's just not my families style. no pictures of us kids on the wall or sports medals hung up. it's gotta be kept perfect.”

“that's not how i want our house to be one day.” you frown, eyes widening when you realize what you just said.

“relax, princess.” rafe says when he feels you stiffen up. “i imagine what it'll be like to live together some day too. in fact, i think for next semester you can ditch your little dorm and stay with me.”

“move from east campus: cameron to cameron hall?” you giggle at how everything is named after his family.

“exactly.” rafe hums. “because just the walk to the east side of campus is too far from me.”

“you're… too damn sweet.” you press a kiss to rafes lips, groaning when your phone buzzing distracts you from deepening it.

“who is it?” rafe asks, confident it's probably angie or veronica.

“my… my friend from high school.” you quickly sit the phone face down on the coffee table.

“the friend?”

“yes.” you say bitterly, knowing it's not rafe you're really snapping back up but rather the “friend” who still has the audacity to message you even after causing the car wreck that ruined your life.

“it's the anniversary coming up and… i know she's said sorry a million times already, but i just don't want to hear it. i just want to put everything behind me.” you let the words out in a rush.

“maybe what your friend needs for her to heal is to know you've heard it.”

you look at rafe, blinking at him as your mind works. “what are you doing being so wise?”

rafe breaks the tension with a laugh. “honestly, im just quoting back shit my dad has said and hoping it works.”

“can't wait to meet your dad then if he's anything like you.” you smile, trying to keep up the light attitude when rafes face drops slightly. there's such a small difference you barely even pick up on it.

“rafe?”

“my dad… isnt my biggest fan.”

“but he's your father.” you question, laying back down, slotting your arms around rafe instead of the usual other way around.

“yeah, and therefore anytime i differ slightly from him, it's a huge disappointment.”

“well… then fuck him.”

rafes eyebrows raise up at your bold words, not used to sharing you cuss often and definitely not against someone.

“you're the best and if he doesn't see that, then that's his loss. if he doesn't completely love you, he's out of his mind because he's known you all your life and ive only known for a couple months and i love you.”

rafe launches forward, lips pressing harshly against yours, a mix of tongue and lips sliding over each other's as you kiss. the passion rafe is putting in is unlike any other time, and you know what you want.

“take me upstairs, rafe.” you nod as he looks at you for confirmation.

rafe picks you up, carrying you effortlessly up the stairs until he's in his bedroom and placing you gently down on the soft sheets.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, hovering over top of you.

“im sure. i love you. i want this.”

rafe nods, then gulps. “why am i the one nervous now.” he ducks his head, and you swear you see the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks. “i love you too. ive never said that to anyone before but… i love you. i am in love with you. i want you and only you.”

“oh, rafe.” you coo out, sitting up to kiss him. you intend for it to be a soft kiss, a gentle caress but it quickly turns fiery.

“god, you've turned me soft.” rafe says, making you laugh.

“not all of you…” you can feel a certain part pressing against you that is not soft at all.

“yeah, but he'll have to wait. not his turn yet. first…” rafe smirks at you. “i need to worship you with my hands. then my mouth. and then ill take you properly.”

rafe gives you no time to complain as his hands delve under your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach, eyes staying on your face in case even a flicker of doubt comes across it.

his hands slowly move up until he's cupping your chest over your bra, keeping everything concealed by your shirt as you get used to the feeling of his large palms engulfing your breast.

“take my shirt off.” you tell rafe. “im okay.”

rafe nods, but his movements are still slow as he peels your top away. “you're a lot better than okay, baby.”

you can feel rafes eyes on your chest, but it just makes you happy, wanting to share this with him and only him. you make the next move, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra.

“shh, slow down.” rafes hands cover yours. “i know you want this, but let me just… appreciate you.”

rafe nudges your legs apart and lowers himself in between, pressing kisses against your stomach. his movements are so soft, covering your entire belly before moving up.

rafe kisses over the swell of your breast that's pressing against your bra cup, tongue occasionally flicking out to tease underneath the fabric.

rafe picks his head up to ask if you're still doing okay, but upon seeing your face, he knows he doesn't need to.

your eyes are already glazed over, blissed out and mouth ajar as you slowly blink down at rafe. “more.”

rafe smiles and tugs your bra away, mouth dropping over your nipple with his fingers find the other side, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bud as his tongue does the same.

his movements continue until your nipples harden. he pulls away only to quickly switch to the other side.

“feels good.” you whimper, hands finding the back of rafes head, holding him to your chest.

“not as good as it feels to have my mouth on you.” rafe moans against your skin, tongue flicking out to press against your breast like he can't get enough of it.

“you can… you can touch me um…” you're about to say down there which just sounds stupid, but rafe thankfully understands you, his hand reaching down to graze his fingertips over your thighs.

he continues teasing, sweeping every time closer to your center until he delves between, finger rubbing against your covered clit as you gasp, back arching off the bed.

“does that feel good?” rafe asks, a smirk gracing his cheeks.

“y-yeah.” you nod quickly, spreading your legs slightly, ignoring the urge to clench them together and trap rafes hand there.

“can i get these leggings out of the way then?”

“take your shirt off first.” you giggle, looking between your exposed body and rafe still completely clothed.

“yes ma’am.” rafe jokes, making you roll your eyes.

you've seen rafe shirtless before, but this is the first time you've been able to unashamedly check him out as your eyes take in every inch of him, every line of muscle and smattering of hair.

rafe is well aware of your eyes on him, subtly flexing his muscles to make them appear bigger as he peels your leggings off your body. you let out a sigh of relief.

rafe presses himself onto the mattress on your side, partly leaned over you so he can continue to play with your chest.

you allow your eyes to close as his hand rubs against your underwear, swirling over the growing wet patch before moving up to your clit, tapping against it before rubbing.

you let out a soft moan, unable to hold back as a high builds inside of you. rafe suddenly presses forward, his hips thrusting against thigh, needing some sort of relief for his hard cock.

“you… you can fuck me now.” you tell rafe, not wanting to have him suffer in waiting.

“two orgasms first.” rafe says, focusing back on rubbing your clit, determined to get you there once before diving between your legs, even though he could drool right now just from the thought.

“i- ohhh.” whatever you were going to say in protest is forgotten as rafe adds a second finger, working them in sync around and over your clit.

“come on baby.” rafe says, breath hot against your neck as he moves up, pressing kisses and nipping gently at your sensitive skin. “i need you to cum for me.”

rafes mouth connects with yours, swallowing your moans as your arms wrap around his shoulders. it only takes a few more moments of his intense rubbing for you to feel something break. your high rushes over you as you cum loudly, squealing and hiding your face in rafes neck as your entire body shakes, surprised by how intense the feeling is.

“i got you.” rafe says softly, his fingers slowing to take you through your high, not stopping until your body slumps against the mattress.

“god, that was beautiful baby.” rafe kisses your forehead, not caring that there's the slightest sheen of sweat covering it. “if you need to stop now…”

“no!” you say quickly, eyes shooting open. “absolutely not, i need you.”

“gonna take your panties off then, yeah?” rafe makes sure you nod before moving lower, sighing with happiness as he pulls the last barrier away.

you don't even hesitate for a second before spreading your legs wide, letting rafe see every single part of you.

rafe looks up at you, a sense of seriousness in his eyes and tone. “you're beautiful. you're absolutely beautiful.”

rafe leans forward, and all it takes is a quick lick through your wetness to have you screaming out in pleasure.

“delicious.” rafe mumbles, pushing his hips into the bed for some relief as his tongue explores your pussy, purposely avoiding your clit knowing you're still coming down from your high.

“i- oh my god.” you squeeze your eyes shut as your hands grip onto the sheets. “i never thought it could feel so good.”

“only because you're with me baby.” rafe presses kisses to your open thighs. “no other man could make you feel this good.”

you chuckle and shake your head. “relax rafe, im not thinking about anyone else, trust me.”

“just making sure.” rafe grins up at you.

his attention quickly returns to your cunt as his tongue makes broad stripes through your folds, flicking over your clit every time he reaches it.

you're almost sure that you can't cum again so soon, that your body surely isn't able to, but your high builds steadily with every swipe of rafes tongue.

despite pressing his hips forward into the bed, rafe barely pays attention to himself, too wrapped up in swirling his tongue to taste every inch of you, wondering how he managed to hold off so long when he's spent so many nights in the same bed as you.

rafe refocuses on your clit, lips suctioning around it as his eyes flicker up to you, watching the surprise and pleasure across your face.

rafe knows he can't let you cum too soon as he raises his hand to prod a finger against your entrance. rafe can tell by how wet you are that opening you up should be easy and painless, and he couldn't probably enter you right now with no issue, but he won't risk it.

rafe keeps his eyes on your face as one long finger pushes inside of you, feeling your gummy walls clench around him at the sudden intrusion, but your face doesn't change from the consistent moans.

rafe begins to pump the finger as his tongue surges forward to press against your clit, tapping the bundle of nerves in the same rhythm as his finger entering you.

“oh- oh my god im close!” you squeal, only spurred closer when rafe fits a second finger inside, your slick making it easy and seamless.

rafe picks up the speed, occasionally scissoring his fingers and feeling your walls give way to his movements.

you thighs attempt to close, the pressure suddenly sending you over the edge, but rafe lays a hand against your leg and keeps them open as your high hits, body shaking as you scream out, clenching repeatedly around rafes fingers.

“mmm.” rafe hums against your clit, pulling away only to press a kiss to your core. “can't wait to feel you squeezing ‘round my cock like that.”

rafe kneels between your legs, watching your chest rise and fall, your nipples perky and pink from his attention. your body is completely slack from the intensity of the two orgasms as rafe undoes the buttons on his pants.

“do you want me to… do anything?” you ask.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “this is all about you baby. ill teach you exactly how i like to be touched some other time.”

“okay.” you nod, glad that you can just relax and let rafe do all the work, especially knowing he's far more experienced than you are.

“you can touch me if you want though.” rafe offers, tugging his pants down so just his underwear is covering his cock, tight against his thighs and clearly bulging against the material.

“i- yeah.” you sit up, forcing your tired body through with the excitement and adrenaline of finally doing this with rafe.

your hand pets over his thigh, moving closer and closer until his cock twitches like it's calling out for you to touch him.

you place your hand firmly over his length, squeezing gently as rafes jaw drops open. such a simple motion but he's surprised how much better it feels having it be you touching him rather than a random girl he has no feelings for.

“god, baby.” rafe groans as you open your palm and stroke it over his length from base to tip. “you're already making me feel so good.”

“want me to keep going?”

rafe is so lost in the feeling he doesn't even realize you've asked him a question until a minute later when his hand rests over yours, stopping you. “no, in fact, i need you to stop before this ends way too soon.”

you can't help but giggle, wrapping your hand around rafes neck and giving him a kiss. “how do you want me?”

“you can lay on your back, or hands and knees, however you want. you can be on top too.” rafe offers as he reaches to his nightstand, digging out a condom.

“um… ill just stay like this.” you say, laying back, knowing you can change your mind later if you need to.

“perfect.” rafe smiles at you, leaning over to press a kiss to your tummy. “you're so perfect.”

you're about to respond when rafe pulls his underwear down and all other thoughts leave your mind.

“like what you see?” rafe smirks, his cock hard and seeming even bigger now that its not hidden by any fabric.

you squeeze your thighs together, and it's the only cue rafe needs to see to understand how much you want this. he wastes no time rolling the condom over his cock, sheathing himself in the latex. it's a non negotiable for your first time, not wanting to overwhelm you with worry about getting pregnant or not liking the feeling of his cum inside you.

rafe is excited for the day when he doesn't need a barrier, but he can wait for you.

“just relax.” rafe says, laying himself down over you. “it'll be better if you don't tighten your muscles. if it does hurt at all-”

you interrupt rafe with a kiss. “ill tell you. i know.”

rafe smiles at you, his cheeks stretching even further when his cock pushes forward and rubs through your folds, covering the condom in your slick.

rafe reaches down to line his cock up with your entrance, pushing in very slowly just in case you change your mind at any minute. he pauses when he feels your hips rise up and body tighten, only for you to take a deep breath and relax a moment later.

“feel so good, baby.” rafe says earnestly, pausing fully pushed inside of you, letting himself enjoy your warmth.

“i- just give me one second.” rafe pushing against your walls feels good, but you need a moment to adjust, hips moving up and down then side to side. “okay.” you nod. “you can move now.”

rafe presses a kiss to your lips as he begins to move, the make out turning into open mouthed moans as his hips swing back and forth, fucking into you with a steady rhythm.

“ohhhh!” you moan out as rafe speeds up slightly, your hands coming to hold onto his biceps, bulging as he keeps himself held up above you.

“that's it, baby.” rafe praises you as your thighs spread further apart, opening your pussy further for him.

“i really like it.” you whine, back arching as rafe digs his cock in deeper, pausing every couple thrusts to circle his hips and grind into you.

“i like it too.” rafe hums. “best ive ever had.”

you roll your eyes, certain any of his other hookups are more experienced and a better time than you, but rafe won't let your doubts slide.

“im serious, baby.” rafe says, not pausing his thrusts as he speaks. “it's because i am completely in love with you.”

“come here.” you pull rafe into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

“you're so good i don't know how long ill last.” rafe admits.

“i-i already think i could too.” you giggle. “if you just touch me down there.”

“im gonna hold off as long as possible though.” rafe vows. “wanna give you the best time.”

“you already have.” you kiss rafe deeply, obsessed with the taste of his lips, the way they slide against yours and his tongue pokes out to enter your mouth, exploring every inch he can.

rafe picks up his pace and depth of his thrusts, knowing now that you've had plenty of time to get used to the feeling. despite wanting to give you the best experience and focus just on the pleasure of being together, he has to put his mind elsewhere to not cum too soon.

“so wet.” rafe groans, head tipping back as the sounds of your wetness gushing with his every thrust, the sound invading his ears along with the slapping of skin.

“ive never felt like this before.” you admit shyly.

“you're gonna feel this a lot more often.” rafe laughs softly, swallowing thickly when he realizes just seeing your smile and the light in your eyes pushes him closer to the edge.

“gonna touch you now, baby.” rafe shifts his weight slightly to one side, hand ghosting down your stomach before he places the pad of his thumb directly over your clit.

“oh, oh!” you squeal. “rafe!”

rafe keeps pumping into you as you moan, your high suddenly bursting forward, unable to hold back even a second longer as your legs wrap around rafes hips and pull him in.

rafe let's out a sigh of relief as he cums as deep inside of you as he can, bodies pressed flush together.

“do you have sunscreen?” you ask. “i know it's autumn and we aren't going to be swimming but it's still pretty bright out.”

“yeah, already got some in the bag.” rafe had woken up early and stayed cuddling you in bed for as long as he could before knowing he needed to get the day started.

while he let your body recover from last night activities, he prepared every single boat anchored on the dock so you could choose any one you wanted, as well as prepared a bag and cooler for the day.

by the time rafe crawled back into bed, you were blinking your eyes open.

“perfect.” you smile and give rafe a quick peck, taking the bag from his hands so he can carry the cooler. you shot down his protest with a quick look.

“fine.” rafe grumbles. “you can carry this one thing.”

“considering i don't even have to lift a finger when you're around, i really don't mind.” you chuckle, following rafe out the back door and across the patio to the long expansive dock stretching deep into the water.

“so…” rafe begins. “there's a smaller speedboat, a pontoon and then obviously the yacht.”

“is it okay if we take the pontoon?” you ask.

“anything you want.” rafe nods. “we got the pontoon for wheezie and her friends, but it's a nice smooth ride and a lot of space. when it gets warmer out im absolutely taking you for a swim.”

“that actually sounds really fun.” you admit. you swam in the ocean a lot in norfolk, always going to virginia beach to be alone with the sand and the calming waves whenever your anxiety levels got too high.

“mhm.” rafe nods. “fun for me too, get you out in a tiny little bikini, away from all other people…”

“oh my god.” you roll your eyes as you laugh. “we had sex once and you're already fantasizing!”

“i was fantasizing about you since the moment i saw you in my seat.” rafe takes the cooler and sets it on the pontoon before taking the bag from you. “i was just gentlemanly enough to keep it to myself.”

“sure.” you roll your eyes again, but it's all in jest, rafe knows you find him hilarious and love his silly jokes. rafe, to prove his gentleman status, reaches a hand down to help you up onto the boat.

“so…” rafe gives you a quick tour, showing you where towels are stored, even though you're not planning on swimming, and lifejackets, just in case.

“but seriously, it's basically impossible to sink a pontoon. you're very safe.” rafe stresses.

“it's okay.” you say. “i trust you, really.”

“my girl.” rafe pulls you onto his lap as he sits down in the captains seat.

rafe navigates easily through the waters, pointing out different landmarks along the coast. “thank you for showing me your home.” you tell rafe, pressing your back into his chest as you round a cove and the wind picks up slightly. “ill show you norfolk one day but it's not as pretty as here.”

“i can't wait to raise kids here.” rafe says. “teach them how to fish and golf and drive the boats.”

“you think about kids?” you turn on rafes thigh to look at him rather than the scenery.

“our kids.” rafe winks at you, causing you to giggle and press your face into his neck, but he really means it, especially bringing you back to his home. he could imagine toddlers footsteps running around tanneyhill.

“you're sweet.” you kiss his cheek.

“don't let that get around.” rafe squeezes your hip as he steers with one hand. “it'll ruin my reputation around here.”

“oh yeah?” you raise your eyebrows. “tell me more about this reputation…”

you happily listen to rafe talk until your stomach starts to growl. he picks up on it quickly, moving the boat further out so you can float down the coast while you eat.

you continue to talk all through lunch, snacking on what rafe had packed.

“there's a million things i want to show you around the island, which means you'll have to start spending all your breaks here if you're not going home.”

“let's see how your family likes me first…” you mutter, giving rafe a look.

“relax. they'll love you. my dad will just be happy i found someone serious. that was the main point of him sending me to duke, was to get my shit together. and i look at you… and i want to be perfect for you. i love you so much.”

“this movie is boring.” you groan. “how can you make a movie about sharks and have it be boring as hell?”

“we can change it.” rafe offers, going to grab the remote when you stop him.

“no, im too deep into it now. i just want to complain.” rafe nods at your explanation and cuddles back into the couch, pulling you in tight to him.

“well…” he whispers in your ear, breath causing you to shiver. “since you're bored, how about i entertain you?”

you're not sure what rafe means until his hand pushes between your thighs, three fingers pressing against your core and rubbing.

“ohhh.” you moan out softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“sorry, love.” rafe says. “i couldn't wait until we got up into bed, not with my family getting home tomorrow. i need you too bad.”

“in… in my pants, please.” you take rafes hand, moving quicker for him to slip it below the hem and into your pajama pants, where rafe is pleased to find you aren't wearing any underwear.

his fingers stroke through your folds, feeling your wetness steadily growing before his finger prods against your entrance, slipping in with ease.

rafe watches as your eyes open to watch a scene playing out on the television before they close again when another boring part comes on, another monologue when you expected action.

“feel good?” rafe asks, glad that you aggressively nod.

“don't you dare stop.” you spread your thighs a little wider, having to lift a leg over his to give him even more room to press into you, hand pressing in so his palm can rub against your clit.

“as soon as this stupid movie is done im taking you upstairs and fucking you so hard.” rafe growls the last words, putting all the effort he can into fingering you and massaging your clit that he possibly can.

his eyes light up when your back arches, mouth opening as small moans fall from your lips before you turn into a shaking mess as your high breaks, reaching down to stop rafes hand as you immediately become oversensitive.

“yum.” rafe says, pulling his hand away to lick your wetness off his fingers.

“ill just read the synopsis later, come on.” you tell rafe, standing up off the couch and pulling him up the stairs.

“please, call me ward.” rafes father says, graciously giving you a hug.

“well, it's nice to meet all of you.” you say with a wide smile on your face to hide your nerves, looking between rafes step mom rose and his littlest sister wheezie who looks genuinely excited to meet you. “and thank you so much for letting me stay in your beautiful home.”

“we were so glad when rafe told us he met someone.” rose lays a hand over her chest. “and my goodness, you're just even better than we imagined.

“she's a keeper for sure.” rafe places an arm around your waist, smiling down at you as you tuck your head down, cheeks tinging pink.

“so, you've got to tell us all about yourself.” ward sweeps his arm towards the living room, and soon you're all chatting on the couch that rafe fingered you on the night before. you push the memory to the back of your mind as you answer all of wards questions (and occasionally a few from wheezie).

“im a duke alumni myself.” ward says.

“oh, im well aware.” you chuckle. “your name is plastered all over the school. i think it's amazing that you invest in your alma mater.”

hours go by, rose insisting you all eat dinner together, before rafe finally has you alone in his room.

“god, they love you.” rafe says, watching you while you changing into pajamas, making him promise he wouldn't try anything with his parents under the same roof.

“i was trying to say all the right things.” you giggle. “i really like wheezie though, she's sweet.”

“im sure she won't argue if you want to take her out shopping tomorrow.” rafe offers.

“id actually love that. maybe ill invite sarah too so i can actually meet her.” sarah had ward drop her off at her boyfriend's house before they even came back home from their vacation, but you can't blame her for being a teen in love.

“ill give you my card then.” rafe says. you roll your eyes. rafe pays for everything, not that it even makes a dent in what you know he's being given as an allowance from ward and cameron enterprises.

“thanks babe.” you climb into bed, snuggling under the covers as rafe sets an alarm on his phone and makes sure both of yours are plugged in and charging.

“come here.” rafe opens up his arms once he's also under the covers, and you're glad to snuggle into his chest, heart rate instantly slowing and breathing deepening just from your cheek being pressed against his tshirt.

“rafe.” you hum, placing a hand on his thigh as he starts up the car.

“yeah baby?” rafe is fully prepared for you to ask to drive, or tell him you're not ready to go yet. he's willing to make whatever concessions needed to get you back to duke.

“can we make a stop in rahleigh? that's where my… friend from high school lives now, and id like to stop by quickly and just tell her im okay and that i accept her apologies.”

rafe nods, blinking away a few tears as he reaches over to give you a tight hug. “im so proud of you baby.”

you press your face into rafes neck, knowing you can do this when you have rafe by your side.

-- four years later --

“are you nervous?” rafe asks, watching you adjust the cap on your head.

“actually, no.” you admit honestly. “and if i do get nervous,” you turn away to face rafe. “ill just look at you.”

“oh god, come here.” rafe pulls you in tight, kissing the top of your head.

“alright, come on.” you step out of the hug before it can go any further. “i dont wanna be late to my own graduation.”

“ah, you know i can delay it all with one phone call.” rafe tugs on your hand, tempting you back towards the bed.

“show off.” you roll your eyes, allowing rafe to pull you back to the mattress.

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