vie

the girls that get it, get it.

[evansbby]

“𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪…”

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.

𝘼/𝙉: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!

“Her.”

Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”

Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.” 

“And?”

“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.

“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.” 

“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??” 

Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him. 

That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies” money. Yeah, they didn’t pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.

Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.

“Well, what about that one?” 

Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through. 

Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.

You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.

“Who is she?”

“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.

“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.

“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”

“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”

Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any. 

Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable. 

He licks his lips.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.

Topper raises an eyebrow.

“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”

Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”

They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—

“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and— 

“A week.” 

“Mm?”

“A week to fuck her. With proof.” 

Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it. 

“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”

“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.

“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”

Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.

You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.

He’d have fun ruining you.

***

“You sure do love reading, don’t you?” 

It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.

You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.

“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”

Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…” 

“You find books more interesting than people?”

“Huh?”

He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug. 

“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—

“Are you making fun of me?”

You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.” 

“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. 

“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”

Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more. 

“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.

“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”

“I’ll be your friend.” 

He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive. 

You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too. 

“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”

“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.

It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that. 

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.

“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.

“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means… 

“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.

You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?” 

He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right. 

“You could call it studying.”

You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing. 

“What’s your name, homeschool?” 

You tell him.

He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”

You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it. 

Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could. 

That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.

***

Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.

You’re alone. As usual.

“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.

“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.” 

“What’re you up to today?” 

“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”

He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?

“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect. 

“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”

He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way. 

“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”

“Friends?” You don’t have any.

“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”

Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.” 

Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.

He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.

“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”

Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue. 

“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”

He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…

“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.

“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.

“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”

“Say it. Now.” 

You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.” 

The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this. 

“Huh. Is that so?”

“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”

Rafe nods, “Hmm.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“

“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”

You blink, “What?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”

“It’s not that–”

“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”

He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.

“I asked you a question, homeschool.”

“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”

“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.

“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”

He stops, allows you to catch up.

“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”

“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”

You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”

“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”

*

Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…

 ”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.

“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.

“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”

He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.

Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.

“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.

“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.

“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”

“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”

You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”

He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”

You look aghast, “No! I would never–”

“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”

“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”

“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”

You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.

“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”

He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.

He nods, “You look pretty.”

Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”

He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.

*

On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.

“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.

Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.

“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.

“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”

Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”

He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.

“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”

Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.

“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.

“No?”

“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”

Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.

“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.

You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”

“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.

“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”

The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.

“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.

You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”

You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.

Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.

“Rafe?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”

“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.

“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.

“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”

It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.

“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”

He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.

“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.

“Wow, that was cool!”

“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”

Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.

He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.

“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”

He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”

That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.

He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.

He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…

He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.

*

On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.

“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”

You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.

“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”

Rafe grins, “Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”

He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.

“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”

You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.

“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”

But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.

“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.

Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”

“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”

He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”

“You sure about that?”

He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”

Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.

All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.

You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.

*

Rafe: Hey.

Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?

He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.

Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.

Rafe: What are you up to?

A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.

Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?

It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.

He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”

He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?

“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”

A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”

“What like vacuuming and shit?”

“Yes.”

Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.

He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.

“Uh, Rafe?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.

A pause.

“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”

“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”

“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.

He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.

“I’d rather speak to you than them.”

 “That’s not true, Rafe.”

“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”

“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”

“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.

“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”

“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”

“You’re funny, Rafe.”

You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.

“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.

“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”

He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.

“A-Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–

“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.

“Rafe?”

He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.

“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.

“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”

“Like, uh, at your house?”

“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”

That just makes him even more determined to be your first.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”

“Rafe…”

He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.

“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”

That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.

“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.

“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”

*

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”

Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.

“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.

“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.

“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”

Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”

Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”

“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”

“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”

“What?”

Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”

“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”

Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.

He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”

Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”

Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.

“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”

“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”               

Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.

He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.

That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.

“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”

“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.

You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”

“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”

He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.

“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.

“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”

“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.

He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.

You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.

“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.

Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.

Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”

Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”

He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”

“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”

He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.

“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.

You blink, “Um, water?”

He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”

“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”

“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”

You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.

“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.

“People have been talking about me to you?”

“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”

He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.

“Do you always drink after school?”

“Huh?”

“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”

“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”

He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.

Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.

“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”

Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”

He shrugs, “A few.”

You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”

“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.

“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”

Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.

“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”

You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”

“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”

He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.

“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.

You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”

“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”

“Hey!”

He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.

You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”

Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”

You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”

Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”

Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”

He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.

Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”

He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.

“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”

He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.

He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”

Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”

He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.

“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”

Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…

“There. Comfy?”

“Well, I guess, but…”

He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.

He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.

And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.

When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.

“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”

Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”

“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”

Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.

Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.

He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.

And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.

“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”

“Rafe, maybe not too much–”

“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.

“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”

He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.

Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”

You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”

“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.

It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.

Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.

“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.

“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”

He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–

“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”

He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”

He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”

Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”

Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.

“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.

It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.

“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”

Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.

“That’s okay,” he says.

You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”

Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.

You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”

Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.

Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”

He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”

“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”

Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.

He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.

“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”

What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.

“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.

Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.

You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.

Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.

Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.

*

Kelce: One day left, loverboy.

Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.

Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.

Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.

He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.

That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.

Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.

How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.

The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.

He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–

His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.

“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I called you, I just… How are you?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m fine. You wanna talk?”

“No. I mean, yes. Oh, I… Rafe, I’m sorry. You’re probably busy.”

“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”

“I’m scared.”

You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”

He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”

“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”

“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”

“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”

They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.

“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”

“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”

He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”

“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”

Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.

“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”

Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.

“Rafe! You came!”

You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.

“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.

At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.

“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.

“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”

“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”

He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.

You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.

Despite everything, his dick hardens.

“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”

He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”

You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.

He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.

He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”

“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.

“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”

You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”

He smirks, “I could distract you.”

“H-How?”

He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.

“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.

“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”

You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.

“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”

“H-Huh–”

“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”

You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”

It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.

He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.

Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.

“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”

He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”

“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”

“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”

Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”

He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”

“Y-You.”

“Yeah. And who’s older?”

“You are.”

“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”

You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.

Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.

He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.

He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.

“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.

“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”

“Stand up, baby.”

You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.

You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.

“Take your leggings off.”

You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.

You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.

“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”

“Wh-What?”

“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.

“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”

“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”

He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.

“Stand up straight, look at me again.”

You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.

“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.

Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.

And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.

His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.

“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”

You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”

God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.

“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”

“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?

Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.

You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.

“You have an accident, princess?”

You look absolutely aghast, “No!”

Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.

“Oh my God–”

He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”

“What?”

“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”

For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”

“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”

He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”

He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.

“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.

Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.

“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”

“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”

Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.

“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.

Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.

“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.

“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–

You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.

And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.

“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”

Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.

“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”

“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”

He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.

“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”

You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”

“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”

It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.

He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.

But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.

“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”

Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.

“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.

“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”

He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”

You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”

“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”

Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.

He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.

“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.

You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”

He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.

“Take it out.”

“N-No!”

He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”

“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”

You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”

He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”

As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”

You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”

“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”

You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.

“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”

You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”

“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”

 In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.

“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”

“I am?”

“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.

“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.

Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”

“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.

“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.

“Yeah?”

Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”

God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.

Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.

“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”

‘I don’t know.”

SMACK.

Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”

“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”

“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”

You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.

You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.

“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”

He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.

“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.

But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.

“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.

“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.

“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”

‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”

“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”

Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.

“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”

“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”

“But it hurts!”

“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”

A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”

“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”

“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.

Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”

You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”

“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”

You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”

He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.

“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”

You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.

“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.

“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”

You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.

“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”

“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“

You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.

“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”

All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.

It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.

Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.

“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”

The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”

He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.

That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.

“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”

“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”

“Nooo…”

He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.

“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…

He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…

“Rafe, I… please…”

“Baby…”

His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–

“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”

“Fuck.”

Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.

He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.

“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”

“You pr-promise?”

“I promise.”

He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.

You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.

The wind laughs and laughs all night.

*

The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.

Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.

Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.

He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.

Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.

He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.

What the fuck did that mean?

His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.

That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?

Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.

Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.

Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?

“You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.

He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.

*

“There he is! The loverboy himself!”

His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.

“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”

“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”

Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”

He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.

He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.

“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”

“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.

“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.

“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.

Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”

“Then show us. That was the deal.”

He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.

“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.

“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”

Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”

He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.

“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”

He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.

And immediately locks eyes with you.

And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.

“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.

A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.

Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.

And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.

𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)

Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?

Should reader forgive Rafe?

Favourite scene/part?

Anyways, that's it. Now I'll anxiously wait to see what you guys think. PLEASE PLEASE consider reblogging this fic if you plan on liking it and want me to continue it. Thanks so much for all your support when I posted the sneak peek. I hope this lived up to your expectations! <3

[moonlightwritingf1]

A Love You Can’t Escape | LN4 | Masterlist

Status ━━━ On going

Summary ━━━ In a world where everyone is born with a soulmate mark, most people live their entire lives without ever finding the one person it binds them to. Some are lucky enough to discover their match in old age, often in their 70s or 80s. A blessed few find theirs early in life—and when they do, it’s considered a miracle. The universe offers no promises, only the mark itself.

Throughout all of recorded history, not a single person has ever rejected their soulmate. But Y/N believes she will be the first to be rejected.

When Y/N, a shy but fiercely guarded woman haunted by childhood trauma and deep insecurities, discovers that her soulmate is Lando Norris—one of the most famous, charming, and emotionally unreachable men she’s ever met—she makes a decision that changes everything. She tells no one. Not even him.

For fourteen months, she carries this devastating secret while Lando unknowingly breaks her heart over and over again. He flirts with other women in front of her, maintains ties with his ex-girlfriend, and treats Y/N with a casual cruelty that cuts deeper than he could ever imagine.

What Y/N doesn’t know is that Lando feels something too—something that unnerves and confuses him. So he buries it beneath sharp words and cold shoulders, lashes out, and pushes away the one person he can’t seem to get out of his head.

He feels the pull. He just doesn’t understand what it means.

Until one moment, by pure accident, he sees the mark on her body.

The universe stops.

Suddenly, the girl he’s spent over a year pushing away is no longer just another name in his orbit—she’s his. His soulmate. The one fate carved into him before he was ever born.

As realization crashes down on him, Lando finally understands why she always looked at him like he was both everything she wanted and everything she feared.

And Y/N—fragile, angry, and terrified—must face the one thing she’s spent months trying to avoid: the truth that he knows.

But the cruelest truth of all? She still doesn’t believe he could ever want her back.

Because while no one in history has ever rejected their soulmate, Y/N has spent her entire life being rejected by everyone else. And she’s convinced that not even cosmic destiny can make her worthy of love.

Pairing ━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

Overview:

soulmate AU

enemies to lovers trope

loads of angst

loads of sexual tension and frustration

fuckboy Lando

complicated relationship with emotionally abusive parents (Y/N)

hyper-independent and emotionally guarded Y/N

jealous Lando

“I don’t need anyone” Y/N vs “I’d give her everything” Lando

protective Lando once he finds out the truth

unrequited love (but not really)

Y/N hiding her trauma behind success and control

slow burn

Y/N putting up walls Lando desperately tries to break through

yearning and longing

smut (at some point)

mutual pining

idiots fighting fate (mostly Y/N)

Lando falling first and harder

touch-starved but terrified Y/N

moments of softness that wreck them both

“I’m not good enough for you” trope

Each chapter contains its own content warnings.

Chapter 1: Fight

| 10.9k | Summary: A brutal fight erupts between Y/N and Lando at a friends' gathering, where he unknowingly destroys his soulmate in a way no one thought possible. His attack confirms every fear she’s carried alone for years, shattering the last piece of hope she had. That night, overwhelmed by heartbreak and years of buried trauma, Y/N suffers a panic attack more severe than anything she’s ever experienced.

Chapter 2: Breaking

| 4.8k | Summary: After the fight with Y/N, Lando is left reeling in guilt and self-loathing, realizing too late that his cruelty came from fear of how deeply he cared for her. Meanwhile, Y/N suffers a severe panic attack and is hospitalized, feeling irreparably broken and unloved. 

Chapter 3: Spain

| 11.9k | Summary: Pietra persuades a reluctant Y/N to join a vacation in Spain, where a booking mix‑up forces her to share a room and a king‑size bed with Lando. All week, she must keep her hidden soulmate mark concealed from him while wrestling with her nerves and his unexpected closeness.

Chapter 4: Tension

| 16.8k | Summary: Y/N panics when she breaks her foundation, and Lando unexpectedly spends an entire day helping her search Spanish shops to find a replacement. Despite growing attraction and moments of connection, both misinterpret each other's signals—Y/N thinks Lando finds her repulsive while he's actually desperately attracted to her but hiding it.

Chapter 5: Realization

| 11.6k | Summary: Y/N secretly masturbates while listening to Lando jerking off in the shower. Later, he says something that completely devastates her.

Chapter 6: Truth

| 14.8k | Summary: Lando and Y/N see each other for the first time since the Spain trip—and the truth is finally revealed in a single, accidental moment.

Chapter 7: Conversation

| 25.3k | Summary: Y/N and Lando have a serious and heartbreaking conversation.

Chapter 8: Change

| 13.8k | Summary: Lando begins pursuing Y/N with thoughtful gestures and messages, making significant changes to his life to prove his sincerity. Despite being moved by his efforts, Y/N struggles to trust his intentions after being hurt before and chooses to protect herself rather than risk further disappointment.

Chapter 9: Dreamy

| 17.3k | Summary: Lando gets jealous during a dinner with friends. Later that night, a dream occurs.

Chapter 10: Exposed

| 10.4k | Summary: Paparazzi photos of Lando and Y/N leaving dinner together leak online, and Lando witnesses a phone call between Y/N and her mother.

Chapter 11: Cracks

| 21.5k | Summary: After her mother's call, Y/N breaks down in Lando's arms, but panic overwhelms her, and she pushes him away, unable to trust that his feelings are genuine. Later, she meets Pietra for coffee but still can't reveal the soulmate secret. Meanwhile, Lando drives to his parents and confesses everything.

Chapter 12: Shattered

| 20.5k | Summary: A confrontation between Lando and Y/N reaches a devastating breaking point that forces both to face painful truths. In the aftermath, Y/N begins to lower her walls for the first time, though she still can't promise him anything.

Chapter 13

Coming soon ...

Extras / head canons

[ladyhelona]

Every Last Drop

💌Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

💭 MDNI: comfort smut, blowjob-only fic, overstimulation, edging, light cockwarming (with your mouth), Draco trying to be quiet, reader being gentle but relentless, “I just want to take care of you,” hands in her hair, heavy eye contact, Draco twitching, crying (just a little), praise kink, “you’re doing so good for me”, Draco completely gone

⸻

It starts soft.

He comes to you late—shoulders tight, tie loose, jaw clenched like he’s been grinding his teeth all day. He doesn’t say what happened. Doesn’t need to. You can see it in his eyes—the exhaustion. The pressure. The unspoken weight of being Draco Malfoy.

He slumps onto your bed like gravity’s finally won.

You kiss his forehead.

And then, quietly, you ask:

“Can I take care of you?”

He blinks.

“What do you mean?”

Your hand cups his cheek. “Let me love you.”

And that’s how you end up on your knees between his legs, fingers tugging open his belt, warm breath against his skin as he looks pdown at you with something like awe—and fear.

“Love,” he says, breath shaky, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

And then you’re sinking your mouth down onto him, slow and sweet, and Draco breaks.

⸻

He’s been hard since the moment you touched him. But you don’t rush. You let your lips wrap around the head, tongue teasing the slit, hands bracing gently against his thighs as you slowly sink down.

“Fuck—” he chokes, head tipping back. So pretty.

He’s already panting.

Already twitching.

But you don’t speed up. You hold him in your mouth, let him feel your throat flex around him as you breathe through your nose and swallow slowly.

One of his hands fists in the bedsheets.

The other? Hesitates.

Then slides into your hair, shaking.

“Y-You don’t have to—”

You pull off with a soft pop, licking the head with kittenish precision.

“I want to,” you say again. “Just relax, Draco.”

You stroke him once. Twice. Then your mouth is back on him, your tongue dragging under the underside of his cock like you know that’s what makes him jolt.

Because you do.

You’ve learned him. His body. The way he twitches when you suck on the head just right, the way he gasps when you moan around him.

And tonight?

You use everything.

You hollow your cheeks and let your throat open, taking him deeper, swallowing around him slowly. Draco’s entire body jolts like you’ve shocked him with a spell.

“Fuck—fuck, please—”

But you don’t let him finish.

You edge him once. Then again.

He gets close—so close—his hips starting to buck, thighs trembling, breath coming in ragged bursts—

And you pull off.

You kiss his thigh.

He whimpers.

Actually whimpers.

“Why—why’d you stop—?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and soft, tender care mixed with mischief. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

“I—what—?” He’s dazed. Confused. Already so close to slipping.

“You carry so much, Draco,” you murmur, stroking him again, slow and firm. “Promise it’ll feel better, empty that pretty head of yours.”

Then you take him back into your mouth—slow and deep.

And this time?

You don’t stop.

⸻

He’s a wreck within minutes.

His shirt’s half unbuttoned. Tie discarded. His head’s thrown back, hair mussed, lips parted on a soundless gasp.

You suck him like it’s your full-time job.

You let him fuck your throat, let him feel how warm and soft you are, how you refuse to let go, even when he begs.

Because he does.

“Oh—oh god, please—I’m—”

You hum around him.

He twitches.

Spills.

You swallow. Gently. Fully.

But you don’t stop.

He gasps—shudders—tries to pull away.

“W-Wait, I can’t—!”

You hold him still.

You want every last drop.

You work him through it, licking, stroking, your mouth so soft and wet it makes his hips jerk—too much, too sensitive—but you just keep going.

“Holy fuck—” he breathes. His voice cracks. “Y-You’re gonna kill me—”

You glance up at him, as if to say, “That’s my plan.”

His cheeks are flushed. His eyes glassy. His legs shaking.

Tears welling at the corners of his lashes.

He looks ruined. So pretty, all yours.

You smile.

And you keep sucking.

Because this isn’t about getting him off.

It’s about melting him down to nothing so he doesn’t have to carry the world anymore. Doesn’t even need to think anymore.

Just for tonight.

—

He’s still gasping when you take him back into your mouth, sensitive and twitchy. Still trembling.

And you don’t even give him a second to recover.

Your lips slide down his shaft again—slow, sinful—and Draco makes a sound you’ve never heard from him before. High. Broken. Almost horrified at how good it feels.

His thighs jerk involuntarily, heels digging into the mattress. He tries to push your head back—gentle, frantic taps to your shoulder—but his arms are weak. Jelly. Useless.

You hum around him like you didn’t hear a single word.

His whole body shakes.

He’s chanting nonsense. Garbled. Words collapsing into breath.

Is he begging you to stop or keep going? Neither of you can tell anymore.

You decide to take him deeper.

His head snaps back into the pillows. He arches like he’s been hit with a curse, hands flying to your hair—not to push you away anymore, but to hold on for dear life.

“Feels so good—“ It comes out of him broken between pants,

He tries to swallow but can’t.

He’s too busy coming undone.

And then it happens.

Another orgasm hits him.

Hard.

Harder than the first. Harder than anything he’s ever felt. His hips buck helplessly into your mouth, deep, messy, uncontrolled—and the second you feel the twitch of release, you milk him.

Your tongue.

Your throat.

Your hand squeezing gently at the base.

All working together to wring every last drop out of him.

Draco shatters, babbling and He’s whining. He’s falling apart in your mouth.

You swallow everything again—slow, reverent—and let your lips drag back up his overstimulated cock, soft teasing licks that make Draco convulse.

“It’s too much,” he pants, sweat beading at his forehead, hips twitching.

You look up.

His eyes are half-lidded.

Pupils blown.

Jaw slack.

He looks so far gone.

Beautifully, wonderfully, absolutely wrecked.

And you’re not done.

Not even close.

“Please—” he gasps, voice cracking like thin glass. “Love, it’s too much—“

You stroke him slowly, lovingly.

Just enough that his hips jerk again.

He whimpers.

Actually whimpers.

“No—no no no—not again—can’t—“

He’s not even forming full words anymore.

Just pleading sounds. You’ve never seen this side of Draco; of him reduced to such a mess, babbling, barely coherent.

You like it.

Soft. Broken. Dripping with overwhelmed pleasure.

Your mouth replaces your hand again.

He lets out a strangled sob.

“fuck—oh—oh Merlin—ah—”

He’s trying to escape the pleasure.

He’s also pushing deeper into it.

His brain is confused, short-circuited, drowning.

Which is exactly how you want him.

He orgasms again.

You’ve lost track by this point.

He loses himself.

By the time the next wave hits him—an overstimulated, violent full-body shock—Draco isn’t speaking anymore.

He’s just gasping.

Twitching.

Moaning your name like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary.

His head lolls sideways on the pillow, sweat in his hair, cheeks flushed, mouth open as he pants through the overstimulation.

He’s gone.

Absolutely, completely, deliciously gone.

No thoughts.

No shields.

Just a gorgeous ruined boy slumped against the pillows with cum on his abs and tears dried at the corners of his eyes.

Your pretty pureblood prince?

Milked for all he’s worth.

He’s trembling.

Still twitching with the echoes of too many orgasms. Breathing shallow. Eyes glassy and unfocused as he collapses against the pillows, limbs loose and boneless.

You climb up the bed and gather him into your arms.

He doesn’t resist.

He just melts.

⸻

You clean him gently—soft strokes of your wand, a whispered tergeo—and when he whimpers from the contact, you hush him with kisses to his temple.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, tucking his head under your chin. “You did so good, my love.”

Draco lets out a tiny, broken exhale. “C–can’t feel my legs.”

You smile into his hair.

“That’s alright. You don’t need them.”

A dazed laugh stutters out of him. And then—

“I think I love you.”

You blink.

He’s warm and pink and fucked-out against your chest, but his voice—his voice is serious.

You pull back just enough to look down at him.

And his stormy eyes find yours.

“I do love you,” he repeats, quieter. “I—I mean it.”

Your heart thuds.

You cup his cheek.

“I love you too.”

Draco inhales, sharp and shaky. His expression crumples.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Your thumb strokes the side of his face.

“Draco… you do. You do. You deserve love.”

A kiss to his forehead. “And I love you.”

He makes a soft, wounded sound in his throat. Like he’s breaking and healing at the same time.

You press kisses to every inch of him—his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his damp forehead. You brush his hair back from his face and kiss his temple again and again until his breathing slows.

His arms loop weakly around your waist.

“Don’t go,” he whispers.

“I won’t.”

You shift, lying fully beside him. Let him curl into you like he’s done a hundred times before—but never like this. Never so shattered. So safe.

You hold him as his lashes flutter closed.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “I’ve got you. I love you.”

His breathing deepens.

His grip on your shirt loosens.

And finally, in your arms, Draco Malfoy sleeps.

[everydaydreamer]

Roommates' Secret

Summary: You decide to treat Qimir and your followers to a special treat.

Warnings: porn w no plot, smut, oral (m receiving), mask kink(?), tagalog, sex on camera, creampie, shoving cum back inside, aftercare, love confession, fluff, MDNI 18+

A/n: thank you @raspberryhours for helping me with the tagalog parts

Part 1

"We're running low on ice cream," you tell Qimir before scooping a spoonful into your mouth and taking a seat across from him at the table.

He hums in response, "I'll get some tomorrow after work." He glances up at you from his laptop with a knowing smirk.

You bite your lip to conceal your smile, though you're not very convincing. "Thank you," you tell him shyly. He knows you so well, even more since the two of you started dating.

He turns his attention back to his computer screen and his jaw drops. "Holy shit!"

Your face drops at his sudden outburst, "What? What is it?!" You immediately shoot out of your seat to appear by his side.

"I was checking our earnings and the amount has doubled since you joined me! I've never made this much money on my own." He tilts his computer towards you so you can see and your eyes widen.

"Oh my god!" You cover your mouth, "That's enough to pay rent!"

Qimir chuckles, "yeah it is. And if we keep bringing in this much, we can have even more for ourselves."

You look down at him with a proud grin, "I guess it's a good idea I decided to join you then huh?"

The look in his eyes changes. His pupils grow darker, filled with desire for you. "Yeah. The viewers really love you. And...."

No, he shouldn't. It's too soon.

"And I think we make an excellent team." He says instead.

"Couple" you correct him.

He chuckles again with a nod, "I suppose we should get to work then."

-

Now in his room, Qimir sets up his camera on the tripod, making sure there's a clear view of where the two of you will be. He walks back over to where you're standing by the bed before slamming his lips on yours.

"Are you ready to get to work?" Qimir mutters in your ear, his grip on your hips firm. His lips were already swollen from yours. And God did he look amazing.

"Always," you smile and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your face closer to his.

"Oh yeah?" He raises a brow.

You bite your lip, "mhm you always make me so horny Qimir." You whisper against his lips before connecting them again.

"Mmm fuck baby" He groans against you as he melts into your touch. His hands travel down to squeeze your ass, pulling you close so you can feel the effect you have on him. 

"I wanna suck you off." You suddenly whisper.

As if he suddenly sobered up, his eyes shoot open and he moves away when you lean in again. "What?"

"I wanna suck you off." You repeat.

"But what about you—"

"You always make me feel so good baby, let me make you feel good." You move your kisses to his cheek and down his neck as he thinks about it, trailing your fingers down his clothed abdomen.

"Yeah, okay let's do it." You grin against his neck and immediately push at his chest, causing him to land on his bed with a grunt. He watches as you walk to the camera with a sway of your hips, mesmerized by you.

"One thing though," you turn back around to face him.

"Anything my love" he responds immediately.

"Are you gonna wear your helmet?"

"Do you want me to?" You slowly nod with a shy smile, a little embarrassed to admit that you find it really hot. He gives you a cocky grin that makes you question whether you want to smack it or kiss it off.

He chuckles and gets up from the bed to retrieve his helmet. He winks at you— causing a puddle to form in your panties— before putting it on. He resumes his position on the bed, manspreading while leaning back on his palms behind him.

You press the record button on the camera and make your way back towards him. You lean down, staring at his covered face while rubbing your hands along his muscular biceps which are covered by a tight black long sleeve. Your fingers trail down his abs and you feel his stomach clench as they descend further down to his thighs and you sink down to your knees.

Even with his helmet on, you hear the sound of his breath hitch and you smirk with pride. You continue to rub his clothed thighs, watching as the tent in his pants grows more.

Your pinky "accidentally" grazes his bulge and his hips jerk up immediately. "Do you want me?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

"Yes baby, you know I do." You hear his robotic voice say breathlessly.

"Oh yeah? How do you want me?" You start rubbing his bulge, putting just enough pressure to drive him mad.

He groans and throws his head back in annoyance. He loved and hated when you teased him like this. "I want your mouth. I want it milking me dry until my dick is limp. I want to cum with you on your knees looking up at me with those pretty eyes of yours."

You bite your lip and unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips to help you pull them down along with his underwear. His dick springs up, the tip red and leaking precum. You wipe your thumb along the tip, gathering the bead of liquid there, before bringing it up to your mouth. Your eyes lock with his as your lips wrap around your thumb, tasting him.

He groans at the sight and grabs the back of your head, not too tight but just enough to move you closer to his face. You can't see his eyes, only the small slits in the mask, showing you your own reflection. You look so gone for him, and you are.

"Hurry up and wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock before I make you." Your eyes widen at this new side of him.

The past few times you've slept together, he's been kinder, more patient. But now with these switched positions, it seems like his composure is crumbling much faster. And hearing his words through the robotic voice makes it ten times hotter.

You slowly take him in your mouth and his head tips back as a long groan leaves his lips. His grip loosens on your hair, gently massaging your scalp. "Just like that," he sighs.

He looks down at you and could probably cum just from the sigh alone. "You're so pretty like this sinta," he breathes out. You smile up at him the best you could. You suck harder and stroke faster which, causing him to throw his head back once more.

You hear him sigh and you can picture his eyes fluttering shut, his bottom lip between his teeth, his face in complete bliss. "Isagad mo pa." (Go deeper) he mutters. He gently starts rocking his hips into you, wanting control but not to hurt you, forcing you to take more of him. 

You momentarily close your eyes, reveling in the sounds he's giving you. One of your hands lets go of his length and slides into your soaked panties. You rub tight circles on your clit, his moans egging you on.

When Qimir looks back down, he makes a grunt of displeasure. "Open your eyes, look at me." You do as he says and you lock eyes with him. "That's more like it." His gaze travels further down and he sees your hand between your legs. He smirks, though you can't see it.

"Are you touching yourself?" You nod and he chuckles. "Go ahead and cum. Cum while you suck my dick. Go on. " Your fingers fasten their pace on your clit as you continue to fist him. 

He lets out a groan, "insert a finger. Fuck yourself." You do as he says, moaning against him, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. "Good girl. Ohhhh good girl that's it- that's it! Shit I'm gonna cum! Fuck!"

You quicken your pace, the fingers using to fuck yourself speeding up as well. "Ang sarap mo! Ang galing mo! Lalabasan ako agad sayo!"(You feel so good! You're doing so good! You're gonna make me come hard!) He rambles, getting closer and closer to falling over the edge.

With one last robotic noise of pleasure, you taste the saltiness on your tongue, swallowing every last drop. You help him ride out his high, stopping when his hips twitch from overstimulation. His body trembles when you finally lift off of him. His heavy robotic breaths fill the room as he tries to regain his composure.

He leans down so he's face to face with you. He lifts your hand, pulling it from your underwear and holding it up so he can see the glistening wetness from your orgasm. He silently brings it closer to your face until it meets your lips. He nods once and you open your mouth, allowing him to make you taste yourself. 

He lets out a low, satisfied groan as you suck your release from your fingers. “Good girl.” 

He lets go of your arm, letting your fingers fall from your mouth. "Get up here. Now." He grips the back of your neck lightly and pulls you up so that you're straddling his lap, your clothed pussy hovering just above his length. 

You expect him to remove the helmet, but all he does is stare at you. He tilts his head when you pout. "Something you need?"

"Babyyyyy take it off!" You beg. "I wanna kiss you."

He lets out a breathless, robotic chuckle before flipping you over so that you're laying on the bed. You watch with anticipation as he reaches for the bottom of the helmet. Your breath catches in your throat when he finally removes it, revealing his sweaty, fucked out expression and messy hair.

"Happy now?" He grins down at you. You don't say anything. Instead, you grip the collar of his shirt before tugging him down to your mouth. You hear the thud of his helmet dropping to the floor, neither of you caring where it landed or if it broke or not.

All that matters right now is his lips on yours, his heat engulfing you, and his cock grazing where you need him the most. Your hands creep up his shirt, feeling his abs. He pulls away to quickly pull his shirt off before reconnecting your lips.

His hand drifts down into your panties and he groans. "You're this wet just from sucking me off?" You nod, letting out quiet mewls when he starts lightly rubbing your clit. 

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh" your eyes flutter shut and your jaw falls slack at the pleasure he's giving you. He starts kissing your neck down to your collarbone. He lifts up your shirt to kiss your stomach before pulling it over your head.

After your shorts and panties join the pile of clothes littered across the floor, he lowers his head between your thighs. You feel his warm breath hit your clit and as much as you'd love to feel him eat you out, you needed something else more.

"Qimir." His gaze snaps up at you, eyebrows raised. "I need you to fuck me. Now."

He grins excitedly, leaving a soft kiss on your clit before leaning up to slam his lips on yours. You feel his tip rub along your wet folds and you grip onto him in anticipation. "You ready?" He asks as he prods at your hole. You nod and he slowly pushes in.

Your nails dig into his muscular shoulders as your eyes flutter shut from the delicious sting. He lets out a low, raspy groan as he bottoms out. "Fuck" he breathes out. 

He pulls out until just the tip is inside before slamming back in. A loud moan rips from your throat over and over again as he continuously makes this motion. "You feel so fucking good sinta, god!"

He lowers down on his forearms, caging you in between his biceps with his face hovering above yours. He lowers down to leave messy kisses along whatever available skin he can reach from this angle. "I don't know how long I can last." He mutters shakily.

"It's okay baby, I'm almost there." Qimir takes that as his cue to reach between your bodies to where you meet and starts rubbing your clit. You clench down on him and he makes a gruff noise.

"Whose are you?" He asks, staring down at you with an intense glare.

"Yours!" You cry out. 

"Ngh– again!"

"Yours Qimir! I'm yours!"

"That's right baby, all mine! Now cum for me like the good girl I know you are!" You don't need to be asked twice as you let go, giving him all of you.

His hips stutter and you know he's close too. "Oh- oh god I'm yours too! Fuck I'm cumming!" His thrusts become messy. His eyes clench shut and his mouth falls open as you feel him fill you up. "Mahal kita" he moans out with one last thrust.

He opens his eyes and leans forward to kiss your cheek, a surprisingly soft and intimate gesture after what he just did to you. He leans his forehead against your shoulder and shakily whispers, "mahal kita” once more before kissing the skin there too.

He pulls out and sits back, groaning at the sight in front of him. He gets up to grab the camera and moves in for a closer shot. "Keep your legs open baby, let the camera see the mess we made."

Qimir bites his lip as he moves in closer and he can't help but shove some of your mixed cum back inside. You let out a whine from the sensitivity and try to shut your legs but he holds them open, chuckling at your agony.

After giving you the most loving aftercare, Qimir lays beside you in his bed. You're wearing one of his shirts while he didn't even bother changing into anything other than his boxers.

He runs his hands up and down your spine and occasionally over your hair while you rub his bare abdomen with your head on his chest. He places a few soft kisses on your forehead, his lips lingering on the last one.

"I love you," he whispers against you, so quietly you almost didn't hear him. Your fingers halt on his skin as you look up at him with curious eyes.

"What'd you just say?"

"I love you," he repeats himself. He didn't sound nervous, didn't sound hesitant. He said it like he was certain, like he had said it to you a hundred times before this. He spoke those words with such truth as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"I understand if you're not there yet. I just had to say it–"

"I love you Qimir," you cut him off. You feel his body physically relax under you at your confession.

He smiles softly before placing his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer. He cups your cheeks before placing kisses all over your face, causing you to let out small giggles. "God, I love you so fucking much sinta. Mahal kita."

"Is that what it means?" You ask, referring to the same words he said earlier after he came. He nods and you choke out a laugh before lightly shoving his shoulder. "Of course you'd confess it in a different language while you're balls deep inside me."

He lets out an earnest chuckle that shakes his whole body. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!" You scoff with a meaningless eye roll before laying your head back down on his chest.

You feel his hand not so subtly drift lower before squeezing at your ass. You look up at him with a raised brow. "Something you need?”

He doesn't say anything as he carefully moves you so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you. "I want to make love to you properly, no cameras this time."

You smile before bringing him down to your lips. "Then do it." And oh did he show you just how much he loves you, in more ways than one.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Qimir The Stranger taglist: @t03soup @lovelettersfrommai @raspberryhours @thesassypadawan Lmk if you'd like to be added or removed :)

[fckmyylife]

laws of attraction | 7

(Higuruma Hiromi x female reader) 18+ only, no minors.

Higuruma was a man of autonomy. He couldn't be tied down by the most impossible cases, yet he was about to bind himself into a marriage with you.

❧ arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety & anxiety attacks, overthinking, insecurities, hesitation, slow burn, curses, takes place before Higuruma fully awakens as a sorcerer, eventual smut, masturbation, reader has a vagina. 18+ only, no minors.

previous | fic masterlist | AO3

The conversation at the end is meant to feel more human and therefore not entirely clear - I don't want to spoon feed the story and i want to make these conversations somewhat realistic between two distant people.

"I'm going to dry off," said Hiromi, which was your cue to leave.

It was difficult to focus on other things after he'd allowed you to sit beside him in the ofuro. Even sleeping was hard with him right next to you.

For another night that Hiromi lay in the futon close to yours, it lead you to wonder how much you've already done here, and how much you must've drained his bank account in the few days. You'd been getting massages and using all the hot water.

It was unclear as to whether he'd already paid for the stay here, if there was no timeframe - he did say you would stay for however long was needed.

You weren't sure any holiday was enough to heal you from your parents, nevermind the curse. 

You stared at the dark ceiling.

"Hiromi."

The given name on your tongue was an unfamiliar word you wanted to taste, one you'd already moaned not once, but twice.

His reply took you away from invasive thoughts.

"Hm?"

Your warm hands interlinked over your stomach. under the duvet. "You didn't send the details to pay my half of the stay."

Your words had been clear, but they still faded into suffocating silence.

The duvet and pillow rustled. You turned your head to the barely distinguishable silhouette, awaiting his response.

"You don't need to pay me back," he said, voice low but awake. "I'm your husband."

The beating organ behind your chest fluttered from dissonance of the title and the reality.

"Are you sure? I couldn't."

"I'm sure," he replied.

You were thinking of something else to keep a conversation. Words came out easier when you couldn't see his blank yet soft expression.

You lightly cleared your throat. "Do you dislike talking about the curses?"

Cursed spirits, despite your lack of knowledge, felt like the only exclusivie topic between you and him - since he hadn't met anyone before you that could also see them.

"Not if you don't."

"I just can't imagine how it's been. To see them for so long," you said, almost a whisper. "How did you begin kiling them?"

He was forced to see your turmoil in the embodiment of a curse. You surmised that he was also struggling ever since you'd accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom that other night.

Was the abundance of curses apart of the reason?

 "It almost felt like something surged in me."

"Like an awakening?" you asked.

He shifted beside you slightly. "I'd be stronger if it was that. I got practice from killing smaller curses."

He could fight, whether the curse was or wasn't a worthy opponent.

If he'd stepped into your room much earlier, he would have seen and killed the blue curse in its much smaller state. He wouldn't have mentioned its existence to you, assuming you couldn't see it and that would be that. Maybe you wouldn't even be at the ryokan right now, if that happened.

"You were very strong," you blurted. The words caught up to your brain and you added, "That night."

"Not any other time?"

Was he…teasing?

"In the courtroom," you corrected, swallowing. His effect on you was seamless, that it was difficult to banter with him.

"You've seen my cases?"

Did he not know who he was?

You'd never seen his face until you met him for the first time, but you'd known his name. Every law student and lawyer in Japan did.

"In law school," you replied.

"I didn't realize I was that old, is all."

In the dark, you couldn't resist the small smile growing on your lips.

"You were strong too," he said. Your smile froze. "That entire day."

Your knees squeezed under the covers, almost near your chest.

That entire day.

He didn't need to specify what had gone on. He noticed you'd been holding back when your and his parents came over.

"I wasn't," you breathed. Your mind painted white piling up like snow on the kitchen floor. Flour had spilled over the floor, a depiction of your spiraling thoughts.

"You were, considering…" He lightly cleared his throat. "I didn't defend you."

You wanted to dwell less on the past, but you were surprised Hiromi remembered the times he was around you. Fleeting moments with him felt less disposable that way.

"I don't expect you to defend me," you responded.

The words were soft, but honest. He was only being respectful to your parents - his in-laws.

He didn't know anything about you. For all he knew, you were a horrible daughter that treated her poor parents like they were worthless.

Yet, he'd arranged this trip solely based on the fact that you were scared and stressed.

Most men did not go that far. Perhaps Hiromi among men was like finding a blood-red rose in dead weeds.

The next morning, a basket waited on the engawa. A staff member had delivered fresh yukatas and sandals, matching couple ones.

Hiromi's yukata was beige with a dark purple obi. Yours was lilac with a light cherry blossom pattern, and a beige obi to contrast his.

The new sandals consisted of modern geta for you, with a slight heel. The solid wood looked tough.

You stepped through the hall to give him the clothes.

His deep voice came from the living room. You stopped in front of the ajar door, the basket of clothes in your hands.

"We're well, Kaa-san. How are you and Tou-san?" he spoke.

You looked down to his yukata. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but there was something in the formality that caught your attention.

You couldn't recall him using honorifics for his parents, unlike how you called yours.

"No, it wasn't long by train," he said.

You remained still.

"I don't know what my mother told you." A short silence passed as he listened. "No, no, we just need a break."

My mother.

Your eyes drifted down the hall.

You were hoping it wasn't what you thought.

"Work has been nonstop, but she also needed time away."

"No, I don't believe she has."

His tone seemed too polite for someone that had loving parents.

Everything was adding up to your suspicion.

You weren't banning your parents on calling Hiromi, but they hadn't even called you, their own daughter. You doubted he was the one to call them first.

Then again, you didn't know how much he and your parents had spoken before you'd gotten married; before you even met him.

"Yes, she…" he paused and you turned your ear to the door. "She's been taking care of me."

Your palms grew sweaty gripping the handles of the basket. You hoisted it up with an arm, to not drop it and reveal your presence.

It's not your house. You should be more careful.

I was just reminding her to take good care of you.

"Hm. Granted I've…left her to it here."

He sounded hesitant, almost ashamed.

She was treating you like a nuisance to your own husband, and maybe you were, but she didn't have the right to check.

Your parents were making sure you were fulfilling your worth as a wife, if that was all you were good for now.

The few days here were spent in fragments alone. At the same time, it felt simultaneously difficult for you to feel normal around Hiromi.

He must've preffered to keep you at arm's length - just as he'd always done since the day you met him.

If Hiromi was a red rose among dead weeds, you were a thorn in his side.

 Attempting to move on, you left your eavesdropping spot to change into your yukata. Like the other one, it was your usual size on the label, but it fit loosely - as beautiful as it was.

And just as before, you had the same struggle with tying the obi tightly around a loose yukata.

You wanted to ask Hiromi about the call and you weren't sure when a good opportunity would be, but it was wrong to listen in the first place.

You felt stupid for even being upset. Emotions were futile.

Feel them, instead of enduring them.

The door slid open, just as you'd gotten the urge to tear the yukata off and hide under the futon's duvet.

You kept your gaze to the mirror. It wasn't like you were naked, so he didn't think anything of it as he stepped in. The obi was tied behind you, even if it wasn't the most secure.

"They left more yukatas and sandals," you simply informed.

You stole a glance at his tall figure in the mirror. He nodded, briefly glancing into the basket on the bed, before his head turned to you.

Your eyes dropped back in front of you. His hair was dry and soft, and you wanted to card your fingers through it.

"It's loose again?"

You didn't respond, as footsteps crossed the tatami. How could he tell in an instant?

"Do you want me to tie it?"

"It's okay." Your voice came out quieter than intended.

She's been taking care of me.

Did he mean it?

"Here."

He came behind you, soap and cologne clouding you. You didn't run to stop him.

The feel of the obi loosening was poetically intimate, letting you imagine him taking it off because he wanted to see what was underneath.

Regardles of the thought, your hands held the lilac yukata together tightly and helped him loop the obi around you a few times, as you'd done last time.

You may have endured your emotions, but he hid his. Whenever you felt like you were the one always having breakdowns, you remembered the man in the bathtub with all his clothes on.

Was he sinking?

Whether he was stuck to one side like a seesaw, or if he was at the bottom of the ocean, you wondered how he'd get up.

Around you, Hiromi was a quiet man. He was the loudest lawyer in Japan, because of how silent the courtroom became whenever he spoke, not because he shouted.

Yet, he did not give you his voice because he owed you nothing. You were not a case he needed to solve or a mystery that kept him in the office all night, making you wonder over and over why he married you.

You did not ask, since you'd also become a quieter woman.

Instead, you stumbled. Your heart jumped at the loss of balance, feet slipping as you were pulled from behind.

Hands left the obi and quickly grabbed your wast. He caught you in the warm front of his body.

You couldn't help but blink up to the mirror as you stilled. He was glancing down at you, round eyes bigger with concern.

"Sorry," he spoke, voice lulling you. "I pulled too tight. Are you okay?"

You quickly nodded, before he released you and trusted your feet to work. You were disappointed at the quick absence of warm hands around your waist.

The almost-tumble had pulled you out of apprehensive thoughts for only a moment, a moment where it felt like his touch belonged to you.

The day flew past. Your feet, especially your ankles, were sore from your new geta, adding to the bad mood.

The walk to and from the communal building killed you, making your back ache too. Hiromi headed back to the ryokan after breakfast, while you stayed. A massage was ineffective and you itched to get back to your old sandals on the walk back.

Your geta were not the only thing to throw you off balance. Your parents had managed to worm their way into your head, even when they were not directly talking to you.

Who else would try to catch you out, if not your own blood?

You tried not to seem too affected in front of Hiromi. It wasn't his fault and he hadn't said anything bad about you.

Your pace was still slow, even when you wore your old sandals to dinner.

"Just tired," you'd simply said, when he asked if you were okay. You knew it was a terrible lie - how tired could you be here?

Afterwards, you weren't sure where Hiromi was in the ryokan. You sat at the edge of the futon, feeling unproductive - even if that was also the point of being here, you'd been sluggish today.

You felt you were back to square one. Your parents had ways of reminding you of your place, even in conversations you were not present in. It seemed they expected Hiromi to do the same, by calling him and checking if you were an adequate wife for him.

You knew the answer was no, yet you couldn't handle it if he were an unbearable man either, that viewed a woman's only purpose to be a housewife. Hiromi was an anomaly, one you were lucky to have.

A husband was a central title, but for him, it was a distant position.

A few more moments of moping around lead you to realize how surprisingly thick the lattice doors were, when you hadn't noticed his footsteps. The shoji opened.

His upper half was bare with damp hair, while his lower half wore a towel. You'd accidentally seem him shirtless before at his house, and you'd even sat beside him while he was naked in the bath, but now you felt like a pervert.

"Sorry." You averted your eyes, wincing as you struggled to stand.

You felt wary eyes on you while you pushed yourself from the floor. "No, sorry, I forgot my robe."

You pressed your lips together, about to step past his lean body, until he spoke.

"Do your legs hurt?" he asked. You stopped in your tracks, glad there was still space between you as you glanced up to him.

Your lips parted, nodding in admission. "It's the geta they delivered this morning, but it's not as bad as it was earlier."

Realization flickered in his brown eyes. A droplet of water trailed down his prominent nose.

"Your yukatas don't fit and the geta cause you pain. Shall I ask for new ones?" he asked.

You paused. You didn't know how much longer you'd be here for to ask for more, and you secretly wanted him to continue securing the obi around your waist.

"Maybe tomorrow," you said.

He gave a nod and you thought that was it, until he spoke again.

"I'll go to the convenience store and get something for the pain."

Your eyes grew wider and immediately, you shook your head. The convenience store wasn't far, near the coffee shop you'd gone to, but it was the evening and he'd just showered for the night.

"Please, it's really okay. Thank you."

"I'll get changed and go. If you're going to shower, be careful or just use the ofuro," he replied.

You let out a small breath akin to a sigh.

As he said, you bathed in the ofuro and dried off in the bedroom. There was a folding screen in the closet that you should have taken out sooner, with you and Hiromi sharing the room.

Conveniently, as you put a robe over your shoulders, Hiromi knocked on the door.

"Come in." You felt weird saying it as you tied the robe over your naked body, even from behind the folding screen.

When you stepped out, a plastic bag dangled from his fingers. Brown eyes scanned your robe.

"You didn't need to go to the trouble. Thank you, Hiromi," you said, as he took out a few gels and packets of painkillers.

"I was going to go in the onsen first," you added, hence your robe. Maybe the heat and steam would free your mind too. "I'll take the medicine after."

He nodded

"Mind if I join?"

You wondered if there was a problem in your knees too, with how they almost buckled at the words.

When his mother suggested an onsen ryokan as your honeymoon, it was what you envisioned; sitting beside or opposite him in hot spring water. But that was exactly it - imagination.

"Of course not," you said softly, attempting to swallow the nerves catching in your throat.

Hiromi gave you a headstart to the onsen, since he'd gone to wash off again briefly before he joined you. You could release your robe without fretfulness of his eyes, but it wouldn't change much. The hot water soothed your feet for the time being.

The glass door slid open. Your heart raced faster with anticipation.

You reared your head to him briefly, before glancing away.

He almost immediately unwrapped his robe and got in, pale ripples of water spreading outward.

Your teeth clung to your bottom lip, careful not to draw blood over the onsen. You wished you could put a hand over your mouth to silence any breath of yours that could be audible, since holding your breath wasn't a good idea.

You became acutely aware of small details that you felt he could see even in the dimness of lanterns. Your breasts floated, although they were hidden. The water concealed above your shoulders, yet you felt exposed.

Stream danced between you and wet your eyelashes, making your vision soft and shrink the world to only reflect the pool and him.

You allowed yourself a glance to him, where in a small moment through the tension, his body looked relaxed. Hiromi didn't seem to be shy about being naked, at least, when he was submerged deeply in water.

His shoulders were back, but his posture was no longer tense. His brunette hair was already damp and droplets gathered along his skin. His collarbones before his broad shoulders were deep and defined by the shadows of the evening and onsen's roof.

You felt yourself sink a fraction deeper into the water, before he was the first to break the silence.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked.

Your tongue briefly wet your lips. "My ankles, mostly. It's not that bad."

"You were limping. I'll ask them for different sandals," he said."

You shook your head."No point."

"Why not?"

You opened your palms under the water, drifting through it. "Aren't we going to leave soon?"

"We don't need to."

You inhaled deeply, mindful of your chest to not raise above water with the breath. You watched the ripples your hand made. "It's best we do."

"Why?"

"Because…" you whispered, eyes trailing to the fence covered by bushes - your barrier to reality. You continued, voice slightly clearer. "Because things will go back to how they were."

Maybe it was easier to pull yourself from the fantasy land here, where he spoke to you every day and ate meals with you - even if it was brief. You barely talked, and that wouldn't change.

"I know I've been…" he stopped, searching for the word. "Distant."

"You have things to worry about." you mumbled, trying to paint his face in the water with your mind, as you avoided the real thing. 

You felt pathetic. The call you'd overheard had gotten to you and it was impossible to hide it, at the end of the day.

"And you? You aren't a burden to me," he said.

 The words that should have relieved you with their honesty, left you with emptiness.

She's been taking care of me.

Even if he'd lied to get your parents off of your back, it hurt that he had to.

"It's just…" you started, wondering if you were really about to do this. "I don't know anything about you. Like, that night in the bath."

Your gaze finally found his, with concentration.

"What about it?" he asked. There were undertones of the cynical defensiveness of the Hiromi from that night.

"You were fully dressed, in the dark. I thought you were going to drown," you whispered. "It looked like you wouldn't care if you did."

You managed to get it all out, so he knew how much you worried. Even if it was none of your business, you felt like an explanation would give you peace of mind.

Even the sounds of water stilled between you, as well as the gentle breeze of the night, before he finally responded.

"Sometimes, I find myself thinking too much," he began, voice steady but pensive as if it were a wistful dream.

"About things I can't change. I wonder what it would be like if I didn't care at all, if I did things I assumed I shouldn't do," he said.

He wasn't being specific, and he never was.

You could only attempt to read between the lines, that cases at work had felt impossible, even if he was the only one known for solving dead ends. That perhaps it would be easier if he was a typical, money-hungry lawyer.

"So you sit in a bath with your clothes on?"

A faint exhale, almost a breath of amusement nearly broke the tension. "Something like that."

"If anything's wrong," you began, softly. "You can tell me."

His brows furrowed, confused. 

Was it absurd that you cared? His own wife?

"You cared about my struggles with my parents," you added, feeling the need to explain. It wasn't quite what you wanted to say. Caring wasn't an act of exchange.

"Have I?"

Your back hit the edge of the onsen, shocked.

His gaze shifted from side to side, correcting himself. "I meant, you shouldn't feel like you have to care."

The words didn't help. It was more frustrating for you.

You weren't good enough to know the details. Maybe you would never understand him, so he didn't even give you the option of trying.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's just that, I don't know what you think. What you feel, or go through. We don't…I never see you, to understand. You work constantly," you felt yourself ramble the thoughts as they came. It was a shock if he even understood anything. "Or, why you…"

Why you avoid me. If you ever wanted me.

"I don't know why you married me," you whispered, shoulders deflating.

Your name suddenly fell out of his mouth, concern in his deep tone, but the water was already rippling and splashing. 

Your fingers grabbed the robe before your mind even comprehended it. You pulled yourself up from the water and caught your naked body in the robe as you did, eyes returning to yourself as you shot out of the water.

"I'll go to sleep," you muttered.

"Please. Stay," he breathed.

You didn't place too much pressure on your feet after you stepped into your old sandals, in case you worsened it in an intense moment. 

His eyes burned into you, head following your movements as you stepped through the glass doors and shut the shoji, separating yourself from him.

comments are appreciated

[makelemonade]

FREAKY SLYTHERINS

In which the slytherin boys (Mattheo, Lorenzo, Theodore, Draco and Blaise_ and their famous girls (Y/N, Daphne, Astoria and Pansy) aren't just the deadliest friend group...but also a friend group that fucks each other on the down low.

(Please note it begins as suggestive mentions of smut and more group dynamic, but it WILL be going into smut soon and I will write beside it if it includes actual full-fledged written smut. Reader will have more of a liking to theodore (like fully confesses love type liking)

PART1- INITATION NIGHT - Where Y/N sits with the friend group at a party and begins her initiation with Theodore (who knew it would be so easy?) (SUGGESTIVE)

PART2- WORDS BEHIND WALS- It's been two months since Y/N joined the group, let's see just how she's doing...and just how easy miscommunication is when she thinks the boys are talking about her behind her back! (HURT/COMFORT)

PART3- NO NUT NOVEMBER- The boys partake in no nut November, the girls are determined to break them. (SMUT- THEODORE)

PART4 - SUPER RICH KIDS - In which Y/N finds it hard to keep up with the rich hobbies of her group. (SUBTLE HURT/COMFORT)

PART5- SWEET AND SOUR - When the sweetest boy of the group gets stressed and doesn’t want to bother, you make sure to relieve him (SMUT- LORENZO)

PART5- THE YULE BALL AND THEODORE NOTT'S BROKEN HEART- Every year for the Yule Ball, the girls go with the boys. Even before they turned into what they are now, as good friends they’d all go. Now that you’re here, you think Theodore might ask you, but the girls tell you he’s never asked anyone. So, you end up going with Cormac, but this won't end like you expect it to, nor does anyone else.

PART6 (CONTINUATION TO PART 5)- NEVER FUCK WITH US OR OUR GIRLS - When you get back together with Cormac, and Adrian Pucey and Astoria fall in love, the group deals with their betrayal, and Theodore and Draco realize they have lost their girls. However, a certain trio thinks something is off...

PART 7- SUPER SOAKER- When Lorenzo makes you squirt for the first time, the other guys decide to step up their game. (SMUT- ENZO AND MATTHEO)

PART 8- BEST OF BOTH WORLDS- Once again, you and Lorenzo are studying for your exams, just your in a state of not giving a shit and cuddling with Theodore while Lorenzo suffers in his dorm. That's when Theo decides you'll BOTH relieve Lorenzo... (SMUT- THEO AND ENZO)

PART9- JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY- You get asked out to a party by none other than Draco's enemy, Harry Potter, and after discussion, you decide to secretly go, but you weren't as secretive as you thought you were. (SMUT- DRACO)

PART 10- WHO WOULD THINK OF SNAPE?!- When the group first started, the boys told you the safe word was Snape- because if your mind EVER went to Snape during sex that's clearly saying how bad it was. You've gone almost a year strong without using the safe word, but everyone reaches their limit.

PART 11- BIRTHDAYS SUCK ANYWAY- The group seemingly forgets your birthday

PART 12- SHARING IS CARING- Mattheo and Theodore are best friends, they share everything, and often, that means you and Daphne. (SMUT)

PART 13- PURITY (TABOO)- When the boys find out your a muggleborn, you begin to think it's over- what would they want to do with a dirty mudblood like you? But to them, the only difference is you just don't have enough pureblood cum in you, and lucky for you, your boys are all purebloods.

PART 14- OWNED- The boys tease Enzo for always being so desperate for you, so Y/N shows them that she could realistically ruin any of them by ruining the dominant of the group- Mattheo.

PART 15- MOVIE NIGHT! - You all have a movie night in the common room, but with Blaise and Theodore at either side of you, this won't be a normal night under the blankets.

PART 16- GAME NIGHT- It's the end of the week, all the stress from tests and homework and stupid essays leaving your bodies as you all spend time in the common room. Then Blaise suggests a game of UNO that turns the night around VERY fast. (special because it's an orgy. NO DAPHNE)

PART 17- SPECIAL CHAPTER- The girls and you must go an entire school day with vibrators attached to your pussies that the boys control.

PART 18- Brat taming with Draco and Blaise

PART 19- Theodore and you wonder who fucks Lorenzo the best? And when he can't choose, you both spend a whole week ruining him.

PART 20- How each of the slytherin boys do aftercare

PART 21- How Slytherins party, (or more how freaky the boys get with you and the girls by taking shots off you all)

PART 22- You get jealous seeing a girl flirt with Theodore all night long, and instead of thinking about sex (for the first time ever) you begin to wonder about your relationship with Theodore, especially once you both graduate (FLUFFF, some hurt/comfort)

PART 23- Christmas at Hogwarts but everyone chooses to go home- except Mattheo, given Potter killed his dad during the second war just a year ago, and you, since your parents don't give a shit about you. Wonder how that's gonna go (ANGSTT, hurt/comfort, realized reader and mattheo don't have a lot of normal scenes)

[makelemonade]

PURITY

(TABOO) When the boys find out your a muggleborn, you begin to think it's over- what would they want to do with a dirty mudblood like you? But to them, the only difference is you just don't have enough pureblood cum in you, and lucky for you, your boys are all purebloods.

Part 13 of freaky slytherins

INCLUDES ALL THE BOYS, lowkey taboo, insanely explicit, lots of cum mentions, degrading, rogh sex, slapping, being spat on, lowkey the boys 'cleansing' you as a muggleborn but they dont gaf, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF MUDBLOOD, I promise it was just during the sex, this may not be everyone's cup of tea and that's okay, ROUGH LORENZO FOR THE FIRST TIME, lorenzo is acc a bitch, reader is a muggleborn if that wasnt clear but this can be read standalone since its prev mentioned shes a halfblood, uhm like theres too much so good luck, LIKE 7K WORDS

You were having one of those days that felt almost too good to be real, the kind that made your chest feel light and your smile impossible to hide no matter how hard you tried to play it cool. 

Charms- Charms of ALL subjects- had finally bent to your will, and the parchment in your hands proved it in elegant red ink, an excellent grade staring back at you like a personal victory lap. 

Lorenzo hadn’t even let you finish reading before he wrapped you up in one of his tight hugs, spinning you slightly off your feet like he always did when he was proud, laughing into your hair and even making a joke about how it was insane that wand work had ever been your weak point when you gave amazing handjobs.

Lunch somehow managed to be perfect too, your favourite meal appearing on your plate as if the universe itself was conspiring to spoil you, and as if that wasn’t enough, one of your afternoon classes was cancelled entirely. Which was how you ended up curled up in your dorm instead, tucked against Theo’s side with the curtains drawn just enough to let the grey light in, your legs tangled together while you showed him your memory box.

It was filled with keepsakes, old notes, tiny trinkets, and printed photographs- lots of photographs- and more than a generous portion of them featured him. Theo had raised a brow at that, smirking as he asked how you’d managed to get them developed, and you’d lied easily, smoothly, saying Hermione without missing a beat, because it was simpler than explaining the concept of a Muggle print shop to a wizard who barely tolerated electricity as a theory.

And maybe that lie sat closer to the truth than most of the others you carried, because yes- you were a Muggle-born. Not something you ever admitted out loud, not to your friends at least, though the professors had always known.

It was almost impressive, in hindsight, how you’d survived the Second Wizarding War with that secret intact, how Voldemort himself had never realized what you were. Growing up Muggle-born in Slytherin before the war had been its own quiet battlefield. Mattheo and Draco had been arrogant know-it-alls who wore superiority like a second skin. 

Theo had been quieter then, his actions speaking louder as he’d sneer at Hermione and anyone who reminded him of the world beyond magic. Blaise had never hidden his disdain, and even Lorenzo -sweet, affectionate Lorenzo- had once believed himself better by default, because growing up in a Black family had a way of doing that to you whether you wanted it to or not.

So half-blood had always felt safer, without too many questions. And even after the war, after ideologies supposedly crumbled and friendships crossed lines that once would’ve been unforgivable, you kept the lie. You’d worn it for so long that taking it off now felt pointless

Maybe some of them still harboured old beliefs deep down- though you doubted it more with every passing year. Astoria Greengrass had fought relentlessly for peace before the war and had somehow managed to soften Draco Malfoy of all people, and if that didn’t signal change, nothing did- especially with Narcissa’s quiet influence steering him away from the worst of it. 

Blaise had never truly cared enough to be radicalized, Mattheo had grown up trapped by circumstance more than belief, and Theo- well, Theo had grown close to Hermione; If that wasn’t proof that their worlds shifted,  then you honestly didn’t know what was.

Unfortunately, the day didn’t stay kind.

It ended the second you pushed open the girls’ dormitory door, irritation from detention still clinging to you like smoke. You hadn’t meant to blow up Seamus’s cauldron- honestly, if Snape wanted to blame someone, he could’ve started with Seamus existing- but you were too tired to argue it now. You stepped inside expecting noise and laughter, the usual lazy evening sprawl.

The entire group was there. At first, you didn’t clock what was wrong. The girls were sitting on the beds, scattered but unusually still, and the boys were gathered near your bed instead of the girls’, lingering in a way that made your shoulders tense instinctively. Your head slightly tilted and saw it- your memory box.

Sitting open on your bed.

Your breath punched out of you as you pushed through them immediately, heart racing, already bracing for devastation that Theo showed them the whole box- but relief flooded you when you realized it was only the photos scattered across the bed.

Theodore was holding one, probably showing them a group photo, and the sight knocked a shaky laugh out of you before you could stop it.

“Oh- you scared me,” you breathed, forcing a smile, hand pressed to your chest.

No one laughed with you. Pansy’s voice cut through the room instead, low and sharp. “You should still be.”

Astoria reacted instantly, twisting to smack Pansy’s arm. “Enough. What is wrong with you?”

You blinked, the warmth draining from your face as something cold curled in your stomach. Slowly, you stepped away from the boys, eyes flicking between them, searching for… something. 

“What?” you asked quietly. “Is- is something wrong?”

Blaise spoke first.

“When were you planning on telling us you’re Muggleborn?”

The world tilted.

Your heart dropped so violently it felt like it hit the floor before the rest of you could follow. Your stomach hollowed out, dread filling the space, creeping up your throat until it was hard to breathe.

“What?” you breathed out, taking another step back. “What are you talking about- no, I’m not-”

“Y/N,” Theo cut in, “Lying isn’t getting you anywhere.”

Panic surged and your pulse roared in your ears.

“How-how do you even know?” you demanded, voice cracking despite yourself. “I-how-what??”

Mattheo crossed his arms, expression unreadable. “We wanted to print out some photos as well. So we went to Hermione, asked if she could go to the shop she goes to for you.”

Your blood ran cold.

“And,” he continued, almost apologetically, “she told us you’ve never asked her to do that. Not once. So unfortunately, I can’t really find a lot of excuses in my head.”

Daphne shifted on the bed, eyes flicking to you with something like concern. “Maybe- maybe she’s half-blood,” she offered quickly. “And her Muggle side just knows the store-”

“Daph, don’t make excuses,” Mattheo said flatly.

“I’m trying to help my girl, Riddle,” Daphne snapped back.

Draco finally spoke up, arms crossed, tone sharp but oddly controlled. “Okay. Fine. Let’s say that is a possibility. Then explain your last name- it’s hardly known in the wizarding world, your wand is common-”

“Oh, yeah,” you cut in, anger flaring,  “Let’s base it off wands then.”

Draco lifted a shoulder slightly. “I’m just saying-”

Then Lorenzo cut him off to add on,  and somehow, that hurt the most.

“You know…” he started, voice hesitant, almost careful, like he already sensed he was stepping onto something fragile. “I always found it a little odd…you know every spell off the top of your head. You’re a natural at Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts- you dominate that class. You’ve saved half of us in practicals more times than I can count.”

Your chest tightened.

“But Charms,” he continued quietly, “Charms has always been your weakest.”

Pansy groaned immediately. “Oh my God, Enzo. Way to fucking expose her.”

He didn’t even glance at her.

“And then I remembered something Professor Flitwick said,” Lorenzo went on, voice gaining momentum now, “Years ago in first year. He mentioned that Muggleborns often struggle most in Charms- not because they’re less capable, but because of how their magic interacts with their wand. Their casting is different, less instinctive.”

“And every Muggle-born I know in our year,” he said slowly, “struggles the same way. Just like you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

You felt something inside you collapse- not dramatically, but a awful caving-in, like the floor beneath your feet had finally given up. Your shoulders dropped a fraction, the fight draining out of you before rage rushed in to replace it.

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his face. “Why did you lie?”

A sharp laugh ripped out of you, bitter and humourless, and before anyone could stop you, you shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a step, eyes wide.

“Woah!” Blaise barked, instinctively reaching out.

Lorenzo stared at you, stunned. “Y/N-”

“You couldn’t have just fucking kept your mouth shut?” you shouted, voice shaking violently.

His expression hardened, something unfamiliar flashing in his eyes. “This wasn’t about keeping my mouth shut. It was about fucking common sense.”

Sweet, gentle Lorenzo- who always smoothed things over, who hated confrontation- had just said something cruel. You saw it register on everyone’s faces at the same time.

You shoved him again, harder.

Theo took an unconscious step forward, guilt written all over him, but you were already turning away, chest heaving, vision blurring as you looked at all of them.

“You know what?” you laughed out, “Yeah. Fine. Let’s do this. I’ll go around and tell each and every one of you exactly why I never told the truth.”

You turned to Draco first. “I don’t even need to say much about you. You were a snob, an arshole. A genuine pain to be around growing up- and you still fucking are.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, colour rising in his cheeks. 

You pointed at Blaise next. “You? You always followed the group. Never questioned anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re still the same boy from first year, just quieter about it.”

Blaise scoffed, defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You ignored him completely.

Then Theo. “Let’s not forget,” you said coldly, eyes locking onto his, “when you spat at Hermione in third year.”

Theo visibly flinched, like the memory had been dragged out of him against his will. His lips parted, then pressed together, shame darkening his features as he looked away.

Your finger swung to Mattheo.

“Do you really want me to say it?”

He met your glare head-on, eyes dark and daring, “I fucking dare you.”

“Lovely,” you snapped. “Voldemort’s your fucking father. Dead or not, I don’t know what that did to you growing up- but don’t act like it didn’t make you terrifying to be around.”

The room tensed instantly. Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard you thought it might crack, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

And then you turned back to Lorenzo.

“And don’t even get me started on your mum.”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Be serious. She wasn’t even there growing up,”

“Well thank fucking God she’s dead then, huh?”

Lorenzo’s eyes widened in genuine shock, colour draining from his face as if you’d struck him. The room went deathly silent.

You weren’t going to apologize.

Even though, somewhere deep down, you knew you’d gone too far, you couldn’t bring yourself to back down now. 

“I really wonder why I’m even in this group,” you said, voice wavering, “I don’t fit in, do I? A Muggleborn with a bunch of pure-bloods.” 

Your eyes burned, tears blurring your vision as you laughed weakly. “I’m sure you were just looking for an excuse to get rid of me anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Theo said immediately, panic slipping into his voice. He took a step toward you. “Baby, no- that is not-”

You didn’t let him finish and instead turned on your heel and stormed out, ignoring the girls calling your name behind you, their voices overlapping in concern. The boys shouted too -some frantic, some angry, but you didn’t stop.

For the rest of the night, you went anywhere but the dorms.

You climbed the Astronomy Tower, letting the cold night air bite into your skin until your thoughts slowed. You wandered the courtyard, pacing until your legs ached. You walked along the lake, staring at the dark water as if it might swallow everything you were feeling. And eventually, exhausted and hollow, you slipped into the prefects’ bathroom, sinking into the hot bath and letting the steam fog your vision while the tension slowly eased out of your muscles.

It was past midnight by the time you finally headed back.

The common room was dark when you entered, the fire reduced to a faint glow that barely lit the space. The stairwells and halls leading to the dorms were even darker, shadows stretching long and quiet. Your hair was still slightly damp from the bath, pyjamas soft against your skin as you moved carefully, every step measured.

When you reached the girls’ dormitory, you slowly cracked the door open, peeking inside to make sure the girls were asleep- and that there were no boys lingering where they shouldn’t be. 

Once confirming, you relaxed just enough to step forward.

And then someone grabbed you from behind- a hand clamped over your mouth, cutting off your gasp as you were dragged backwards, your yelp muffled as your feet stumbled against the stone. Instinct screamed at you to fight-to scream, to hex, to do something- and realistically, you would have.

But you knew those calloused hands.

“Shh,” a voice murmured low against your ear.

Mattheo.

You stumbled into the Slytherin dorm room, the door clicking shut behind you with an ominous finality. The space was dark, save for the faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes. You could barely make out the silhouettes of the five boys, their forms blending into the shadows. 

Your heart pounded with annoyance and a spike of fear. “What the hell?! Dragging me here like some sort of kidnapping- are you mad?!” 

"Y/N, please, just listen," Draco's voice came first, low and edged with something softer than his usual arrogance. He stepped closer, though you still couldn't see his face clearly- only the outline of his hair catching the dim light.

"We're sorry," Blaise added, his voice carrying a weight of guilt. "For exposing you like that. For pushing you into saying those things. We never meant to out you to the whole group."

You crossed your arms, your annoyance bubbling over. "You think dragging me in here like this makes it better? What is this, some pureblood ambush?"

Theo's voice cut in gently, closer now, his Italian accent wrapping around the words like a caress. "No, cara. We feel awful. Pureblood, half-blood, Muggleborn- it doesn't matter. We fell in love with you. With who you are, not some stupid lineage. We'd never change that for the world."

Mattheo's rougher tone followed, laced with rare vulnerability. "Yeah, what he said. You're ours, blood be damned."

Lorenzo chimed in, his voice warm despite the shadows. "We hate that we hurt you enough to make you lash out."

Your chest tightened, the anger cracking under the sincerity you could hear in their voices. You thought back to the heated words you'd thrown in defense and heat flushed your cheeks with shame. "I... I'm sorry too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "For everything I said. It was awful, and I didn't mean it. I was just scared and angry."

"It's okay," Draco murmured, his hand finding your arm in the dark, squeezing lightly. "We get it. But we have a solution.”

You frowned, tilting your head toward the sound of him. "What do you mean?"

"We don't think you're a Muggleborn," Draco said slowly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in.

"What are you talking about?" you demanded, confusion sharpening your tone.

Blaise's chuckle was low and suggestive, his presence shifting nearer. "You could be a pureblood. You just need lots... and lots... of pureblood in you."

Theo's voice joined, husky with intent. "And thank God you've got five pureblood boys here to make it happen."

Realization hit you like a spell, your eyes widening in the darkness. Oh God. 

And that's how you ended up on someone's bed, your clothes gone, stripped away in a haze of heated whispers and insistent hands, leaving you naked and exposed amid the tangle of sheets. 

The five boys surrounded you- their bodies pressing in close, cocks hard and throbbing as they groped your bare skin with rough familiarity. You couldn't see much, just vague outlines and the occasional glint of pale flesh in the faint moonlight, but you felt every inch of it: fingers digging into your thighs, palms slapping your ass, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked stiff and aching.

They knew your body well, tracing the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your breasts as if they'd claimed it a thousand times before. Theo's hand slid between your legs first, two fingers parting your slick folds, rubbing your clit in circles while he murmured in your ear, "Your little Muggle cunt is already dripping for pureblood seed. You want us to cleanse you, don't you, puttana?"

You gasped, arching into his touch, the degrading words twisting heat through your core even as shame burned your cheeks. Blaise leaned over from your other side, his thick cock dragging along your thigh, leaving a wet trail of precum. He teased the tip against your hipbone, chuckling darkly. "Look at you, all spread out like a desperate slut. Bet you didn't think your dirty mouth would get you fucked like this, huh? We're gonna fill that filthy hole until you're overflowing.”

A sharp smack landed on your inner thigh from Mattheo, the sting blooming hot and immediate, making you yelp. He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your head toward him in the dark, his breath hot against your lips. "Shut your whining, you worthless Muggle whore. You think you can insult us and walk away clean? Nah, we're gonna breed this pathetic pussy until it's ruined for anything but pureblood cum.”

He spat directly onto your face, the warm glob hitting your cheek and sliding down. You moaned, the humiliation flooding you even as your body betrayed you, pussy clenching emptily around nothing. 

Lorenzo, your usually sweet boy, hovered near your chest, but tonight his touch carried an edge, sharper than before. His hand cupped one breast, squeezing hard enough to bruise before he pinched your nipple and twisted. "You hurt me with those words baby…now you'll take it all to make it right. it's what you deserve for being such a naughty girl."

Draco positioned himself at the head of the bed, his fingers threading through your hair to yank your head back, exposing your throat. His cock bobbed heavy and veined inches from your lips, the musky scent filling your senses. "That's it, princess, gonna start by fucking that smart mouth of yours.”

Your lips parted on a whimper, the overwhelming press of their bodies and the relentless groping- cocks rubbing insistently against you. Theo's fingers plunged deeper into your pussy now, scissoring roughly, while Blaise's hand smacked your ass again, the crack echoing in the dim room. Mattheo ground his hips forward, his shaft slapping against your collarbone, and Lorenzo's mouth latched onto your other nipple, sucking hard before biting down just enough to make you cry out.

"Please, Daddy," you breathed, the words tumbling out in the heat of it all, your voice muffled as Draco guided his cock toward your mouth. The first salty bead of precum touched your tongue.

Your lips stretched around Draco's cock as he pushed forward, the thick length sliding over your tongue with a groan rumbling from his chest. He gripped your hair tighter, guiding your head to take more, the salty taste of him flooding your mouth while the other boys' hands roamed relentlessly. 

Theo's fingers curled inside your pussy, pumping in and out with wet, obscene sounds, his thumb pressing hard on your clit to make you buck against him. "Just like that, mia puttanella. Your tight hole is begging for our seed already-gonna flood you until you're swollen with pureblood."

Blaise chuckled from behind, his cock sliding between your ass cheeks, the head nudging against your entrance teasingly without entering yet. He rocked his hips slowly, coating your skin with his leaking tip. "Eager little thing, aren't you? Spreading for us like you were made for this. We'll pump so much cum into every part of you, you'll feel it for days." 

Mattheo grabbed your hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing dick. He thrust into your grip roughly, his other hand pinching your nipple hard enough to make tears prick your eyes. "Stroke it good, slut," he growled, leaning down to spit onto your heaving tits. "You're nothing but a cum dump for us tonight. Every load we shoot in you is gonna mark you as pure.”

Lorenzo shifted closer, his usually gentle touch now firmer as he kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers before leaning in to suck it into his mouth. He bit down just hard enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue, his voice murmuring against your skin. " Gonna fill you so full of us, you'll never doubt where you belong." 

Draco's hips snapped forward, fucking your mouth deeper, the head bumping the back of your throat until you gagged softly. "Fuck, yes- suck Daddy's cock like the good girl you are," he panted, his voice thick with that familiar edge. "Swallow every drop when I cum down your throat. It's the first step to making you ours completely."

You gagged around his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin, but he didn't let up until he buried himself deep, groaning loudly as hot spurts of cum flooded your throat. He held you there, forcing you to swallow every drop, his release thick and endless, spilling over until it leaked from the corners of your lips. Only then did he pull out, smirking down at your dazed expression before stepping back, leaving you gasping and wiping your mouth.

Mattheo wasted no time, his dark eyes burning with a feral hunger as he shoved Blaise aside with a rough shoulder bump. "My turn to wreck this mudblood slut," he growled.

He grabbed your ankles, yanking your legs wide and dragging you toward the edge of the bed. He positioned you on your back, knees hooked over his shoulders, exposing you completely to his gaze. His cock stood rigid, veins bulging along its length, the tip already leaking precum like a promise of destruction.

Draco chuckled from the sidelines, lounging with his arms crossed. "Break her good, Riddle- make sure she knows her place." 

Blaise nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yeah, fill that filthy hole till she can't walk straight." 

Their words fueled Mattheo's fire, and he slammed into your pussy without warning, the brutal thrust splitting you open. You moaned desperately, your walls stretching beautifully around his girth. He pounded relentlessly, each snap of his hips driving him deeper, his balls slapping against your ass with wet, obscene smacks.

"Fuck, you're so tight- gripping my cock like the desperate whore you are," Mattheo snarled, your body betraying you as your pussy clenched around him, juices squirting out with every vicious plunge. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the drying cum on your cheeks, but you couldn't look away from his intense stare, the way his lips curled in sadistic satisfaction. 

He leaned forward, folding you in half, his weight crushing you into the mattress. Theo watched with hooded eyes, his own cock twitching in his hand as he stroked himself slowly. "Bellissima, -let him purge that muggle taint from you," he murmured, his Italian accent thickening with arousal.

Lorenzo shifted closer, going soft again "You're doing so well,”

Their voices washed over you, a chorus of possession that made your head spin. Mattheo's pace turned frantic, his grunts growing louder. He slapped your tits hard, the sting making them bounce and redden.

"Beg for it, slut- beg for my pure cum," he demanded, slowing just enough to tease, the head of his cock dragging against your g-spot. 

You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily. "Please... Mattheo, fill me... purify me," you gasped, the words tumbling out in a haze of submission. He laughed darkly, then resumed his assault, fucking you harder, faster, the bed creaking under the force. Your orgasm crashed over you without mercy, your pussy spasming wildly around him, milking his shaft as you cried out, nails raking down his back.

That pushed him over the edge. "Take it all- every fucking drop!" Mattheo roared, burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulsed violently, unleashing hot cum deep inside you, flooding your womb until it overflowed, thick white streams leaking out around his base to soak the sheets. 

He ground against you, ensuring not a drop was wasted, his body shuddering with the intensity. Finally, he pulled out with a groan, a gush of his seed following, pooling between your thighs. 

Theo was already there to replace him once he pulled out, gentle hands contrasting Mattheo's roughness as he flipped you onto your side, spooning behind you. "My turn, principessa, let me make it feel good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. 

His cock, long and curved perfectly, nudged at your cum-filled pussy, sliding in easily amid the slickness from the others. The sensation was fuller now, their combined releases squelching with each careful thrust. Theo moved with deliberate slowness at first, one arm wrapped around your waist, fingers circling your clit to build you back up. "You’re so wet, full of us.”

Draco leaned in, tracing a finger through the cum on your thigh. "Don't go easy on her, Nott- she needs every load to be pure." 

Blaise smirked. "Yeah, drown that muggle cunt in it." 

Their taunts spurred Theo on, his hips snapping sharper but not as rough, the angle hitting deep and making you moan. He fucked you steadily, his free hand roaming to cup your breast. His lips brushed your shoulder, whispering, "Gonna fill you up, amore- make you mine inside and out."

You arched back against him, lost in the rhythm, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to  the others brutality. His thrusts grew urgent, breaths ragged, and soon he stiffened, groaning low in his throat. "Cum for me," he urged, pinching your clit just right. 

You shattered again, walls fluttering around him as he erupted, his cum mixing with the others in hot spurts that filled you further, some escaping to trickle down your legs. Theo held you close through it, kissing your damp hair. "Brava baby, taking us so well." He stayed inside you a moment longer, rocking gently before withdrawing, leaving you utterly spent and leaking from both ends.

The weight of all that cum sloshed inside you, a heavy fullness pressing low in your belly, making your stomach feel bloated and claimed.

But the night wasn't over. Lorenzo hovered at the edge of the bed, his silhouette tense in the dim light, the others circling. Draco leaned against the bedpost, a smirk twisting his lips. "Come on, mate- get her back for what she said about your mum. Make the little mudblood pay." 

Blaise chuckled darkly from the side, his voice dripping with encouragement. "Yeah, give it to her good this time. 

Mattheo crossed his arms, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Fill that sloppy cunt until she regrets every word, Enzo." 

Theo, still catching his breath nearby, added softly but with an edge, "Don’t be too soft, we know you still have some roughness in you.”

You glanced up at Lorenzo through heavy-lidded eyes, a flicker of relief cutting through the haze of overstimulation. It was just Enzo now- your sweet boy, the one who always melted under your touch, whining and whimpering when you rode him slow and teasing, begging for release with those soft, needy sounds that made your heart ache. 

How bad could it be? He'd be gentle, like always, maybe even soothe the ache with those familiar, affectionate strokes. Your body relaxed a fraction, trusting in his usual tenderness amid the chaos.

Lorenzo moved then, his hands surprisingly firm as he grasped your shoulders and flipped you onto your back with ease, positioning you to face him fully. He lowered himself close, his breath ghosting warm against your ear, lips brushing the shell as he whispered, "I'm sorry for this."

Before you could process the apology, he plunged into you- deep and unrelenting, his cock slamming home in one brutal thrust that stretched your cum-soaked walls to their limit. The sudden invasion jolted you, a sharp moan ripping from your throat as the fullness in your belly intensified, his length pressing against the liquid heat already flooding your core. 

"Fuck, look at her- taking it like the whore she is," Mattheo taunted, his laugh rough as he watched your body jolt. 

Draco nodded approvingly. "That's it, Enzo- wreck her for dragging up your pain.”

Mattheo leaned in closer, voice low and mocking. "Bet she didn't think her sweet boy had this in him, huh? Pound that dirty pussy until it's pure." 

Lorenzo's pace turned punishing at their words, his usual whimpers replaced by guttural grunts, sweat-slicked skin sliding against yours as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand. 

The overstimulation hit like a curse as you babbled incoherently, a cock-drunk mess of pleas and nonsense, your mind fracturing under the relentless assault. "Enzo- oh god, too much, please... feels so good, don't stop... need you..." 

Words slurred together, your hips bucking up to meet him, pussy clenching greedily around his pistoning shaft, milking the slick mess inside you.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss before pulling back to growl against your neck, his voice breaking with uncharacteristic dominance. "Yeah, who's fucking whining now? You, you filthy slut. Feel how I ruin this muggle hole,”

 The humiliation burned hot in your veins, twisting with the pleasure as the boys' laughter echoed, but it only made you wetter, your body surrendering completely. You were lost in it, overstimulated to the point of delirium, chasing that final release like it was salvation.

"Please, Enzo-cum in me, I need it... purify me, make me yours..." you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity, nails digging into his back as another orgasm teetered on the edge. 

He whimpered then- just once, a ghost of his sweet self-before his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as he drove in one last time, burying himself to the hilt, flooding you with thick ropes of hot cum that overflowed immediately, mixing with the others that seeped out around him, soaking your thighs and the bed further. You came hard, body arching off the mattress, squirt coming out with his final thrusts.

The boys finally eased off, giving you a moment to relax and catch your ragged breaths, your body sprawled limp across the cum-soaked sheets. The room filled with a heavy, satisfied quiet, broken only by their soft murmurs and the distant creak of the castle settling around you. 

But then Mattheo leaned over, his hand pressing firmly down on your bloated stomach, the pressure forcing a deep moan from your lips as the sheer volume of their combined cum shifted inside you. Some of it pushed out in a thick, creamy gush, trickling down your thighs and pooling beneath you.

Draco smirked from his spot nearby, watching the mess with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "There, now you're a pureblood," .

The aftercare began in gentle waves. Theo was the first to scoop you up in his strong arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you toward the bathroom. You felt a flicker of annoyance bubble up- hours ago, you'd had a peaceful bath, only for them to drag you back into this frenzy and ruin the calm- but it faded quickly under his touch. 

His soft hands massaged your sore muscles as he lowered you into the warm water, thumbs working knots from your shoulders while he peppered kisses across your face, light and reassuring.

"We love you, cara- no matter what," Theo whispered, "Everything we said during that... it was just for the fun of it. I don't give a shit if you're muggleborn. You shouldn't either. Only care about me- about us." His jealousy peeked through then, a subtle edge in his tone as he cupped your cheek. "Who cares what the other boys think? I love you way fucking more than they ever could, no matter what blood runs in your veins."

You couldn't help but giggle softly at his babbling, the sound light and forgiving as the water soothed your aches, his words wrapping around you like a spell of comfort.

Once you were out of the bath, dried and dressed in oversized boxers and a loose shirt from one of the boys, you padded back into the room. The group had settled into a casual sprawl, everyone dressed and comfy now, chatting lowly as if the last ten minutes hadn't involved them utterly ruining you. You moved quietly toward Mattheo, wrapping your arms around him in a silent hug while the others talked.

It was your way of apologizing for what you'd said earlier, dragging up his dad like that in the heat of defense. But you didn't need words; he knew. His arms encircled you tightly, pulling you close and lifting you slightly off the ground with the force of it, a deep sigh of relief escaping him as he held you there, the tension between you melting away.

Once everyone had settled into their beds, you slipped quietly into Lorenzo's, the sheets whispering against your skin as you curled up beside him. His arms wrapped around you immediately, pulling you flush against his warm chest, his breath steady and reassuring in the quiet night.

"When could you be so rough?" you murmured, tracing a finger along his jaw, still marveling at the shift from his usual sweetness.

He chuckled softly, nuzzling into your hair. "It takes a lot of effort for me to be like that. I like being at your whim, though- my sweet, demanding girl."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips,  "I'm really sorry about earlier. About what I said ab-"

He shushed you with a finger to your lips, his eyes soft in the low light. "You weren't wrong. She was a horrible person, and she couldn't exactly be my full-time mother, given she was in Azkaban my whole life. But she's still my mom, and sometimes I think back to the war, when I had her for once, even if she was evil. But... deep down, I think maybe I'm even happy she's dead. Would've made my life hell with her. I think Mrs. Weasley did everyone a favor."

You just smiled, your heart aching a little for the boy who'd carried that weight so long, "I'm still sorry."

"I love you no matter what, ya?" he replied, his voice firm yet tender, echoing the group's earlier words. "Just like we all said. And I understand now why you lied. I should be apologizing instead of you- I exposed you, we made it a whole thing instead of me coming to talk to you privately."

"Well, you were all bound to find out at some point," you said, nestling closer. "But we both said mean things, and tomorrow's a new day."

He held you even tighter then, his arms fully encircling you as he dotted kisses across your face- forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose- each one light and affectionate. You couldn't help but giggle at the barrage, the sound bubbling up soft and free in the cozy confines of his bed.

“Your secret stays with us. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: masterlist

poly!marauders

✼: angst | ᕯ: smut

a proposition

a proposition: accepted ᕯ

a proposition: exploration ᕯ

a proposition: a return ᕯ

a proposition: revenge ᕯ

a proposition: a departure ᕯ

a proposition: it’s getting serious ✼ ᕯ

a proposition: finale ᕯ

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: revenge | poly!marauders

#5

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, marlene, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), hate sex (consensual), smoking

a/n: thank you to @peppers-hideout for the request with the base idea for a date to the forest!

if you requested to be on the taglist but don’t see yourself on the it:

1. the taglist is at max capacity for the chapter post, so now there will be another immediate post after the chapter goes live with the rest of the taglist and a link to the chapter

2. make sure your settings accommodate being tagged! a ton of people who asked, i couldn’t properly tag. i removed all of the inactive tags from this post but will keep them up on the extra taglist posts

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“You’re so fucking sweet,” Evan breathed, “I could fucking taste you all day.”

Your face pressed further into the pillow, your arms giving out as Evan held your ass upward so that he could continue tasting you. His arms wrapped around your thighs to prevent you from falling.

“Shit,” you whined, and began to slowly wiggle your ass to move your core more against Evan’s tongue.

The sight only added to Evan’s arousal, and he let out a low groan before harshly slapping your ass, causing your body to jolt forward.

You reached back to try to grab Evan’s hand, and he intertwined his fingers with your own, allowing you to squeeze his hand as you came with a high string of moans.

Evan didn’t let up until your high was over. He cleaned up any juices that spilled out of you, giving your ass one small slap as he rose up behind you, kneeling on the bed and leaning over to kiss your shoulder. “You got another one in you?”

You chuckled. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

Evan cocked his head to the side. “What, you don’t think you can come twice in a row?” he taunted, slowly tracing his finger along your folds, careful not to overstimulate you, “has no one in our little group let you have any real fun?”

You shuddered as Evan gently rubbed circles over your clit, but you quickly felt yourself being worked up again. You whined and whimpered into the pillow, and Evan peppered kisses on your shoulders and back in order to stay closer to your mouth and hear your noises better.

“Fuck, fuck, Evan, I can’t-“

The moment that your second high hit you, you threw your head back and moaned loud, and the dormitory door swung open.

You didn’t hear the door when your body dropped to her side, desperately trying to catch your breathing as your core pulsed. You smoothed down your skirt to cover yourself and wiped sweat-slicked hair from your face, turning to see James and Sirius, glistening in sweat and fresh from Quidditch practice.

“Don’t let us interrupt,” James smiled wide.

“Think two for the first time is enough for today, what’d’ya say, hun?” Evan said, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You refused to stop laying down, your high still calming down.

“Aweh, poor baby, he made you come twice in a row? Is that why you’re so tired?” James teased, smiling at you as you stuck out your tongue to him.

“You look pretty put together,” James turned to Evan.

“Only needed my mouth,” Evan boasted, and James nodded to acknowledge that he was impressed.

You turned to Sirius, who was being even quieter than usual, but he was already staring straight at you. Even as he undid his tie and slumped down in a chair, his eyes remained fixed on you.

“Something to say, Black?” you finally spoke.

Sirius smirked. “Just enjoying the view.”

“You need help getting up?” James asked, extending a hand toward you.

You took it, allowing his ridiculous strength to hoist you up to a stand. Your legs nearly buckled, but James wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you up.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he smiled.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Don’t think I can stand yet,” you said.

“Alright then,” James said, bending down and sweeping your legs into his arms. He threw you over his shoulder as if it was nothing.

“James!” you squealed, and he let your body fall only enough to wrap your legs around his waist and rest your head on his shoulder.

“If you can’t walk, then don’t walk, princess,” he said, “I gotcha.”

Sirius coughed to catch everyone’s attention. “Aren’t we supposed to shower and go, James?”

“Go where?” you nearly mumbled.

“Oh, did no one tell you? We’re all headed to the lake in a bit,” James said, “you wanna come?”

“Mhm,” you said, “I was gonna go to the forest, but I don’t have to.”

“The forest?” Sirius repeated.

“I like going there,” you said, your eyes closing, “helps me clear my head, and sometimes study in peace.”

“Isn’t that dangerous, angel?” James said, tilting his head to you so that your faces were mere centimeters apart.

“A little,” you said, but you were too tired to explain yourself as you clung onto James, “am I heavy?”

James smiled, “not at all. I could do this all day.”

You knew that whether you were small, midsize, or big, James could hold you for hours without dropping you.

“I’ll let Lily know you guys are gonna be late, as always,” Evan said, getting ready to leave the room.

“Tell her we’ll meet her in the Forbidden Forest instead of the lake,” Sirius said.

“But-“

“Wasn’t a question,” Sirius said casually.

Evan shrugged Sirius’s attitude off and left the room, leaving you clinging to James while Sirius lounged in his chair.

“We’re gonna be extra late,” James mouthed to Sirius.

“You could just put her down,” Sirius snapped.

You furrowed your brows and lifted your head, sticking out your bottom lip in a pout. “Rude.”

“Don’t pout at me, now I feel bad,” Sirius said.

James looked confused. “Since when do you feel bad about anything?”

Sirius sighed and ignored the question. “You gonna shower or what?”

James looked to you, then back to Sirius, and smirked. “Yeah, yeah we’re gonna shower.”

James winked at Sirius and carried you into the lavatory, setting your ass down on the sink and trying to unwrap your arms from his neck.

“Uh huh,” you said, now calm and awake but acting bratty just because you could, “where are you going?”

“I gotta shower, Y/N, you know that,” he laughed in amusement.

“I should shower,” you said casually.

James tilted his head and caught your eyes with his own. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“You tryna tell me something?”

“Maybe.”

“Better be a big girl and say it out loud then.”

The way he said it, what he said, had your head rolling. “I wanna shower with you.”

You were shocked that the words came out, but you were not the same shy, insecure little girl who blushed just because Sirius Black was sitting facing her direction. You still did that, to be clear, but your newfound confidence was not something you were willing to let go of.

James smiled and unclothed himself. “Up,” he said, watching you lift your hips as he pulled your skirt clean off of your body.

He made a low, guttural sound at the realization that not only did you not have any underwear on, but that your core was still puffy from your two orgasms mere minutes ago.

As James pulled your shirt over your head and i clipped your bra, Sirius strutted into the bathroom.

“Well hello,” he said to you.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “You’ve never seen me naked.”

Sure, Sirius had seen you fuck Remus, but you had a skirt on. He had never actually seen you fully naked.

“Now I have,” Sirius smirked, his eyes scanning over your entire body. He didn’t move closer to you, but just stared, as James lifted you under your thighs and carried you into the shower.

“Plug your ears, Pads.”

────── ☾ ──────

“How did you find this clearing?”

You all sat in a giant circle on the ground, you, Mary, and Remus laying down to gaze up at the clearing through the trees that let you see the sky perfectly.

You didn’t respond, but just continued to take deep breaths and enjoy the scenery.

Remus coughed beside you, sitting up. “Fuck, Rosier, what did you lace this strain with?”

“Nothing! Fuck,” Evan defended, already too high to take anything seriously.

Remus passed the blunt to you, and you sat up, staring at the drug.

“You don’t have to,” Remus said.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted.

“Here,” Remus said, shifting so that he was kneeling directly in front of you, “you suck in gently, hold, and then blow. See?”

He took another hit and passed you the blunt.

You eyed him as you put the blunt between your lips and inhaled deeply, the smoke burning your throat, causing you to immediately cough.

“Or do that,” Remus laughed.

You tried again, pushing through the burning as you held the smoke for a few seconds before blowing out a thick cloud.

Remus took the blunt from between your fingers. “Open your mouth,” he said.

You did as you were told, and Remus took a quick hit, leaning in as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth and kissed you.

“Hot,” Mary said, raising her liquor bottle and slurring her words.

“Lightweight,” Remus joked, “you’ve had like one hit and one drink.”

“Fuck off, Lupin, at least I’m not a dog.”

“Yeah, about that,” you started, the haziness filling your head, “are you a cute wolf? Like can I pet you?”

What the fuck did I just say?

“I’m pretty ravenous,” Remus responded, “I don’t think trying to pet me is such a good idea.”

“He’s a fucking beast,” Marlene chimed in, “especially the night before he turns.”

It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you since your voyeuristic escapades on the rug.

“Mhm,” Mary said, taking another large sip from the bottle, “one time, it was so rough, I couldn’t walk for two days. Had to make Dorcas take notes in class for me.”

Dorcas blew out a cloud of smoke before saying, “if that ain’t the truth.”

“I am not that bad,” Remus pouted.

“We aren’t complaining,” Mary said, the words so slurred they were almost impossible to distinguish.

“Better not be. I don’t remember hearing complaints from Sirius last month, either.”

Your eyes widened as you turned your head to Sirius. “Never took you for a bottom.”

Sirius, seated across from you, smirked. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Marlene choked on smoke.

“Fucking hell, this is definitely laced.”

“It’s not fucking laced! Hop off my dick,” Evan pouted.

“It’s strong! That’s all I’m saying!” Marlene fought.

“You’re all just a bunch of lightweights.”

James scoffed in offense. “Sorry that we aren’t blazing up twice a day every day, Rosier.”

Evan threw his hands up. “I’m just more fun than you.”

“Clearly the group has decided that I’m the most fun,” Remus said, grabbing the bottle that was being passed around.

“Nuh uh,” Evan complained, “I made Y/N come twice this morning with just my tongue."

“Oh big fucking whoop, I’ve done that to Lily like six times,” James said, “you’re not special.”

“Sirius has done it to me at least twice,” Marlene added.

“See?” James said.

“I’m special,” Evan said in a quiet voice, pouting.

“Okay, let’s just settle this. Girls, who gives the best head?”

You, Dorcas, and Alecto all, at the same time, said a mash of “we are not answering that!” and “absolutely not!” and “why would you ask that?”

Also during your cacophonous refusals, Marlene said “Sirius” and Mary said “James.”

Evan whipped his head to James. “I hate you.”

“Jealousy looks bad at you, Ev.”

“Everything looks bad on you, Potter.”

James grinned widely and laughed. “You wish it was that easy to insult me.”

Evan coughed out smoke.

“Stop taking hits, you idiot,” Sirius laughed.

“I’m already high, what’s it matter, eh?” Evan said.

“You guys are idiots,” Lily said.

“You finally open your mouth and you use it to insult us?” Sirius asked.

“Oh, I can do a lot more with my mouth,” Lily winked.

“Why can no one ever keep it in their pants around here? Fuck,” Mary said, laying down and nearly falling asleep for all of the inebriation she felt.

“Says the horniest of us all,” Alecto added.

Mary pulled some grass from the ground and threw it in Alecto’s direction.

The blunt made its way to you again, and you tentatively took another hit, but held it even longer this time.

“Bloody hell, you held that for a while,” Remus said.

“It burns like hell,” you admitted.

“That’s cus you held it for a while.”

“I didn’t hold it for that long.”

“You definitely did.”

“Is that bad?”

“You’ve really never smoked before?”

You blinked rapidly at Remus. “Merlin’s beard, I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” James laughed, seeing the pure, genuine panic on your face.

“What if I, like, scalded my throat?”

“Definitely not a thing that happened,” Sirius laughed, completely unable to contain it.

As the high hit you, you laughed along with Sirius. There was nothing funny happening, but you couldn’t stop. Every time you tried, you laughed even harder, to the point that tears spilled from your eyes.

Sirius just watched you, laughing softly with the widest smile you’d seen from him yet.

“You gave her too much, Rem,” Dorcas said.

“Oh fuck you, how is this my fault?”

“Dude, you gave her the blunt,” Dorcas said.

Remus shrugged. “She doesn’t seem to mind it.” He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you struggle to catch your breath from the laughter.

“Fuck you guys, no one brought pumpkin juice?” Marlene asked.

“Now who was gonna carry a bunch of pumpkin juice into the Forbidden Forest?” Lily said, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she turned her head.

"Couldn't be much heavier than the actual alcohol," Marlene sighed.

Lily took a deep breath. "Then maybe for once you could have done the heavy lifting and brought it yourself."

Marlene fake-laughed at Lily and took another large sip of alcohol. She swallowed it in one gulp, running fingers through her hair as she said, "we should play truth or dare."

"No no no," Dorcas stopped her, the tension between the two of them still palpable, "remember what happened last time?"

"Ha ha, I do!" Mary laughed, "that was a fun fight to watch."

"Fight?" you questioned, looking to Mary.

"James picked truth and had to admit that he had a crush on Regulus, so Sirius got mad, and the resulting fight was so funny."

"Regulus? Your little brother?" you turned to Sirius.

He took a deep breath before taking a sip from his bottle. "Mhm."

"Listen, in my defense-" James started.

"Don't," Sirius stopped him, his voice deadly serious.

Remus leaned into your ear and whispered, "Sirius gets really weird talking about his family. Just try not to bring it up."

"Thanks," you whispered to Remus. You had questions, but they could wait. Even high, you could hold your tongue.

"So truth or dare or what?" Marlene pushed.

"Truth or dare, Marlene," Alecto smiled.

"Dare," Marlene responded, leaning back onto her palms.

"I dare you to make out with Y/N."

"Oh so we're just going for it, aye?" Remus said.

You looked at Marlene, and she was staring directly at you. You may have hated each other, but she was not one to back down from a dare. You didn't have to know her long to know that.

Marlene leaned forward and crawled on all fours toward you, stopping a few inches away from you and kneeling back. She stared at you for a moment before leaning in. You couldn't move, you were so in shock that she didn't fight Alecto's dare. If you were being honest with yourself, Marlene was hot. Yeah, she was a bitch, but that arguably made her hotter. You knew you could pull away. Maybe you didn't want to.

Marlene barely touched her lips to yours, your eyes closing momentarily as she pulled away.

You looked at her for only a few seconds before pressing your lips against hers again. She immediately reciprocated, her hands tangling through your hair. You both leaned forward as the kiss heated up.

"Okay! Enough!" Alecto shouted.

Marlene pulled away from you and you both shared a moment of silence, staring at each other in disbelief that you just did that, and that you liked it.

"Your turn to ask, Marlene," Evan said, smiling in amusement at her flustered expression.

Marlene shifted back to her spot without another word. "Truth or dare, Remus?"

"Truth," Remus said.

"Boring," Sirius commented.

Remus shot him a glare before turning back to Marlene, who said "did you really get suspended while I was away?"

Remus took a hit from the blunt, which was almost completely burned away, and blew out the smoke, saying "forgot to take a tonic for pain before the full moon and was knocked out for 3 days. I just told everyone it was s suspension because it was easier. You think I would ever risk that? I'm a straight A good boy."

"Yeah, okay," Dorcas said.

"I'm a very good boy, thank you very much," Remus smiled, "Y/N, truth or dare?"

"Uh, I don't know, truth?"

"Who's been the best shag so far?" Remus asked.

"Oh, come on," you sighed.

You thought for a moment as Remus looked at you expectantly.

"Well obviously I'm gonna say you," you told him.

He smiled widely, and James threw his hands up in the air.

"What? I've had the most sex with him!" you defended.

"That wasn't the question," Sirius chimed in.

You sighed. "The answer is still Remus. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just... comfortable with him."

"And not with me?" James said, almost hurt.

"No, no, I'm comfortable with you, I am! Remus has my virginity, and so there's just a connection there. That's all."

Marlene scoffed. "Shocked you didn't say Sirius."

"Why's that?" you challenged.

"Just seems like you're close," Marlene said casually, as if the conversation meant nothing to her.

"Sirius and I haven't had sex yet," you stated matter-of-factly.

Sirius let out a breath and laid back in the grass, staring up at the sky as he tried to ignore the conversation.

"Oh?" Marlene said, clearly amused, "is that right?"

"What does it matter to you?" you questioned.

"It doesn't."

"It clearly does."

"Nope."

The tension was palpable, but the conversation died there.

"Lily, truth or dare?" you asked.

"Truth."

"Is there a reason why Barty Crouch isn't a part of this? I mean, he keeps throwing himself at you."

Lily laughed. "Barty is gay, for starters," she said, "he just does that because he's trying to throw others off his case. And he's not involved because he's been with Regulus."

"Oh," you said.

"Alright," Sirius said, shooting up to a stand, "I think that's enough socializing for me."

"Yeah, it's getting late, we should go," Dorcas agreed.

"I'm not standin'," Mary slurred.

James scooped Mary into his arms, and she threw her hands around his neck. "Hehe, hi," she giggled.

James kissed her forehead as the rest of the group collected all of their things and began to exit the forest.

────── ☾ ──────

"So."

You turned around to see Marlene at the door to your dormitory.

"How did you get in here?" you asked.

"Hufflepuff boys are so touch starved, it's embarrassing," she responded.

"What do you want, Marlene?" you asked, standing tall and facing her.

Marlene didn't respond, but rather rushed over to you and pressed her lips against yours.

The kiss caught you by surprise, but you invited it, reciprocating as her hands found their way to your hair again.

Marlene began to take steps forward until your knees hit the mattress, causing you to fall backward. Marlene leaned over you without breaking the kiss, and pushed your skirt up to your waist.

"Wait, wait," you said.

Marlene pulled away and studied your face. "What?"

"What the fuck is going on? I mean, you hate me."

"Okay, and?"

"You hate me, but you wanna fuck me?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

You just stared at her in disbelief and arousal.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly.

"So what's the fucking problem?"

You didn't even try to think of an answer as you leaned up and caught her lips again. She moaned lightly into the kiss, and you felt arousal pooling in your underwear.

Marlene shoved your underwear to the side as she kissed your jaw, your neck, and down your front, eventually making her way down to your core.

You moaned loudly as her tongue began to flick your clit before she began to suck you. Your back arched off of the bed, and Marlene moved a hand to squeeze your breast.

As she tasted you, she skillfully unbuttoned your blouse and pulled your bra cup to the side, exposing your nipple to the cool air. She circled your nipple with a finger before running back and forth over it gently.

You shuddered. "Fuck."

Marlene's other hand stayed low, one finger slowly sliding into you.

The stimulation on your breasts was unfamiliar, but highly arousing. Leave it to a woman to know the right way around a woman's body.

Marlene pulled away from between your legs entirely and leaned over you again. You stared at one another as she undressed completely. You followed suit, and when you were both fully naked, Marlene hiked one of your legs up, and pushed the other one to the side.

She put one leg next to your arm, and hooked the other one beneath the leg you had up on the bed.

Your breathing quickened more and more as Marlene pressed her sex against yours.

You let out a long sigh as you threw your head back against the mattress. Marlene grabbed your bent leg and began to rock back and forth slowly. The friction of clit against clit was incredible, and your arousals allowed for lubrication.

Hate sex with Marlene was all intensity. There was no room for gentle, loving touches. It was all hot and fiery and hot.

Marlene threw her head back, and her hair swaying behind her back as she let out perfectly synchronized moans.

You found yourself getting more and more aroused as you watched her. She bucked her hips against yours, and she glowed with sweat in the sunlight streaming in from the window. Her moans were small and soft, but that seemed to only add to the hotness of the moment. She was so fucking pretty. And her clit felt so fucking good against yours.

She started to give her hips faster and faster, the fat of her ass jiggling slightly with the movements. She pulled your leg closer to her, causing her core to experience even more friction. She threw her head back, and you began to buck your hips slightly in tandem with her, intensifying the sex.

You couldn't help it: you reached up and began to fondle Marlene's breasts. She seemed to enjoy it, so you bent up and wrapped your lips around one of her nipples.

She held the back of your head in place as her hips moved even faster, adjusting her position slightly to account for your new rated position.

"Fuck, just like that," she whined, "you're gonna make me come."

You moved to her other breast, sucking gently as she whimpered.

"Fuck, I fucking hate you," she breathed.

"That makes two of us," you said.

Marlene's high hit quickly, her arousal spilling onto your sex. Once she stopped her hips, she realized you hadn't come, and she immediately dove two fingers into you and thrust them in and out as quickly as she could.

You nearly screamed at the intensity, but your high hit you in no time.

Marlene crashed down next to you as you both came down from your respective highs.

After a few minutes of silence and staring at the ceiling, Marlene stood, and began to put her clothes back on. You watched her every move.

"Guess you can fuck," she smiled.

"I tried to tell you so."

Marlene smiled and left the dormitory.

────── ☾ ──────

"Oh Sirius!" Marlene called down the crowded corridor in sing-song.

"What?" Sirius said, stopping in his tracks as he turned to face Marlene. When he saw her, his eyes widened slightly. "You look rightfully fucked."

Her hair was slightly messed up, her skin still flush. "That's just because I came from being rightfully fucked," she said.

"Good for you, Marlene," Sirius said, disinterested.

"It really was," she said, "and the Hufflepuff dorms are real pretty."

Sirius lifted his head a bit. He knew the game she was playing, and he didn't want to take the bait. Unfortunately, Marlene could read Sirius like a book. She could see it all over his face.

She needed a way to get to him, and when she learned that you and Sirius hadn't yet fucked, she knew just how to do so.

She'd won.

Sirius knew it. So he just watched Marlene strut away.

────── ☾ ──────

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[anxiety-prime-max]

The Secret of Us IV

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, hurt, a little comfort, betrayal, confessions, crime families, lies, daddy issues, family issues, issues in general, mentions of death, emotional constipation, insecurity etc. A/N: Been so excited to finish this series cause i want to start another one, but i know if i do i will not finish this one and i really want to finish this one. sorry for any typos, mistakes, i proofread it like twice before i gave up lol, this was supposed to be a much longer chapter, but i was so excited to post i decided to divide it up. i also donated blood today, also i got a new laptop yayyyy. also happy independence day to all my fellow indians reading this, i hope you enjoy. All feedbacks, likes, comments, reblogs, are forever appreciated. Word Count: 5.4k (Approx) Pairing: Jason Todd x Chubby!reader Summary: “We were wrong.. About everything.” he began, and Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at him, “Jason, what do you mean?” 

“I mean that Robert Castillo is dying, in less than a month. Cancer.” he tells them, and Dick crosses his arms over his chest, “Okay.. so he passes away, but then his son gets the entire business and it continues as it is, we need to completely stop it.” 

Jason shook his head, his head leaning down and his eyes never wavered from the folder in his hands, “No,” he swallowed thickly, “No, he..um,” he chuckled humorlessly, “He hates this, her and James, they’ve been planning to reform their dad’s business, for years.” he tells them, and throws the file on the table, Tim reaches forward, but Steph grabs it before he could and they both grapple for the file for a while, before Steph opens it and places it between the two of them so they both could read together. 

“My name is Jason Todd," he began, "and I work in security consulting, but not the kind I told you about."

Your eyebrows had furrowed at his words, and your heart started beating a little faster but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions before he elaborated.

“Okay..?” 

Jason sighed, and closed his eyes, pausing for a couple of seconds either to think things through or gather the courage to say what he wanted to you. 

He took your hands in his before guiding you to the couch and sitting you down and kneeling in front of you, his eyes filled with an emotion you’d rarely ever seen in his eyes and panic began building in your chest, he was scared.

“Jay, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?” You asked, squeezing his hand gently to reassure him, hoping to calm him down, whatever it was, you both could work through it. 

His eyes met yours and you could see the unshed tears in his eyes, it broke your heart to see him that way, your panic escalating as you grabbed his face between your hands and he put his hands on top of yours as he softly whispered, “You..”

He took a deep breath before he continued, “You gotta promise me, that.. we’ll work through this, okay? Please.. Just promise me that.”

“Baby, hey,” you said, your thumb reaching out to wipe a lone tear that’d snuck out of his eye and you were getting more scared by the second, you’d never seen him cry. 

“Whatever it is, we’ll work through it, okay? I got you.” His heart warmed at your words, God, you really did care about him, when was he gonna feel love and care like this again?

“I..” he started, but paused again, what was the best way to tell your girlfriend that you only started to date her to get information about her family. 

You remained silent, trying to give Jason time to process whatever he was feeling, cause this was clearly something big. 

“I knew who you were when we met.” he said, and your eyebrows furrowed again, but you didn’t interrupt. 

“I..knew you were Robert Castillo’s daughter,” he continued. 

Your face slowly shifted to one of realization at his words. Your grip on his jaw loosened, and you sat there with a blank expression on your face as he began to elaborate, 

"The coffee shop," Jason continued, and his voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. "I'd been watching you for three days before I approached you. I knew your routine—when you got your coffee, where you sat, what you ordered.” 

Somewhere between his words, your hands had fallen limp into your lap, and your eyes kept blurring Jason every few seconds. 

You couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. The room felt like it was spinning around you, and Jason's face kept blurring in and out of focus.

Your chest was getting tight, like someone was squeezing your lungs. Each breath felt insufficient, like you were drowning in air.

"Sweetheart—" Jason reached for you, but you recoiled like his touch burned.

"Don't," you gasped, the word torn from your throat between desperate attempts to breathe. "Don't call me that. Don't—"

But you couldn't get enough air to finish the sentence. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst, and your hands were shaking uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Jason said, his voice switching into a different mode; calm, controlled, like he'd dealt with panic attacks before. "You need to breathe with me, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four."

You wanted to tell him not to touch you, not to help you, but you were drowning in your own panic, and his voice was the only anchor you had.

"That's it," he murmured as you managed one shaky breath that actually filled your lungs. "Just like that. You're safe, you're okay."

But you weren't okay. Nothing was okay. The man you'd fallen in love with, the man you'd trusted with your family's secrets just hours ago, had been lying to you from the very beginning.

"I don't understand," you whispered once you could speak again, your voice raw and broken. "I don't... why?"

Jason's face crumpled. "I work with Batman."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Batman. The vigilante who'd been systematically dismantling criminal organizations across Gotham for years. The one your father's associates whispered about in fearful tones.

"You're..." you couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't wrap your mind around it. 

“I..” Jason started, his shoulders slumped like he had the weight of the world on it, but it was just the weight of his lies to his world.

“Six months ago, we started investigating the Castillo family.” He started and you stared at him with tears streaming down your face, hyperventilating a bit.

“We thought it was just James and your dad, but then we heard something and we figured out that Robert had a daughter, they thought..” he closed as he corrected himself, “We thought.. You’d know things, and that you might be able to tell us about some of the internal workings.. But I-I swear, everything I’ve felt for you, every moment I spent with you, it hasn’t been a lie.” 

You stare at him in disbelief, your brows furrowing as you lean forward slightly and your voice cracks as you whisper, “No, no.. you-you..” You hiccup. 

“You can’t stand there and tell me that when you’ve told every fucking thing I’ve ever told you about myself to Batman!” You yelled.

“God!” You turn around and hold your head in your hands as your mind starts to race, you’d trusted him, with everything.

“Sweetheart, please..” Jason’s voice came out from behind you and you shook your head, 

“No!” you turned back around, “You stood there tonight, telling me you loved me! How could you do that?! How could you do that when everything between us has been a lie?!” 

“Sweetheart, trust me, it wa–” he started, but you didn’t even hear him, every moment from the past six months started flashing behind your eyes, every mention, of your brother, your family, the way you probably fucked everything up by trusting him. 

“You.. I… trusted you.. With everything..” you whispered softly, as your chest began to heave again, “I told you things I never told anyone, and-and all this time, you’ve been using me?” your slight sobs broke Jason’s heart, he couldn’t even defend himself, he knew he was wrong, but everything he felt for you had been real. 

“I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot.. I’m so sorry.” he whispered, attempting to reach for you, but you moved out of his reach as he came closer, your eyes starting to hurt from all the tears you’d shed, but nothing hurt more than your chest at the moment. Your heart felt like it was about to come out of your throat and attack Jason at any moment, your throat felt raw and dry, and your knees felt like they were about to give in and you’d just fall over and become a pile of heaping mess on the floor. 

The worst part was that you actually thought someone like Jason could actually love someone like you, you weren’t perfect, not by any means, but you thought he saw past all that, saw past something other people couldn’t see, saw something in you that only he could see, but all he saw was a tool, someone to bring down your family, and now you in your heart knew, you didn’t deserve love. 

You dragged yourself to the couch, and slumped on the floor in front of it, bringing your knees to your chest, as you stared blankly in the space and tears streamed down your eyes, “You made me believe, someone like you could love someone like me..” you sniffled, “And I actually believed you..” you let out a deep breath, trying to control your voice, but you couldn’t help the way it cracked, you didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of the guy who probably sat with his friends and laughed about how whipped the fat girl was for him, how he had been playing you like a violin for six months, while you had no clue. 

"What do you mean someone like me?"

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Come on, Jason. Look at you. You're gorgeous and charming and confident and you could have literally anyone you wanted. And look at me."

"I am looking at you—"

"I'm not stupid," you cut him off. "I know what I look like. I know that men like you don't usually go for girls like me. But I thought... God, I actually thought maybe you saw something in me that other people missed."

Jason looked stricken. "I did. I do."

"No, you saw someone vulnerable who would be easy to manipulate. Someone who'd be so grateful for the attention that she wouldn't ask too many questions." The pieces were falling into place now, and each one cut deeper than the last. "Someone who'd be so amazed that someone like you wanted her that she'd tell him anything he wanted to know."

"It wasn't supposed to go on this long," Jason admitted, and immediately regretted it when you flinched like he'd slapped you.

"Of course it wasn't." You laughed again, that same bitter sound. "I bet your friends got a real kick out of watching you pretend to be interested in the fat girl whose daddy is a criminal."

"Stop." Jason's voice was sharp now. "Don't you dare talk about yourself like that. And nobody was laughing at anything."

"No? Then what were they doing while you were playing house with me? Keeping score of how much information you could get? Taking bets on how long before I figured it out?"

"They don't know," Jason said quietly. "They don't know how I feel about you."

"How you feel about me?" Your voice pitched higher, incredulous. "Jason, you don't even know me. You-you know a mark. You know someone you were assigned to manipulate."

"That's not true—"

"Isn't it?" Tears were streaming down your face again, but your voice was steady. "Tell me, what was the plan? Were you going to disappear one day? Make me think you'd just gotten tired of me? Or were you going to string me along until you got what you needed and then ghost me?"

Jason's silence was damning, and tears had started to silently escape his eyes too.

"Both, either, it didn’t really matter as long as you had your information, did it?" you realized. 

"Please," Jason said, stepping toward you. "Please just listen to me. Yes, it started as a mission. But everything I feel for you, everything between us, that's real. I love you."

"You love who you think I am," you corrected. "Some version of me that fits into your mission parameters."

"I love YOU," Jason insisted. "The woman who makes terrible coffee and sings in the shower. The woman who lights up when she finds a vintage sweater at a thrift store. The woman who brings me ice cream when I've had a bad day even though I never told you I was having a bad day."

"Stop," you whispered.

"The woman who looks at me like I'm worth something, like I'm not just the screwed-up kid who grew up in Crime Alley and—"

"STOP." Your voice cracked. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to use the things I told you, the things I shared with you when I thought you cared about me, as proof that this was real."

Jason felt like you'd ripped his heart out of his chest. "It IS real—"

"No, it's not." You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. "Real relationships are built on honesty, Jason. On trust. On actually knowing each other. What we had was built on lies."

"Not all of it was lies—"

"Enough of it was." You took a shaky breath. "Was any of it real? When you held me, when you told me I was beautiful, when you said you wanted a future with me, was any of that actually you, or was it all just part of the job?"

The question hung between you, and Jason realized that he didn't know how to answer it in a way that wouldn't hurt you more. Because the truth was complicated, it had started as a job, but somewhere along the way, it had become the most real thing in his life.

But how could you believe that now?

"The feelings were real," he said finally. "Everything I felt for you, everything I told you about how you made me feel, that was all real."

"But the reasons were fake," you said quietly. "The foundation was fake. You were only there because Batman told you to be."

"But I stayed because I wanted to," Jason said desperately. "I stayed because I fell in love with you."

"You stayed because it was your job."

"No—"

"If Batman hadn't assigned you to watch me, would you have ever approached me in that coffee shop?"

The question hit like a punch to the gut because you both knew the answer.

"I thought so," you said when his silence stretched too long. "So whatever feelings developed, they developed under false pretenses. How am I supposed to trust that any of it was real when the entire foundation was a lie?"

Jason opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because you were right, and he knew it. No matter how real his feelings had become, they'd grown from poisoned soil.

The silence stretched between you, and his lack of an immediate answer was all the confirmation you needed.

"I thought so," you said quietly.

Jason's face was a mask of anguish, and despite everything, part of you wanted to comfort him. But you couldn't. You couldn't comfort the man who had just admitted to orchestrating the most elaborate deception of your life.

"There's something else," he said, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Of course there is."

"Batman is planning to move against your family within the week. If he does, before you and James can implement your plan..."

"We'll lose everything," you finished, the reality of it settling over you like a weight. "The immunity deal, the community projects, James and I will go to prison..."

You sank back onto the couch, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you were facing. Your relationship was a lie. Your family was about to be destroyed. Everything you'd worked for was about to be torn apart.

"I can help," Jason said quietly. "I can arrange a meeting with Batman, let you explain your plan. Maybe if he understands what you're really trying to do—"

"Why would you do that?" you asked. 

"Because I love you," he said again, and this time his voice broke completely on the words. "Because even if you can never forgive me, even if you never want to see me again after tonight, I can't let you become collateral damage in Batman's war."

You stared at him, this man who claimed to love you, and realized you had no idea who he really was. The Jason you'd fallen in love with had been carefully constructed to appeal to you. But who was he when he wasn't playing a part?

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again," you said finally.

Jason nodded, tears still streaming down his face. "I know."

You looked away from, your eyes hauntingly hollow, “But I can’t let my brother go down because of my mistakes.” 

It took a second for Jason to register that thought, to realise that the mistake you’d made was trusting him, and that trusting him may just lead to your downfall.

“Arrange the meet up,” you said, coldly looking up at him, “I want Detective Harvey or Commissioner Gordon there, but after that, I never want to see you again.” you tell him, getting up moving to your room and slamming the door shut as Jason stood behind in your living room, alone, left behind in the aftermath of the destruction he had caused and wondered if this is what he deserved. 

Jason had been sitting in his car for over an hour at this point, he shook his head and a humourless chuckle left his lips as he realised just a couple of hours ago, he had been sitting here on the phone with Roy, talking about what to do, and now he had just gotten off the phone with Bruce to tell him that he had something important to tell them, and that he’d be home in an hour or two. 

He was tired of lying, about everything, to everyone, he was tired about lying about his feelings about you to his family, and he was tired about lying about himself to you, even though he was still lying to you about being the Red Hood, God, how would you have reacted to that? Probably worse. Definitely worse.

Telling you about his vigilante life could’ve been dangerous, and he couldn’t put his brothers and sisters in danger, but God did he want to, he wanted to tell you everything about himself, cut himself open and lay all parts of himself on the table and let you dissect every part of his being, so he could turn his brain off when he was with you and he didn’t have to calculate and think about what he could and couldn’t say in front of you.

He let out a sigh and leaned his head against the car seat as he closed his eyes, you were right to react the way that you did, he fucked up, big time, and in that he had made you believe that you weren’t worthy of love, you — kind, sexy, absolutely lovable, sweet and the one person who deserved love, unconditional love, weren’t capable of love, and he wanted to shake your shoulders and whisper at your face, not scream, no, you never deserved to be screamed at, you deserved all the softness of life, sometimes he thought it was why God had given you all that softness, he wanted to whisper and tell you all of this, but he couldn’t because you wouldn’t believe him, because if everything he’d said in the past six months had been a lie, why would this be the truth?

He started to drive to the Wayne manor, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he thought about what he was supposed to tell his family. He glanced at the architectural plans he had swiped from the apartment while leaving, but that wasn’t something he felt guilty about, this was about saving yours and James’ life, and he would die a thousand times over before he let anything else hurt you. 

Forty minutes later, he stood inside the batcave, all of his family standing around the table in the center as a circle and stared at him expectantly, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, Tim and Damian. They were relying on him for this intel, and whatever personal reasons he had,  they knew he would always get the job done, except for now. Because his personal life had blended into his vigilante one, and he stared at them and the folder in his hands and took a deep breath. 

“We were wrong.. About everything.” he began, and Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at him, “Jason, what do you mean?” 

“I mean that Robert Castillo is dying, in less than a month. Cancer.” he tells them, and Dick crosses his arms over his chest, “Okay.. so he passes away, but then his son gets the entire business and it continues as it is, we need to completely stop it.” 

Jason shook his head, his head leaning down and his eyes never wavered from the folder in his hands, “No,” he swallowed thickly, “No, he..um,” he chuckled humorlessly, “He hates this, her and James, they’ve been planning to reform their dad’s business, for years.” he tells them, and throws the file on the table, Tim reaches forward, but Steph grabs it before he could and they both grapple for the file for a while, before Steph opens it and places it between the two of them so they both could read together. 

Tim's eyes scanned the documents quickly, his expression shifting from skeptical to surprised to something approaching awe. "These are... comprehensive," he said quietly.

"What exactly are we looking at here?" Bruce asked, his voice carefully controlled.

Stephanie looked up from the papers, her eyes wide. "It's a complete restructuring plan. They want to turn the entire operation into legitimate businesses. Community development projects, affordable housing, job training programs..." She flipped through more pages. "Jason, this is... this is actually brilliant."

"And you got this how?" Damian asked, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Jason's jaw tightened. "From her."

"Right," Dick said slowly, "the daughter you've been surveilling for six months. The one who just happened to have detailed reformation plans lying around."

"It wasn't lying around," Jason snapped. "She trusted me with it."

The cave fell silent at the raw pain in his voice.

Barbara wheeled closer to the table, studying Jason's face rather than the documents. "Jason... what exactly happened tonight?"

Jason's hands clenched at his sides. "I told her the truth. About the mission."

"How much of the truth?" Bruce asked sharply.

"That I knew who she was when we met. That I was working with Batman. That we'd been investigating her family." Jason's voice was hollow. "She... she didn't take it well."

Tim looked between Jason and the documents. "So she just... gave you these? After finding out you'd been lying to her for months?"

"She didn't give them to me," Jason admitted. "I took them when I left."

Jason flinched at how loud the silence felt at that. 

"This is about saving her life. And James's. If we move against them before they can implement this plan—"

"They go to prison instead of their father," Bruce finished grimly.

"Or worse," Jason said. "Robert doesn't know about any of this. If he finds out his kids are planning to dismantle everything he built..."

The implication hung heavy in the air.

Dick studied his brother's face carefully. "Jason, how do you know she's telling the truth? How do you know this isn't just an elaborate cover story she fed you when she figured out who you were?"

"No, she told me all of this before I could tell her anything about me," Jason retorted fiercely. "I know—"

"You know what she wanted you to know," Damian interrupted. "She could have been playing you just as much as you were playing her."

"She wasn't." Jason's voice was deadly quiet. "She wasn't playing anything. She trusted me completely, and I destroyed that."

"Jason..." Stephanie said gently, and something in her tone made everyone look at her. She was staring at Jason with a dawning realization. "Oh my god. You're in love with her."

The words hit the cave like a physical blow. Jason's face went white, then red, and he looked away sharply.

"That's not—this isn't about—" he stuttered.

"Holy shit," Tim breathed. "You actually fell for your mark."

"She's not a mark," Jason snarled, whirling on him. "Don't you dare call her that."

"Then what is she?" Dick asked quietly.

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it, his shoulders sagging. "She's... she was everything."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jason, your emotional attachment to this woman is compromising your judgment."

"My emotional attachment is the only reason I can see clearly," Jason shot back. "You want to tear apart a family that's actually trying to do the right thing."

"We don't know that they're trying to do the right thing," Barbara said gently. "These could be forgeries, Jason. Or contingency plans they never intended to use."

"They're not."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because she told me about the community center," Jason said quietly. "Months ago. She mentioned wanting to convert one of her father's old warehouses into a place for kids in the neighborhood. I thought she was just... dreaming. But it's all here." He gestured to the documents. "Every detail she mentioned, it's all here."

Tim frowned. "She told you about illegal activities? Just... casually?"

"She never talked about illegal activities," Jason said sharply. "She talked about wanting to help people. About feeling trapped by her father's reputation. About wanting to make a difference." His voice cracked slightly. "She trusted me with her dreams, and I used them against her."

Cass moved closer to Jason, her dark eyes searching his face. "You love her," she said simply.

It wasn't a question.

Jason met her gaze and nodded once, sharply.

"Does she love you?" Cass asked.

Jason's face crumpled. "She did. Before she knew who I really was."

Everyone felt silent at the implication again, that Jason, who after years had finally met someone who cared about him, just him, who trusted him completely, and their crusade had destroyed it, destroyed everything.

"I don't know where the act ended and where I began."

The admission hung in the air, raw and painful.

Bruce studied the documents spread across the table. "Even if these plans are genuine, we can't just take the word of criminals that they intend to reform."

"They're not criminals," Jason said flatly. "She's not—"

"Her father is Robert Castillo," Damian pointed out. "Her brother is his heir apparent. You think they're completely clean?"

Jason's silence was telling.

"What does she do?" Tim asked. "For the family business, I mean."

“Nothing officially, she told me before the gala that she stayed away as much as she could and that her brother made a deal to save her, that he wouldn’t resist, be the perfect heir, if he let her go. She got away with occasional appearances during public events, but other than that she doesn’t speak to her father, and I know she would do anything to protect James.”

"They’re trying to get out," Jason began again, "Both of them. That's what this whole plan is about."

"People say a lot of things," Barbara said quietly. "Especially when they're trying to save themselves."

"She wasn't trying to save herself when she told me," Jason said. "She was just... sharing her hopes with someone she thought cared about her."

The guilt in his voice was thick enough to cut.

Stephanie cleared her throat. "So what's the plan here? Because we can't just pretend we don't know what we know about the Castillo family."

"We meet with them," Bruce said finally. "Under controlled circumstances. We evaluate their claims and these documents."

“She asked me to set up a meet.” he tells them, “Apparently, James and her have been coordinating with Detective Harvey, and if he knows, then –” he was cut off by Bruce looking at him with realisation in his eyes, “Then so does, Commissioner Gordon.” he says. 

"Gordon doesn't know about our investigation," Tim pointed out.

"Then we tell him enough to get him on board," Bruce decided. "If these people are genuinely trying to reform, having GCPD support would be beneficial for everyone involved."

"And if they're not?" Damian asked.

Bruce's expression was grim. "Then we proceed as planned."

Jason nodded stiffly. "I'll contact Gordon. Set up a meeting."

"Jason," Dick called as his brother turned to leave. When Jason looked back, Dick's expression was carefully neutral. "We'll figure this out."

It was as close to emotional support as the family ever got in front of each other, but Jason heard what Dick wasn't saying: We'll protect her if we can.

Dick found Jason in the garage two hours later, mechanically cleaning his motorcycle for the third time.

"You know that bike is already spotless, right?" Dick said, settling onto a workbench.

Jason didn't look up. "It's relaxing."

"Uh-huh." Dick watched his brother's tense movements. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Right. That's why you look like you're about to murder that rag."

Jason finally stopped, his hands gripping the cloth tightly. "I fucked up, Dick. I fucked up so bad."

"Yeah," Dick agreed quietly. "You did."

Jason looked up sharply, clearly expecting argument or comfort, not agreement.

Dick shrugged. "You lied to someone who trusted you, manipulated her feelings, and broke her heart. That's pretty much the definition of fucking up."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Jason said bitterly.

"I'm not done," Dick said calmly. "You also might have uncovered a genuine attempt at reform from a major criminal organization. You might have found a way to save lives and reduce crime in Gotham without putting anyone in prison. And you did it because you fell in love."

Jason stared at him.

"Look, Jay, what you did was wrong. But your feelings for her? Those are real, right? They're not part of the mission anymore?"

"They never were part of the mission," Jason said fiercely. "I mean, at first, maybe, but... no. What I feel for her has nothing to do with Batman or the investigation."

Dick nodded. "Then we'll figure out a way to make this right. For her, for her brother, and for you."

"She never wants to see me again."

"She's hurt and angry. That doesn't mean never."

"Dick—"

"I'm not saying she'll forgive you tomorrow, or even next year. But if you really love her, and if she really loved you, then there's something there worth fighting for."

Jason looked away. "You didn't see her face when I told her. I destroyed her."

"Then you fix it," Dick said simply. "However long it takes, whatever it costs, you fix it."

Meanwhile, in the main cave, Tim approached Bruce at the computer.

"The documents check out," Tim said without preamble. "I ran the financial projections, cross-referenced the legal frameworks, even checked the architectural plans against city zoning requirements. This is legitimate, Bruce. They've been working on this for years."

Bruce didn't look away from the screen. "That doesn't mean they intend to implement it."

"Why create something this detailed if they don't intend to use it?" Tim challenged. "The amount of work that went into this... Bruce, they've accounted for everything. Employee retraining, community impact assessments, transition timelines. This isn't a cover story. This is a genuine business plan."

"Criminals have fooled us before."

"Jason's not wrong about her," Tim continued quietly. "I did some digging into her background. Education, employment history, personal associations. She doesn't fit the profile of someone involved in organized crime."

Bruce finally turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she's clean, Bruce. Squeaky clean. No arrests, no questionable associations outside her family, no unexplained income sources. If she's involved in her father's business, she's either the best criminal I've ever seen, or..."

"Or she's not involved at all," Bruce finished.

"Or she's trying to stay as uninvolved as possible while working to change things from the inside."

Bruce was quiet for a long moment. "And Jason?"

Tim sighed. "He's a mess. But he's not wrong about this. We've all seen him on missions before, Bruce. This isn't mission-focused Jason. This is Jason-in-love Jason. There's a difference."

"That difference could get him killed."

"Or it could save lives," Tim countered. "Including hers."

Barbara wheeled up to Cass, who was sitting quietly in the corner, watching everyone with her usual perceptive intensity.

"What do you think?" Barbara asked softly.

"Jason is scared," Cass said simply. "Of losing her."

"And her? Can you tell anything from the way Jason talks about her?"

Cass considered this. "Jason... sees her clearly. Not just the good parts. All of her. That's real love."

Barbara nodded thoughtfully. "You think we should trust this?"

"I think we should trust Jason," Cass said. "He knows the difference between lies and truth better than any of us."

-------------------------------------- Taglist: @punksnotdeadbutiam @imdeloulou @softgirlspring @rue963 @mysticmoon-0107 @pastelcloudy28 @arrozyfrijoles23

[fckmyylife]

laws of attraction | 6

(Higuruma Hiromi x female reader) 18+ only, no minors.

Higuruma was a man of autonomy. He couldn't be tied down by the most impossible cases, yet he was about to bind himself into a marriage with you.

❧ arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety & anxiety attacks, overthinking, insecurities, hesitation, slow burn, curses, takes place before Higuruma fully awakens as a sorcerer, eventual smut, masturbation, reader has a vagina. 18+ only, no minors.

!! do not make AI bots of my fic/put it into AI !! previous | fic masterlist | AO3

I wanted to say thank you for the love on the fic. I know many fic writers struggle to continue & complete multi-chaptered fics because of the lack of encouragement. So, I really appreciate when I see usernames that have been here since the start and are still here reading the updates & patiently waiting.

Dinner was quiet, as were your footsteps back to the ryokan. Higuruma did not receive another phone call after picking up. Even though the day had been silent, the evening felt suffocating.

You weren't purposely ignoring him, but you realized you were too much of an exhausted person to beg for his attention. It burned you out.

Begging and loving were two contradicting things.

You'd begged your parents to love you by dedicating yourself to a path you didn't want to pursue in the first place. It was no wonder that you failed.

At the ryokan, Higuruma went into the ofuro - the deep soaking bath - while you got the chance to go in the onsen, after showering.

The sliding doors to the onsen were at the back of the bedroom. You ignored the two futons close together as you walked past, and any thoughts of sleeping tonight.

Beyond the shoji doors was a set of glass doors, leading to the onsen. 

There was no view of your body as you engulfed into the foggy hot mineral water, water vapor up to your neck. A deep sigh left you, muscles relaxing and body warming.

The weather was chilly at night, at the beginning of spring, but the water hid you from it.

Stone lined the pool of the onsen, half-shaded by a roof. Smooth rocks, greenery and a pathway looping to the front of the ryokan were silhouettes in the dark. It took up the view in front of bamboo fences for privacy.

The full moon shone enough light onto your face like a dull camera. Somehow, even though you were naked, you wished a camera crew would come out to tell you that your marriage had been completely fake.

You weren't sure about relaxing your emotions here yet, even if it had only been one day. Being alone with Higuruma made you pause your emotions instead, which wasn't a good way to go about it. 

What if you created another monster from your mind?

After a while, yellow light reflected on stone edges of the onsen, as you were about to get out from the water. 

You didn't shut the shoji doors, only the glass ones. You didn't think you needed to, when the shoji was on the inside and Higuruma was in the ofuro. He'd just turned on the lights in the bedroom.

Your back straightened, but none of it was showing, even if you weren't sure he was there staring at you.

After a few minutes, you dared to turn your head, relieved to see the shoji doors closed.

The relief did not last long, as you realized he must've seen you out here when he shut them.

Five more minutes passed in the onsen, for your own sanity. You played it out in your head if he was there and how things would go when you went back with only your robe on.

You couldn't stay out here all night.

You rose from the water and wiped away the warm droplets from your skin, before drying yourself and slipping the robe over your shoulders.

A slow breath escaped you in preparation, before you slid the shoji doors open.

He wasn't there. 

Not anymore, at least.

Perhaps he wanted to go in the onsen, but changed his mind as soon as he saw you there. It was not unlike him to avoid you.

You turned back and shut the glass and shoji doors. You ensured the door was locked before you switched to a fresh, plain yukata you found in the wardrobe for bed. You turned the light off, from when he turned it on earlier.

The massage in the afternoon had eased the stiffness in your back, alongside the soft and high quality futon you lay on. It already lulled you, every relaxing technique from today aiding you towards sleep.

You let out a small sigh into the dark room, lying on your side towards his empty futon.

You'd barely spent any time alone with Higuruma at his house, yet now you were sharing a room in a couples' ryokan. You were meant to, at least.

Before you could wonder if Higuruma had chosen to sleep in a different room, the door slid open.

You froze under the duvet, holding your breath. 

His silhouette stood in the doorway for only a moment, before he stepped inside and closed it behind him.

You relaxed your lungs, trying to keep your breathing quiet as he crossed the tatami.

Fabric rustled beside you as he slipped into his futon, as if it were something he did everyday.

You were facing him. The darkness made it difficult to see his expression, but the scent from the bath soap lingered between you. Clean and distractingly close.

You wondered if he knew you were awake the moment he entered the room, if he could see the whites of your eyes.

The night outside was quiet in the thick walls of the ryokan, muting the trickle of water from the onsen or wind blowing through leaves. It only made the silence between you louder.

"Still awake?" his deep voice spoke.

You nodded, head brushing against the pillow, until you remembered he couldn't see you. "Yes."

"Do you like it here?" he asked. Your blinking wavered in the dark, not expecting him to have even acknowledged you.

"Mm…" 

You were never sure with Higuruma, whether he wanted to talk to you or whether he only spoke to you because those were the times he felt like he had to.

Your hands grew overly warm, almost sweaty, as you held onto the edge of the duvet. You wanted to turn away to look at the ceiling instead, so you wouldn't continue searching for a sighting of him beside you in the darkness.

"Sorry I've been busy," he added. The futon beside yours shifted slightly as he turned more onto his side, towards you.

You pressed your lips together, to stop your heart from falling out of your throat.

"I know your work is important," you whispered. "You don't have to apologize."

You felt minuscule, smaller than the cuff links on his blazer sleeves, and simultaneously humongous, bigger than the office building that he spent his days and nights in.

His low voice was even deeper when it was near to your ear, slowing your blinking as you felt the tiredness come over you. You desperately didn't want it to. Who knows when you'd get another chance next to him like this?

"When you said I should relax my emotions…what did you mean?" you continued, voice softening further.

He inhaled through his nose slowly.

Each time one of you spoke, it hung in the air like time had frozen.

"To regulate them. I didn't want to bring it up immediately. You've already been through a lot," he explained, after a moment.

The image of the monster rose fresh in your mind, especially when you were lying in the dark like this.

The peace of his gentle breathing and tiredness in your body almost killed the memory. Your eyelids grew heavier, as much as you tried to stop them.

"The…thing from that night," you started, duvet falling below your shoulder as you shifted. "Where does it come from?"

Your head glanced up at your question, as though you could see his eyes.

"Your mind."

So, it was true.

His voice was calm. He must've had a lot of experiences with them, even if he didn't entirely know what they were.

"But how does it become real?" you breathed.

"I'm not sure. They from from negative things we carry around for a long time. Fear, anger, regret."

Your fingers tightened around the duvet. Your parents were a weight that got heavier and heavier on your shoulders. You didn't want to acknowledge your struggles to him right there, so you asked something else on your mind.

"Has…anyone else seen them?"

Anyone else but you?

"Not anyone I've met before."

Before you.

The realization settled over you that he'd been seeing these things. Alone.

For who knew how long.

You wanted to ask, and you wanted to know if he'd created one from his mind before, but you didn't want to pry into his struggles either.

"You killed it so easily. Have you seen many?" 

You recalled how he'd reached inside of the creature and tore its organs, if it had any. Even if he'd fought it beforehand, Higuruma had known exactly what to do before it killed both of you.

"Seen enough," he responded.

You meant to ask how many, until it started. It was a surprise your body had grown comfortable when he was lying beside you for the first time. 

Your voice had already drifted into silence and your body grew limp again, although it was more gradual than when you'd fallen asleep on the train.

The last thing you noticed was how Higuruma reached over the small space between your futons. For a second, you thought he'd embrace you.

He pulled the duvet back over your shoulder, fabric settling against your neck.

He paused after, seconds passing of him watching your slow breathing.

Then, he lay back again, resting on his own futon.

Higuruma was gone when you woke up the next morning - so was his futon.

The indentation in the tatami had disappeared, as if he was never there. You almost thought the night had been a strange dream, if not for his folded duvet nearby.

You dressed slowly, before stepping into the living room.

Higuruma sat at the low chabudai table, sipping a cup of tea. You were too far into the room to walk out and leave him to it. You did not want to disturb the peace.

He was wearing a brown yukata this morning. The color matched the warmth of his hair and eyes, although the robe hung looser on him than the one from yesterday. The collar dipped low in a v-shape, his skin contrasting the fabric, but not enough to see his chest.

As relaxed as he could look, he was still a fortress - even more since you'd slept side by side.

"Morning," he said first.

"Morning," you replied. 

He lifted the teapot and poured a cup for you, prompting you to kneel opposite him on the other side of the chabudai table, atop a zabuton cushion.

"Thank you." You carefully took the small cup, without your hands brushing his.

You almost felt the same awkwardness you had the night after the wedding. Or, perhaps it was the awkwardness you should have felt, since you'd only just slept beside him last night.

The futons had been close and that was all. You did not remember your leg brushing against his during the night. You kept to your side even in your unconsciousness.

You lifted the sencha to your lips, ridding the taste of toothpaste in your mouth.

Bushes swayed gently in the wind outside. Compared to yesterday, the sky was pale. The early spring was confusing.

You lightly cleared your throat.

"I saw there's a coffee shop near here," you began.

His eyes drifted to yours and your gaze nervously skipped to the silhouettes of trees.

"I thought I might go for a walk. I need to stretch my legs." Even with simple words, his stare made you feel like you talked too much. "Would you like anything?"

"It's alright. Take your time."

You awkwardly nodded. Part of you hoped he might come along. Another part needed space to think about last night.

Although, there wasn't much to think about. Higuruma had slept where he was meant to. Nothing else happened.

Nothing from your fantasies, even the most clean ones of him holding you as you slept.

"Will you have breakfast there?" he asked.

You paused, before shaking your head slowly. "I'll…have it with you, and get coffee afterwards."

You felt you should take advantage of the mornings you had with him here, before you went back to none.

Perhaps you could call Noshiko while you were out, she'd texted you recently. If anyone could give you advice on your strange marriage, it was her.

It didn't take you and Higuruma long before you were about to head to breakfast, at the doorway.

You slid open the front doors by a fraction. The wind had picked up since yesterday, making you shiver from inside.

Higuruma glanced to your arms and shoulders. 

You were wearing one of your outfits you'd packed, a knit sweater - that never did much when wind sept to your skin. You'd search for and change into another yukata later.

"You didn't bring your coat?" he asked.

You sheepishly shook your head. You didn't want to add extra weight to the journey, when it hadn't been that cold on the way here yesterday.

You awkwardly rubbed your elbow as he took another glance at you again, probably thinking you were an idiot.

His hand lifted to the wooden coat hangers, grasping the collar of his coat. You thought he'd put it over himself and walk out of the door, until he came closer.

"It's windy," was all he said before he rose the black trench coat around you and put it over your shoulders.

You reared your head to him, eyes wavering with surprise.

Warmth spread throughout your back. The coat was heavy with weight and his cologne. He adjusted it into place, before stepping back.

Your body stiffened, unable to slip your arms through the sleeves for a moment.

"Won't…you get cold? you asked, dazed from the gesture.

He shook his head, glancing away and turning to the door. "I'll be heading back here anyway."

A long breath finally escaped you, heart throbbing as you followed him to step into the wind.

"Thank you."

You put your arms through the sleeves, heart feeling heavier than his coat over your shoulders.

"You're alive," Noshiko said. 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you held the device to your ear. You hadn't been the fastest with replying to her messages lately, so a phone call was long overdue. 

"How's the romantic getaway?"

You stilled the teaspoon in your latte. Across the spacious cafe, machines hissed from the sound of a barista steaming milk. Scents of roasted coffee beans wafted the air.

"It's not romantic," you sighed lightly. She was already straight to it, before you even got a chance to ask how she was.

Noshiko laughed on the other end.

"You're literally at an onsen ryokan with your husband," she emphasized. "So, how is it?"

Your gaze landed on a couple at a far table sharing a plate of pastries. The man held one out to the woman's mouth to try.

"It's been quiet."

"Sounds like…not much has changed."

You traced your finger slowly along the handle of the mug, the ceramic warm against your skin.

"We slept in the same room," you blurted.

There was a pause on the line. 

Instinctively, you glanced around to the few other strangers scattered throughout the cafe from where you sat at the window - someone typing on a laptop, another pair near the counter - half-convinced they would hear you.

"Wait," Noshiko said slowly. "Same room, or same bed?"

"Futons," you corrected.

"Oh. That's progress," she replied.

You took a slow sip of your latte, stalling even though she couldn't see you. The milk foam left a faint sweetness on your tongue. 

"I'm not sure."

"Did anything happen?"

"No," you breathed.

You weren't too sure what anything was, but the answer came fast. 

Noshiko hummed thoughtfully. "Not even a little hand holding?"

You almost laughed. Instead, your hand drifted to his trench coat hanging over the back of your chair. You'd taken it off so you wouldn't get coffee on it.

"He gave me his coat this morning," you said. "He noticed I didn't bring one."

You didn't add that he'd placed it over your shoulders himself. Noshiko could imagine that part.

"Isn't that just…considerate?"

You sank further into the chair, wanting to hide under his coat.

"I don't know why he does things like that sometimes," you murmured. "Small things. But then, like you said, nothing changes."

A breath escaped you, before you continued to speak.

"I still feel like I'm always approaching him," you admitted. "Like I'm bothering him."

You took your bottom lip in your mouth, feeling pathetic at your string of thoughts.

He'd surprised you last night though, hadn't he?

Lying beside you. Talking to you. Maybe it was the start of something new.

"But he's your husband," she said. "Does he treat you like you're inconveniencing him?"

You gave it a thought. 

The long hours at work that went into the nights. The phone calls here, even though they'd died down since yesterday evening.

It wasn't him, but it was his life. You were an intruder.

"I don't know," you admitted. Your fingers tightened around the warm mug. "Sometimes I wonder if he's even attracted to me."

Noshiko made a small sound of disbelief. 

"You're serious?" she asked, as though she knew something you didn't.

You glanced out of the window again, the silence giving away your answer.

"You both act like strangers. Like he's your landlord."

A short breath escaped you. "I think we are that way."

"But he suggested this trip because he saw how stressed you were. That's a normal thing for a husband."

If only she knew. The real reason to have prompted this trip was mad, and for that reason, you could not tell Noshiko. Only someone who'd seen it would understand, and you didn't want anyone else to see a monster like that.

Yet, her point still stood.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"You keep seeing him as a guest in your life."

It only made sense, when you'd met him once and briefly before the wedding. You felt like there was no place for romance in your life, yet you only wanted it from him.

You glanced to the couple in the cafe again, the man kissing the cheek of the woman beside him.

"I just don't understand him" you mumbled.

"Maybe, he doesn't understand you either," she replied, gently.

After you spoke to Noshiko, you slowly returned to the ryokan with Higuruma's coat still draped over your shoulders.

Wind picked up along the road, blowing the trees overhead. You carefully held the hot cup of coffee. A caramel latte. You wondered if he would even like it, and the pastry tucked in his coat pocket.

You tried to think about what Noshiko had said, that you both acted like strangers and how you saw him as a guest in your life.

For once, you may need to pull yourself from trepidation. The thought unsettled you on the walk back.

The hall of the ryokan was quiet when you stepped inside, with the scent of tatami and cedar already growing familiar.

You slipped out of your shoes and socks, and you hung Higuruma's trench coat back up.

You peeked in the living room first. The teacups were cleared from earlier, with no sign of Higuruma.

Further down the hall, you checked the bedroom next. 

Empty.

He said he would return to the ryokan, but maybe he was still in the communal building for a massage, or at the sauna.

You stepped back into the hall, when something caught your eye.

A faint glint near the floor slowed your footsteps.

It was at the bottom of the ofuro room's door, in the narrow gap between the wood and the floor.

You crouched carefully, coffee still in hand. You reached out, metal cool against your fingers.

It was Higuruma's wedding ring.

Your brows pulled together as you turned it. There was no doubt it was the one you'd slipped onto his finger.

Why was it here?

You glanced to the crack of the door, where it had been. A dim light glowed beneath it.

Slowly, you leaned forward and pressed your ear to the door. You closed your eyes and listened for any sign of life.

The last time you had found Higuruma in a bath, he'd been fully clothed. You'd seen a different side to him then, a cynical one that you were not meant to glimpse.

Unlike that night, there was no trickle of overflowed water and the door was fully shut.

Your heart sped. A minute passed, then another.

Your fingers tightly held the ring and lifted yourself from the floor.

"Higuruma?" you called through the door.

Nothing.

You curled the ring into your fist and knocked against the lattice frame, growing frantic.

"Higuruma? Higuruma!"

Your hand slid to the frame, pulling it and realizing the door wasn't locked.

You shoved it open, the shoji sliding aside sharply.

"Oh," you immediately whispered.

"Mm?"

Higuruma's eyes slowly opened from slumber. 

He was not fully clothed, not at all.

He sat deep in the water, naked.

You couldn't see his skin below his broad shoulders. Steam drifted through the room, curtaining and softening everything - the edges of the ofuro, the lantern light and the outline of Higuruma himself. 

Both of his arms rested along the edges of the bath. Aside from them, only the broad line of his shoulders and the slope of his upper chest were visible above pale water, seemingly from minerals like the onsen. The ofuro took up most of the room, with tons of space left over from where he lay. The bath was full, not ominously overflowing, and looked boiling, instead of lukewarm.

The warmth had loosened the tension that always seemed to live in his posture. His hair was slightly damp, droplets slowly falling from the strands over his forehead.

Heat crept up your neck, to your face. You turned your head quickly, staring firmly at the wooden wall opposite him.

"I-I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine," he said calmly.

His voice was thick with sleep. You wondered how long he'd been resting his eyes for.

"I…" 

Why on earth were you still here?

You couldn't blame him if he thought you were a shameless pervert.

"You can stay," he added after a moment. "If you wish."

You inhaled sharply. 

You? Stay?

You never would've imagined this trip to reach a moment like this. Being alone with him was already unfamiliar enough, yet being in the same room while he soaked in the bath was unbearably intimate.

You went to the open shoji doors behind you, but you did not walk out of them.

You could not help but wonder if, from now on, you would be the only person to see him so unguarded.

Perhaps it was his way of telling you he was comfortable, and that you should be comfortable too.

You keep seeing him as a guest in your life.

The words repeated in your mind, making you close the doors, shutting you in with him.

You sat at the bench near the bath, luckily. You kept your distance in the middle, so you couldn't see even a hint of his lower half.

The bath was built almost entirely of pale wood, with the deep rectangular tub taking up most of the small room.

"I…" Your words faltered again, still embarrassed even though he allowed you to stay.

You hoped he hadn't heard your panic, but you had been so loud.

You thought he might be dead. 

Again.

You swallowed.

"I found this," you said instead, holding the ring toward him without glancing in his direction.

"…Ah," he said, after a brief pause. "I lost it yesterday. I was looking for it."

You nodded. Under the shock, it was a relief that he hadn't taken it off out of hatred for you.

"It was just under the door," you mumbled. You placed it on the bench beside you, figuring he wouldn't want to put it on wet hands.

A short silence passed and you wondered if it was your cue to leave, even if he was simply soaking in the bath. You were still coming down from the initial panic and didn't want to disturb further.

That, and the fact he was completely nude, out of your sight.

"So, you went then?" he asked.

You glanced to his face, where his tired eyes shifted to the cup in your hand. The warmth of the room almost made you forget about the coffee that you'd carried in without thinking.

"Oh, yes - for you," you said. "I didn't even realize I brought it in here."

He looked at the cup again. "You didn't have to."

"I was already getting one," you murmured.

He faced forward again. 

"I must have worried you. Because that night," he said. "In the bath."

Were you so obvious?

"No, it's…" you paused. You almost got whiplash at how the topic changed. "It's fine."

You kept your breathing even, at the mention of something you didn't ever think he'd acknowledge. It was a slight relief he did mention it.

You didn't want to push him into explaining anything, even though you were still so curious.

His palm opened toward you.

"Let's try."

The veins in his hands and arms were more visible in the dim light. You handed him the coffee. 

You weren't sure how someone could drink a hot drink in a bath that looked to be the same temperature, but considering he had been nearly napping - maybe he needed it.

He took a sip, then his other hand went to his cheek, over his lower molars.

You raised your brows slightly. It was still a surprise to be in his presence that you weren't entirely sure what his small reactions meant.

"Sweet," he said.

A small smile tinged on your lips. "But…don't you love dango?"

"Dango isn't this sweet." He handed the cup back. "Try."

You lifted it to your lips, trying to get over how he allowed you to share from the same cup and took a sip. The flavor of coffee mixed with whipped cream and caramel syrup.

"Hm…not as sweet as the one I had," you replied, placing the cup beside you.

A breath released from him like a short, deep chuckle. "My teeth are less tolerant than they used to be."

You lightly cleared your throat.

"How old are you?" you asked hesitantly.

You hoped it wasn't a rude question to ruin the moment. In truth, the moment was surreal. First, you'd slept next to him last night. Now, you were sitting near the ofuro while he soaked in it.

Unlike last night, you were not in the dark to avoid his eyes. All you could do was look forward and pretend to find the wall more interesting than the man beside you.

"Thirty-six. You're twenty-seven?"

You nodded.

He knew your age, but you'd never learned his before. Your parents had told you nothing about this man, but then again, you never asked.

His age made sense given his expertise. It was no surprise he'd achieved so much at a young age. 

You were nine years apart, but you felt like you were a millennium behind him.

"Higuruma?" you spoke, before there was even a chance to leave.

"Hiromi."

You turned your head to him.

"Call me by my given name."

It was a habit to call him by his family name, that you hadn't realized you'd been doing it to his face - even if you barely said his name out loud anyway.

"Hiromi," you tried, unfamiliar on your tongue. "Can I know more about the creature?"

Your voice was small. Even the bath water barely sloshed around him as he rested there in his stillness. You wanted to continue your conversation from last night, before you passed out.

"I believe they're called cursed spirits," he said at last. "Curses.

A droplet fell from the ends of his damp hair into the bath, as you didn't return your gaze to the wall.

"How long have you been seeing them?"

"Few years," he muttered. "It was only recently that I began to kill them."

You linked both of your hands together, squeezing lightly.

"Do you just…see them on strangers?"

"Mm." His eyes shifted upward, as if recalling the sight. "Anywhere. Floating beside them sometimes."

You tried to imagine it. People walking through the streets, sitting on the subway, unaware that something might be hovering inches from their shoulder, possibly following them home. He'd killed them before they got any bigger.

"But they never saw you kill them?"

"Not many people can see them. The curses still form, but most people can't."

That explained it, even if the one in your room only showed up at night. It got you in your most vulnerable state,.

"Have you ever…" Your voice drifted. "I mean, has one ever formed from your emotions?

He shook his head. 

"I keep them neutral."

He said it so matter-of-fact, that it seemed like a second nature to him.

Neutral. Not even happy. 

You weren't sure you entirely believed him, not when you discovered that he seemed to be struggling - since the night he was fully clothed in the bath.

You bit your lip. You were about to say that the cursed spirits could depict your inner emotions, no matter how much you tried to hide them. They crawled out of something buried deep inside you, but that was only how you'd felt.

"I don't have many answers," he continued. "If negative emotions build, curses appear."

You stared at the wooden grain of the bench beneath your hands.

"How should I go about regulating them?"

"Depends what is eating you up."

Your shoulders still felt heavy, and the tension in your face was difficult to release.

"My parents," you said. 

He gave a nod, as if the conclusion had already been obvious. Your fingers rubbed absentmindedly along the edge of the bench.

That, and the marriage to him, after failing the final bar exam. 

Becoming his wife was the final nail in the coffin, and you were still trying to come to terms with being buried.

"Obviously, that was since I was young," you added.

It felt weird to brief your rocky relationship with your parents to him, but you did not want to dump it all on him. He didn't seem interested.

You wondered if you'd said too much again, while Hiromi was quiet. 

The water shifted, as he straightened a little in the bath.

His fingers trailed along the edge of the ofuro.

"You hide it well," he said.

You blinked.

"What?"

"Your emotions."

His eyes returned to the water that had slightly rippled before him.

You had an uncomfortable feeling at the possibility that he was observing you.

Your lips parted slightly, but you couldn't search for the words, till he beat you to it.

"You barely speak of your parents," he added. 

You barely spoke to him.

"Is that bad?"

"No." He paused. "But it doesn't make them disappear."

You inhaled, lowering your gaze to the floorboards. 

His tone was factual, as if he was reciting a law, but you knew he was right.

"It's easier to ignore them," you mumbled. "Or, I'll be too upset."

"Curses form when emotions stagnate," he concluded.

Your eyes lifted toward the bath, where the water was perfectly still now.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" you asked quietly.

You felt you were going in circles with this question, because perhaps he did not entirely have the answer either. An onsen ryokan could physically heal any tensions in your body, but it didn't mean your mind was immediately calm, not with him in your presence.

"Feel them, instead of enduring them."

You swallowed at the distinction. 

You always thought you were feeling your emotions. 

That was why you agreed to get married, wasn't it? Because you were upset at your failures.

Or perhaps, you were not mad or upset at your parents. You were mad at yourself.

Still, your head tilted. "Is that what you do?"

How could you feel your infatuation towards him, instead of enduring it, when he gave you nothing? When his absence made your interest feel so painful?

"It's necessary," his deep voice replied after a pause, a crease appearing between his brows.

It was not an answer. Rather, a decision he'd made a long time ago.

You let out a shaky breath and took another sip of the coffee, even if he still wanted it. 

[wannabehockeygf]

walking in on macklin jorking it and whining your name😗

nsfw content below

the apartment’s too quiet, except for the weirdly sweet, desperate noise bleeding out from under the cracked bedroom door—high, stuttering, not quite a moan but not just breathing either, and it’s enough to make you slow down in the hall, shoes clutched in one hand, keys forgotten on the counter. you know it’s macklin even before you push the door wider, recognize that pathetic little sound he makes when he thinks nobody’s listening, the way he always whimpers through his teeth, soft and slurred like he’s trying not to wake the neighbors even though it’s still early, sun leaking in at all the wrong angles.

he doesn’t notice you at first, too busy with one hand fisted tight around his cock, the other clutching a pillow against his chest, face mashed into the fabric and hips rolling up into nothing, sheets kicked half off the bed, hair sticking out in every possible direction. his cheeks are a mess, blotchy with color, eyes squeezed shut like he can’t stand the idea of opening them, can’t look at anything but the dark inside his own head. you watch the way his mouth moves, lips parted, tongue wetting the seam as he mumbles something, breathless and cracked, your name tumbling out between curses—over and over, the syllables caught in his throat, sticky with need.

“please, please, just—fuck, i need you, need you so bad—” he whimpers, rutting up into his hand, voice shaking on every word, the sheets a tangled wreck under him. every time he gasps your name it sounds like a secret, something he shouldn’t be saying but can’t stop, the want so raw and unfiltered it makes you ache just watching.

you lean against the doorframe, not bothering to be quiet, letting the edge of your laughter curl into the room. “having fun without me, mack?”

he freezes, hand stilling mid-stroke, the pillow clutched tight to his chest like a shield. his eyes snap open, wide and wild, and you watch as realization floods his face—shame first, then embarrassment, then something else, something sharp and hopeful, so hungry it almost hurts. his breath comes faster, chest heaving under the thin tee, and you see the way his knuckles go white around his cock, every muscle in his thighs tense like he’s caught between finishing and hiding and maybe just begging you to take over.

“i—shit, i didn’t know you were home, i was just—just—” his voice cracks, breaking apart on the last word as he tries to cover himself, tries to salvage a little dignity, but it’s useless, not when you’ve already caught him, not when his cock’s still leaking in his hand, not when his cheeks are that deep, guilty red that always means he’s been thinking about you for a lot longer than he’ll admit.

you cross the room, slow, savoring the way he squirms under your gaze, legs kicking at the twisted sheets, cock twitching as you sink down onto the edge of the bed. you reach out, fingers tangling in the damp mess of his hair, tugging gently until he looks up at you, pupils blown wide, mouth trembling.

“were you whining for me, baby?” you purr, thumb stroking his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. “couldn’t wait ‘til i got home, huh? had to get started all by yourself?”

he shakes his head, but his hips buck up into his own fist like he can’t help it, like your presence only makes everything worse, more urgent. his voice is wrecked, high and whimpery, every syllable wrapped around your name like a plea. “needed you, couldn’t—fuck, i couldn’t wait, i just—i miss you, i wanted you so bad, s’not the same, doesn’t feel right without you, please—”

you laugh, soft and mean, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the salt of his skin where he’s bitten through his own lip. “pathetic,” you whisper, and he shudders, cock leaking harder at the word, desperate for approval, for anything you’ll give him.

he’s still clutching that pillow, hiding behind it like it’ll save him, and you pull it away, toss it to the floor, leaving him spread open, bare and needy. you trail your fingers down his throat, press your palm to his heaving chest, feel the frantic thud of his heart. he’s so easy like this, so completely at your mercy, every inch of him aching for your touch, every breath a broken whine.

“you want help, macky?” you murmur, voice lazy and indulgent, watching him nod, frantic, lips forming your name like a prayer. “or do you want me to just watch you make a mess, see how needy you get all by yourself?”

he whimpers, real and raw, hips jerking up, eyes shining with desperation. “want you,” he breathes, “please, need you, can’t—can’t do it alone, not when you’re here, please, please—”

you grin, hand sliding down his chest, nails raking over his trembling stomach, slow and mean. “such a good boy,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss his jaw, the line of his throat, the frantic pulse fluttering under your lips. “always so desperate for me. go ahead, baby. let me hear you whine for it.”

he does—god, he does, voice breaking into sobby little cries, rutting helplessly into your hand when you finally take over, jerking him off slow, just the way he likes, dragging it out until he’s panting your name, tears bright at the corners of his eyes, so close to coming he’s shaking with it. you keep your eyes on him the whole time, soaking up every gasp, every whimper, every frantic, breathless plea for more, until he finally shudders apart, spilling over your hand, face buried in your shoulder, crying your name like it’s the only word he knows.

and when he finally collapses, boneless and spent, you kiss his forehead, stroke his hair, and promise him next time you’ll come home early—just to catch him like this all over again.

[macksharks]

i’ve got you ; will smith hockey

summary: when y/n has her first fan encounter without Will and it doesn’t end as nice as expected.

𓂃𓂁𓂃

The arena was still buzzing when the final horn sounded, the echo of skates cutting ice and fans cheering lingering in the air even as the Sharks filed down the tunnel. Y/N waited near the families’ area which was close to the front. It was smaller than usual since they were at an away game. Her arms were folded loosely around herself, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as she watched the boys pass by one by one.

Will caught her eye immediately.

He always did.

He grinned, helmet still on, hair damp and curling slightly at the edges, and lifted his stick in a small wave just for her. Her lips curved into a smile without her even realizing it, pride swelling in her chest.

Will stepped off the ice and stopped in the tunnel just below her.

“Hey,” he said, breathless, eyes bright.

“Hey, baby,” she replied softly.

Someone behind him whistled. “You gonna flirt or you gonna come to the locker room, Smitty?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Relax, Mack.”

“Hey Y/N.” Mack smiled up at her when he passed, receiving a shove from Will.

Alexander laughed as he passed. “Cmon kiddo, you’ll see her in a minute.”

Y/N shook her head, cheeks warm. The older guys always teased the younger guys, especially Mack and Will, and by extension, her. Most of them were late twenties, early thirties. Veterans. Married. Kids. And then there was Will— just out of his teens, still considered a baby in a league full of men.

By the time the team loaded onto the bus, exhaustion had settled in like a heavy blanket. The other WAGs filled in the seats around the players and Y/N took a seat next to Will, her head leaning briefly against his shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmured, dropping his voice.

“Yeah. Just hungry,” she said. “Like, really hungry.”

He chuckled. “Same. Room service again?”

She made a face. “Absolutely not. I’m gonna go grab food when we get to the hotel.”

Will frowned slightly. “By yourself?”

“It’s literally down the road,” she said lightly. “I’ll be quick. I’ll get stuff for everyone.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she insisted, squeezing his hand. “Go shower. I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.”

He studied her for a second, then sighed. “You better text me.”

“I will.”

The hotel loomed tall and modern, glass reflecting the streetlights as the bus pulled up out front. A small group of fans already lingered near the entrance, phones in hand, eyes lighting up as the players stepped off one by one.

Some of the guys stopped to talk to fans, take photos and sign whatever the fans were holding.

Y/N lingered for just a second, adjusting the straps of her bag.

“I’m gonna go now,” she told Will.

He leaned down, pressing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. “Be careful. Call me if you have to.”

She smiled. “I will.”

Will disappeared into the hotel with Mack, Eky, and a few others, and Y/N turned in the opposite direction, walking down the street toward the glow of a late night takeout spot.

The food run was uneventful. Warm paper bags, the smell of fries and chicken filling the air, her arms slightly overloaded by the time she headed back. She balanced everything carefully, feeling oddly proud of herself. This was her role sometimes: quiet support, small acts of care.

When the hotel doors came back into view, her steps slowed.

The crowd hadn’t thinned.

If anything, it had grown.

Fans clustered near the entrance and spilled into the lobby, pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.

Just get to the elevator she told herself.

The lobby buzzed with low chatter and the sound of the door opening as new fans walked in. She moved past the front desk, past the couches, heart beating a little faster than normal.

The elevator doors were open as a lady stepped in before her. Relief washed over her as she stepped inside, immediately reaching for the panel and pressing Will’s floor. She shifted the bags in her arms, letting out a quiet breath.

Then, three figures slipped in behind her.

The doors closed.

The space suddenly felt much smaller.

She glanced at them out of politeness. Three girls, probably mid twenties, dressed like they’d planned their outfits carefully. Makeup flawless. Phones in hand.

Y/N swallowed.

“Uh.. what floor are you guys going to?” she asked gently, trying to sound casual.

They leaned forward to look at the panel.

“Oh,” one of them said, lips curling slightly. “Same one.”

Y/N nodded. “Okay.”

The moved up two levels then stopped. The older lady excused herself and stepped out, leaving Y/N and the three girls.

Silence settled, thick and uncomfortable. The elevator hummed as it started its ascent.

She could feel their eyes boring into her back. Not subtle. Not curious. But like they were assessing her.

Her shoulders tightened.

Please don’t be fans she thought. Please don’t be fans.

A few seconds passed. Too many seconds.

Then—

“Are you Will Smith’s girlfriend?”

Her heart dropped straight into her stomach.

Blood rushed in her ears, cold and loud, her fingers tightening around the paper bags. For a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

She forced herself to respond, voice coming out steadier than she felt.

“No,” she said. “I’m not.”

The girl closest to her, taller, confident, clearly the leader, raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you are,” she said slowly. “You’re Y/N.”

The air left her lungs.

Her mind raced. How do they know my name?

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how.

Another girl stepped closer, invading her space. “Are you going to his room?”

Y/N took a small step back, her shoulder brushing the mirrored wall. “I—no. I mean—”

“So you are,” the girl smirked.

Questions started coming faster, sharper.

“Is he there right now?”

“Are Macklin and Eklund with him?”

“Which room is his?”

Y/N shook her head, panic creeping in. “I’m not answering that.”

The leader sighed dramatically. “Relax. We just want to say hi.”

“No,” Y/N said quickly. “That’s not happening.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Can you at least have him come out?”

“He’s tired,” Y/N replied, voice trembling just slightly. “They all are.”

The girl’s expression hardened. “Wow,” she scoffed. “You’re a bitch.”

Y/N flinched.

“Aren’t you a little young and inexperienced? I’m sure he would be better with someone a little older,” the girl continued. “Someone like me.”

This had startled her a bit, mostly because of how random it was. Y/N furrowed her brows. “I’m nineteen.”

“And you’re probably in it for the money, right?” The girl’s gaze dropped to the bags in Y/N’s arms. “I bet he paid for all that too.”

“No,” Y/N said firmly. “I did.”

She didn’t want to admit that she used Will’s card. He would have never let her spend this much money on feeding the guys.

The girl laughed. “Oh, I’m sure.”

Before Y/N could react, the girl reached out, grabbing one of the bags.

“What are Will and Mack eating?” she asked, tugging.

“Please let go,” she said, panic flooding her chest as she tightened her grip.

The bag crinkled between them.

“Please stop!” She tried again. Her voice wobbled and a lump in her throat formed but she didn’t want the girls to know how upset they were making her.

Finally, the elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

She yanked the bag back and rushed out, heart pounding so hard it hurt, her steps quick and uneven as she headed down the hallway.

Behind her, she heard footsteps.

They were following her.

“Leave me alone!” She yelled back. Her throat was burning at this point.

Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone, tears stinging her eyes as she hit Will’s contact and pressed call.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Hey, baby—”

Her voice broke.

“Will,” she choked. “There are these women…they followed me into the elevator and they’re following me now.”

“What?” His tone changed instantly. “Where are you?”

“I’m on your floor. They tried to grab the food. I don’t— I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m coming out right now.”

“No,” she said quickly, fear spiking. “Please don’t. That’s what they want.”

A pause. Then, firm and controlled, “Okay. Stay on the phone with me. I’m sending someone.”

She swallowed hard, picking up her pace as the hallway stretched endlessly ahead of her.

“They’re still behind me,” she whispered.

“I’ve got you,” Will said. “You’re okay, baby.”

Her eyes snapped to somewhere down the hall as she heard a door opening.

A tall figure stepped out, eyes locking onto the situation instantly.

Tyler Toffoli.

Relief crashed over her so hard her knees nearly buckled.

“Hey!” Toff called out sharply. “What’re you girls doing here?”

The girls froze.

Y/N hurried toward him, and without a word, Toff stepped in front of her, solid and immovable.

Y/N exhaled shakily. “I’m with Toff now,” she murmured into the phone.

“Okay,” Will said softly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

She hung up.

She felt like she could breathe.

The hallway felt too quiet after Toffoli’s voice cut through it.

The three girls stood frozen a few feet away, their confidence evaporating the second they realized who had stepped in. Tyler Toffoli wasn’t just another player— they all knew that. He was older, broader, his presence commanding without him having to raise his voice.

“What,” he repeated, slower this time, “are you girls doing here?”

Y/N stood just behind him, her fingers still wrapped tightly around the paper bags, knuckles pale. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She stared at the patterned carpet, trying not to cry, trying not to shake, trying not to draw attention to how scared she’d been only seconds ago.

One of the girls, the same one who had grabbed the food, shifted her weight, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow in the quiet hallway.

“We were just talking,” she said. “We didn’t do anything.”

Toff’s jaw tightened. “Talking?” he echoed. “You followed her off the elevator.”

The girl shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“Bullshit,” Toff snapped.

The word hit hard, sharp and final. Y/N felt a strange rush of comfort at the way he said it, like a wall slamming down between her and them.

“She doesn’t want you here,” Toff continued. “So you’re leaving. Now.”

The girls hesitated.

“I suggest,” Toff went on, “you turn around and head back to the elevators before I call security. Or the police. Your choice.”

For a moment, Y/N thought they might argue. Might push. Her heart hammered painfully at the thought.

But then one of the girls tugged at the leader’s sleeve. “Come on,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”

The leader glared at Toff one last time, then spun on her heel. The three of them walked away, and disappeared down the hall.

Only when they were gone did Y/N realize how tightly she’d been holding her breath.

It left her in a shaky exhale.

Toff turned around immediately, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

She nodded automatically. Then shook her head. “I— yeah, I don’t know.”

Her hands were trembling now, badly, the delayed fear catching up to her. Toff noticed instantly.

“Hey, hey,” he said, reaching for the bags. “Here. I’ve got those.”

She let him take them without protest, her fingers curling uselessly at her sides. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re safe, kiddo,” he said firmly. “You’re okay.”

She swallowed hard. “They knew my name.”

Toff’s brow furrowed. “Yeah,” he said. “Weird.”

He adjusted the bags in his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you back to Will.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. She stayed close to him, every sound making her flinch. She felt like one of the girls was going to turn around and run back at her.

Will had barely hung up the phone before he was pacing the room.

“They followed her,” he said sharply, phone still in his hand. “They followed her.”

Macklin stood near the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly. “What do you mean followed her?”

“Into the elevator. Down the hall,” Will said, raking a hand through his hair. “One of them tried to grab the food from her.”

Eklund muttered something under his breath in Swedish that definitely wasn’t polite.

“I called security,” Will continued. “Hotel management too. They’re on their way.”

Mack nodded. “Good.”

Will stopped pacing only to start again. His chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it. He hated that he hadn’t gone with her. Hated that he hadn’t insisted harder.

“She told me not to come out,” he said, voice tight. “Said that’s what they wanted.”

Mack shook his head. “This is fucked.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Will was there in a second, yanking it open.

Toff stood on the other side, bags in hand.

And Y/N.

Will didn’t even think, he just pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her so tightly it was like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

“You’re okay,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re okay.”

She clutched his hoodie, her face pressed against his chest as the tension finally broke. Her body shook slightly, and he tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of her head.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands moving to her face, tilting it gently up toward him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes scanning her anxiously. “Did they touch you?”

She shook her head. “No. Just the food.”

His jaw clenched. “I swear to god—”

“I’m okay,” she said quickly. “I am.”

Mack and Eklund hovered nearby, both looking deeply concerned.

Toff set the food down on the counter. “She handled it well,” he said. “But those girls crossed a line.”

Will exhaled sharply. “Thank you,” he said to Toff. “Seriously.”

Toff clapped him on the shoulder. “Anytime.”

Only then did Will realize Y/N was still shaking.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he murmured, taking her hands in his. “Hey. Look at me.”

She tried to smile, but it wobbled. “I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“I know,” he said softly. “You don’t ever have to do that again. I don’t care about the food.”

She glanced at the counter. “I still got everyone something.”

Despite everything, that made Mack smile faintly. “Of course you did.”

Will leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “Thank you,” he whispered. “But next time, I’m going with you.”

She nodded, leaning into him. Her mind was racing. The feeling of them cornering her. The things they said to her. Everything came crashing down on her. The lump in her throat was growing and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the tears but a small sob escaped her lips.

Will held her tighter, shaking his head. He was mad. Beyond mad.

“Talk to me, baby.” Will leaned back a bit and used his thumbs to wipe the tears away.

“Th— they called me a bitch and were mad that I wasn’t telling them where you guys were. She wouldn’t let go of the bag and they like— they chased me down the hallway. I was scared, Will.” She shook her head and took a deep breath.

“How old did they look?” Mack asked.

Toff scoffed. “Gotta be at least twenty five.”

She let out a small chuckle. “She said I was too young and inexperienced for you.” She looked up at Will. “Said she’d be a better fit for you.”

“Oh gross.” Eky grimaced.

“She said that to your face?” Mack’s eyes were wide as he bit into a fry.

Will cupped her cheeks, looking her in the eyes. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She nodded. He wiped the remaining tears then leaned down and kissed her softly.

He pulled away a little. “Why don’t we go watch something, keep your mind off this?” He asked and she nodded in response.

They moved to the couch together, Y/N sitting beside Will as he pulled her legs onto his lap. He rubbed his thumb slowly against her thigh, steady and reassuring.

The guys ate quietly, conversation subdued. Y/N picked at her food, appetite gone, the earlier fear still lingering in her chest.

“Eat a little,” Will murmured. “Please.”

She took a few small bites for his sake.

A knock at the door made her tense instantly, her eyes moved to the door.

Will felt it immediately. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Mack stood up. “I’ll get it.”

On the other side were members of team management and the hotel manager. Apologies spilled out quickly as they explained security had been notified and the girls had been escorted out of the building.

Toff took the lead, recounting everything she had told them, his voice calm but firm.

The hotel manager turned to her. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he said sincerely. “This should never have occurred.”

She nodded quietly, not trusting her voice.

After they left, Toff checked on her once more. “You good?”

She managed a small smile. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Anytime, kid,” he said gently before heading back to his room.

After a moment, Mack stood up. “I’m gonna head to sleep,” he said quietly. “Early skate tomorrow.”

Eklund followed suit. “Same. You good?” he asked her gently.

She nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

The bedroom doors clicked shut behind them, leaving the room quiet except for the muted movie and the hum of the city outside.

The movie played quietly in the background, something Will had put on without really thinking. The screen flickered with light and sound, but Y/N wasn’t really watching it. Her attention drifted in and out, her mind still replaying the elevator doors closing, the way her chest had tightened, the sound of that girl’s voice saying her name like it was something she owned.

She shifted slightly on the couch.

Will felt it immediately.

“You okay?” he murmured, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head.

She nodded out of habit, then hesitated. “I think so.”

“That didn’t sound convincing,” he said gently.

She sighed, leaning back into him more fully. His arms tightened around her without him even realizing it, like his body knew before his brain did that she needed it.

“I just… I didn’t think it would ever be like that,” she said quietly. “I’ve been to games before. I’ve been around fans. But this was different.” Her throat tightened, emotion creeping up on her again.

She blinked hard, trying to push it back.

Will noticed anyway.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Come here.”

He pulled her closer, her head tucking under his chin as he wrapped her up fully this time, arms secure and warm around her. She let herself relax into him, the tension slowly draining from her shoulders.

Will stayed still for a while, just holding her. The adrenaline finally wore off and left behind exhaustion. Sheyawned softly, eyelids growing heavy.

Will noticed and smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you into bed.”

He stood carefully, keeping an arm around her as they moved toward the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, changing into one of his shirts while he brushed his teeth, the familiar routine grounding her more than anything else could have.

When she climbed into bed, he followed, pulling her into his chest immediately.

She curled into him, her leg thrown over his, fingers gripping his hoodie like an anchor.

“You okay?” he asked one last time.

She nodded, eyes finally closing. “Yeah. I am now.”

He kissed her forehead, lingering there. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”

And for the first time since the elevator doors had closed, her body believed him.

[softsunnyy]

🚨willmack (threesome), mentions of them cumming inside you, masturbation, oral sex, both at the same time, betting, being fucked stupid by your boys, who have a lot of energy, and i think that's all 🚨

poorly written

“if we both score at least one goal each today… you’ll let us use you,” Will proposed. You nearly choked on your coffee, feeling your cheeks flush. You looked at Macklin for help, but he just stared at you, attentive to your answer. You knew then that only you were surprised by the proposal, so you looked back at Will.

“sorry, what?” you said, setting your coffee aside, resting your arms on the counter, leaning in to look at him more closely. Mack’s eyes dropped to your tits, peeking out from under your shirt, as if you wanted him to see them.

“i have a feeling we’ll both score goals today, so what better way to celebrate?” he said, smiling, and you looked at him, amused, surprised, but also interested.

there had always been flirtations between the three of you; you and Macklin had even kissed, but it had never gone that far, and the intrigue was beginning to reach you. You wonder if they're capable of keeping their word.

“okay, if you can do it, i'll be free use for you,” you say, closing the deal. Your response brought a huge smile to their faces, motivating them.

that same night, you stared at the scoreboard with your mouth open, unable to believe your eyes.

not only did they both score. Macklin had pulled a fucking hat trick. As if it hadn't cost them anything. As if they truly yearned for it so much they'd do anything to have you.

you start to feel hot, knowing what's coming. Your mind floods with ideas, with scenarios. You start to feel desperate when you see the game isn't over yet, and you resist the urge to whimper when the camera focuses on them. And they´re laughing and talking on the bench. It's like they know you're watching, impressed, and that boosts their egos.

you see Macklin smile, then spit on the ice. Will's eyes follow every move, then repeat the action.

the commentators praise your guys, and it only makes you feel more needy. They keep talking about stats, how good they are, and the great future they have ahead of them if they keep playing this way. And you're so proud of them that you'd let them do whatever they wanted to you, you don't even care. Your pelvis jerks unconsciously, making you rub against the couch, the heat becoming more unbearable, your face burning. It's like everyone is turning against you, mocking the fate that awaits you.

you see Will take a hand out of his glove, fixing his hair. His veins are prominent, his hair messy. You see him laughing with his teammates, with a different glow, eager to end the game and receive what he's earned.

Macklin looks so big, you see him sip from the water bottle, and your eyes travel to his throat, paying attention to the movement, seeing his white skin, yearning to leave a trail of bites, of marks.

you can't help it; you wanna reward them, you want them to receive the best attention for being so good. You'd do anything for them, because they earned it, because they put that much effort for you, to be able to touch you, to be able to make progress with you.

it doesn't take long for you to start undressing, your mind clouded with ideas, thoughts of them, until you're naked on your couch, your legs spread, exposing your pussy. You're grateful they're focused on them all the time, because their faces on the screen make everything easier. Your fingers are quick, sliding between your folds, rubbing your clit, overstimulating yourself.

your hand moves faster and faster, applying the pressure you know you like, while your other hand plays with your tits. You know how it is. It's not the first time you've touched yourself while watching one of their games, thinking about them, imagining a thousand scenarios after the flirting, the glances.

and yet, you need them. You need them there with you

you slide two fingers into your pussy, stretching your walls, preparing you for them, putting your fingers deep inside you. You're rough, fast, moving them with precision, whimpering their names.

you imagine they're Mack's big fingers, and that Will is the one touching your tits. You wanna feel them, you wanna know what it feels like to have both of their cocks inside of you, taking over your body, doing all the things they've promised you, all the things they've bragged about.

you want them to touch you, you know they'll be gentle, because they're always like that with you, but you want their cocks to use you.

you want them, making comments, like the ones that make you nervous in public.

the game ends when you start to feel the tingling, the familiar knot. You start sliding your fingers faster. You torture yourself, and when you cum, it's loud, your fluids wetting your inner thighs.

you leave small slaps on your pussy, causing your fluids to squirt everywhere as you start rubbing your clit, overstimulating yourself, making you arch your back and your pelvis try to move away.

you don't even know how much time has passed, but you hear them open the door with the key you gave them earlier that morning.

the two of them stand there for a moment, frozen, watching the scene before them. The smell of your arousal fills the room, and they can hear the wet sound of your pussy, along with your desperate whimpers.

they wonder how many times you've cum, but that's forgotten when you look at them, your eyes glassy, your mouth open.

Will is the first to approach, standing in front of you, making you look up at him, feeling small. His gaze is intimidating, making your breath catch. You stop touching your pussy to give him your full attention, and he can see how your body continues to move unconsciously, searching for the lost contact.

he takes your chin, leaning down, joining his mouth with yours, kissing you, devouring your mouth. Macklin reacts, and begins to unbutton his pants as he approaches, then removes his shirt, revealing his big, tempting body. He comes up behind the couch, placing his hands on your shoulders, pretending to move down to your tits.

on the tv, he can see that you were watching them, and a feeling of pride forms in his chest. You'd started touching yourself while watching them.

god, he wants to forget the delicacy just thinking about that.

Will pulls away from you, resisting the urge to kiss you again. With his hands, he helps you stand, your legs trembling, still spasming, almost numb. You watch them look at each other, then he turn you around. Will had you rest your knees on the couch, leaning forward on the backrest, your head level with Mack's dick, while Will positioned himself behind you.

Macklin caresses one of your cheeks and lets you help him pull down his pants and then his underwear, freeing his cock under your hungry gaze. Will quickly removed his clothes, but didn't immediately approach your pussy, not as you expected, at least.

it was when you licked Mack's cock from base to tip that you felt Will's tongue in your pussy, tasting your juices, wandering between your folds. The addictive taste, he couldn't help it; he started devouring you, sucking, licking. Overstimulating your poor clit, making you moan against Macklin's cock, who whimpered, sensitive from how hard his cock was.

Will lingered, listening to your pleas, your whimpers, feeling the ache from how hard his dick is.

it's an interesting scene, with him kneeling behind you, his hands roaming over your body, leaving red marks from how hard his fingers grip your skin, while you try to swallow Mack's cock, trying to be good for him, and trying to resist, knowing that you´re gagging.

Macklin whimpers, his hands shaking a little, but one of them tangles in your hair, pulling you closer, forgetting the size of his cock for a moment, making you choke, your nose brushing against his pelvis as he moves, sliding, exploring your mouth, your heat, and feeling your drool reach his base, staining your chin and causing drops to roll down his tense thighs after the game.

Will moves his tongue expertly, swallowing your juices, seeing your red pussy, your swollen clit. He feels your legs tremble, and his cock aches, wanting your pussy, feel your warmth, feel your walls tighten around him.

they didn't expect the action to start so soon. God, they didn't even know it would actually happen, even though deep down they wanted it so bad. So walking in, seeing you ready for them, so eager and proud of the performance they'd shown... was one of the best surprises. They can't let you down now.

and you try, you try to resist, even though your throat hurts, you're gagging, and you know your voice will be funny later. You can feel the weight of Mack's cock on your tongue, and it's so heavy, hot, and big. Your jaw starts to go numb from the effort, and you start moving on automatic. You want to swallow his cum, feel it slide down your throat, like it's the cure, your reward for a job well done, while you feel another knot begin to form in your lower abdomen, the product of Will, who eats you like you're his last meal.

your legs tremble, they spasm violently, and Will can see your hole throbbing just before you cum, filling his mouth, sending drops running down his chin, making a path down his neck. And he keeps going, not caring how sensitive you are and how you try to pull away. His hands keep you still while he cleans you, swallowing every drop until there's nothing left. And then he stands up, watching you eat his friend, so hungry.

god, he wants to live that experience too.

and Macklin barely resists; he doesn't even know how he does it. Maybe it's how much he wants to stay inside you, but he keeps moving, keeps thrusting, filling you, making your moans die against his skin, sending vibrations through his cock that only make his life more complicated.

Will positions himself behind you, aligning the tip of his cock against your hole, your eyes become glassy again as you feel him begin to slide inside your walls, stretching you. And he's bigger than you thought; you feel like he's splitting you, like he's not going to fit, and you didn't expect that. You pull Mack's cock out of your mouth and moan, trying to grip his thighs, digging your nails in. And he sees a string of drool still connecting his tip to your mouth, making him have to stifle a moan.

your walls squeeze him, welcoming him like a new home, and he has to be patient, giving you a moment to recover while he tries not to come right there, feeling on the edge just from the way you´re so tight, so hot, and how good you feel, like you were made for him.

when your body unconsciously moves back, he knows he can start moving, so he does, first sliding slowly in and out, while you slowly resume your actions with Mack, returning your attention to his cock.

the pace slowly begins to increase, and the position makes you feel Will everywhere. He moves fast, hard, and you try to muffle your moans by using Mack, but it's getting harder. And Mack, oh, my sweet boy, feels like he's going to cry. Every time he's been on the verge of cumming, you take his dick out of your mouth to moan, as if you didn't want to give him the pleasure, as if you enjoyed making him suffer like this, while Will takes care of destroying you.

the sound is obscene, your pussy filled by a cock, his body slamming into yours, making your ass turn red. And your fluids make a mess, staining your body, leaving trails of drool and dried arousal on your skin, as well as on your boys' skin.

your mind is foggy, you feel dizzy, a little lightheaded, your eyes want to close on their own, and loud moans come from your mouth, frustrating Mack.

Will notices the situation and knows what he must do.

“baby, you're not helping Mack. Come on, look how ready he is for you, or you don´t want him?” his words make your eyes widen, and you try to return to your task, but it's so difficult that you whimper, frustrated, aroused, with fat, hot tears falling down your cheeks because you wanna be good for him.

“you’re leaving us no choice,” Will says, looking at his friend, communicating with him silently, knowing they’re both thinking the same thing. As always.

you feel him slide out of you, making you feel so empty, and you whimper, begging, pleading for forgiveness, trying to keep the fun going, until his hands take you and move you to his liking. He lies down on the couch and has you sit on his lap, facing him, resting your hands on his chest as you feel his hot cock pressed against your wet pussy. That's enough to distract you, not noticing Mack walk over to stand behind you, waiting.

soon you're back on Will's cock, and this time you feel him even deeper, making a small bulge form in your belly. You try to move, to ride him, but big hands push you forward, pressing your tits against Will's chest and making it impossible for you to move much.

"ready, babe?," you heard Macklin say, but you're too fucked up, not fully understanding what he's talking about. You're quieter, more lost. You had cum a couple of times before they arrived, leaving you fucked stupid.

it's then that you feel pressure on your pussy, in the same hole Will is using, and your eyes fill with tears, your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You feel his cock slide in, and it's big, even more, and it stretches your walls too far. And you suffocate them, both of them. Their cocks together inside you, not moving yet, but making you feel shattered, broken, completely lost now.

Will tries to kiss you to distract you, but he can feel your tears until you try to move on your own. Macklin takes this as a good sign and begins to slide in, very slowly, carefully at first. His hands caress your back, feeling how it's still quite difficult to move inside you.

they're patient, letting you get used to it, letting your pussy open wider for them, to welcome them home. The sensation is better than they expected. It's addictive. And oh, they don't think they'll ever forget it now. You're gonna have to get used to it.

your pussy is gonna have to get used to it.

because they don't need to make bets anymore. They both know they'll keep coming back to you, asking for more, wanting to bury themselves in your pussy, in your walls, whether together or separately.

they're gonna mark you, they're gonna take over your body, and you won't be able to forget that pair, no matter what.

they're just getting started now, the night is long, but you already feel broken by the way they move inside you, and they don't care. They're young, they have energy, stamina. They're gonna use your body until you can't take it anymore, and they'll cum inside your walls until there's no more room, until both of their loads join together and create white rings at their bases.

they're gonna cum inside you again and again, because that's part of the deal... right?

oh, how did you go from flirting to this? none of you three know, but are you going to complain? of course not.

you just hope that tomorrow you can get out of bed.

[babypuck]

will smith begging ex!reader for just the tip wc: 1.6k can be read as a part 2 to this but can be read as a standalone!

18+ content below the cut!

when will knocked on your door tonight, you immediately knew that he was looking for something more than just cuddles. more than just spending time in your presence. there was a hungry look in his eyes that you became very well-acquainted with when the two of you were together.

it should've been that exact look he gave you, the way his eyes slowly raked over your body, covered by nothing but a thin tank top and teeny tiny sleep shorts, that should've made you send him away. slam the door in his face and tell him to leave you alone.

but you didn't.

you'd been cuddling on the couch together when his hands started wandering. he'd begged you for something, anything, so you told him that he could eat you out.

which he'd done, eagerly.

he'd lain you down on the couch, pulled your shorts and tank top off, and buried himself between your thighs. every few seconds, you felt him rutting against the couch cushions, but he hasn't said anything.

you've cum three times so far, each time holding will's face against you, probably suffocating him, but you don't care.

after the third time, you let out a heavy breath and slump against your pillows. your eyes are closed, breathing heavily, a blissed out smile on your face. you release will's curls from your fingers, your entire body relaxing, completely ignoring him still kneeled between your knees.

he's quiet for a while. you keep your eyes closed, trying to convince yourself that it was anyone but your ex-boyfriend who just made you cum so hard you saw stars, multiple times, kind of hoping he just gets up and walks away.

but then you feel will shift a bit closer to you on the mattress.

"um, c-can i..?" his voice sounds small, breathless. when you crack your eyes open, you see that will's shucked off his shirt, leaving him in nothing but his sweatpants, which have a very prominent, painful-looking tent in them. your stomach does a little swoop when you realize that there's a little wet spot on the front of his pants.

you're so transfixed by the sight of him that it takes you a second to realize he's asked you a question. your eyes slowly travel back to his. "hm?"

will tentatively reaches a hand out, gripping your thigh with more strength than you were anticipating. "can i... go inside? please?"

it takes your orgasm-addled mind a few seconds to comprehend what he's asking, but when you do, you let out a laugh. "seriously? no, will. come on,"

"please," will whines, his entire body shaking slightly, every muscle coiled tight under his skin. "w-want it so bad,"

you watch as will's other hand wraps around your other thigh, squeezing them as though it'll do anything to curb his need for you. you watch him for a few seconds, watch as his eyes train on your folds, his cock twitching in his sweatpants.

"i'm not gonna tell you again," you finally say. by the look on will's face, one would think you've just hit his dog with your car.

he's quiet for a few seconds, breathing heavily, whining low under his breath. he leans forward, resting his forehead on your navel, pressing kisses right under your belly button. he grips your hips so tight you hiss, and the next time he looks up, his eyes are looking at you so desperately that you nearly cave right then.

"please, i'll be-i'll be so good," he begs. "so, so good just... just anything, please, anything at all,"

you hum, tapping your finger on your chin, thinking. "i don't know..."

will whines again and leans a little bit closer, hovering over you a little bit more. "j-just the tip, then. please, just the tip,"

you grin. that sounds like something you can agree to.

"fine," you say, opening your legs a little wider. "but just the tip. you better behave," your voice gets stern there, causing will to let out a little whimper.

"thank you, thank you so much, thank you," he babbles, immediately fumbling with the ties at his waist.

he pulls his sweatpants down, revealing his cock. you try to look away, to act casual, but you can't. it wasn't until right now, face to face with will... like this, that you realized how much you've needed this.

will's breathing is heavy as he strokes himself a few times, throwing his head back and groaning. he rubs himself up and down between your folds, whimpering, breathing shaky.

when he finally lines himself up, his hand travels up your body, finding your hand, and lacing your fingers together, squeezing tight.

"fuuuuuck," will says under his breath, pushing just the head inside.

he pauses, his stomach tensing every time you clamp down on his tip. his eyes flutter shut, and he hangs his head, his chin against his chest.

you bite your lip, eyes glued to him. he looks beautiful like this, so desperate for you, willing to do anything just to get a piece of you. his hair is mussed from when you'd been using the strands as your personal handle, his hands eagerly tugging on the parts of himself that you weren't allowing him to shove inside you.

"god you feel amazing," he whines, rocking his hips shallowly, looking pained with every movement. "i-i wish... wish i could...."

he doesn't say it, but you know what he wants to say.

you smirk, reaching a finger down to rub at your clit, letting out a relieved little sigh.

will lets out a grunt and smacks your hand away, replacing your fingers with his. you moan as he rubs at you quickly, wanting to feel you clench around him.

he gets there fast, faster than he ever did when the two of you were together. he starts letting out broken moans, his breathing getting shakier, his eyes shut tight, pointed at the ceiling. as if he's trying to think of anything else, to prolong this.

"are you close, baby?" your voice is sickly sweet, reaching your hand between your bodies. you slowly pluck his fingers from himself, and wrap your own around his member.

instantly, his moans get louder. he folds in half, his stomach fluttering as you start slowly jacking him off. he slips a little farther in you from the motion, causing him to whimper.

you smirk. "it's okay, honey. just let go, you know you want to,"

he starts shaking his head silently, gripping the couch cushion on either side of your hips, biting his bottom lip. his eyes are shut so tight the skin around his eyes is turning red, breathing like he just got back from a run. sweat is beading on his forehead, running down his temples, and you swear you've never seen a prettier sight.

you start moving your hand a little faster. "y'know, you were never this eager for me when we were together," you tsk. "a shame, really. i would've been so much happier if you let me know that you wanted me every once in a while."

will whines, gripping the couch cushion so hard you're worried he might rip it. you're being mean now, you know that, but you feel that he deserves that.

plus, he always liked it when you talked mean to him.

he starts rutting into you a little harsher, sinking another inch into you. you both cry out, and you're tempted to shove him in the chest, but you don't. as much as you hate it, you need this as much as he does.

he stays like that, in a little bit more than he should be, but not pushing anymore than that, for a few minutes. your composure is fraying at the edges, the urge to have him buried deep inside you getting stronger and harder to ignore by the second. he's rubbing your clit, hard and fast, trying to rut into you without actually going deeper. his brows are furrowed, the expression on his face can only be described as pained, and you think it might be your favorite sight in the world.

but you can't hold out any longer.

"will," you gasp out. "just-just do it,"

he looks up, more hope in his eyes than he'd probably like to admit. "what?"

"will, fuck me, please," you bat your lashes at him, knowing that's what gets him, and wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to pull him closer.

"b-but," he looks like his brain has short-circuited. "but you said-"

"will, i swear to god if you don't fuck me right now, i'm going to kick you out," you threaten, and will can tell by the look in your eyes that you're entirely serious.

he doesn't wait a second longer, sinking into you with a little, "haaaah," and furrowed brows.

you let out a moan as he starts pumping into you instantly. his fingers never leave your clit, determined to make you cum one more time.

he buries his face in your neck, making sounds you've never heard from him before.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou," he says into your neck, followed by a soft, "ngghh,"

"good boy," you whisper in his ear, and feel him twitch inside of you.

you know that you shouldn't tell your friends about this, but you know that you are. and you also know that they're going to chastise you, say that you need to block him, stop letting him in your apartment. that you're not only keeping yourself from moving on, but you're leading will on, and even though they don't like him, he doesn't deserve that.

but as will finally releases inside of you, filling you up in a way that you've missed, you think that this maybe isn't the worst arrangement in the world.

you're going to get back together eventually. just not tonight. no, tonight, will is going to do anything and everything he can to please you so that maybe you'll move that reunion date a little sooner.

a/n: first smut post what do we think? i lowk hate it but it's ok (: i just took a nyquil shot and wrote the final bit of this as it was kicking in so it might be ass but that's ok? remember to like and reblog, love u!

[trevorzyngras]

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑳 𐔌 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙘 ꒱

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✰ pairings: connor bedard x!hughesreader, will smith x!hughesreader, macklin celebrini x!hughesreader 𐔌also in this fic: quinn hughes, jack hughes, luke hughes, trevor zegras, cole caufield, ethan edwards, mark estapa, rutger mcgroarty, nico hischier, dawson mercer, & dixie d'amelio꒱ ✰ summary: !love triangle! !hughes sister! this fic takes reader through the entire night of the annual "end-of-summer" party at the hughes lake house, with sudden surprises and turns ✰ warnings!! drinking, cursing, violence ✰ a/n: hey guys, it's been so long since I've written a lengthy fic, so I hope u enjoy, and lmk ur thoughts! happy reading <3 divider creds: @pixopix

wc: 11.8k

9:30 AM

Connor woke up abruptly, due to the fact that he did not recognize the bed he was in. His legs barely fit on the twin-sized mattress, a sharp contrast to his king-sized bed at home. The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the light pink comforter, and the teddy bear he was gripping so tightly onto. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the sunlight from the window as he ran a hand through his messy hair. He lifted the blankets, muttering “what the fuck” when he saw a pair of plaid pajama pants that did not belong to him. The realization hit him all at once when he glanced to his right—seeing you curled up in your queen-sized bed, mouth parted just slightly. It all hit him like a punch to the face. He was supposed to leave at 6 a.m, and his watch read 9:30. 

“Fuck.” He whispered as to not wake you, running a hand over his face. He decided he’d just stay in the small bed, and pretend to be asleep until you woke up. He rolled back over, but anxiety ran through his chest when he realized he had a full bladder. He groaned quietly, stepping out of the bed with an eye roll. He turned the bathroom doorknob very slowly, but what he didn’t know, was that the bathroom was connected to both you, and Luke’s rooms. His head hung slightly as he made his way past the double sinks, and to the second door that housed the toilet and shower. His head quickly shot up, and his eyes widened when that door opened. 

Luke exited with tired eyes, just barely awake. “Hey man,” He said, voice groggy, eyes half-closed. 

“Sup” Connor replied, frozen with those wide eyes. He almost let out a sigh of relief as Luke began stepping through the door to his bedroom– but then he stopped, placing a hand on the doorframe. 

Luke turned his head slowly, wearing a smirk with a hint of confusion. “Wait- Bedard?” Connor was frozen, words stammering with a wide mouth. “What’re you doing in my bathroom?” Luke’s smirk turned into a slight smile, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

Connor rubbed his neck nervously. “I was just– I wanted to go home, but she offered me a place to stay-”

“Are those my pants?” Luke interrupted, pointing at his legs. 

“I uh…had no idea.” Connor said with an awkward smile, and Luke nodded his head in actual belief. 

“Chill out man,” Luke mumbled, eyelids falling slightly. “I’m cool with you banging my sister.”

Connor’s brows shot to the sky, and his face turned bright red. “What– No, no-”

Luke stepped forward, placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m on your team.” He sent a drowsy smile, and Connor squinted his eyes in confusion. The two of them stood there in silence for a moment– Luke’s hand still on Connor’s shoulder, eyes falling shut. He would’ve fallen asleep if it weren’t for Jack’s raspy voice cutting through the silence. 

“Yo, you got toothpaste?” Jack asked, toothbrush in his mouth as he stood in Luke’s room by the bathroom door. Luke smiled, eyes still closed as he nodded slowly. 

“Cool, thanks.” Jack crouched under Luke’s arm into the bathroom. “Whattup, Bedsy.” He said as he passed Connor, not caring to ask any questions. He knew you well, and this was too predictable of a situation for him to care about. 

Luke yawned, opening his eyes as his grip tightened on Connor’s shoulder. “Listen, I like you man.” Jack turned his neck slightly, brows furrowed. “The ‘twins of San Jose’ are coming today, and I need you to grab em’ by the fins, and-”

“No.” Jack said, mouth full of toothpaste as he turned around, pointing at Luke with his toothbrush. “No meddling.”

Luke groaned, rolling his eyes before looking at Connor again. “Point is, I don’t like them. Not one bit.” Luke brought his face in closer, causing a mix of panic and confusion to run through Connor’s brain. “Just…know your place.”

“My place?”

“Your place is here, my friend.” Luke said, a stern look on his face. “Don’t let anyone try to take your place.” Connor nodded slowly, pretending to understand. “She is the puck,” Luke pointed into your room with his free hand. “You gonna allow the other team to take it from you when you’re in scoring position?”

“No?”

“That’s right.” Luke gave his shoulder a pat before finally taking his hand off. “You’re the star of the game, man.” Jack spit his toothpaste out, heading towards the door. Luke began to follow, but turned at the last second. “Oh yeah, and don’t wake her up.”

“Yeah, don’t ever wake her up before she does it herself.” Jack interjected, turning in the doorway. 

Their words overlapped each other– Luke with wide eyes, and Jack pointing his toothbrush at Connor.

“Very bad idea. You won’t make it out the house alive.” “She will rip you to shreds, and I’m being serious, you will get hit.”

Connor blinked. “Noted.” And with that, they disappeared. The bathroom fell quiet again, leaving Connor alone in the wake of whatever the hell just happened. After using the bathroom, he creaked open the door and tiptoed back into your room. The contrast between the cold bathroom tiles and the soft pinks of your space felt like stepping between dimensions. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing back to make sure no more brothers would materialize from thin air. You were still asleep– arm curled under your cheek, the covers pulled up just to your shoulder, face relaxed in that dangerous way that only added weight to Luke and Jack’s warnings. He though about last night, and how stupid he was for not waking up to his alarm this morning. Of course– it was his problem, not yours. You wanted him to stay, and you made that clear the night before. 

Connor remembered his hands shaking when he texted you about visiting friends in Michigan, and how his heart dropped when he asked to hang out with you while he was in town. Then, his visit was canceled. His friend had to fly out to see family last minute. Connor still drove all the way up from Chicago just to get dinner with you for one night. There was no way he’d miss out on the opportunity to finally hang out with you in person when he’d been anticipating it the whole week. He never lied, he just never brought up his trip– that is, until you asked. You found out at the end of the night, refused to let him drive home, and insisted he’d stay at your house for the night. Connor tried to argue, but it was clear you weren’t going to give up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend more time with you, it was the fear of running into your brothers. The brothers he played against every season, the brothers he looked up to, and honestly, the brothers he was terrified would kick his ass if they caught him staying in their little sister’s bedroom. He regretted getting out of the car with you, putting on the pajama pants you threw to him, climbing into your guest bed, and most notably– getting up to pee in the morning. He regretted a lot of last night. But he didn’t regret watching The Office on the floor next to you, admiring the way you looked making his twin bed, laughing with you after finally turning the lights off, or listening to you whisper “goodnight” before rolling over. His plan was to leave at 6am, which he told you about. You retaliated, begging him to attend the annual party your brothers were throwing at the house the next night—but he made it clear he’d leave early. Now, he had no choice but to stay for the party. The last thing he’d want is for your brothers, or any other NHL players the house would be filled with later that night, to think he was the lame guy who snuck out of your room in the morning. 

Connor sat on the edge of the twin bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the worn carpet like it might give him an exit plan. His phone was somewhere under the blanket, dead. He rubbed his hands together and glanced over at you again. He knew the second you opened your eyes, it’d be game time. His gaze drifted to your dresser– cluttered with hair ties, half-used perfume bottles, a Polaroid of you and your brothers at what looked like a summer lake trip. Luke and Jack on each side of you, both soaked and shirtless, middle fingers up to the camera, Quinn in the lake, pointing a thumbs up from the water, while you smiled like you weren’t surrounded by chaos. He looked away, the house suddenly felt louder. He heard laughs coming from up the stairs, most likely Jack. He whipped his head around and made direct eye contact with you. You were awake. Eyes open, quiet, watching him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Slowly, you stretched like a cat, arms overhead, blinking in the morning light.

“Still here?” you asked, voice laced with amusement.

Connor nodded once. “Yeah, um- I didn’t mean to stay- well I meant to stay, but I didn’t mean to…like, miss my alarm, or-”

“Relax,” you murmured, sitting up and pushing the blanket off your shoulders. “I’m glad you stayed.” He didn’t know what to say to that, but the soft grin that followed hit harder than all three of your brothers combined.

Then, knocks. Three gentle, rhythmic knocks on your bedroom door. Connor tensed like he was about to be drafted into war. 

You reached lazily for your phone, unlocked it, and squinted at a notification. “It’s fine, he won’t come in.” you muttered. “Yeah?” You asked, raising your voice slightly. 

“Uh, I’m making breakfast. It’s almost ready,” The muffled voice behind the door was much softer, much more respectful than Jack or Luke. “I heard you have a uh…friend up here,” He cleared his throat. “He’s welcome to join us if he wants to stay.” 

You glanced at Connor, eyebrows raised. He shrugged his shoulders, nodding his head just once. “Okay! Thanks, Quinn! We’ll be down in a sec!” You yelled, eyes never leaving your phone screen. The footsteps padded away down the hall, light and measured. Connor exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Quinn knew.

You looked up from your phone, expression unreadable. “He’s the only one who knocks, you know that?” 

Connor nodded slowly. “Yeah…I got that vibe.”

You tossed your phone to the side, stretching your legs beneath the blanket. “Is that how you pictured meeting your idol, you know, the King of Vancouver?” You yawned. “Wait…actually, you’ve met before, right?”

“Yes, we’ve met. I’ve met all three of your brothers, technically on the ice.” Connor rubbed a hand down his face. “Which is…worse. That’s so much worse.”

You laughed quietly, dragging the blanket off your legs and swinging your feet to the floor. “Yeah,” you said, voice still coated in morning softness, “You’ve definitely slashed all three of them at some point.” 

Connor groaned, falling back onto the twin bed with a hand over his face. “Oh my god. If you told me at age 13 that this is how I’d meet the Quinn Hughes for the first time, I- I-...I don’t even know. Oh my god.”

“Glaze much?” you smirked.

“As someone from Vancouver, your brother was a savior.” He said, words muffled into his hand. You stood up and walked across the room, hair wild from sleep, the oversized hoodie you threw on falling off one shoulder. Connor sat up slowly, watching you move like you were the only calm person in the world. 

“If you’ve watched Quinn for years, you know he’s not mean or scary. None of them are, really.” you said, brushing your hair out of your face and tossing him a pair of socks from your drawer. 

Connor caught the socks mid-air, pulling them on. “I at least know Luke’s not.” He muttered. 

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

“I- uh…” he started, suddenly far too focused on the socks he was pulling up like they held the answer to getting out of this conversation. “I ran into him in your bathroom this morning.”

You crossed your arms, standing in front of your dresser now, tilting your head. “What?”

Connor hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek, trying to phrase it right, trying not to sound like he was ratting out your brother. “Yeah, he was coming out when I was going in. Stopped for a chat.”

“A chat?” You raised a brow. 

“Y-Yeah-”

“About what?”

Connor looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “I- uh…I don’t really know? It was weird.”

“Weird how?” You moved closer to him. 

“Like- Like the words coming out of his mouth were contextual, I just didn’t have the context…I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders high, looking at back at you like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. “Safe to say, I’m like 99.9% sure he likes me…maybe too much.”

“Too much?” you repeated.

Connor nodded, still holding that shrug like a shield. “Yeah, like...full 'ride-or-die teammate speech’ level.”

You narrowed your eyes. “He gave you a speech?”

Connor dropped his arms to his sides, trying to save Luke just a bit. “Oh, no, no- not a speech. He just compared you to a puck.” You stared at him. “A puck, as in, you’re ‘the puck in scoring position’ and I’m supposed to- I quote, ‘not let the other team take you away’.”

Your mouth parted slightly in disbelief. “Oh my God.”

“Then, Jack came in to brush his teeth, said hi to me, but nothing else. Luke had his arm on my shoulder, and said something about the San Jose Sharks-”

“Oh my god!”

Connor blinked. “Do you have the context?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Unfortunately, no.” You looked back to Connor, arms crossed. “There’s something fuckin’ weird going on, and I’m in the dark. I’m never left in the dark.” Connor gulped like a child being scolded, and you softened your expression with a sigh. “No, you know what? It’s the day of the annual summer party, and I am not letting them ruin that. They will not take up space in my mind.” You shook your head as if you were trying to shake off the thought of what your brothers were doing. “You’re on Luke’s good side, so just…take it. That is a blessing, along with Jack not seeming to care that you were in the bathroom.”

Connor exhaled slowly, visibly relieved by the slight softening in your voice. “So…I can have breakfast with Quinn Hughes in peace?”

You raised a brow. “You sure you’re here for me?”

He perked up. “Promise.” 

You turned toward your closet and pulled out a zip-up hoodie, tossing it on over your tank top before spinning back to face him. “Ready?”

He ran a hand through his already-messy hair, tugging at the roots a little. “I guess so.”

You were already walking toward the door. “Oh, and by the way, Quinn is like, a really good cook. It’ll be the best breakfast you’ve ever had.” 

Connor smiled, trailing behind you. “I bet.” 

As you made your way down the hallway, the sounds of Jack yelling something unintelligible from downstairs echoed up the walls, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a frying pan hitting the floor and someone yelling “IT’S FINE!”

Connor paused mid-step. “Okay, wait, this isn’t a secret ‘jump Connor Bedard’ plan?”

You glanced back at him. “If it is, Quinn’s shutting it down. He implemented a no violence rule a couple years ago when Trevor and Jack broke the kitchen table.”

“Even though he probably thinks I defiled his sister?”

You laughed. “He’s more concerned about your taste pallet.”

Connor blinked. “I hate how that makes me feel worse.” 

You stopped just at the top of the stairs and turned to face him fully. “Connor.” He met your eyes instantly. “I’m glad you stayed.” Just like that, the tension in his shoulders slackened—not completely, but enough. Like your voice alone gave him permission to take a full breath again.

“Me too.” He said softly. Then Jack’s voice exploded from downstairs again, this time much louder.

“YO, IF YOU’RE NOT DOWN HERE IN 60 SECONDS, I’M FEEDING YOUR WAFFLE TO THE DOG.”

Connor flinched. “You don’t have a dog.”

You winced. “Yeah, that’s what makes it scary.” Connor's fingers fidgeted at the hem of Luke’s pajama pants, and you were already heading down the stairs. “C’mon, Bedsy,” you called without looking back. “Last one to the table gets Jack’s leftovers.” That was all the motivation he needed. The scene downstairs was exactly like he’d pictured the Hughes family’s Saturday morning breakfast. Luke was shirtless in plaid pants, standing over a waffle maker, spatula in one hand, and his phone in the other playing an obnoxiously loud Youtube video. Jack was at the fridge, chugging orange juice from the jug while scrolling on his phone. Quinn was composed, clean, flipping a pancake with methodical precision. He wore a perfectly fitted T-shirt, and his hair was damp from a shower. 

He looked up when he saw you, and gave a small nod. “Morning.”

Then his eyes slid to Connor. Connor’s heart stuttered in his chest, but Quinn didn’t say anything. He just gestured subtly toward a chair at the table and placed down a new plate. Waffles, bacon, eggs, cut fruit—It looked like something from a magazine.

“Coffee?” Quinn asked.

Connor blinked. “Uh…yes, please. Thank you.”

Luke pointed his spatula at him from across the kitchen. “Hey, I know this guy! I ran into him in the bathroom this morning!”

Connor closed his eyes. “Oh my god.”

Jack smirked without looking up from his phone. “What are the odds?”

You sat beside Connor with a casual shrug. “Pretty high, I’d say.”

Luke slid over in his socks and dropped into the seat across from Connor. “So…how’d this happen?” He grinned, throwing a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Are you getting paid?” He gasped, leaning forward. “Are you a prostitute?” 

“Shut up, Luke.” You said, kicking him under the table.

Luke glared, furrowing his brows. “Sorry, there’s just no other explanation I can think of for why a first round pick would be sleeping in your room.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hm, maybe it’s cause I’m a total catch, and better than you in every way possible?”

“You’re not better than me in any way, except maybe at being an annoying shit-bag.”

You leaned in closer, eyes burning with rage. “The only annoying shit-bag here is you, and your disgusting habit of talking with your mouth full.” 

Luke chewed dramatically slow, eyes locked on yours. “At least I can chew. You grind your teeth like a gremlin in your sleep.”

“Enough.” Quinn said, not looking up from the pan. 

​​Luke held his hands up, still chewing. “Just making breakfast conversation.” You sat back in your chair with a loud exhale, stabbing a strawberry from the plate Quinn had set between you and Connor. “You never answered my question.” Luke said, causing you to groan and drop your fork onto your plate. 

“We hung out downtown last night, he needed a place to stay, so I offered him the twin bed in my room. He’s my friend. Cut it out.” You said, rolling your eyes before picking your fork back up. 

“Slut,” Luke muttered into his coffee. 

You looked up, glaring. “What was that?”

He shook his head innocently. “Nothing.” Connor felt the air shift, just enough to know the line had officially been crossed. The clink of your fork hitting your plate was louder this time, more deliberate. Your jaw tensed.

Quinn didn’t even flinch from the stove. “Language.”

“I said nothing,” Luke replied, still in that fake-innocent tone, but he was smirking into his mug like he thought it was funny.

You leaned forward, your voice cold and flat. “Say it again.”

Luke met your stare across the table, still lounging like this wasn’t about to become a homicide. “What?”

“We’re in the middle of something beautiful.” Jack whispered to Connor, not looking away from you and Luke.

You didn’t blink. “Luke, you know what happens when you call me that.”

“Outside,” Jack whispered, lightly tapping his fists on the counter. 

“I didn’t call you anything,” Luke said, playing it off, the grin still curling around the edges of his mouth. “I said nothing.” 

“Outside,” Jack whispered again, now chanting it repetitively. Connor could feel his heart rate picking up. He wanted to reach out to say something, but it wasn’t his place. 

In one motion, you stood from your seat, and reached over the island to grab Luke by the collar. “Listen here, dickhead-” 

“Yes!” Jack cheered, throwing his arms in the air as he stood. Connor’s face was plastered with fear, but Luke’s looked more like existential dread. Out of nowhere, Quinn was suddenly behind you, pulling you away from Luke until you let go. 

“Outside.” He scolded. “Jack, go.” 

“Outside!” Jack repeated, excitedly following you and Luke who’d already headed for the back porch. Quinn sighed in exhaustion, grabbing his own plate before sitting down at the head of the table. The slam of the door made Connor jump, but Quinn didn’t flinch. 

He glanced up from his plate, looking at Connor. “Sorry, you have to endure this.” Quinn said, voice tired. “It’s quick. She only gets 30 seconds.” 

Connor raised a brow, genuinely scared. “Gets?” Quinn didn’t get the chance to respond before the sound of a muffled groan came from outside, followed by a laugh from Jack, and a “suck it, bitch!” from you. Connor blinked, still staring at the door like someone might come flying through it. “That was her hitting him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Quinn finally looked up and offered the faintest trace of a smirk. “She doesn’t miss.”

Everything after you dragged Luke outside happened in a blur. Quinn’s quietly amused smirk, Jack narrating the entire thing, and you returning ten seconds later with a smug look and a new scrape on your knuckle. The kitchen stayed loud, bodies moved in and out, familiar voices echoing through the house, but the world around Connor felt slightly out of focus. Like the morning haze still hadn’t fully cleared from his brain.

He found himself back in your room somehow, staring at the muted TV while you dug through your closet for an outfit. He didn’t realize he was still holding the mug Quinn had handed him until you tapped his arm and swapped it for a cold glass of water. The rest of the day passed far too quickly, yet stretched thin in all the right places. Somewhere between helping Jack move all the backyard furniture and watching Luke almost break the Bluetooth speaker for the third time, Connor blinked and found himself upstairs again, half-asleep in your lap. The party was just on the edge of beginning. The sunlight had started to fade out of your room, casting a warmer hue across your walls, and you hadn’t stopped playing with his hair since he sat down.

8:03 PM

You leaned your head back just slightly against the pillow, fiddling with the hem of your sundress before returning your eyes to the TV. Your room was warm, the TV at a low volume, and Connor had fallen asleep with his head in your lap about an hour ago, exhausted from the long day of prepping the house. You’d been scratching his head with your manicured nails for longer than you could remember, and eventually he drifted off without thinking. It was quiet, so quiet– until your door burst open, to reveal Trevor Zegras with a wide grin on his face, and Cole Caufield just behind him. They’d clearly run up the stairs, out of breath as they stood in the doorframe. 

“Shhh!” You put your finger to your lips, brows furrowed. “Get out!” You whisper-yelled.

Both of them covered their mouths, realizing Connor was asleep before tip-toeing into your room. You swatted your hand at them, anger written all over your expression. 

Trevor looked down at Connor asleep on your lap, a smile on his face. “You have a first round pick in your bed,” He whispered, pointing at Connor. “And it’s not Jack when he’s drunk enough to forget where his room is.” 

“He looks so cute,” Cole mumbled, looking at the adult man in your lap. “I wanna squeeze him.” He smiled hard, looking to you, but your face was dead panned. 

“Stop looking at him like he’s a newborn baby, and get out.” You said, as quietly as you could. 

Trevor dramatically placed a hand over his heart like you’d just insulted his child. “He is a baby.” Trevor leaned his head down across from Connor’s, but not quite touching your lap. 

“Stop it!” You whispered, attempting to swat him away. 

Trevor didn’t stop. He moved his face just inches away from Connor’s, ignoring your begging. “Hi, Bedsy.” He said at a normal volume, and Connor immediately opened his eyes with a jolt.

“The fuck, Trevor?” He said with a slight aggression. Trevor laughed, and Connor absentmindedly grabbed the pillow next to him, throwing it at Trevor. He dodged the pillow, falling into a pit of laughter with Cole. 

Connor sat up, dazed, hair tousled and eyes still adjusting to the light. His head swiveled between the two idiots at your door and you, who had your hands pressed flat to your face in pure mortification. “What are you guys even doing here? Party doesn’t start for another two hours.” 

“One hour,” Trevor corrected quickly, and Connor immediately looked to you. 

You plastered on an embarrassed smile, looking back at him. “You’ve been out since 7.” Connor groaned, letting his head hand for a moment. 

Trevor moved closer to the bed, placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder– his eyes lifted, only seen through the gaps of his curtain bangs. “I had to, man. You looked too peaceful, and the party starts soon.” Connor raised a brow, listening to Trevor’s quiet words. “You know I love you.” Trevor removed his hand from Connor’s shoulder, offering it out to him for a dap up. Connor ran a hand through his hair before returning the gesture, eyes never quite looking into Trevor’s. 

“I’m Cole,” Cole said from afar, waving a hand in the air. “Never officially met, but-”

“We’ve met on the ice.” Connor interrupted with a small smile. “Hey, Caufield.” He nodded his head, returning a hand wave. 

Trevor spun on his heel, heading towards the door. “We’re gonna check out the scene downstairs,” He stopped, turning to face both you and Connor, pointing his finger out. “You guys know where the party’s at.”

“Woo!” Cole exclaimed, following Trevor out of the room. Connor stared at the now-closed door for a long, silent second after the chaos evaporated down the hall. 

He finally exhaled a slow, exhausted breath and sank back into the pillows behind him. “What a wake up call.” 

You snorted, scooting a little closer and tugging the edge of the blanket back over his legs, which had ended up tangled somewhere near the foot of the bed. “To be fair, you looked really peaceful. You kinda curled into me like a golden retriever.”

Connor groaned again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Don’t start.”

 “I’m just saying,” you teased, your voice softening. “It was sweet.” He peeked out from under his arm, his eyes still heavy-lidded, but a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

9:12 PM

The two of you stayed upstairs, stayed in the quiet sanctuary you’d build. You sat across from each other on the middle of the bed, falling into conversation for the past hour. You could hear some early arrivals coming from downstairs, but neither of you wanted to go down just yet. Connor’s pajama pants were now replaced with a pair of blue jeans, but he kept the same white shirt. Your bare knees, revealed by your sundress, brushed his each time you laughed. It was his goal to make you laugh as much as possible. 

“I’m not kidding,” You said, laughing through your words. “Like, I fully face-planted on the ice.”

Connor laughed, more softly than you did. “I’m sure no one noticed.”

You looked at him, shocked but still laughing. “Maybe when you fall, but I was the only one out there!” Both you and Connor fell into a pit of laughter, your head brushing his shoulder just barely as you cackled. As you were still trying to catch your breath, you heard the door knock three times. “Yeah?” You called out, both of you still laughing. The door opened slowly, and you and Connor both turned your heads to find Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith standing in the doorway. It clicked in Connor’s mind in a millisecond—That’s what Luke meant by, the “Twins of San Jose”. 

“Didn’t know the party was happening up here.” Macklin said, looking around the room as he walked in. 

You hopped off the bed, eyebrow raised as you went in to give him a side-hug. “I didn’t know you guys were coming.” Connor stayed seated on the bed, wearing a soft smile as Will walked in to stand close by. 

“Jack let us know a few weeks back.” Macklin said with a shrug. Both Connor and Will just watched the interaction with curious eyes. You turned, giving Will a smile before pulling him in for a hug. He used one arm, the other holding a 12-pack of beers. 

“You guys know Connor, right?” You asked as you pulled away, looking back at the bed. Macklin nodded, waving over which Connor returned. 

Will held out his hand for a dap up, and Connor quickly took it. “‘Sup, Will.”

“How you been, man?” Macklin asked, slightly more awkward than usual. 

Connor rested both hands behind him on the bed, leaning back. “I’ve been good, you know? Just ready to get back into the season.” The room echoed with awkward laughs, but somehow the slight tension was eased just a bit. 

“Heard that.” Will said with a smile. Connor nodded once, then shifted his weight forward slightly, hands now clasped between his knees. There was just a beat of silence, far too awkward for longer than you liked. 

“So,” You sighed. “Should we go downstairs?” Connor quickly hopped off the bed, hands in his pockets as everyone agreed. Him and Will walked ahead, chatting about Chicago, San Jose, and how ready they both were for the season to start. You and Macklin followed close behind.

The four of you made your way down the stairs, your heels light against the hardwood, the murmur of conversation and music growing louder as the party came into focus. The house had shifted in atmosphere. More people now, a low hum of excitement vibrating through the walls, beer bottles clinking, and the smell of someone burning garlic bread already filling the kitchen. Will glanced over his shoulder once, just briefly, eyes flicking toward you. You caught it and offered a quiet smile. Connor’s shoulders loosened. Will had said something that made him laugh, not the short, polite kind, but a real one, and for a moment you could almost believe nothing had shifted upstairs. 

Macklin walked beside you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke low, so only you could hear. “So…that’s a thing now? Didn’t know you knew Bedard.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye. “He’s a new friend.”

He smiled like he knew you were lying through your teeth. “Sure.” 

You gave a small shrug, but there was no denying the smile tugging at your lips. “You and Will are my friends, why can’t Connor be?”

“He can.” Macklin tapped the railing gently with his knuckles as you walked. “He’s cool. Just didn’t expect it.”

9:20 PM

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room was already buzzing. You quickly brushed past your friends when you spotted Jack in the kitchen, laughing with Luke and Dawson Mercer. You walked up to him, not caring about anything else when you gave him a quick punch to the shoulder. 

“Ow!” He said, smile fading as he protected his red solo cup. “What the hell-”

“You invited Macklin and Will.” You pointed a finger at him, huffing out your breath. 

Jack scoffed. “Yeah, they’re your friends. Thought you’d be happy.”

“You didn’t tell me before you did it!” You narrowed your eyes. “Jack.”

He held both hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I should’ve told you. But c’mon, I figured it’d be a good surprise. What’s the big deal?” 

Luke, already halfway through a new beer, turned to you too. “Jack’s a snake.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jack pointed his cup toward the living room, where Connor and Macklin were deep in conversation near the hallway. “They’re getting along just fine. Nothing to worry about.” Jack said, placing his free hand on your shoulder. You followed his gaze. Connor was leaning against the wall now, arms loosely crossed, laughing at something Mack had said. 

“Take a chill pill.” Dawson said, handing you a drink. You just stared at the red cup for a moment, but he shook it slightly in front of you. “Please, for the rest of our sanities.” You snatched the cup, glaring at Dawson as you chugged. Jack and Luke stared wide eyed as you never broke terrifying eye contact with their friend. The cup was empty before Dawson could blink. ​​You lowered it slowly, lips still pressed to the rim for a beat longer than necessary, then handed it back to him without breaking eye contact. 

“There,” you said flatly. 

Jack snorted. “See? She just needed alcohol.”

You turned on him instantly. “Fuck you-”

“You gonna offer me a drink, Hughes?” Will’s voice cut through your words instantly, and your heart dropped to your stomach as he placed his hands on your shoulders from behind. Your once aggressive demeanor towards Dawson had morphed into a rosie-cheeked, nervous one towards Will. 

​​“Oh- Uh- yeah. There some- uh…weird concoction Jack made on the counter.” you stammered out, laughing awkwardly. Jack smirked, and Luke just stared with a brow raised. Will’s hands lifted off your shoulders as he stepped around you to grab a cup. 

Will poured himself a drink, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said too quickly, then corrected yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Will smirked, stepping into your small conversation circle. “Well, come hangout when you’re done over here.” You nodded with a smile, everyone just staring as he faded away into the living room. You stood there for a second longer than necessary after Will disappeared, the space he’d occupied still warm against your shoulders. Jack watched you with a knowing look, Luke openly unimpressed, and Dawson was already halfway distracted by someone yelling his name from the living room.

“Well,” Luke said, clapping his hands once. “That was…normal.”

You shot him a look. “You’re on thin ice.”

​​“Story of my life.”

Jack leaned in slightly. “You good?”

You nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. I’m good.” You took another sip of your drink, slower this time, then glanced back toward the living room. Will had already blended into the crowd, loud and magnetic, gesturing wildly as he told a story to Macklin and a couple of guys you barely recognized. Connor, meanwhile, had shifted spots. He was closer to the kitchen now, talking with Quinn, one shoulder angled toward the room like he was unconsciously keeping you in his peripheral. Your eyes met for half a second. Connor smiled– not big, not performative. Just soft, and familiar. The kind that made your chest tighten in a quiet, inconvenient way. You looked away first. 

“Okay,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. “I’m gonna…circulate.”

Jack grinned. “Godspeed.” You slipped out of the kitchen, weaving through bodies and half-shouted conversations. Someone brushed past you, spilling beer onto the floor. Someone else yelled for the speaker. The music changed. Something louder, bass-heavy, and the house responded accordingly.

You hadn’t made it far when a hand gently caught your wrist. “Hey,” Macklin. 

You turned to face him, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The noise around you felt muted, like the room had narrowed just enough to make this moment unavoidable.

“Hey,” you echoed.

“Just checking,” he said, thumb brushing lightly against the inside of your wrist before he seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped his hand. “You kinda vanished.”

You shrugged. “Got intercepted.” He smiled at that, then glanced over your shoulder toward the living room. Will was laughing again, head tipped back. 

“You wanna get some air?” Macklin asked. “It’s loud in here.”

You hesitated, just a second, but nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You slipped past the crowd together, bodies brushing occasionally as you moved toward the back door.

Outside, the night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat inside. The noise dulled instantly once the door shut behind you. You both leaned against the railing of the back porch, shoulder to shoulder but not touching.

Macklin exhaled, looking up at the sky. “I forgot what these parties are like.”

You smiled. “You missed it.”

“Did I?” He glanced at you, eyebrow raised.

You laughed softly. “No, probably not.”

Another pause settled between you, comfortable again. Dangerous in how easy it felt. Macklin shifted his weight, elbows resting on the railing now. The porch light cast a soft glow across his face, enough to catch the crease between his brows as his expression turned thoughtful.

“So,” he said after a beat, voice casual but not careless, “Connor?”

You let out a quiet breath, staring out into the yard. “What about him?”

Macklin huffed a small laugh. “You always answer questions with questions?”

“Only the loaded ones.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Didn’t realize you two were…close.”

“We’re not,” you said quickly.

Macklin nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “He’s a solid guy.”

You glanced at him. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He smirked. “Just, don’t let him take my spot. I was here first.”

You let out a short laugh. “Calling dibs now?”

Macklin held his hands up in surrender, grinning. “Just saying, I’m the OG. I was the one who introduced you to Will, and I love him, but it’s been a pain trying to keep him out of my spotlight.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Accurate,” Macklin said easily. “But I’m also not wrong.” You leaned back against the railing, folding your arms loosely as you looked out into the yard. The grass was dark and uneven under the porch light, a couple of empty bottles already scattered near the fence like casualties of the night.

“I’m not letting anyone take anyone’s spot,” you said after a moment. “This isn’t…that.”

Macklin glanced at you, the grin fading into something more thoughtful. “Just checking.” From inside, the bass thudded through the walls, muffled now but still present, like a reminder that you couldn’t stay out here forever.

Macklin bumped your shoulder lightly with his own. “For what it’s worth, though…I get it.”

You looked at him. “Get what?”

“The appeal,” he said, nodding toward the house. “Connor. He’s quiet, observant, not trying to be the loudest guy in the room.”

You smiled despite yourself. “That’s a very generous read.”

“I’m a generous guy.” He pushed off the railing, stretching his arms over his head. “Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you were good. Nights like this can get weird fast.”

You met his eyes, warmth settling in your chest. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The back door creaked open again, light spilling onto the porch. Ethan Edwards leaned halfway outside, scanning the space until his eyes landed on you. “There you are,” he said.

You gasped, smiling wide, eyes lightening. “Ethan!” Then Mark Estapa slid into frame behind him. “Oh my god, Mark! I missed you guys.”

“Missed you too!” Mark smiled innocently, waving his hand.

Ethan stepped closer. “Luke is doing dumb shit in the living room.”

“Dumb shit?” You asked.

“Dancing.”

“Shit.” You groaned. “I need to see this.”

“Yeah, it is not going well.” Mark said with a slight giggle in his voice. As you stepped past Macklin toward the door, he reached out and lightly tapped your wrist again– this time quick, deliberate.

“Hey,” he said quietly. You turned back, ​​and he smiled softly. “Don’t disappear completely, okay?”

You nodded. “I won’t.”

9:43 PM

Inside, the music swelled again, laughter spilling into the hallway as you rejoined the night. The living room swallowed you whole the second you stepped back inside. Music pounding, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with beer and heat and noise. Ethan immediately grabbed your hand, tugging you forward like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“C’mon,” he said, laughing. “Front row seats.” You barely had time to register what was happening before you saw it. Luke, shirt untucked, beer abandoned somewhere behind him, fully committed to whatever unholy rhythm was playing through the speakers. His hips moved with an alarming level of confidence for someone who absolutely should not have had it. Rutger McGroarty stood nearby, filming on his phone, tears streaming down his face from laughing too hard.

“Oh my god,” you said, horrified and delighted all at once. “He thinks he’s killing it.”

“He does,” Mark said solemnly. “That’s the worst part.” You doubled over, laughter ripping out of you before you could stop it, hands braced on your knees as tears pricked your eyes. Connor stood near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, watching the chaos with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. His eyes flicked to you, zeroed in instantly. When you straightened up, still laughing, your gazes locked. There it was again, that soft smile. Will appeared at his side, saying something you couldn’t hear. Connor laughed, but his eyes never left you. Will followed his line of sight, brows lifting just slightly before he smirked.

“You’re popular tonight,” Ethan teased, nudging you.

You scoffed. “Relax.”

Rutger shoved his phone in your face. “Tell him to stop before he pulls something.”

“I will not,” you said firmly. “This is character development.” Luke slipped, caught himself on the couch, and threw both arms up like he’d planned it. The room erupted in cheers, groans, and someone whistling obnoxiously loud. Luke bowed, chest heaving, sweat already darkening the collar of his shirt.

“Thank you!” he yelled. “I’m here all night.”

“You shouldn’t be!” Dawson shot back from the couch.

Luke pointed at your best friend, Mia. “She gets it.”

“I absolutely do not,” Mia laughed, wiping at the corner of her eyes. Connor shook his head, smiling to himself as he took a sip of his drink. Will leaned closer to him, saying something low. Connor responded with a quiet laugh, shoulders loosening again, but his attention drifted back to you almost immediately.

Rutger was still filming. “This is going straight to the group chat.”

“Delete it,” Luke warned.

“No.”

“Can you Airdrop that to me?” You asked.

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

11:18 PM

You stood in the living room with a group of your friends, listening to Mia rant about her new situationship as you nursed a drink. You were barely tipsy, and you needed to be as drunk as the girls surrounding you. You glanced around the room, but there was no sign of any familiar faces. Then you turned your head to the kitchen. Will had flicked his head up from the counter at the same time, a wide smile across his face. Connor stood near him, leaning against the wall. 

“Hughes!” He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Shots!” He motioned you to come over, and with a grin, you speed walked your way to the kitchen. “C’mon Bedsy, you too.”

Connor pushed himself off the wall as you entered the room. “Nah, I don’t do shots.” 

You scoffed, setting your cup down on the counter. “Boo! Lame!”

“Just one,” Will said, pouting his lip. “Please.” 

Connor threw his hands up, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. Gotta please the crowd.” Will was already lining up three shot glasses, the tequila bottle uncapped beside him. You slid in beside him at the counter, shoulder brushing his as you leaned forward to inspect the label. 

“Are you trying to poison me?” you asked with a grin.

Will leaned in closer, lowering his voice just for you. “Only a little.” You laughed, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught Connor’s eyes. Not cold, not exactly, but quietly watchful. He hadn’t moved much closer, but he stood opposite the counter now, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched forward like he was still debating his choice.

Will slid one of the shot glasses across to you, then handed one to Connor, who took it with a resigned sigh. “This is how people make bad decisions.”

Will was already holding his glass up, his smile bright and boyish. “To bad decisions,” he said. All three of you knocked the shots back. You winced, shuddering, tongue pressed hard to the roof of your mouth as the tequila scorched its way down.

Will immediately reached behind you, grabbing a lime wedge from a small plate and holding it up to your lips. “Here. Take it.” You blinked, surprised, before biting down on the lime with a quiet laugh. His hand lingered just a second too long near your mouth, and you were suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. Connor was already moving toward the fridge, casually grabbing a bottle of water. 

“Whew,” you said, placing the lime down and shaking out your shoulders.

Will leaned back on the counter beside you, bumping your hip gently with his. “Think you can go for another?” Connor’s eyes flicked up from the fridge, an eyebrow raised. 

You grinned. “Think? I know I can.” You grabbed the bottle, handing it over to Will.

“Alright.” He chuckled, pouring another shot into his glass. 

Connor walked past you, close enough that your arms brushed. “Pour me one too.” Both you and Will turned your heads to him with wide eyes. 

“You sure?” Will asked, and Connor nodded his head quickly. “What happened to just one?”

Connor shrugged his shoulders. “First one wasn’t as bad as I thought.” 

Will let out a surprised laugh, raising both brows as he poured a third shot. “Look at Bedsy, becoming a bad influence.” You smiled, but you didn’t look at Will. You looked at Connor– the curve of his mouth suggested the beginnings of a smirk. He was standing closer now, the earlier hesitation in his posture gone. 

“Peer pressure works wonders,” you said softly, sliding the full shot glass toward Connor. His fingers brushed yours as he took it– intentional, maybe, but light enough to pretend it wasn’t. All three of you tossed them back. You winced less this time. Maybe it was the warmth already spreading through your chest, or maybe it was the sharp way Connor’s eyes cut toward you when he set the glass down.

You grabbed another lime, laughing through the afterburn. “Okay,” you coughed, “now I feel it.” 

Will wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, chuckling. “I’ll get us some chasers. Don’t move.” He stepped away, disappearing into the fridge with a purpose, leaving just you and Connor at the counter. The music from the living room swelled; a familiar beat thudding beneath your feet. But the kitchen felt oddly still in comparison. You turned slightly, eyes flicking up to meet Connor’s.

“Thought you didn’t take shots.” you said. 

He shrugged, then leaned against the counter beside you. “I don’t.” Connor tilted his head toward the hallway Will had disappeared into. “I, uh…didn’t wanna miss out on the fun.”

That surprised a laugh out of you. “Are you jealous?”

He didn’t laugh, not exactly. But his mouth quirked, and he held your gaze like he wasn’t ready to let it go. “I’m not jealous.” You stared at him, something electric tightening in the space between you. Connor’s voice dropped just slightly, still quiet. “But I’ve been known to be more fun when I drink.” You didn’t have a chance to respond before Will reappeared, two cans of soda in one hand and a bottle of something citrusy in the other. 

“Found treasure,” he said, setting them down and cracking one open for you. You laughed and took the soda, grateful for the sudden coolness against your lips. Will watched you drink it, smiling, relaxed, the space he took up in the room naturally larger than it had been before. Connor stepped back slightly, the edge of the counter pressing into the small of his back. Will cracked his own soda open with a hiss and leaned one elbow on the counter, casually inserting himself between you and Connor with the ease of someone who knew exactly how much space he commanded.

Will nudged your arm gently. “C’mon. Let’s go sit outside before the fire dies.”

You looked over at Connor, who gave you a small shrug. “Or we could do another.” he said. Will furrowed his brows just a hair, and a sly smirk spread across your face. 

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head. “What? Can’t keep up, Smitty?”

Will grinned. “With you? Always.” Connor let out a soft breath, and crossed his arms over his chest. His smile was subtle, but the shift in his stance said everything. Will took a long sip of his soda before setting it down with a deliberate clack on the counter. “Alright, fuck it.” he said with a smile, tone light. 

Connor clapped his hands, and you reached for the bottle, eyes locked on Will. “Pour ‘em.” You each grabbed your glass; downed, burned, lime. The counter thunked three times as the glasses hit it, one after another. You hissed out a breath and grabbed the citrus soda again. 

“Okay,” Connor admitted. “That one got me.”

You glanced at him, smiling. “Welcome to the party.”

He met your eyes, something warmer there now, looser. The sharp edges had dulled just enough. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think I’m here.”

"Alright, fuckers! Flip Cup is in 10 minutes, and Jack is gonna throw you off the porch if you're late!" Trevor yelled, finally cutting through the tension filled air.

11:40 PM

On the back porch, Jack stood at the end of a long table with a red solo cup in his hand, drunkenly confident with his arms flailed out. “It is my honor to welcome you all to the 5th annual, end of summer, Hughes-Hosted, Flip Cup Championship Game.” Jack yelled, and the crowded porch erupted in cheers. “This year’s team captains will be me, obviously,” He smiled lazily. “And last year’s champion team pick, Mr. Trevor Zegras himself. We’ll go back and forth picking our players, and everyone knows the fuckin’ rules, so let’s just have fun.” You cheered, standing between Macklin, who had his arm around your shoulders, and Nico Hischier.

“My first pick,” Jack pointed at you in an instant. “Baby sis, let’s go.” You jumped up, clapping your hands together just once. 

Trevor immediately groaned. “Rigged!” he called, holding his cup up like a protest flag. “She’s literally your blood.”

Jack shrugged, grinning. “Just say you wanna be us.” You grinned wider, walking to Jack’s side as the porch shifted into a semi-circle of cheers and heckling. Macklin smacked your back as you left, and Nico mock-bowed. 

Trevor narrowed his eyes like he was calculating a counterstrike. “Alright,” he said, dramatic as ever. “For my first pick…I need someone who’s loud, and can drink like a fish.” His finger swerved like a radar until it landed. “Luke Hughes. Get over here, baby.”

Luke saluted and jogged over, bumping Trevor’s chest with his. “Let’s destroy them.”

Jack’s turn again. “Alright, alright…who should we get next?” You scanned the crowd, your eyes catching for a second on Connor, but skipping over when you spotted Trevor’s girlfriend, Dixie, standing alone. 

You leaned into Jack’s ear, voice low. “Let me pick.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, and you took a step forward. “Trevor is an idiot, we’ll take Dixie D’Amelio.” 

Trevor choked on his drink mid-sip. “What?” he sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like you’d just slapped him instead of spoken. Across the porch, Dixie laughed before walking up. 

Jack cackled, gripping your shoulders with pride. “Evil twin!”

Trevor looked stunned for a beat too long. “You can’t– she was supposed to be on my–” He turned to Luke, baffled. “She’s mine.”

Luke clapped him on the back, trying and failing to suppress his laughter. “She’s a free agent, bro.”

Trevor scowled at his cup, then turned back to the table. “Fine. You want to play that way? My next pick–”

“Whoap!” You interrupted, holding a hand up. “You lost Dixie ‘cause you weren’t being smart. Do you want revenge, or do you want to win the game?”

Trevor huffed out a breath, hands on his hips as he rolled his eyes. He glanced across the crowd, then grinned. “Cole, get your cute ass over here.” Cole popped up immediately. He jogged over, high-fiving Luke and offering Trevor a cheeky little hip bump that drew another round of laughs from the porch. 

Trevor turned to Jack with mock arrogance. “Your move, Hughes.” 

Jack smirked at Trevor, arms crossed. “Gimme’ Will Smith.” He said like he’d already crafted his roster weeks ago. Will froze mid-sip, his cup paused at his lips.

Trevor squinted. “You’re stacking,” he muttered. “I want it on record.”

Jack snorted. “Trevor, the only thing on record is your losing streak.” Then he pointed at Will. “Welcome to Team Hughes, Smitty.”

Will just grinned around his cup before finishing the drink in one pull. “Grateful to be here.” he said, already walking toward your team. Jack clapped him on the back as he passed, and Will slid effortlessly in beside you at the table, bumping your hip just hard enough to make you sway. 

“Let’s fuck ‘em up.” he muttered under his breath, the warmth of his voice grazing your neck. You didn’t turn toward him, but the grin on your face deepened.

Macklin whistled through his teeth, still standing by Nico. “Yo! Jacky! This is definitely in violation of the First Overall Pick Oath. You’re betraying the brotherhood.”

“Yeah, I second that.” Connor chimed in from the other side of the porch, leaning on the rail with a drink in his hand. “Your first two picks don’t even play hockey, and your third was drafted in fourth.”

Nico threw his arm over Macklin’s shoulders, giving Jack an offended expression. “I call bullshit! This is treason!”

Jack took a long, dramatic sip from his cup, then raised both hands like a preacher. “Well, I–”

Before he could get out a single sentence, Trevor interrupted him at the speed of light, pointing a finger in Jack’s face. “Notakebacksgivemeconnorbedard” 

“Fuck!” You yelled, smacking the table. 

Will pressed his hand to his forehead. “That was our secret weapon.” He mumbled, shaking his head. 

Trevor smirked as Connor walked over. “I know,” He nodded his head. “I saw the three of you going shot-for-shot in the kitchen earlier. This kid can drank!”

You were still gripping the table edge. “That was the dirtiest steal I’ve ever seen.” Connor didn’t say a word as he approached the opposite side of the table, now slotted right between Luke and Cole, but his eyes found yours. You crossed your arms and gave him the flattest, driest glare you could muster. “Traitor.”

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Wasn’t my call.”

“Yeah?” You raised a brow. “But you walked over.”

He smiled– small, sharp, and maddeningly unreadable. “I go where I’m needed.” Jack grumbled to himself as the final picks were made. Jack took Nico, so Trevor took Macklin. Then Jack got Dawson, and Luke told Trevor to pick Ethan Edwards. You conspired, took Mark Estapa, so of course, Trevor stole Mia. You were pissed. The crowd shuffled and shouted as players lined up on either side of the long table. Cups were being filled, and the night swelled to that golden hour where everything was just a little too loud, and a little too blurred. Finally, Jack and Trevor had arranged their perfect lineups. 

TEAM HUGHES

You

Will Smith

Nico Hischier

Dixie D’amelio

Dawson Mercer

Mark Estapa

Jack Hughes

TEAM ZEGRAS

Connor Bedard

Luke Hughes

Ethan Edwards

Mia Watson

Macklin Celebrini

Cole Caufield

Trevor Zegras

You narrowed your eyes when Luke suggested that Connor go first instead of him. You and Luke had always gone head to head in flipcup. “What the fuck is he up to?” You whispered to yourself, eyes never steering from Luke as he switched spots. 

“Huh?” Will asked. 

“Thinkin’ out loud.” You said, still glaring at Luke. You shook the feeling off quickly, reminding yourself to not pay attention to whatever scheming was going on between your brothers. You planted your feet, eyes sweeping across the lineup one more time. Jack stood at the head of the table, of course, riling up the crowd. Will leaned his forearms on the table beside you, bouncing slightly with anticipation. But it was Connor who had your pulse ticking unevenly. You glared at Luke one more time, but he didn’t look at you. He was whispering something to Connor. Connor nodded once, then he looked up, eyes catching yours with eerie precision. 

“You ready?” Will asked next to you, twisting his cap backward like he was stepping up to the plate.

“Born ready,” you muttered, eyes still locked on Connor. 

Jack held his cup high like he was baptizing the porch in lager. “Alright, bitches. Flip Cup Final. One round. Winner takes everything.”

“Define everything,” Macklin shouted.

“Bragging rights and a handle of Titos,” Jack replied instantly. A cheer went up from both teams. Your eyes flicked to Trevor, who was spinning his cup like a fidget toy at the far end, and then back to Connor. 

“Your face is freaking me out.” He said quietly, a grin on his face. 

You bit the inside of your mouth, hand gripping the cup in front of you. “Just know you’re not getting a win out of this.” 

He raised his brows, still holding a smile. “You’re scary competitive. Should’ve known from breakfast this morning.”

“Mhm,” You smacked your lips. “I’d tread lightly if I were you. This is my specialty”

Connor shrugged. “May the biggest alcoholic win.”

Jack called out, voice booming, “One, two, three…go!” Your cup hit your lips before the word even left Jack’s tongue. It was muscle memory by now, the kind of drinking that didn’t even feel like drinking. You slammed the cup down, fingers already in place, flipping it clean on the first try. So did Connor. Will took over behind you, fumbling just once before he landed it with a muttered, “Shit.” Nico nailed his flip in one go. Dixie struggled, cursed loudly, but got it on her third try. On the other side, Luke was surgical. Ethan, surprisingly fast. Mia was already halfway through chugging and flipping with zero coordination.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Jack was yelling. “Move your asses!” Dawson versus Macklin was tight, but Macklin spilled half his beer and had to refill. You slapped your hands on the table, screaming with laughter. Will was jumping in place. Mark and Cole, at the caboose, both got theirs on the first try. Final cups, Jack and Trevor. Trevor slammed his drink and flipped, but it caught the rim and spun out. Jack’s cup hit the table. The porch erupted. Everyone on your team jumped, screamed, slammed into each other in a whirlwind of victory. Dixie grabbed you and spun you in a messy, shrieking hug. Will slammed his cup on the ground like he’d won a championship ring. Jack was standing on a chair, pouring beer over his own head. Connor was still standing there, cup in hand, expression unreadable, sweat along his collarbone from the adrenaline. You stepped just a few paces closer. You tilted your head, lifted your hand slowly, and mouthed one word.

“Traitor”

Connor’s mouth curved, barely. He set his cup down, stepped forward until your shoulders were nearly brushing. “I warned you,” he said quietly, just for you. “I go where I’m needed.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like they needed you.”

He leaned in just slightly, lips near your ear, voice soft but cutting. “They didn’t…maybe I just wanted to stare at you from across the table.” Then he just walked away. No words, just a drunken stumble back into the house. You raised a brow and watched him trip on a chair, but catch himself quickly. You let out a short laugh, one quiet enough so he couldn’t hear. You shrugged, turning your body to be met face to face with Will. Macklin stood behind him, a drunken smile spread across his face. 

Will’s eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second, then back up. “You got a bathing suit on under this?” He asked, wearing a flashy grin.

Your brows lifted slightly at the bluntness, but your smile came back slow and sideways. “Duh,”

“Come on,” Will said, stepping back and reaching out a hand. “Victory swim.” You glanced once toward the house, where Connor had disappeared, and then at Will, still standing there, hand out, and patient. 

“Fuck it.” You said, grabbing his hand with a smile. 

Macklin, clearly too drunk to keep up. “Wait, I didn’t- I’m not- I didn’t win. How is it a victory swim?” 

Will nudged Mack with his shoulder lightly. “We’ll share the victory with you.” Will’s hand closed around yours, warm and steady, and in the next breath you were tugged off the porch and into motion. 

12:05 AM

Your bare feet slapped lightly against the grass as the night swallowed you whole. Behind you, Macklin trailed in drunken confusion, muttering something about the competition and how he still deserved a cannonball. The house blurred behind you, and so did Connor. The pool shimmered at the end of the yard, glowing in that unnatural blue, the surface quiet and untouched. 

Will didn’t slow down until you were right at the edge of the water, still holding your hand. His eyes flicked to your sundress, then back to your face. “You goin’ full send?” You answered by stepping out of your sandals and reaching for the hem of your dress, peeling it over your head in one motion, the cool night air kissing your skin. You were already moving toward the water when Will’s voice followed. “Jesus,” he muttered, a little breathless, “okay.” 

You dove first, clean and quick, the water cutting around your body like silk. The cold hit your bones in an instant, shocking the alcohol in your bloodstream, sobering you just enough to feel everything again. You came up laughing, brushing your hair back, spinning in place to see Will standing at the edge, already shirtless, jeans half-unbuttoned.

“You gonna stare or swim?” you called out.

“Both,” he said, and then cannonballed in after you. Macklin belly-flopped seconds later, shouting something about reclaiming his dignity, but you barely noticed. Will popped up a few feet from you, shaking water from his hair and swimming closer. 

“Is this party everything you dreamed of it being?” he asked, voice low.

“And more.” You joked, smiling wide. 

Will moved closer, only a foot between you now. The water shifted around you both, slow ripples folding the light across his shoulders. “I’m having a lot of fun.” Then he pointed at Mack, who was floating on his back with his arms out. “Mack is definitely having the time of his life.”

You let out a short laugh, glancing over at Macklin. “Yeah…” You paused before turning back to Will, voice lowering. “I’m really glad you guys came tonight. It was a nice surprise.”

Will smirked, but it was softer than usual. “Yeah, I’m glad we came too.” The music from the house carried faintly over the water, muffled and distant, like it belonged to another world entirely. Will tilted his head slightly, studying your face in that way that made it feel like you were the only person in the pool.

“You’re fun to hang out with,” he added, quieter now. “You keep people smiling.”

You shrugged, water lapping at your shoulders as you drifted just a little closer without meaning to…or maybe meaning to. “I don’t try to. I just…do stuff.” 

He really smiled at that, unguarded. “Yeah, that tracks.” For a beat, neither of you said anything. The pool lights flickered across his jaw, his collarbones, the line of his shoulders as he floated there, steady and calm like he wasn’t hyperaware of how close you were. 

Behind you, Macklin suddenly splashed upright. “I would just like it on record,” he announced loudly, “that this pool is cold as fuck.” You laughed, breaking the moment just enough to make it survivable. Will glanced over his shoulder, then back at you, lips twitching.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He mumbled, drunk confidence taking over. Your insides panicked a little at the sheer bluntness, but you never showed it on your face. 

“Why?” You asked calmly, a sly smirk on your face. Will laughed, shaky and nervous. He didn’t know what he’d expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. 

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, water dripping down his forearm. “Uh– shit,” he said, shaking his head like he could reset himself. “I don’t know. You just– ” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “You make it easy…to forget stuff.”

You tilted your head, still smiling, but your voice stayed steady. “Forget what?”

He exhaled through his nose, a short breath. “Everything,” he said, then winced like he’d said too much. “I mean–” He laughed again, softer this time. “I’m drunk. That’s my excuse.”

“Convenient,” you teased. 

“Extremely.” He floated back half a foot, giving you space without fully retreating, eyes still locked on yours. “I just think you’re…like really beautiful, and cool, and funny, a-and you’re standing right here.”

You hummed, considering him, the honesty, the timing. “So,” you said lightly, kicking your legs to keep yourself afloat, “that’s your whole argument?”

He grinned, relieved you hadn’t shut him down outright. “I know, It’s not a great…opening statement. I didn’t prepare.”

“Hm,” You squinted your eyes. “Interesting.”

“I’m not gonna like…try to kiss you or anything,” he said. “just wanted to make it known.”

You held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, then smiled gently. “Right,”

“Right.” He repeated, grinning.

“Just…drunken honesty.”

“Drunken honesty.” He let out a quiet laugh, the tension easing just a notch as the words settled between you. The pool rocked gently, water bumping against the tile in slow, lazy waves.

Macklin chose that moment to splash aggressively toward the edge of the pool. “I regret to inform everyone,” he announced, hauling himself halfway out, “that hypothermia is a real thing and I am a victim.” 

You laughed again. Will shook his head, smiling to himself. 

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the steps. You swam toward the edge, water streaming off your arms as you climbed out, the night air cool against your skin. Will followed a second later, sitting on the edge beside you, feet still in the pool. For a moment, you just sat there shoulder to shoulder, close but not crossing anything.

You smiled, bumping your knee gently against his. “Hey, thanks for telling me you wanna kiss me. Gave me a good ego boost.”

He grinned. “Anytime.” You both sat there, feet dangling in the water, the surface rippling every time one of you shifted. Will glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “But, uh,” he added, casual but not careless, “for the record…wasn’t just the alcohol talking.”

You hummed, leaning back on your hands. “Mm. Noted.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

“Am I?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. 

“Yeah,” he said easily. “But in a fun way.” You bumped his shoulder that time.

Behind you, Macklin reappeared wrapped in a towel he’d clearly stolen from inside, dripping dramatically onto the concrete. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the kitchen drinking multiple beers to warm myself.” he announced.

“Good luck with that,” Will called back without looking, still focused on you. The music from the house swelled again as someone opened a door, laughter spilling out into the night. Will stretched his arms back behind him, bracing himself on the edge. “We should probably go back in before people start assuming things.”

You smiled, standing and grabbing your dress from where it was draped over a chair. “Let them assume.”

He stood too, water dripping down his chest as he grabbed his shirt. “You really don’t make it easy, you know that?”

You slipped your dress back on, smoothing it down, then looked up at him. “You already said that.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Just…confirming.”

11:34 AM

You don’t remember anything that happened after that. You recalled going back into the house, and doing two more shots with Ethan. You remember the faint blur of Macklin grabbing your hand and dragging you into the living room for a dance. You knew from the mouths of others that you disappeared to bed, along with many, around 3 AM– but you had no idea why you woke up in Luke’s closet. You had no idea who’s clothes you were wearing, when you stood up. 

Luke, lying in his bed, read the oversized shirt you wore. “Will give head for olive garden breadsticks?” Dawson was asleep on the floor by the closet, Jack was bundled up next to Luke in the bed, and Nico was under the bed, bumping his head as he woke up. You didn’t know how you’d ended up in the New Jersey suite, and neither you, nor Jack, had a clue as to why you weren’t in your own beds. You tripped over Trevor when you walked into the bathroom.

“Why are you wearing my favorite shirt?” He asked, looking up from the floor. He claimed he got up to pee in the middle of the night, but he liked how the cold tile felt against his cheek, so he stayed. You glanced into your bedroom– Dixie on the twin bed, Macklin and Connor in your bed, and Cole on the carpet. Will was found on the couch in Jack’s room, with Ethan, Mark, and Rutger all asleep in Jack’s bed. 

You stood in the hallway, alone, glancing around for a moment. “What the fuck”

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[mischievousmoony]

Mayhaps , can I request a part 2 of steamy fantasies ? Kinda obsessed w perv!roommate James, actually. lol maybe r can torture can him some more b4 actually *helping* 😉😏

got unbelievably carried away. he's so pathetic in this mwahaha

out in the open perv!roommate!james potter x fem!reader prev part ⟡ series masterlist

summary: you show james how little you mind his pervy habits, but not without torturing him a bit first ⊹ 5.1k warnings: smut mdni, jerking off, hand job, spit play, kinda very sub!james, begging, praise, hair pulling, shame (james, he does lighten up), dubcon (?) for the pervy things he did in the past, someone pls tell me what else, feels like there's more but idk

· ─ ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─ ·

James called out of work that morning, said he was sick. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to focus on anything, not with the mess of emotions churning in his gut.

Truth be told, he’s embarrassed that you caught him, and all the shame he’s been burying—for all his filthy little habits—has risen to the surface. A debilitating, confusing combination of shame and arousal keeps him glued to his bed all day, the same memory gnawing at him.

“All you had to say was please and I would’ve helped you out. Next time, kay?”

James replays your words on a loop, trying to dissect every possible meaning while ignoring how painfully hard he is thinking about it. His fingers twitch with the urge to scroll through that hidden photo album on his phone, the one full of pictures he’s taken when you weren’t looking, and take care of the ache. But the guilt of even having those photos is too heavy.

What would you think if you found out about that too? Or what if you knew that a single smile in his direction could send him rushing off to his room, hard and desperate, jerking off to the thought of you. Or if you knew about the increasingly frequent visits to your bedroom when you’re not home? Not just to get off to the lingering scent of your perfume, but sometimes, just to lie in your bed and imagine what it would feel like to fall asleep next to you.

Fuck, he’s pathetic. You’d surely think so too. He’s convinced he must’ve misheard you earlier. Or maybe you were just teasing him. Mocking him because you didn’t know how else to react. God, maybe you were just uncomfortable and trying to have a laugh at his expense to ease your own discomfort.

Even if you really didn’t think much of it, he’s sure that if you found out about everything else, you’d send him packing.

James finally leaves his room when the takeout he promised to order arrives—because, of course, he always keeps his promises when they’re made to you. Even if the thought of you right now makes him want to hide out in his room for the foreseeable future.

He is sitting on the sofa now, picking at a loose strand at the hem of his shirt as he waits anxiously for your arrival. He’ll have to face you eventually, he figures. Besides, he wants to do right by you. He has to. He’s not quite sure what he’ll tell you. Sorry for being a perv, seems a little audacious.

He’s still mulling over possible excuses for his behavior when he hears the jingle of your keys at the door. For some reason, he’s memorized every cute little keychain you have. Can picture them perfectly, dangling next to the key to the flat you share. His whole body stiffens when the lock clicks open.

The first thing you notice is the brown takeout bag on the kitchen table, the receipt stapled to the front displaying the contents in bold letters. All of your favorites. You smirk as you slip out of your shoes and hang your blazer on the coat rack.

You pop your head into the sitting room, seeking him out.

“Hi, there,” you say, an air of smugness in your tone, finding James sitting on the sofa, looking downright miserable. Shoulders slumped and eyes fixed on the floor. Oh, poor thing, you think.

He clears his throat, barely looking up at you. “Hi,” he replies, his voice sounding smaller than he intended.

“My meeting went well. I’ve gotta admit, it’s in small part thanks to you for that little… confidence boost this morning.”

James shrinks into the cushions, mortified. Any whisper of an idea to play it off like his jerking off in the shower had nothing to do with you vanishes. It was simply a bad morning for you to need to use the mirror, he could have told you. He could have tried to excuse it. Impersonalize it. But if you had any doubt about his reasons that he could have played into before, he’s certainly crushed it with the way he just reacted.

It’s obvious to you how much all of this is weighing on him, how his thoughts seem to be running a mile a minute.

“Something on your mind, James?” you ask in a low, teasing tone that makes James’s cheeks burn. That, and the sudden proximity as you step closer, almost standing between his legs.

James stammers, staring up at you with big, wide, chestnut eyes. The shame burning in his chest is urging him to tear his gaze away, hide. But you look so beautiful. With your hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, your kissable lips curved into a slight smirk. There’s something tantalizing about your work clothes. A white, collared shirt with short puff sleeves, tucked neatly into striped gray trousers that hug your curves just right. The top two buttons are undone, as if to tempt him.

“James?” you murmur, pulling him out of his trance.

“I- I really like you,” he blurts out in a shaky, almost whiny voice. This isn’t exactly how he imagined confessing his feelings—if he was ever going to in the first place. And it’s not exactly how he planned to start this conversation either, not that he was able to come up with much of a plan, but anything might’ve been better than turning into mush.

“You’re amazing and brilliant and so pretty and- and I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever. I know I shouldn’t have done that in the shower with you… there. But I just can’t control myself when it comes to you. And I’m sorry because I don’t want to make things weird or- or uncomfortable because I really don’t want to lose you.”

The words don’t feel like enough. James's hands flex restlessly in his lap as he fights the urge to reach out and touch you. Hug you. Shake you and beg for forgiveness.

“Oh, baby.”

His breath hitches at the pet name.

“I thought I was being clear,” you say as you drag a hand down the side of his face, following the sharp curve of his jaw to his chin. He shivers at your touch—barely there, he could be imagining it. “I like that you like me so much. Honestly, I’m flattered.”

James’s lips part like he has something to say, but no noise comes out. All he can manage to do is look at you like he’s already completely at your mercy.

“C’mere,” you purr, pulling his head to your chest. He goes easily, like he’s been waiting for this, because he has. His big arms finally encircle your waist, holding you tightly, like he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go.

His body practically sags against you as you card your fingers through his curls. His cheek is pressed against your chest, and he can hear your heartbeat. It’s a lot more controlled than his and it helps him relax a little.

You slide a hand back through his hair, gripping it at the roots this time. He sucks in a sharp breath as you pull his head back. The room suddenly feels several degrees warmer.

“But if you’re feeling like you have something to apologize for, we can work something out,” you tell him in a low, sultry tone that has him choking on air.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, neck craning back farther as you give his hair another little tug. He doesn’t understand what you mean. Hell, he can hardly understand how this is even real. All he really knows is that the words that come out of your mouth sound so pretty.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, yeah?” you murmur, your tone patronizing. Your eyes trail down his body to the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, straining against the gray fabric since you first touched his cheek. His eyes follow yours and he’s hit with another wave of embarrassment.

“Why don’t we lay everything out in the open?”

“What?” he asks, his voice cracking.

Your eyes flick back up to his. “No more secrets. I want to know what you do when you think about me.” Your gaze turns down to his bulge again. “I want you to show me.”

Of course he’ll show you. Anything you ask. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a nervous wreck. It’s not just about exposing himself, it’s about laying himself bare. Showing you the most depraved side of himself.

He can’t do that without making something clear first.

“I don’t just think about you when I’m horny. It’s not just that. I- I think about you all the time. As much as I think about how badly I want to touch you, I think about how badly I want to be with you more.”

Your hand drops from his hair to cup his cheek, stroking gently at his cheekbone. “I know,” you say softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, James.”

You had. It really is so cute how in his head he gets, completely unaware that every time you catch him looking at you lustfully, you revel in it. You find little excuses to expose more skin, flaunt yourself, just to watch his eyes go wide. But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Because he also doesn’t notice how affected you are when he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s easier to maintain the upper hand when he doesn’t know how much he does you in.

“You have?” he asks bashfully.

“I’ve seen more than you think.”

James’s gaze drops shyly to the floor, which you’re having none of, and you promptly turn his chin back up with a press of your thumb.

“You don’t have to be shy,” you whisper, a reassuring smile overtaking the cocky smirk on your lips. Your thumb swipes across his lower lip, teasing, before your hand starts to trail slowly down his toned chest over the soft black cotton of his t-shirt. “Can I help?”

James nods quickly, his heart skipping a beat as your hand travels lower and lower. You toy with the string of his sweatpants before tugging it loose. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down just enough for his hard cock to spring out.

He mutters curses under his breath. He’s halfway convinced this is a dream—he’s definitely had one just like it before.

“Pretty boy,” you muse. Shit, you hadn’t expected him to be that big. Long, thick, and already flushed and leaking for you. You watch a bead of precum trace a path down his length, imagining how he’d stretch you out, and you have to fight the urge to press your thighs together.

Seeing the way you look at him, hungry and wanting, a shiver runs down his spine. His blush has crept all the way up his neck to the burning tips of his ears now, and his hand grips the arm of the couch like a lifeline.

James is disappointed when you put a bit of space between the two of you, backing up to sit on the edge of the coffee table behind you. He already feels the loss of you keenly, missing the closeness of your body. His cheek still burns where you had touched him.

You get comfortable, leaning back and supporting your weight with your hands on either side of you.

“Go on,” you say coolly, watching his cock twitch under your gaze. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

“Oh, fuck,” James mutters, breath shuddering out of him. His jaw clenches, but he starts to lift his right hand at your command.

Oh, you’re going to have fun with him.

He slowly traces a trail up his thigh, buying time. A groan slips past his lips as he tentatively wraps his hand around himself. Pushing through his embarrassment, he starts with slow strokes.

“Hm, wait,” you say, and he stills his hand immediately.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull his hand towards you. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then, you spit in his palm.

“Oh, fuck.”

You place his hand back over his cock, covering it with your own to guide a single, slow stroke over his length. Then, you pull away, leaving him to continue what you started.

“Better?” you ask, watching the way his face contorts in pleasure.

A hopeless, breathy noise is all he can manage in response as he continues, starting at the slow pace you set. Your spit lubricating his cock makes it feel unbelievable. It’s not just the slickness, it’s the fact that it’s yours. His grip tightens, and his eyes screw shut as the pleasure builds.

You click your tongue. “Look at me.”

An embarrassing whimper slips past his lips as he forces his eyes open. You look equally amused as you are turned on. He watches as your eyes trail down his body. The way your teeth catch your bottom lip when they fall on his hand pumping his cock.

Fuck, this feels unreal. It’s different with you watching. So different. Nothing like the countless fantasies he’s had about you. No, this is better. Real. Even the low burn of embarrassment has nothing on how turned on he is right now. And all you’ve done is get him to use his own fucking hand. But that look in your eyes, trained on him, it’s enough to wreck him.

“Have you ever done this here before? On our sofa?” you ask, settling back on your hands again.

James tries to swallow, but his mouth has gone dry. “Y- yes,” he chokes out, trying to maintain the pace of his hand.

“When?” you ask, tilting your head.

You don’t even look up from his dick when you talk to him. Like you’re transfixed. Fuck, James can’t take it.

“When you’re—fuck, not home. Or—mmh—in the shower.”

“Where else?”

Your voice is too calm. It’s unfair, really. You just sit there, looking pretty, level-headed. And he’s falling apart.

“I-” James hesitates. Your eyes flick up to his face and you can see the embarrassment written all over it. You’ve never seen him blush such a deep shade of pink.

You lean in slightly, encouraging him gently. “Go on, baby. We’re being honest, yeah?”

“Your- your room. I’m sorry, fuck.”

You smirk as if that’s what you were hoping to hear.

He has to fight the urge to look away, but he knows you wouldn’t like that, so he keeps his eyes on your pretty face. But admitting that is humiliating, terrifying. And it turns him on more than he’d like to admit. He’s getting worked up fast under your command, under your smug, expectant gaze—you’re watching him like he’s all yours to play with.

He would wholeheartedly agree that he is.

“On my bed?” you ask knowingly.

“Yes,” he cries out, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock as he throbs in his hand, heat pooling in his gut with every stroke.

“Why there?” you ask, squinting. It’s almost a dumb question, you think, because it’s obvious. But you want to hear him say it.

He squirms, choking on his words. “I like to feel- feel close t’you.”

It’s a tame answer. True, but doesn’t quite capture the depravity he really feels. And it’s like you can see he’s holding back, but you let it slide, this time.

“And what do you think about?”

“You. Always you,” he sputters, dumbing down fast, all coherent thoughts slipping away as his hand speeds up.

“What about me?” you prod.

“Everything. The way you look—so fucking pretty—the way you sound, the way you smell,” he groans. The scent of your shampoo fills his nostrils, and he’s not sure if it’s because you're right there or because he’s memorized it. “I think about your mouth,” he continues.

“Yeah, you fuck your fist thinking about my mouth? Want my lips on your cock?”

Your filthy words send a shockwave of heat straight through him. “Fuck, yes, yes,” he cries out, squeezing himself hard.

“What else?”

“Think—hmmf—‘bout how you’d taste. How you’d sound if I—ah—ever got the chance to touch you. I think about you looking at me like- like I’m yours.”

That makes you smile. So sweet. Somehow, it all feels that way. So very sweet.

“I think about you touching me,” he continues. “Want your-” He’s cut off by his own moans.

You take pity, filling in the blanks. Or maybe you’re being cruel, knowing how your words affect him.

“What? Do you think about fucking me, James? Sinking your cock deep inside me?”

A series of humiliatingly high-pitched whimpers falls from his lips. Your words are doing horrible things to him, and he wishes for you to never stop.

“Dunno, baby,” you continue your teasing. “You’re a big boy, dunno know if I could fit you.”

“You could, you could do it, mhm, know you could, you’d feel so good,” he pants, words meshing together lazily.

Your lips stretch into a wicked smirk. “Yeah? You think about how good my pussy would feel when you jerk off to the panties you stole from me?”

James lets out a broken sound, his strokes faltering as he stares at you, wide-eyed. “You-? Fuck! How did you-?” he gasps, shame crashing down on him, his thoughts too scattered to form a full sentence. This is mortifying, you look so fucking hot, his head’s spinning, how did you find out?

You smile like you’re satisfied with yourself. Like you’ve caught him. Fuck, you were guessing.

Well, you suspected it when you noticed the missing pairs. Maybe hoped, because of how hot you get at the thought of him touching himself with your panties in his free hand. Maybe pressed against his face. Shit, maybe tangled between his fingers as he works himself raw with the same hand. You should feel violated, really, you know that. But you’re far from it, pressing your thighs together subtly, you're pulsing with arousal instead.

“Stole half of a matching set, baby,” you reveal how you caught onto his little habit, sounding like you pity him for being so foolish. “Hard not to notice they were missing. ‘S okay, though.”

James whimpers softly, unable to do much else.

“Kinda hot. You want to fuck me that badly?”

“Yes,” he whines. “Please, I- I-”

“Bet you're thinking of bending me over this sofa right now. What if I told you I’m not wearing any panties?”

You are. But torturing him is just so much fun.

“Fuck! Please, I’m-”

His hand starts to get sloppy, his rhythm faltering as his hips lift helplessly off the couch, chasing his own hand. Every breath comes out in a whine.

“Please. Not gonna last.”

“Aw, you can handle it. Just slow down for me, yeah, that’s it. Good boy,” you coo as his hand stutters, then slows.

The praise makes his head spin. His hips thrust up into his hand desperately one more time before he manages to rein it in, his grip on himself slacking a bit. “Fuck… just, please,” he pants, his breath coming out in uneven puffs, unsure of exactly what he’s even asking for.

“Wanna know what I think about when I touch myself?”

“Fffuh—oh, god.”

James’s mind goes blank. The mere idea of you, naked, with your hand between your legs, is undoing. He’s afraid your words alone will make him come. Even if he stops touching himself altogether, your voice might be enough.

“I think about you, too. About how it’d feel to have your fingers instead of mine. I bet you would make me feel so good,” you say, watching the way his fingers tense around his cock. James really does have nice hands. Nice long fingers, you can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like buried inside of you. You feel yourself clench around nothing. Shit, if James only knew how wet you are, he might go insane.

James moans, unable to form words—or thoughts. This is too good to be true. He can’t help the way his grip tightens and his hand pumps faster despite you telling him to slow down just a second ago.

“Something tells me you’re even better with your tongue,” you continue, every word meant to push him close to the edge as your eyes fix on his lips. “Oh, how I’d love to sit on that handsome face.”

You turn your attention back to his cock, drinking in the sight as it twitches desperately in his hand.

“Shit, and I’d ride your cock so good too. I’d take it nice and slow, bet you’d like it.”

Your voice, combined with the image your words put in his head, nearly sends him over the edge. “Please, I’m so close. Please, can I come?”

“Oh, but I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasize.

That gets him to really slow down. “You- you-” he sputters. His chest rises and falls heavily with every breath, his whole body is thrumming with need but he forces himself to slow down.

“Want me to touch you, baby?” you ask, your tone a touch mocking.

“Yes, god, yes,” he responds eagerly, his hand stuttering to a stop at the base of his cock.

You tilt your head down, looking at him expectantly. Waiting for more. A low whine escapes his throat when he realizes you want him to beg.

“I—fuck—I need you,” he pants, fingers of his left hand digging into the armrest. His eyes are filled with desperation and his eyebrows are pinched together, almost in anguish, as he begs for you. “W- will you touch me? Please. Please?”

Your lips stretch into a satisfied grin. “Move your hand, pretty boy.”

As you say it, you push off the coffee table to kneel on the carpeted floor in front of him and his heart just about stops. He mumbles something incoherent as he spreads his legs a little more to make room for you, moving his hand to lie flat on the cushion beside him.

It’s obvious how desperate he is, but you’re determined to drag this out. Tease him. You start by lightly touching his knees, running your hands over the soft fabric of his sweats, stopping just under where they bunch up at his muscular thighs, then trailing back down. Goosebumps litter every inch of his exposed skin.

He holds his breath when you finally touch him, looking up at him through your pretty eyelashes as you drag a finger down his length, your touch barely there as you trace along a thick vein. He moans loudly when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

You push yourself up on your knees, leaning closer with parted lips. So close, he can feel the warmth of your breath. But you don’t touch.

“Want my mouth, baby?” you whisper, your lips millimeters away from his leaking tip.

He lets out a pathetic little whimper, using every ounce of self-control not to buck his hips into your face. “Please,” he whines, his voice strained with desperation.

“No, not yet, I don’t think,” you murmur. Your voice is smooth as silk. Unfazed, completely casual. As if you’re not driving him insane. He thinks he could actually cry, he needs you that badly. He’s so desperate for you to open your mouth a little wider and take him. For you to move your hand even an inch. Anything. He’s about to whine, beg some more, when a slow strand of spit drops from your mouth. You catch it with your thumb as it paints a trail down his length, and rub it into the head of his cock, applying a delicious amount of pressure that makes him writhe against the sofa.

His breath catches in his throat, but when he recovers, he’s crying out for you.

“Oh, fuck! Please, I need-”

“Shh, be patient, baby,” you say, shooting a stern look up at him. But you give in to his pleas. Slowly stroking his length, taking your time bringing him back to the edge.

His eyes dart between your hand and your face, unable to decide what’s more captivating. He raises his hand from the armrest, itching to touch you, but unsure of what he’s allowed. He reaches out anyway, hovering near the side of your head. You look up at him, a dazzling smile on your lips that completely melts him, and you lean into his hand. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

A faint gasp falls from your lips, which only encourages him to hold on tighter. You find yourself getting lost in the blissed out look on his face. His pupils are blown wide, and he watches you like you’re the greatest thing to ever exist. Is he crazy for thinking that you are?

“You’re so—fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

His words make your heart thud harder against your chest. The way he looks at you does something to you. Twists something tight in your belly, and you’re eager to give him more.

You pick up the pace of your hand. You’re tempted to take him into your mouth, but you want to take your time with him. You want to give him everything, but not yet. You’re determined to make him wait. To take things slow (albeit not that slow).

He fights the urge to throw his head back in pleasure as you play with the tightness of your grip, squeezing him teasingly, then loosening up, pulsing your hand around him to drive him mad.

“That feels so good. Mmff, fuck. You’re perfect,” he babbles, getting lost in a thick haze of his own pleasure.

His praise spurs you on, and you add a second hand, one hand pumping his length while the other plays with his tip, smearing another ribbon of your spit with slow, filthy swipes.

He starts to lift his hips off the sofa, meeting your hands. You tut, but he’s too far gone to hold back now, rutting shamelessly into your touch.

“Please, please, I’m so close,” he whines, clutching your hair so hard there’s a dull ache in your scalp that has you biting back a groan.

“Yeah? You wanna come?” you ask, your teasing hand curling fully around his shaft now, matching the steady pace of the other. You twist your hands in unison, the wet heat of your palms drawing a ragged, guttural moan from his throat.

“Please, please, please,” he chants breathlessly like it’s the only word he knows, fingernails scratching against the sofa cushion and your scalp. It stings, but you don’t mind at all.

“How bad do you want it, baby?” you ask, just to drag this out.

Tears sting the corner of his eyes. He can barely answer you, mumbling almost unintelligible nonsense—pleas for you to let him come. He looks at you with a wrecked expression, features crumpling in on themselves.

A deep sense of satisfaction settles over you. You have him exactly where you want him.

“Come for me, baby,” you finally say, murmuring your words in a soft, honeyed whisper.

James comes with a broken, strangled cry of your name, coating your hands in his sticky release the very second you give him permission.

“That’s it, there you go,” you coo.

His back arches from the cushion behind him, muscles trembling as a shudder rips through him. And his grip on the edge of the couch turns so tight he tears a hole in the already fraying fabric. Better that than your hair, which he loosens his hold on significantly, afraid he could really hurt you. Even lost in the heat of his climax, you’re his greatest concern.

“Did so good for me,” you hum, gently working him through his high with just one hand now, not wanting to overwhelm him. His chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath.

He’s a whimpering mess as he comes down, pulling on your hair gently as a silent plea for you to come closer. You oblige, climbing up onto the sofa next to him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and curl into your side, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, addicted to the scent of your perfume, and it helps ground him. His other hand is still in your hair, combing through it lazily.

You keep your hands still, hovering over his lap, trying not to make more of a mess than he already has. But it’s hard, with the sudden urge you have to hold him too. Instead, you turn your head to press your lips to his forehead, staying just like that until his breathing evens out.

“We should get cleaned up,” you murmur against his skin. “After, do you wanna cuddle in your bed or mine?”

James is pretty sure he’s dreaming.

It’s only when he’s in your bed, snug under your duvet with your body tucked into his side and reheated takeout containers in your laps, that he accepts this isn’t a figment of his imagination. He didn’t scare you away with his obsession. Somehow, it helped him win you over.

And he doesn’t plan on ever letting you go.

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