summary ﹏ After a grueling match, Garrett comes back to your dorm all exhausted and all you want is to take care of him. But he loves you too much to not show it back and take care of you too.
cw ﹏ fluff hurt/comfort fic!!! <3 fem!reader & exhausted!garrett. established relationship. post-game comfort. tattoos kisses (reader also has a tattoo but no description of it). cuddling. soft kisses. gentle physical affection&emotional intimacy.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
The hockey game had ended almost an hour ago, but you could still hear the echoes of it every time you closed your eyes; the cheering crowd, the pounding of skates against the ice and the deafening roar that had erupted after Briar's winning goal.
Garrett had played the entire game, and by the time he texted you that he was finally heading back to your room to see you, you already knew he'd be exhausted.
So you waited when he got there, giving him space to shower. Curled up on your bed with one of his hoodies hanging off your shoulders, you listened to the sound of the shower running in the attached bathroom. The room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and Garrett's cologne, mixed now with the steam drifting underneath the bathroom door.
A few minutes later, the water stopped, the door opened shortly after. Your eyes immediately lifted from your phone.
Garrett stepped out with damp hair, a towel slung around his neck and a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. He wasn't wearing a shirt, exposing the broad shoulders and toned chest that countless girls on campus openly admired. But what caught your attention, though, wasn't any of that; it was how tired he looked, completely drained after this match.
His shoulders sagged slightly, and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes despite the victory tonight. A smile tugged at your lips as you tried to get his attention. "There he is, my favorite boy."
Garrett looked over at you and immediately groaned like he seemed the idea off of you. "Please don't ask me to do anything." You laughed at his words, shaking your head. "I wasn't going to, I swear."
"Good." He pointed toward the bed dramatically. "Because that's where I'm dying." Without another word, he shuffled forward and collapsed face-first onto the mattress, the entire bed bounced beneath his weight. You shook your head once again, a little smile on your face at his attitude. "You’re soooo dramatic."
"I'm an athlete," he replied into the pillow. "It's basically part of my job."
"You won." You voiced at him, to which he simply hummed an answer into your pillow, so you spoke again. "You scored twice." And he hummed again, not caring to move an inch from his position, making you smile to yourself. "The crowd was chanting your name." That finally earned a response, Garrett rolled his head enough to look at you with one eye.
"Okay, but did the crowd get checked into the boards three separate times?" You snorted and shook your head at him. "No, they didn’t." You answered your boyfriend softly. "Exactly." His face disappeared back into the pillow, the movement shifted his position slightly, exposing the tattoo stretched across his upper back.
Nullum Gratuitum Prandium.
Your smile softened immediately.
Garrett only had one tattoo, and despite how simple it was, you had always loved it, maybe because it was one of the few things about him that felt private. Most people saw Garrett Graham the hockey star: the confident captain, the guy who always seemed larger than life but moments like this were yours. Quiet moments with the real Garrett.
You scooted closer and lightly traced one of the letters with your fingertip. Almost instantly, his shoulders relaxed. "I was waiting for this," he murmured into the pillow. "Uh? For what?" You voiced, curious about what he was talking about.
"The post-game treatment." You laughed softly at the words leaving his mouth, almost rolling your eyes at him. "Oh, is that what this is?"
"Absolutely."
Your fingers continued tracing the tattoo and Garrett practically melted beneath your touch, and honestly, it was adorable. You watched as his eyes lifted up to your face, his own still into your pillow, nose taking your smell.
For a guy who spent most of his time throwing himself into six-foot-tall defensemen and taking body checks without complaint, he was surprisingly needy when it came to affection. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against the beginning of the sentence.
Garrett's eyes closed immediately and another kiss of yours followed. Then another; slow, soft and patient. Each one lingering for just a second longer than the last.
A quiet sigh escaped him. "I love when you do that." He said quietly, you smiled against his skin. "Kiss your tattoo?" Your question was said so softly that he could have missed it with how relaxed he was at the moment. "Yeah." His voice sounded sleepy now. You rested your chin lightly against his shoulder, skin against skin.
"Why?" Garrett was quiet for a moment, long enough that you thought he might not answer but then, he finally shrugged. "I don't know."
"That's a lie."
"It is." You laughed at his words and Garrett turned his head slightly, enough to glance back at you. "It just feels different." He ended up saying, eyes focusing on your face and trying to remember all the edges and shapes. "Different how?" You asked then, curious about how he currently felt, about how he saw the moment happening.
His gaze softened, then he whispered. "Because it's you." The simple answer made your chest ache.
You looked down at him for a moment before brushing a hand through his damp hair. "You're sweet." He shook his head then, the tiniest smile on his face before replying, amused. "No, I'm exhausted." His words made you chuckle and you shook your head too, amused. "Same thing, I think." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth again.
"Maybe."
For a while, neither of you spoke—the room settled into a comfortable silence as your fingers rubbed circles across his shoulders. Every now and then you'd lean down and press another kiss against the tattoo, earning another content sigh from Garrett. It amazed you how quickly the tension disappeared from him; the rigid muscles, the stress, the adrenaline from the game.
Little by little, it all faded beneath your hands and eventually Garrett rolled onto his back and reached for you, without resistance, you let him pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist automatically, holding you close as if he'd done it a thousand times before (which he had).
You brushed a hand across his cheek. "Tired?" He hummed, nodding at you. You can see the sleepiness in his eyes, something he either tried to hide or brush off. "A little." He shrugged but you knew better than that. "A little?" You repeated to him.
"A lot." You laughed at the words escaping his mouth, almost proud of yourself for that one. "Thought so."
Garrett tilted his head upward and captured your lips in a soft kiss. There was no urgency behind it; he was not teasing, he was not playful, there was just so much affection in his action. The kind that came naturally after months together, the kind that made home feel less like a place and more like a person. When he pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against yours.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Turn around." He asked, voice quiet and soft. Still, you blinked at the demand and your eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"Turn around." He says again, moving on the bed so you’d shift your position too. "Why?" You still ask, and Garrett’s expression softens, looking at you with tender eyes. "Just trust me." Suspicious, you tell yourself but you shift anyway. The moment your back faced him, you felt Garrett's hands settle gently on your waist.
Then his lips brushed against the tattoo hidden near your shoulder blade. Your breath caught immediately; the kiss was soft and lingering. A second followed, then a third and Garrett smiled against your skin.
"There." You looked over your shoulder when he spoke. "There what?" You end up asking, almost smiling at the kisses he had left on your skin.
"Now we're even." Your heart nearly melted at that.
For someone who spent most of his life being loud and confident and impossible to miss, Garrett always seemed to save his softest moments for when nobody else was looking.
You shifted in his lap until you were facing him again and the movement earned a small smile from him, one that looked softer than any expression he ever wore in front of cameras or reporters. "What?" he asked quietly and you shook your head as you replied. "Nothing."
"Liar." A laugh escaped you; soft but loud just like your boyfriend liked it. Garrett reached up, letting his fingers trail down your cheek. The touch was gentle enough to make your chest ache. "You keep looking at me like that." He spoke again, eyes focusing on your face and the expression you had on.
"Like what?" His smile grew when you asked that, like you damn-well knew what he was talking about.
"Like I'm something special." You immediately rolled your eyes. "Garrett Graham, captain of Briar hockey, adored by half the campus, thinks I'm the one acting ridiculous?" Your words were said with amusement, making your boyfriend smile.
"Yeah."
"You're impossible."
"Maybe." His thumb brushed against your cheekbone as he shrugged. The teasing slowly faded from his expression then, replaced by something quieter, something honest. Garrett swallowed. "I mean it, though." He said, quietly, fondly. You frowned slightly. "Mean what?" You could only reply to him, curious.
His eyes held yours. "I love you." The words came easily, no hesitation in his voice. As though he had thought them a thousand times before and finally decided to say them out loud.
"I love you when you wait up for me after games. I love you when you steal my hoodies. I love you when you pretend not to care about hockey but somehow know all my stats." His smile returned briefly. "And I definitely love you for the tattoo kisses." A surprised laugh escaped you, though your eyes were already beginning to sting.
"You're such a dork." You said, voice trembling a little at the words that had left his mouth. "Yeah, but I'm your dork." The fondness in his voice nearly undid you.
You reached up, cupping his face between your hands. "I love you too." Garrett's expression softened immediately. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love how competitive you are." Another kiss found the tip of his nose. "I love how much you care about people even when you pretend you don't." A third landed softly against his lips. "And I love you."
Garrett's eyes closed for a moment, all content and comfortable with all the kisses. When he opened them again, there was something almost boyish in the smile he gave you. "Good." He nodded his head and you laughed. "Good?"
"Yeah." His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space left between you. "I'd be in a really awkward position if you didn't."
"After that speech?"
"Exactly." Your laughter filled the room again, and Garrett couldn't help smiling along with you.
As the evening stretched on around you, with the noise of the hockey game finally fading into memory, he settled deeper into your embrace. Your fingers found his hair, his cheek rested against your shoulder, and for the first time all day, he felt completely at peace.
Wins were nice, championships would be nice too.
But sitting here with you wrapped in his arms, hearing your heartbeat beneath his ear and knowing you loved him back?
Garrett was fairly certain nothing could ever top that.
taglist ﹏ @ravensreadingrecs @nuitts @filthgf @avasarchve @girldisrupted @userhotd @wiishies @cheriedove ( to be added )
✴︎ he doesn't ask what you want to do. he tells you he's throwing you a party. "just a little thing at my parents place in the country. don't worry about a thing." "a little thing" means a marquee on the lawn, a DJ his father knows, and half your year invited.his friends will be there, of course. more of them than yours. he needs the audience.
✴︎ he doesn't give you one present. he gives you a pile. a display of his wealth and most importantly his attentiveness.that designer bag you idly pointed out in a magazine three months ago? he remembered. the limited edition heels that sold out in seconds? he has a connection. he'll watch you open them with a lazy,smug smile, one arm slung over the back of your chair. when you gasp, he'll just shrug. "it's nothing. saw it and thought of you." but the message is clear:
look what i can do for you. look how well i know you. no one else could do this.
✴︎ he times his gift giving perfectly. usually after your friends or family have given you theirs.their heartfelt, perhaps less expensive gifts—a book you wanted, a framed photo, a handmade bracelet—suddenly look small and sad next to the mountain of luxury gifts from max. he doesn't say a word against them.he doesn't have to. the comparison is brutal and obvious. he’ll give you a squeeze and murmur, "cute," about your friend's gift, the word dripping with benign condescension. he wins. he always wins.
✴︎ all night, he's attached to your hip. his hand is always on the small of your back, claiming you. he gets you drinks before you ask. he introduces you to everyone with, "this is my girlfriend, the birthday girl," his voice oozing possessive.he'll make a toast—short, charming, seemingly off the cuff but definitely rehearsed about how lucky he is. it's all designed to make his friends clap him on the shoulder and make your friends whisper, "god, he adores you, doesn't he?"
✴︎ in exchange for all this lavish spoiling, your absolute, undivided focus is on him. you are to be the radiant,grateful girlfriend, basking in his generosity. if you spend too long talking to someone he doesn't like, or seem more excited by your friend's gift than his, a cloud will pass over his perfect facade. later, when you're alone, he might pout. "seemed like you were having more fun with dan than with me tonight." it's a gentle, manipulative correction. the celebration was his production, and you are the star he cast. you have a role to play.
✴︎ he must seem effortlessly generous. when you thank him, overwhelmed, he'll kiss your forehead and say something like, "you deserve it. stop making a fuss." he needs you to believe this level of control and display is just normal for him. he uses money, access, and social power to make you feel special but also trapped in debt to him. over time, it starts to feel like you're not even allowed to question someone who gives you that much.
he'd also say things like:
"so.. best birthday ever, right? admit it. no one else could've pulled this off for you. "
and when you fussed over how much money he'd spent on everything, he'd just wave it off with a smile. "don't be silly. money's for spending. especially on you."
then, turning to one of his friends but loud enough for you to hear he'd say, "had to make sure she had the best day possible, didn't i?"
there was always a hint of pride in his voice, like he genuinely enjoyed spoiling you and wanted everyone to know it.
summary: while high, you and your two best friends get into the usual trouble, this time with something more..
pairing: kat taylor x fem!reader x bobby franklin
warning (s): porn with little plot, mention of drug use (weed), threesome, f/f/m sex, high sex, fingering, tit sucking, male masturbation, face riding, oral (fem!receiving)
word count: 3.1k
a/n: i love them and i’m already thinking of carrying this on when they go into the backrooms, and bring reader with them. based on this ask, by this lovely @thefaetellsnotales .beware this isn’t exactly proofread and iam sick, but i hope you sexies enjoy 💗
“Are we even meant to be here?”
“Come on, it’s closed.. no one’s here I promise.”
The shutter retracted up with a clatter, the three of you ducking in one by one before Kat dragged it back down to the floor, twisting the key at the bottom to lock it.
You coughed as you stood, the air thick with the faint smell of bleach and old lint. It was to be expected from a furniture store you supposed, especially one that didn’t get much movement from well.. anyone.
“Hey is there a light in here?” You spoke through the darkness, turning to catch the silhouettes standing behind you.
“This way.”
An arm hooked around your waist before you could answer, and through the dim light you made it out who it was. A scent of roses and cocoa butter covered the smell of pot, and the coolness of her bangles rubbed against your arm as Kat angled you both across the floor.
You made it a few paces to the back wall before a gold glow lit up from the far corner.
Bobby.
He fumbled with the string of an antique lamp, unwrapping the straps of his camera as he set it onto a nightstand, turning to face you both with a scrunch in his brow.
“Does Clark really sleep on these things? They’re fuckin’ hard.” His hand pressed into the mattress, shoving it up and down before it bounced back into his hand.
“Don’t complain about it now, it was your idea. And yeah.. he does..” Kat looked up at him with that familiar look of sarcasm, shrugging beside you as she swung the backpack from her arm and onto a dresser. Her arm reached into it, rummaging as you leant against the wood.
“Your manager sleeps in his own store?” She huffed a laugh at your quirked brow.
“He’s kind of.. down and out, it’s the only place he has right now.”
“Then where is he?”
“I’m not sure, out of town for something he’s gone crazy about, something he’s found apparently.”
She eventually pulled out a packet of ‘jiffy pop’ from the bag with a proud smile, “Right Im gonna get us actual food.”
Kat turned on her heel, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t get into too much trouble.. and.. don’t let Bobby touch anything.”
Kat disappeared down the hall in search of the break room, leaving you standing in the middle of Clark's furniture store trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this was.
You had been lying in their apartment for hours before one of you, not that you could hardly remember, mentioned heading out. And after however long of wandering through town, the last glimpses of the sunset burning into the dark, you’d made it to Clark’s.
"Yeah if we don’t get arrested for a break in."
Bobby had already claimed an entire display bedroom for himself, setting it up for you all. The bed was wide, king sized it read from the poster, with deep blue sheets and off white pillows, discoloured it looked from that angle.
"Nah," he said, kicking off his shoes and throwing himself backwards onto the mattress. "This is basically a hotel."
"It’s a furniture store." You crossed your arms watching him with a squint.
"Exactly, free hotel."
The mattress bounced as he spread his arms dramatically with a smirk. Half of the lights had been switched off for the night, leaving the showroom glowing in soft amber pools, and somehow it actually made it look homely. Not the empty, stale place the three of you usually made fun of.
Your eyes wandered over the space, fighting a smile. The whole place felt surreal. Couches were arranged like fake living rooms, lamps casting warm circles of light, rows of untouched beds stretching into darkness, and the staircase behind you leading to the lower level. Not creepy at all.
You found yourself drifting where Kat had disappeared to. The three of you had been inseparable all evening, and lately it had only grown, like some undergrown strange tension that crept on you all slowly. Being friends for years would do that you supposed, but it always seemed as if there was more. Like gravity pulled you together just as you all had stayed close. The lingering glances, the casual touches that lasted a little too long, and some sort of feeling nobody seemed quite ready to put into words.
They’d been dating for two years, and you’d been happy for them, even remembered the exact day they’d came come from school in the late afternoon to your house just to tell you.
“So you’re together, together?” You leaned on the doorframe, eyes wide with excitement.
“Hell yeah.” Bobby’s arm slung around Kat’s shoulders with a proud grin.
“Not that this changes anything, he’s still an idiot, and you’re still my favourite.” Kat smirked at you.
“Hey—“ Kat swatted him in the stomach before grabbing onto you and ushering you outside into whatever left of the summer sun there was.
And she was right, it didn’t change anything at all. If anything it brought you all closer. There wasn’t anything unspoken, it was all out in the open and comfortable, except for one thing. How they had felt for you.
Bobby patted the spot beside him.
"Come test the merchandise." He spoke up, gesturing his head toward his hand.
"You sound like a salesman."
"I'm the best salesman Clark's ever had."
The thought made you laugh, yeah right.
You stepped forward anyway, the bed dipping beneath your weight as you kicked off your shoes and climbed on. Neither of you said anything at first, just laying a single arm length’s away as you realised he was right.
The mattress was hard, sticking into your back through the plump covers. Though it should have been expected, it’s a display. So much for getting high beforehand, you hadn’t through that far. So you made do with what you could, snagging the fur blanket from the end of the bed and tucking it behind you both.
The flicker of the TV box he’d angled into a chest of drawers, lit up your faces through the shadowed space, returns of old tv shows muffled in the background. And both of you were engrossed, staring into the flashing colours fading in and out.
You felt eyes on you after a while, staring into you from the side. Bobby had turned his head slightly, blue eyes burning into you, and you turned yours.
His grin had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving only the twinkle in gaze, something you’d always noticed reserved for one other person. The one they reserved for eachother.
"You're staring." Bobby whispered dropping his head between you both teasingly.
"No I'm not." You kicked his leg lightly, shaking the buzz from your head, but it didn’t seem to lift, instead it grew, a shiver wracking the back of you spine.
"You are.”
"You started it.” The wood of the headboard creaked behind you as you braced your knees up, tucking them toward your chest.
That earned a laugh, a breathy one like the air had been punched from his lungs as he sat up, and then suddenly you were both laughing. The kind of laughter that came from being slightly high, and running entirely on bad decisions.
Bobby's shoulder brushed yours then, quick and tender, so quick it could have been ignored, but you were already heightened, alert to every movement around you. Neither of you moved away, his eyes flicking down briefly before returning to yours.
"Hey." He rasped softly, lips parted as he turned to rest onto his arm.
"Hey." You whispered back, swallowing thickly.
“Bobby I don’t think..”
You weren’t able to continue, to telll him it was a bad idea, that it was wrong, but before either of you could overthink it, he leaned in.
The kiss was soft. Tentative and warm, his lips brushing over yours with a desperate tenderness, and you almost melted into it, almost.
You jumped apart from him when you heard footsteps, catching the gaze of your best friend in your peripheral. Bobby only retracted, still ghosting your lips as he released the palm he’d placed on your cheek.
Kat appeared around the corner, standing beside the TV stand, carrying the popcorn in a bowl she’d somehow found. Her eyes darted to Bobby, then at you and then back to Bobby, a hand moving to her hip, and for a moment none of you said anything.
"...Seriously?"
“Kat I can—“ Your face burned.
Bobby immediately pointed at you, “Her fault.”
"My fault?" You whipped your head toward him.
"Absolutely." His face was unreadable, even if the smirk that pulled at his lips was far from innocent.
Kat stared for another second before letting out a laugh so hard the bowl of popcorn ruffled in her hands.
"You two are unbelievable. You couldn’t have waited for me?”
She tossed the bowl softly onto the bed and climbed onto the mattress beside you. You only stared at her, at both of them, eyes wandering where your heart hammered in your chest in a way you didn’t know how to feel. Shame? Guilt?
“Really I didn’t think—“ The words left your mouth before you could hardly speak, stumbling over them to explain.
“You have no idea how long we’ve waited to do that.” Kat cut you off gently, settling herself comfortable under the blanket.
Desire—
“You— uh, what?” Your head snapped up, and she just nodded, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth with a smirk, handing the bowl over to you.
We. The word lingered in your head, stirring your senses as if you’d been dreaming. But they only smiled at you, amused by the dumbfounded look on your face, as if all of it, their own agreement of you, had been common knowledge.
The three of you collapsed into a tangled pile of blankets and laughter, yours somewhat in disbelief. But even as the three of you rested back, Kat bumped her shoulder against yours.
"Move over."
You rolled your eyes and listened, shuffling over into the very middle of the bed, both of their leg’s sticking into yours from the sides. “Bossy."
"Always."
Bobby groaned dramatically as Kat stole half of the blanket, and with the minutes passing and him still busy complaining about the blanket theft, Kat glanced over at you and the playful expression on her face softened.
"Come here," she said quietly, beckoning you over with the pull of her fingers. And before you could ask what she meant, not that you bothered to question, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.
She looked just as surprised as you felt when she pulled back, her hand splaying at your hip. Bobby blinked from behind you, grinning softly, leaning around you both where you could both see him.
"Oh, so we're all doing that now?"
Kat reached at her side and threw the pillow behind her back at him. The three of you dissolved into laughter again, and that time nobody seemed interested in pretending that nothing had happened.
Because there was something different underneath it all. Something shared between all three of you finally coming undone.
You shook your head, resting back into one another and staring mindlessly at the static buzzing from the television. The three of you must have passed another two blunts between you when the haze grew, thick and heady. The room contorting amongst you all into something more heated, as if the air had been sucked from the space entirely. A leg slid up against yours, and fingertips touched at your thigh.
Kat steadied her hand there as your breath stuttered, the cool air of Bobby’s exhale sifting right at the back of your neck. Your noses bumped then, rocking back and forth as your breaths mingled, lips ghosting through lidded eyes and exhilaration.
“Hey, you know we haven’t got to do anything you don’t want to.” She was breathless, brown eyes gazing into yours with careful consideration that washed all over your face.
“You want this?” You tilted to look at both of them, Bobby and Kat looked at each other over either side of you and meeting back to you, their hands curled around one another’s, “Uh.. yeah, more than anything..”
You nodded slowly, the breath catching in your throat, “Then I want to.” Your hand curled around Kat’s neck as she dipped back to kiss you, this time hungrier, her tongue sweeping across your lip, and inching you both back against the headboard.
“You’re so so pretty..” She mumbled into your lips with skin pressed against skin your tongues locking around each others and another pair of lips at your neck.
“Open up for me Angel..” Bobby called out to you, arm bending over your waist and snaking the t-shirt from on you. You retracted only for a moment, the material being pulled away and tossed over on the floor, revealing the swell of your breasts. Long, warm fingers tweaked your nipple before his body had bent over you, sucking one into his mouth. His tongue was hot against your the sensitive bud, swirling harshly until you moaned into Kat’s mouth.
One hand fell into his hair, threading through the fine blonde strands as you arched into the feeling, his hand staying gripped at your hip to keep you in place.
His own t-shirt rose over his head with one steady tug, reaching for your hand to put it against his skin, letting you feel him. You traced the warm planes of muscle, down his chest and to his abs, and further along the v of that dipped beneath his jean shorts. Bobby shuddered against you, pressing into your thigh, and trailing his fingers down your sides.
You watched them through the haze, a gentle buzzing in your fingertips and your chest. The high from the pot or them you couldn’t tell, and not that it mattered.
They pulled away only for a moment, impatient and needily, Kat’s arms rising on instinct as he helped her take the rest of her clothes off, sliding her shorts down the legs before her fingers worked at undoing his belt buckle, reaching to cup the bulge beneath his pants, already tented and aching. “Save it.. for next time baby.” She mumbled against his lips over you, and he groaned into the kiss with a slight nod.
Next time.
He shrugged the rest of his clothes off, leaving him only in his underwear, the hard line of his cock poking through the dark fabric. She rose beside him, the curve of her breasts shadowed beautifully in the golden light, and the tan flesh of her thighs curling over yours. The pressure swirled in your belly at the sight, arousal coating slick between your thighs.
Bobby settled behind you, an arm slipping around your waist as though he’d always belonged there, and the warmth of him at your back only made Kat’s presence in front feel more overwhelming. You shivered at the feeling, hands moving between the both of them as they settled.
Kat’s fingers brushed loose hair from your face before cupping your cheek, foreheads touching briefly, sharing a knowing smile that felt private despite the crowded tangle of limbs and blankets.
“There you are,” Kat murmured softly.
The attention from both sides left you breathless, almost unable to move if you couldn’t feel the thump of heartbeats and burning touch of skin.
Bobby’s chin stayed pressed to your shoulder, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips to keep you pinned between them. Kat’s mouth claimed yours again, her tongue sliding deep while her fingers pinched your nipple hard enough to make your back arch. Bobby’s cock dragged along the cleft of your ass, thick and hot, already leaking as he rocked forward in slow, deliberate thrusts that never quite pushed inside.
"Fuck, you’re soaked," he muttered against your neck, teeth scraping over the fresh mark he’d just sucked there. His tongue followed, licking the sting away before he dropped lower, body snaking further down the bed, spreading your thighs wider with his shoulders. The cool air hit your pussy, as he turned you onto your back, both pairs of eyes flicking between you he gave one long, filthy lick from your entrance to your clit, making your whole body jerk back against the ruffled sheets. He groaned into your cunt like he was starving, sucking your swollen clit between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, teasing two thick fingers through your folds.
Kat swallowed your broken moan, grinding her soaked pussy against your thigh. She grabbed your wrist and moved your hand between her legs. "Please.." Your fingers slid through her slick folds, her legs widening as two of them sunk knuckle-deep into her tight heat while your thumb rubbed tight circles over her clit. She rode your hand with short, desperate rolls of her hips, her juices coating your palm as she panted into your mouth.
Bobby pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue, fucking you with it in messy, wet strokes before he sucked your clit again, loud and obscene. Spit and your arousal dripped down his chin, his one hand keeping you spread open while the other stroked his cock in time with every thrust of his tongue.
"Taste so fucking good," he groaned, voice muffled against your pussy. Kat fluttered around your fingers as she came with a sharp cry, her thighs shaking and wetness gushing over your hand. She didn’t stop moving, she only kissed you harder, biting your lower lip while her fingers found your other breast and squeezed it into her hand.
Bobby clamped at your thighs, tugging you further down onto his mouth as you mewled, bucking your hips against his face while your fingers pumped in and out of Kat’s wetness, drawing all of you closer to your edge. He rubbed himself into the sheets, fucking himself through the rough fabric of his pants and into his palm desperately.
Moans filled the room of the empty store, so confined and warm, that all care for even being there had left your mind, filled with the haze of them fucking you. You felt the peak of your climax, falling over the edge with the burn of Kat’s whines into your neck and Bobby’s tongue.
“Fuck, make her come Bobby..”
Kat straddled your chest, knees planted on either side of your head, lowering herself onto your waiting mouth, grinding down with a breathy moan as your tongue pushed inside her. Your tongue and sucked at her swollen clit while she rocked against your face her brow pulled tight as she gripped the headboard. Her juices coated your chin and cheeks, as she rode you harder, Bobby’s face still buried between your spread thighs, tongue working in relentless, sloppy strokes.
He dragged the flat of it up through your soaked folds, circled your swollen clit, plunging back down to fuck into your dripping hole. Every lewd sound and moan echoed in the quiet room, his fingers digging into your ass, holding you open while he rode you through your high.
Your own climax hit fast and hard, crashing over your body in a wave and making you come with a muffled cry, your fingers tightening at Kat’s waist. Your thighs clamped around Bobby’s head as your pussy clenched and pulsed, fresh wetness flooding his tongue and he groaned into you, lapping it up greedily while his hips jerked against the mattress. The friction against his trapped cock was too much, “Fuck fuck fuck..” He came with a broken grunt after a few sloppy thrusts, hot cum soaking through his pants in thick spurts, his whole body shuddering between your legs.
Kat followed seconds later, her hips stuttering over your tongue as she came, grinding down hard, her thighs shaking on either side of your head. She cried out into her hand, gushing over your lips and chin, riding out every wave until she finally went limp. The golden strands of his hair fell into his eyes, his forehead rocked into your inner thigh as he finally let up, panting to catch his breath.
Her body fell down beside you, climbing from you carefully where the three of you collapsed together in the tangled sheets, a hazy sheen coating your bodies.
Kat slid to curl against your side, her face tucked into your neck, still breathing hard. Bobby crawled up behind you, pressing his sticky, cum-wet front to your back and wrapping an arm around both of you. His breath warmed your shoulder as he nuzzled closer. Kat’s fingers traced lazy circles on your stomach while Bobby’s hand rested heavy on your hip. No one spoke. Just the sound of slowing breaths and the quiet creak of the bed as you all melted into one another, warm and spent.
The three of you lay there, tucked and blissed out in a bed you shouldn’t have been in, veiled moonlight peeking through the thin shutters in the small glow of the showroom. Every buzz of the high eased off into a comfortable tiredness, as your breathing evened out.
“I think I need new shorts.” Bobby mumbled into your back, and you let out a short giggle hearing the smack against muscle from Kat’s hand reaching over. But none of you bothered to move, his shoulders shrugging, and the pair of them cuddling around you as his arm swung over you both.
So much for bad decisions. But secretly, none you hoped it would end. After all, it was just the beginning of something none of you were ready for.
a guy was talking to me about the pride month and said it wasn’t interesting and shouldn’t get that many interactions ?? bro the enemy is closer than you think
summary ﹏ What's better than a karaoke party to hide the loud noise of moans and whines coming from Dean's room? And what's better than wearing his hockey jersey after sex?
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / no plot smut fic. afab!reader. friends with benefits vibes with mutual attractions. semi-public. flirting&teasing. petname (baby). praise. dirty-talk. oral fixation. body worship. breasts / nipple play. unprotected piv. clit stimulation. voice kink (being loud)&exhibitionism-adjacent fantasy. overstimulation. squirting. external ejaculation. aftercare. “you look better in my clothes” trope.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
Your voice was loud in Dean’s room, vibrating against the wall just to hit back in your ears; and for once, you were glad for whoever was in charge of the music for this party.
The music was so loud tonight, so many people came to celebrate the guys’ victory, alcohol flowing in red cups, laughter in every room. But you were here, inside Dean’s room, behind fucked against his desk; his sweaty torso against your back as he thrusted his hips against your own, slapping your butt at the same time.
The skin slapping skin noise echoed in the room, the desk creaking under both your weight but Dean didn’t seem to care much about it. “Come on baby, show me how much you love my cock, yeah?” He groaned, one hand grabbing your hip tightly to pull you back onto his cock while the other cupped your jaw, tilting your head up just so he could see the expression on your face due to his tall height.
His thumb had slowly slipped inside your mouth, pressing against your tongue; your saliva coating it, dripping down to the palm of his hand. “Mmmfuck baby, you take me so good… That pussy’s squeezing me.” You heard him say, and even though you were unable to reply, a whine escaped your mouth.
Dean chuckled at the noise, before snapping his hips against your ass; his fat cock stretching your gummy walls open, making you coat his shaft with more juices.
He pressed his torso fully against your back then, sweat and skin touching, and you arched toward him. The angle changed then, as Dean’s tip rubbed against your entrance each time he pulled out of your sloppy pussy; a moan so loud left your mouth and you were sure everyone downstairs had heard it, which was impossible with the volume of the music. “Fuck, y’want them to hear us or something? Want them to come take a look?” He joked, groaning as you clenched around his cock.
The hand Dean had to cup your jaw moved away, his thumb leaving your drooling mouth in a wet pop before traveling down to your tits. Saliva coating his digit and he used it to rub around your areola, making your nipple peak up. “Y’so fucking pretty… Goddamn.” He whispered in your ear, cock buried deep inside you for a second, tip kissing your cervix so gently.
“Dean fuck…” You voiced back at him, head all dizzy from the way he was fucking you. The hockey player had always taken his time to make sure and pleasure you first, watching what made you moan and come. You sighed as his hand on your hip also moved to your tits, and he groped both of them in his large and warm palms; he squeezed the fat, pinched your nipples, rolled them in between his fingers before tugging softly.
Moans and whines escaped you, showing how good you felt at that moment.
“You like it, pretty girl? You like me touching you like that?” He asked, both in a mocking and genuine tone—like he wanted to make sure you were having fun like he did. You nodded at his question, panting while replying. “I love it so fuckin’ much, yeah. I love when you touch me.” And it was enough for Dean to get cocky again, snapping his hips in fast and quick thrusts against your ass, making it bounce. You gasped, arching up to feel him more inside you.
“I want to make you come on my cock, what do you think? You want to come on my cock?” He asked, pinching your nipples again and you struggled to reply for a second, and especially when the room was filled with squelching noises coming from your sloppy pussy. The noises were perverted, mixing with skin slapping skin and moans from the both of you.
Dean’s hands ended up moving to your hips, grabbing them to pull you back onto his cock faster. Your juices were coating his balls, making them slap and stick to your clit each time he thrusted back inside you.
“Yeah, yeah, I want to come on your cock!” You cried out, one hand searching backward to grab Dean’s forearm just to feel him. He groaned, cursing under his breath when you clenched around his shaft once more. His tip rubbed and pushed against your g-spot as he lifted your hips up slightly. “You’re such a good girl, yeah? Y’want to come where? I can’t hear shit with the music.” He asked, mocking you just so you’d repeat it.
You groaned in annoyance, turning your head to look at him from above your shoulder; he had his usual cocky smile on, face sweaty from the efforts, blonde hair falling on his forehead. “Fuck off, Dean…” He laughed out-loud at your answer, nodding his head before fastening his pace. The thrusts now sent you forward, your weight making the desk creak as Dean fucked you.
One of his hands also traveled between your thighs, his fingers teasing your clit with a feather-light touch before he started rubbing circles onto it, digits smearing wetness around with how slick you were. Your thighs shook as the pleasure coursed through your body, your mouth opening wide and you cried out Dean’s name; thankfully the loud volume of the music and karaoke behind the doors covered it.
“Y’so fucking loud, baby, you really want them to hear you, uh? Just tell me if that’s what you want.” You heard Dean say as he kept snapping his cock inside your pussy; juices covering all his length to his bushy base and making his skin glisten. You didn’t reply, too busy focusing on your orgasm coming.
Warmth pooled inside your stomach, your pussy clenched tight around Dean’s cock and your thighs started to shake. He must have realized, because the circles he rubbed onto your clit fastened and his thrusts were quicker.
“Dean, fuck, I’m about to come!” You whined, arching toward him again and he cursed, his hips making your ass bounce. “Yeah, I can feel it, baby.” He said, his tip rubbed the sweet spot at the entrance of your pussy.
You only needed a few more thrusts before crying out loudly, muscles trembling as you came onto the hockey player’s cock; his fingers still rubbing at your sensitive clit. You squirmed, mouth wide open and drooling onto Dean’s desk while being overstimulated. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to—” He groaned, hips slapping your ass, the tip of his cock still rubbing your g-spot. “Dean! Dean, fuck!” You cried out, pussy clenching as you suddenly squirted from the amount of pleasure you felt.
Your juices flowed out, drenching Dean’s cock, his thighs, both your feet and the floor of his room. He gasped, cursing as he kept going just to bring it all out of you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster. “Fuck, fuck, that’s it, good girl.” You heard, before your upper body fell onto the desk, you were all spent.
Only then, you felt Dean pull out of your sloppy hole, him groaning behind you before you felt the warmth of his semen hitting your lower back; the ropes of it slowly dripping to your ass. You were both breathing loudly, silence took over—if you forgot about the loud music of the party—before Dean’s hands moved to grab your hips. “You were so fucking good.” He said, pressing kisses to your sweaty skin; from your shoulders to your nape.
“Was I?” You chuckled at him, looking at his face from above your shoulder. “Yeah, you were, duh. You always are.” He only replied.
You watched as he moved away, grabbing his boxers and putting them on before turning around to grab tissues from his bed table. He came back, slowly hit the floor to be on his knees and started to clean the mess between your thighs and the semen off of your skin. You smiled at his actions, feeling his lips on your skin; kissing your thighs or the back of your knees, you waited for him to give you the go before moving away from the desk too.
He got up from the floor, grabbed your panties before giving them to you. “You staying a bit or you want to get back to the party?”
You hummed, still half-naked and now sitting on his bed. “Thought about staying here for a bit, what do you think?” He smiled, throwing the tissue away before grabbing a hockey jersey with his name and number on it. He threw it to you, licking his lips like he already thought about you in his shirt. “Here, you can keep it or whatever.” He shrugged, sitting next to you in the bed.
You chuckled before putting the shirt on, and rolled to lay on your stomach. Dean imitated you, blue eyes focusing on the view he had of you. He hummed before speaking again. “Yeah, I like that view. You’re pretty like that.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment even though you knew they were genuine coming from Dean.
“You know I made a mess on the floor, right?” You simply replied back to him and he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll take care of that, don’t worry about it. Right now I’m just having ideas with you wearing my jersey.” He leaned over, pressing his lips against yours for a single kiss before pulling away.
“Yeah, I think you should wear it all the time, just saying.”
“In your dreams, Di Laurentis.”
taglist ﹏ @ravensreadingrecs @nuitts @filthgf @avasarchve @girldisrupted @userhotd @wiishies ( to be added )
RULES: make a poll with 10 of your favorite shows, they can be just 10 shows you loved watching or your top 10 tv shows of all time, then tag 10 people !!
I realllyyyy want to see your thoughts about how he would be in a relationship. Ofc he's going to be quiet an asshole and the relationship would be toxic but isn't that why we like him? It's mostly for Henry Ashtons face card😛😛 but yeahhh.
He'd gaslight, manipulate etc etc his gf smmm she'll need therapy forever if she ever get out of that relationship.
──── Max Hastings┆sfw alphabet
There is a mention of sexual themes but nothing explicit
A = Affection: how affectionate is he?
Depends. I think Max is really into PDA so that people would know that you’re with him and that you’re his girlfriend. On daily basis or when you’re alone I don’t think he’s much more than arm around the shoulder or hand on your thigh with additional kiss on the temple from time to time. When you’re ‘fighting’ he wouldn’t touch you at all besides having sex with you. But when you’re in post making up/getting back together after a break up he’s way more affectionate just to prove he ‘changed’ and that he will treat you right this time.
B = Best friend/beginning: how would he be like as a best friend? how would your friendship start? how would he fall for you?
I feel like he’d be a good best friend but in a manipulative way. We’ve seen how he was with Cara’s sister and stuff. He’d pretend to be all caring and good just so you’d do something for him/want to stay friends with him. When it comes to falling for you I don’t think it would be innocent not romantic in any way. He’d first starting to be attracted to you what’s is normal but he’d do it in a sexualizing kind of way. Like imagining how it would be if you’d sleep with him and all that before realizing he wants to be with you on a longer scale.
C = Cuddles: does he like cuddling? how would he prefer to do it?
I think he’s such a cuddler. He wants you close at all times when you’re staying over. He likes the feeling of your body pressed against him, he likes when you put our head on his shoulder and chest. Big spoon obviously but would let you be a big spoon after an argument when you feel guilty and join him in bed to kinda ease the tension (would expect YOU to apologize btw). Sometimes in his less crazy moments he just enjoys holding you and watching you sleep (NOT in a perverted way for once)
D = Domestic: does he want to settle down? is he good at cleaning and cooking?
No, no and no. I think he’d get married because it’s expected by his parents or because he wants to permanently tie you down to him. But doesn’t really treat it seriously — wedding reception is just another party but a little bit more uptight where he has to control himself for the sake of the image. And let’s be fucking for real — Max is a spoiled and entitled brat so there is no way he’s doing something around the house so if you don’t wanna do it all you’d have to hire someone. Or he would just hire someone since the very beginning because he’s used to people doing everything for him nor he’d want you do anything. In his mind if there was something his mother wasn’t doing you shouldn’t either.
E = Ending: if he had to break up with you, how would he do it?
Over text and ghosts you later + you’re getting blocked . I will not elaborate.
F = Fiance: how does he feel about marriage?
As I said — wedding + reception is a big party and besides that nothing really changes for him besides the fact that you’re finally Mrs. Hastings like he always wanted you to be. He sees you a little bit more ‘his’ and there are things in his mind that you should/shouldn’t do.
G = Gentle: how gentle is he with you?
Again it depends on what point of relationship we’re in. If it’s fresh after getting back together he behaves like the most green flag guy ever. Very gentle and caring both physically and mentally. As the time passes he’s getting more sharp/rough and stops caring about your comfort + would bitch and start an argument if you’d point it out. His roughness is not getting to the point where it’s physical abuse, he’s just more careless with you and acts like it’s not a big deal if it bothers you.
H = Hugs: does he like hugs? how often does he hug you? what are his hugs like?
Pretty often I would say. He’s touchy and I already said that he’s a cuddler. I think that there would be different types of hugs though. There are sweet when everything is good between you, warning hugs like a him throwing an arm over your shoulder and giving you a warning squeeze if he saw you doing something he doesn’t like, performative hugs when you’re around friends and family when it looks all sweet and stuff but you can actually FEEL how fake and tense it is. And possessive hugs when he sees you talking with a guy or a friend of yours so he has to come over, wrap his arms around you and shows this someone that you’re actually it’s him and that yes he is your boyfriend.
I = I love you: how often does he say the L- word?
Not a lot, in any stage of the relationship. Because growing up he probably never/very rarely saw his parents saying that to each other or acting affectionate so it feels fake when he tries to do that. Would say that if he absolutely MUST or when he wants to manipulate you.
J = Jealousy: how jealous is he? how does it affect his behaviour?
Is in fact very jealous and it affects his behavior A LOT. He’s jealous when it comes to random guys, friend AND family. He doesn’t really want people getting an idea that you’re doing something he cants control so he’d get jealous or possessive. He’s harsher when he’s jealous and if he’d see you ‘flirting’ with a guy he’d throw a tantrum and start an argument with you about it. The only time he doesn’t is when you tell him because he feels like his behavior made you get the urge to tell him and that’s he’s affecting you that much.
K = Kisses: how are his kisses like? where does he kiss you? where does he like being kissed?
Max is an annoyingly good kisser. He has a lot of experience in that field so it’s only right that he’s good at that. He kisses passionately, teasingly and to leave you wanting more. His hands are gripping at your waist or cupping your jaw and cheeks, his fingers sneak into your hair to pull and edge you like that. He’s rarely chaste with his kisses, he pecks your lips only when around family cuz he doesn’t want them to give you looks. But around friends he’s SHAMELESS, he will grab you by the jaw and full out make out with you while on calamity or while you’re all hanging out in his house
L = Little ones: how does he feel around children?
I genuinely don’t know but I feel like he’d be a bad father or bad with children in general while trying to play it cool. He doesn’t know how to act correctly with children around mostly looking up to how his father was raising him so you can only imagine that it wasn’t very good. He tries to act nonchalant and laugh it off when children cry because of him but he’d internally get annoyed. Same goes to when children are generally too loud — if it would be his friend’s kid he’d try to ignore it but if it would be his kid he’d just yell at them to be quiet even if the little one is just having fun.
M = Mornings: how are mornings spent with him?
He’s lazy and sleeping in unless he goes for a morning jog. If he goes that he quite frankly does not care if he wakes you up while getting ready — he’s taking a shower with open doors, slamming the drawers and tossing things on the bed trying to find stuff so he does not care about your comfort — he’s always the more important one. If he happens to be sleeping in he expects you to get early if you have something planned ahead and if not he literally FORCES you to stay in bed with him.
N = Nights: how are nights spent with him?
There free ways Max spends his night. He out partying, getting drunk and all that messy stuff — he would either go with or without you, he doesn’t actually care. When he goes out without you he ignores all your texts and calls and you’re just home overthinking if he’s fine while he’s having the time of his life. Some nights with Max are obviously spend on sex, even if you don’t want or you’re just not in the mood one night he’ll try everything to coax you into sleeping with him. And even when he promises to be gentle and slow it always somehow being like he wants. Or — what is very very rare — spends actual time with you, cuddling on the couch or on the bed, watching movies and eating junk. But he mostly do it to appear as ‘normal’ couple and make you think how good of a boyfriend he is.
O = Open: when would he start revealing things about himself? does he say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things?
He doesn’t tell the truth about himself. He only says stuff when he suits him or makes up lies so that he would not expose himself. He would never actually open to you and be truthful with you.
P = Patience: how easily angered is he?
He’s very quick to anger. He can lose his temper very easily over the most unimportant things. He wants you to behave and be ‘obedient’ and not to talk back, so when you argue and do something that does not seats right with him or something he doesn’t like he’s getting mad. When you’re around people his anger is very subtle — jaw clenched, deep inhales or this stiff shifting in his seat while his eyes tactically pierces you. When you got home after that he’s either throwing a tantrum or you’re getting full ass silent treatment.
Q = Quizzes: how much would he remember about you? does he remember every little detail you mention in passing, or does he kind of forget everything?
He would remember just enough not to appear as neglectful. Your favorite color, flower, if you prefer gold or silver — stuff he know he can use and bought you things he knew are in your taste so it makes him look like he remembers everything even the small details.
R = Remember: what is his favourite moment in your relationship?
Probably the first time you forgave him after he cheated and took him back. The moment he knew he got you in his grip and that he is now carefree cuz he knows he can always get you to make up with him.
S = Security: how protective is he? how would he protect you? how would he like to be protected?
Max’s protectiveness comes from his possessiveness. You are his so he protects you from everything that could harm you or your relationship. But his protectiveness is also toxic — he tries to break up your friendships so they would not make you realize how Max is in fact treating you. He not only keeps you safe but also himself and shows it like he’s only caring for your good.
T = Try: how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?
He puts effort in things that need minimal effort (does this make sense?). He doesn’t plan anything like dates, trips or anniversary’s. He buys you stuff so that he looks like he put effort in that while it’s like the same thing all over again for example the same color of jewelry but different shapes — like if you tell him you like silver and sapphire? He milks it for all that’s worth so he doesn’t need to put a lot of effort into anything.
U = Ugly: what would be a bad habit of his?
Your whole relationship is a toxic mess so there is not only one things that is wrong.
V = Vanity: how concerned is he with his looks?
Max cares so much about his looks, he’s vain and selfish. He’s working out and taking care of himself, jogging. He’s doing all that to maintain his perfect image and keep being attractive not only to keep you but to have other women fall from him so he can have who to cheat with. This mf knows he’s pretty and takes care of it.
W = Whole: would he feel incomplete without you?
No.
X = Xtra: a random headcanon about him
Max done all those rich kid activities as a child, I'm talking piano, French, golf — the full package. Mostly because his father forced him too and Max couldn’t really have anything to say in that matter. It all stopped a little bit before he went to high school and met you so you obviously had no idea he’s skilled in this area. The subject came along on some dinner with him and his parents, his mother brought it up and then when she found out Max never mentioned it to you, she sat you down on the couch and you went through all the photo albums together while Max sat there looking like he’s about to die or kill someone. Only time he was truly embarrassed in front of you.
Y = Yuck: what is a thing he wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?
Having your own opinion, talking back, disagreeing with him in front of your friends, checking his phone, expecting him to actually act like your boyfriend, calling him out on something… I think we all get the idea.
Z = Zzz: what would his sleeping habits be?
Sleeps shirtless in an EXTREMELY cold room, like AC in on all the time — this bitch runs hot. Also doesn’t care much about the blanket but doesn’t let you hog it either. Any position is fine for him as long as he gets the upper hand and you’re not just spread all over the bed. Big spoon 100%. Like when you put your head on his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around you. Stay up late and watch movies/does a bit of weed before bed to relax. Likes to have clean sheets but never change them himself. Snores — not loudly enough to wake you up but you can hear it if he fall asleep before you do.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it even through it was a bit… bittersweet. Actually more bitter than sweet but that’s just my take on Max 🤷🏻♀️
summary : he would do anything for you, even hide a puppy in his closet to surprise you on their anniversary . . .
cw : domestic fluffy. rafe being soft(ish).
wc : 2.3k
Rafe Cameron was fucked.
Not in the dramatic, world-ending way he usually invited—like when he’d snort too much, punch the wrong guy, or crash one of Ward’s boats just to feel something—but in the stupid, domestic way that made his skin crawl. The kind of fuck-up that came with trying to be… good. Or at least good-adjacent. For you.
He was sprawled across the foot of his bed in nothing but black boxer-briefs and a thin silver chain that always got caught in his chest when he got sweaty, one arm flung over his eyes, the other lazily scratching at the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband. The AC was blasting, but the room still felt thick, humid, like the Outer Banks never really let go of summer even when October tried to creep in. His buzzed scalp prickled with the cold air; he liked it that way. Kept him sharp. Kept the thoughts from getting too soft.
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor near his dresser, barefoot, wearing one of his sweatshirts that swallowed you whole. The hem pooled around your thighs, the sleeves bunched at your elbows because you’d pushed them up to scroll through your phone. Your hair was loose today, falling in soft, messy waves over one shoulder. You looked small. Fragile in a way that made something ugly twist in Rafe’s gut every time he noticed it—because he knew exactly how breakable you really weren’t. You just carried it like you were.
He’d been watching you for the last ten minutes without saying anything. Just letting his gaze drag over the curve of your neck, the way your collarbone peeked out from the stretched-out neckline, the soft freckles scattered across the bridge of your nose like someone had flicked cinnamon on your skin. You were humming under your breath—some Sabrina Carpenter song he pretended to hate—and every once in a while your eyes flicked up to him, shy and bright, like you were checking if he was still looking.
Four days. Four fucking days he’d kept the secret.
The puppy (a fluffy gray-and-white Husky with blue eyes, all needle teeth and clumsy paws) had been living in the walk-in closet like some kind of furry hostage. Rafe had lined the floor with old beach towels, set up a water bowl, tossed in a couple of chew toys he’d panic-bought from the pet store in Chapel Hill two towns over. He’d even started leaving the door cracked at night so the little shit could breathe fresh air, but during the day? Door shut and locked. Silence all day.
Except it wasn’t silent anymore.
It started as a whine. The kind of sound that could almost pass for the wind rattling the old window frames. Your head tilted, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion at the sudden small noise. “Rafey.... did you hear that?”
Rafe’s stomach dropped like he’d just missed a step on the stairs. He didn’t move his arm from his face, trying to sound casual even though his heart was beating at 100 km/h right now. “Hear what?”
Another whine. Longer this time. Needier. You frowned, pushing yourself up onto your knees. “That. It sounded like… I don’t know. A baby? Or a cat maybe?”
He forced a laugh. “Babe, we don’t have a cat. And there sure as shit ain’t a baby in here.”
You gave him that look. The one where your brows pinched together and your lips pressed into a little line, like you were trying to decide whether he was lying or just being an asshole for fun. Usually it was the second one.
“I swear I heard something,” you murmured, already turning toward the closet.
Rafe sat up fast—too fast, that his blood pressure even dropped a little. The mattress creaked under him. “Hey. C’mere.”
You paused, glancing back over your shoulder. “What?”
He patted the bed beside him, trying to look casual, like his heart wasn’t slamming against the back of his ribs. “Just come here for a sec.”
You hesitated for maybe twenty seconds, then you crawled up onto the mattress, knees sinking into the comforter. When you got close enough he hooked two fingers in the front of his sweatshirt and tugged you forward until you half-fell against his chest. Your palms flattened on his pecs for balance.
He wrapped one arm around your lower back, fingers splaying wide over the dip of your spine, thumb brushing the elastic of your underwear through the thick cotton. He buried his nose in your hair for a second, just breathing you in, trying to buy time.
The closet was quiet again. Maybe the puppy had gone back to sleep. Maybe it was fine. Maybe—
A sharp, high-pitched yip. You stiffened in his arms. Rafe’s grip tightened involuntarily, the moment of relief quickly broken again by the puppy's treacherous pleas.
“What the hell was that?” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at his face. Your eyes were wide, pupils blown in the dim light. “Rafe. That was not the wind.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His brain short-circuited for a second—every lie he could think of sounded dumber than the last. “I… uh…”
Another yip. Then a soft, frantic scratching against the inside of the door. Tiny claws on wood. The unmistakable sound of a tail thumping against the frame.
Your gaze snapped toward the closet. “There’s something in there.”
Rafe scrubbed a hand over his buzz cut, the short hairs rasping against his palm. “It’s nothing.”
“Rafe.”
“It’s not—”
“Rafe Cameron, open that door right now or I’m doing it myself.”
Fuck.
He exhaled hard through his nose. “Fine. But don’t freak out, okay?”
Your brows shot up. “Why would I freak out?”
Because I’m an idiot who thought he could surprise you and instead I’m about to look like a lunatic who’s been hiding a live animal in this closet for four days like some kind of psychopath.
He didn’t say that. Instead he slid off the bed, every muscle in his back flexing under the low light as he crossed the room. The floorboards creaked under his bare feet. He could feel your eyes on him the whole way. He stopped in front of the door. Hand on the knob. Heart in his fucking throat.
One last glance back at you. You had slid to the edge of the bed, legs dangling, hands gripping the mattress on either side of you thighs. You looked both nervous and excited.
He twisted the knob and the door swung open.
And there, sitting in the middle of a nest of crumpled towels, was the fluffiest, bluest-eyed little monster you had ever seen. Its tail wagged so hard its whole back end wiggled. It let out one more excited yip, then launched itself forward—straight at Rafe’s shins.
He caught it on instinct, scooping the squirming ball of fur up against his bare chest. Cold nose pressed to his throat. Tiny paws scrabbling against his skin. Wet tongue swiping across his jaw in one long, sloppy stripe.
You gasped. Rafe looked up at you through his lashes, smirking, but still a little terrified of your reaction. “Surprise,” he muttered. “Happy early fuckin’ anniversary, baby.”
You didn’t move at first. You just stared.
The puppy was still wriggling in Rafe’s arms, tiny paws slipping against the sweat-slick skin of his chest, tail whipping back and forth so fast it blurred. A soft, excited whimper bubbled out of its throat every few seconds—like it couldn’t decide whether to bark or cry from happiness. Its blue eyes locked onto you immediately, like it already knew you were the one it had been waiting for.
Rafe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the floor creaking under him. He was trying to look chill, but the way his jaw ticked and the faint flush creeping up the side of his neck gave him away. He wasn’t used to this—giving something real, something vulnerable, and then having to stand there and wait for the verdict.
Your lips parted. No sound came out. Your hands were still fisted in the comforter on either side of your hips, knuckles pale. You blinked once. Twice. Then your eyes filled up. Not dramatic, movie-style tears. Just… water. Slow and quiet, gathering at the lash line until one slipped free and tracked down the curve of your cheek. You didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t even seem to notice.
“Rafe…” Your voice cracked on his name, barely above a whisper.
He swallowed hard. The puppy nosed under his chin, and Rafe absently scratched behind its floppy ear while keeping his gaze locked on you. “You said you wanted one,” he muttered, rougher than he meant to. “Back when you were talking to Rose. About that dream you had. The one where you had a dog that slept at the foot of your bed and followed you everywhere. I… I remembered.”
Your throat worked. You pressed your lips together like you were trying to hold everything inside, but it wasn’t working. Another tear slid down, then another. Your bottom lip trembled and it hit Rafe square in the solar plexus.
He wasn’t good at this shit. He wasn’t good at softness. He was good at breaking things, at yelling, at taking what he wanted and leaving wreckage behind. But this? This quiet, trembling girl looking at him like he’d just handed her the moon?
It fucking terrified him.
“You’ve had it… here?” you asked, voice small and thick. But there was amusement too, as if the idea of Rafe hiding a puppy in his closet was funny and kind of impossible to imagine. “In your closet?”
“Four days,” he admitted, grimacing. “Thought I could pull off the big romantic surprise tomorrow. Anniversary and all that. But the little asshole decided to start serenading us early.”
The puppy chose that exact second to let out a tiny, indignant yip, like it was offended by the nickname. Rafe huffed a laugh despite himself.
Your eyes flicked from the puppy to Rafe’s face and back again. You slid off the bed slowly, bare feet silent on the hardwood. Every step you took toward them made Rafe’s pulse kick harder. When you were close enough you reached out, fingertips brushing the soft fur along the puppy’s back. The Husky immediately twisted in Rafe’s hold, stretching toward you with a desperate whine. Its pink tongue darted out, swiping at the air inches from your hand.
You let out a shaky laugh and cupped the puppy’s face with both palms. The fur was baby-soft, like velvet, still smelling faintly of the pet store shampoo and the newness of life. The puppy’s eyes half-closed in bliss as you scratched gently under its chin, right where the fluff was thickest.
“Oh my God,” you breathed. “He’s… he’s so little.”
“She,” Rafe corrected, voice low and affectionate. “Little girl. Figured you’d want one that’d grow up mean enough to keep the Pogues away from you.”
Your laugh bubbled up again, wet and bright. You looked up at him through damp lashes, cheeks flushed, eyes shining like sea glass after a storm. “You got me a girl?” you whispered, like that detail alone was enough to unravel you.
“Yeah.” Rafe’s throat felt tight. “Thought… maybe she could be yours. Ours. Whatever. I don’t fuckin’ know. I just—” He broke off, jaw working. “I wanted you to have something good. Something that wasn’t… me being a dick all the time.”
Your hands stilled on the puppy’s face. You stared at him for a long beat—long enough that Rafe started to feel exposed, raw, like you could see straight through the bullshit armor he wore every day. Then you stepped even closer. Your body brushed his—soft curves against the hard planes of his chest, the puppy squished gently between you two. You had to tip your head back to meet his eyes, and when you did, the look on your face made something inside Rafe crack wide open.
You rose onto your tiptoes, one hand still cradling the puppy’s head, the other sliding up to curl around the back of Rafe’s neck. Your fingers threaded into the short hairs at his nape, nails grazing his scalp in that gentle way you sometimes did when he was spiraling.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth. Not quite a kiss; just your lips touching, breathing each other in. “Thank you, Rafe.”
He closed his eyes. Exhaled hard through his nose. The puppy wriggled happily, licking at both your chins in sloppy alternation.
You pulled back just enough to look at the little gray-and-white face between you two. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of the puppy’s head—right between the ears—then looked back up at Rafe with that same trembling smile.
“What’s her name again?”
Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Was kinda hoping you’d pick. I’ve just been calling her ‘Trouble’ in my head.”
You laughed again and the sound loosened something in his chest he hadn’t even realized was knotted.
“Trouble,” you repeated, testing it. Your gaze dropped back to the puppy, who was now trying to climb Rafe’s shoulder like it was a mountain. “I think… maybe Luna? Like the moon. Because of her eyes. It's so pale, like moonlight.”
Rafe considered it, looking down at the squirming bundle currently attempting to chew on his earlobe. “Luna,” he said slowly, tasting the word. “Yeah. Luna fits.”
You beamed and it was like the whole damn room got brighter. You leaned in again, this time pressing your forehead to his. Their noses brushed. Your breath fanned warm across his lips.
“I love her,” you murmured. “And I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”
Rafe froze instantly.
You said it sometimes, but he never said it back. Not because he didn’t feel it. Because the words felt too big, too dangerous, like if he let them out they might burn everything down.
But right now, with your body pressed to his and Luna’s tiny heart beating frantically against his sternum, with you looking at him like he was something worth keeping…
He swallowed once. Then, voice so low it was almost lost in the hum of the AC— “Love you too, baby.”