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sweetlemontart · 9 months

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call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

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Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath.

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on.

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease.

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago.

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification.

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck.

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan.

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious.

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by.

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier.

"Is that it?" you asked him.

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head.

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you.

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest.

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name.

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes.

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further.

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show.

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal.

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more.

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow.

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to.

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit.

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut.

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge.

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in.

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much?

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it.

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you.

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer.

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising.

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants.

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light.

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you.

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet.

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum.

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back.

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath.

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes.

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips.

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting.

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening.

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all.

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better.

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him.

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips.

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole.

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt.

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit.

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up.

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow.

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt.

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name.

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know.

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle.

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy.

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it.

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours.

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp.

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt.

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow.

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

"Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him.

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full.

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess."

"W-What?" you squeak out.

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans.

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest.

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you.

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin.

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air.

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?"

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs.

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst.

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors.

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind.

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance.

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry?

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes.

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again.

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high.

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet.

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it.

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal.

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck.

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk.

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly.

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out.

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago.

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair.

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind.

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..."

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—"

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once.

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head.

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush.

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open.

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer.

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him.

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath.

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..."

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly.

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his.

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss.

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine.

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice.

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek.

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom.

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sarcasticassian · 8 months

Text

Steve pulled out all the stops for Eddie's birthday when he worked with Erica to create a oneshot D&D campaign and managed to get everyone to join in (some blackmail was involved) and Robin secretly worries about Steve being disappointed or upset if Eddie doesn't do something similar for his birthday, everyone knows Steve's and Eddie's hobbies don't really align

so colour her shocked when she's yanked out of bed by Eddie bright and early on Steve's birthday and is forced into the closest thing she owns to gym clothes and is marched down to a basketball court that Eddie has rented for the whole day

she watches in amazement as Eddie divides them all into teams, letting Steve pick whoever he wants (naturally he picks Robin first even if she'll be no help) and they split into two teams of six, with Eddie somehow wrangling the position of referee even though he only knows the basics of how basketball works, and the kids don't even fuss that much, there's barely a complainant about how they're about to have to play sports all day, they all seem to be begrudgingly going along with it, apart from Lucas and El who are practically bouncing with excitement

Steve is clearly having the best time, running up and down the court and yelling and cheering, a little red in the face because he hasn't done this for a while but constantly yanking his teammates and even those on the other team into excited hugs and handing out back slaps and high fives like a little puppy, he even tries to chest bump with Robin who gives it a go then immediately regrets it and Steve throws himself at Eddie once the game is over

Robin asks later and Eddie tells her that Lucas was kind enough to sit down and explain the game and the rules because Eddie had been trying to make it up to him over not cancelling Hellfire because of his basketball game and being a dick about it and he'd been going to games with Steve and seen how much Steve enjoyed it and yeah Eddie hates organised sports but a game between the Party and the Older Party is hardly organised so as soon as Steve pulled out a whole D&D campaign for him he knew he had to get on Steve's level for his birthday

Robin gives Eddie permission to marry Steve that day

#Argyle is a secret basketball machine I just know it #Robin yells every time Steve tries throwing it to her #and countless passes are fumbled because the party cannot catch #steddie headcanon #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #steveddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve

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leclercsbunny · 7 months

Text

maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part six ♡ masterlist

f1chai sainz and ricciardo allegedly got into a scuffle, sky news report. the two have come up on recent news due to their involvement with yn, as both drivers have been closely linked with the spanish socialite. the f1 management is reportedly investigating this matter, and are adamant to deal out swift and just penalties for both drivers involved. neither teams have expressed their side regarding this matter.

username i would pay good money to see them fist fight

username and nobody caught it on their camera ?? LAMEEEE

username see i would have screamed world star‼️

username hmmm arguing who's the daddy

username will forever be astounded of yn, bagging these men in the same breath

username yikes

username penalty for ocon!!

username don't let these men back on track fia (10392)

username so... private school fighting? pointing at eachother and then screaming?! 🤔🤔🤔

username "sainz and ricciardo had to be separated by several staff in a fit of blind rage."

username "the australian driver emerged with an upset expression, a bruising prominent on his jaw and a crimson eyebrow. the spaniard later on followed suit, an expression of annoyance evident, armed with a busted lip and a limp to his gait."

username so a fight FIGHT. they were scrapping to scrap 😳😳

username oh i know they were just swinging wildly

username ten bucks daniel would have laid carlos on his ass

username disagree. have you seen carlos's hands? he's punching to knock some sense into daniel

username yeah but daniel has the force of justice behind his blows

username not if he's the father. screwing your mate's ex girl while they're on the rocks?

username what do you mean on the rocks?? he cheated on her publicly. then they broke up. then partied like his life depended on it? 🙄🤨

f1chai daniel ricciardo adds fuel to the fire by posting a shady instagram story amid the controversy surrounding him today. several news outlet reports that the australian pilot have been fined a sum of 5,000 euros for recklessly behaving and have been reprimanded alongside sainz. to waive the penalty, the pair were urged to make ammends, and publicly acknowledge their wrongs for disrupting the peaceful atmosphere present in f1. his response is as follows; "i won't apologize."

username ATEEEEEEEEE

username stop playing with him 😳😳😳

username yeah that will tell them🤦🏻‍♀️😂

username they keep letting these men buy their way into being a decent human being... they'll cash out everytime !!

username i love when men are shady

username DANIEL WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

username what if they used chairs ?? would that be atleast 10k ??

username that's spare change for these men 😭😭😭 who assigned these amount?

username it's a minor misdemeanor, it's already blown out of proportition🤭

username yeah but that's like what?? one tyre and a steering wheel ?? 😭😭😭

username so close !! steering wheels could go up to six figures 😂😂

username i stand corrected

username daniel: ... so can i pay in advance to throw hands? 🤔😂

f1chai both sainz and ricciardo have declined to elaborate regarding their public spat, and have expressed very little about their issue. no direct apologies were addressed to eachother nor was there any indication they regretted they came to blows. new reports claim that the reason of them being tight-lipped had everything to do with the paternity of yn's alleged baby, and although at odds with eachother, both sainz and ricciardo are adamant on maintaining her privacy at this delicate moment.

username enemies 4 life

username awww yn's boys🥲🥲

username the boys you speak of would push eachother on the track if given the opportunity🥰

username yeah boys‼️

username daniel probably talked maaaaad smack

username only reasonable explanation

username not necessarily, i would have been throwing hands regardless. like wym you've been comforting MY girl?!

username they broke up though

username on a break** this has been yn and carlos' dance since forever

username man shut up. yn deserves better than a man who has a very fickle sense of loyalty.

username he has some serious issues

username ALLEGEDLY okay ALLEGEDLY daniel took a swipe at matteo's parentage and said something along the lines of "you're gonna fuck up another kid's childhood just because you can't keep it in your pants?" non verbatim 😳😳

username YOOOOOOO

username that's WILD to even comprehend, imagine hearing it directly.

username ngl i would have been throwing hands with daniel aswell

username nicki type of line

username who's matteo's mom anyways 😭😭

username i know we're all mad at him but look at him 😩

username yn this isn't you‼️

username look away we can do this!!

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nadvs · 1 month

Text

watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#the way i listen to a playlist called ‘fratboy anthems’ while i work on this series….#don’t think i’ve ever written this much this fast??? what rafe cameron does to a mf #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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au where Steve is a famous Disney kid and Eddie is a teenaged singer-songwriter. They get pushed together at events because they're close in age, but they just quietly dislike each other.

Steve's got a new show starting, a spinoff of the one that made him a household name. They hire a newcomer, Robin Buckley, to play his best friend and the two quickly become BFF in real life.

The show runs for two seasons but when it comes time to renegotiate contracts, neither star is interested. They're older now, ready to live life on their terms and not the company's, or in Steve's case, his parents.

As soon as the finale airs, Robin and Steve celebrate by going to a gay club. A few weeks later, an interview is released where Steve comes out as bi and talks about how his parents mistreated him; how they worked with the network to pressure him to be a perfect "all-American" kid even off screen.

Meanwhile, Eddie's an impossible level of famous. He's had number-one hits, won a Grammy, headlined an arena tour, achieved every dream he had for himself as a kid growing up in a trailer park in Indiana. He's not shocked by the news that Steve is leaving Hollywood, but he's flabbergasted that the guy isn't straight. When Eddie reads the interview, he gets this weird pang in his chest, almost like regret. But he never even liked Steve.

Steve isn't in the news again and Eddie doesn't think of him for a long time.

Steve goes to college. He loves it. Not because he's great in his classes, or anything, but because he's free to be himself for the first time. He makes friends and goes to parties and relaxes. He and Robin share an apartment.

After a few semesters, Steve decides to take a couple of theater classes, and is quickly cast in campus productions. In the vague anonymity of college theater he rediscovers his love of acting. No one has expectations of him, no one forces him to perform. He graduates and slowly starts appearing in small roles in Indie films, gathering critical acclaim. He feels good. Happy. Hopeful.

Eddie is blissfully unaware of Steve's career resurgence, experiencing his own musical highpoints, until the day where he's scrolling Twitter, sees a Variety headline that's getting a bunch of attention, "Steve Harrington in talks to star in Max Mayfield's first film." Eddie's livid.

"Maxine, what the fuck?" He growls when she answers his call.

They grew up together in the same Indiana trailer park. When she moved to Hollywood to start a career as a screenwriter, Eddie was by her side. And when her first script wound up on the Black List, his involvement on the soundtrack and original songs sealed her production deal.

She gives a long suffering sigh. "Munson," she grumbles. "I know you have a weird history with this guy, but I swear he's the right choice."

"He's a stuck up rich boy who's never been in trouble in his life."

"He's changed."

"Doubtful," Eddie sneers.

"Look. I'll set-up a meeting. Come hang out and you'll see what I mean." Before she hangs up she adds, "Call me Maxine again and I'll end you."

They invite Harrington to Eddie's recording studio. His hopes are not high for this meeting, so he's already a little thrown when Steve Harrington walks in, all grown up. He's in a crimson sweater, tight jeans, hair grown long so that it flops around his face in tousled waves that actually look genuine, windswept and golden. Eddie's eyes instinctively trace the scatter of moles on Harrington's face and neck, a pang of something hitting deep in his gut. Fuck, this dude is beautiful.

"Harrington," he greets, sticks out his hand. Eddie barely hears the answering, "Munson," because instead of a handshake, Harrington pulls Eddie in for a hug. Muscles bunch under the sleeves of the sweater, against Eddie's chest, and he's assaulted by the scent of cedar and sunshine and Steve. Eddie's not prepared for any of this.

They make small talk, Harrington sharing about going to college, falling in love with theater, Robin Buckley who he calls his soulmate. Eddie's head rings with how wrong he was about this guy; the pretty kid he grew up alongside who seemed to have the world in his hands. Max was right, he's perfect. Except.

"Let's get down to it, Harrington," Eddie says. Can't bring himself to call him Steve yet, feels that will somehow change everything and he's not ready. "I'll admit that Mayfield had the right idea about you, but can you sing? Play guitar? You have to perform my music, dude. That's not a small ask."

Harrington smirks, asks for a guitar. He gets it settled across his lap before he speaks. "I started taking piano lessons when I was 4. Voice and guitar at 7."

Eddie belatedly recalls that Harrington's parents were the worst kind of stage-parents, pushing their cute kid to perform even as he sobbed about wanting to play soccer with his friends instead of going to auditions. He has a moment of shame that he forgets as the other man begins to play. It's one of Eddie's biggest hits, a ballad about a teenaged broken heart from a kid whose name he can't even remember.

Harrington's hair flops in a swoop over his forehead, his fingers move across the strings with ease, skill. His voice is a rasp, close mimic to Eddie's own, but not quite deep enough. Goosebumps spread across Eddie's arms, his neck, and warmth pools low in his gut.

Steve finishes the song, looks up, cheeks glowing pink, honey eyes bright. Eddie's fucking gone for this guy. He wants so badly he might choke on it.

"Good?" Steve asks.

Eddie's embarrassed suddenly. Unsure. He tugs at his hair. "Yeah," he laughs. "Good."

He reaches out to take the guitar, the one Steve's already handing to him, and their hands brush. Eddie flushes. Their eyes meet and Steve smiles. Eddie's thoughts are consumed with the desire to kiss his plush pink mouth.

"You wanna get dinner? Just you and me?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Steve," he laughs. "I'd love to."

🎬🎸🎬🎸

Fifteen Months Later

"Former Teen Heartthrobs Make Love Connection?"

Fans of musician Eddie Munson and former child star, Steve Harrington, were in for the surprise of their lives last night as the men arrived together for the premier of Harrington's new movie, Small Town Sins, written by up-and-coming screenwriter Max Mayfield, featuring original music by Munson. While Harrington's performance and the movie itself are garnering quite a bit of positive buzz, it's being overshadowed by gossip about Harrington and Munson's budding romance. They walked the red carpet together, pausing for photos as a duo, holding hands and flirting. When asked for confirmation of their relationship, Munson answered, 'we're bros,' before winking and pulling Harrington close.

There's a TikTok video embedded below the article, showing the men being interviewed on the red carpet. Their arms are loosely around each others' waists, and when their eyes meet they catch and hang for a beat.

"So, longtime fans of both of yours are going feral online right now because of the rumors that you two used to hate each other. Is there any truth to that?" An off-camera voice asks.

The men laugh. "We've always been great friends," Eddie answers.

"Eddie thought I was stuck up," Steve giggles.

"I did not." Eddie slaps at Steve, who gives him an affectionate smile.

"Liar," Steve answers.

Eddie leans into the camera like he's telling a secret. "Harrington here was afraid of me."

"Fuck off, I was not." They wrestle around for a couple of seconds.

Steve shrugs Eddie off, straightening his suit jacket. "Okay, maybe I was a little intimidated back then, but then this morning you found a pretty rock and cried about it."

Eddie shrieks, swatting at Steve until someone in a black suit and name tag shoos them down the red carpet.

Eddie walks off first, so he misses Steve withdrawing a hand from his pocket and saying, "Still have the rock, though." He flashes the red, grey, blue striped stone at the camera.

His gaze drifts away, landing somewhere in the distance, hazel eyes soft and heart-wrenchingly fond.

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auggieblogs · 5 months

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"I'm not even drunk" | OP81

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of being drunk?

Author's note: Hiiii, beautiful people. I hope everyone is doing good. This one shot is inspired by a tiktok I watched recently. It was very cute and I hated it so much (I was jealous). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Happy reading:))

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

It was your 21st birthday, and Las Vegas was the chosen destination for the celebration. Oscar, your boyfriend, planned the entire trip, determined to make it the most memorable birthday you'd ever experience. Initially hesitant about the idea, it took a considerable amount of persuasion, involving nearly the entire Formula 1 grid, especially Max, to get you on board. The Formula 1 drivers were on a break, and they were ready to party.

The night kicked off with Lando popping champagne during the cake-cutting ceremony. You were handed a glass, and with a cheeky grin, Lando said, "Cheers to being legal everywhere now! Except maybe on Mars." You felt the bubbles tickling your nose as you laughed with joy.

But then came the tequila shots with Max and Checo, and suddenly, sophistication was replaced with the burning sensation of regret and lime wedges.

By the end of the night, you were on a first-name basis with every type of alcohol, and Oscar gave you that "we're going to need a mop later" look.

Oscar, being the responsible partner he was, barely had a drink. He watched over you, wanting you to enjoy the night to the fullest.

As the night ramped up, you were on the verge of climbing onto the pool table, ready to deliver a speech that probably would've made Shakespeare question his career choices. Oscar intervened just in time, gently pulling you down with a, "Let's get back to the room, baby. I think you've had enough." You, however, were convinced the party had just begun. "No, Oscar, the night is still young," you slurred.

"But love, you'll be exhausted tomorrow, and the hangover won't be fun," Oscar reasoned, successfully convincing you to return to the hotel room.

Eventually, Oscar managed to coax you into a cab, where you continued to babble about how you weren't even drunk and thanking him for the incredible night. Your words were a bit of a jumble, but Oscar simply smiled, appreciating your genuine happiness. He sat next to you, nodding along with a patient smile, occasionally muttering an "Oh, really?" or a "That's amazing" to keep you going.

Upon reaching the hotel, you clung to Oscar like a drunken sloth. In the elevator, you gave him a squinty-eyed grin, saying, "I'm not even drunk, Oscar!"

He shot back, "Really? What's with the wobbly legs then?"

"You, baby," you replied with a wink, your laughter echoing off the elevator walls. Oscar just chuckled, probably wondering if he should get you a helmet.

Exiting the elevator, Oscar tried reasoning with you, "You're wasted, love." You straightened up with all the dignity of a penguin trying to impersonate a giraffe. "I'm as sober as a cat in a cucumber garden!"

Back in front of your hotel room, Oscar, in full dad mode, hands on hips, challenged you, "Prove it! Show me you're not drunk."

"Oh, I'll prove it," you announced, pulling out your phone to make a phone call to Lando. "He'll tell you I'm as sober as a... a really sober thing!"

When Lando answered, you shouted into the phone, "Lando, tell Oscar I'm not drunk!" Lando's laughter erupted from the speaker, "Yeah, you're definitely drunk, you muppet."

You rolled your eyes and handed the phone to Oscar, pouting, "He's the drunk one, not me!"

Determined to seal the deal, you declared, "I can tap dance to prove I'm not drunk!" And without waiting for a response, you started a wobbly tap dance routine in the hallway ( which was more like a human interpretation of a malfunctioning robot than a dance).

Oscar doubled over with laughter catching you just as you lost your balance. "Alright, alright, you've made your point!"

As you both stumbled into the hotel room, still giggling, you managed to blurt out, "Best birthday ever," before collapsing onto the bed. Oscar, smiling like a lovestruck puppy, joined you on the bed, engulfing you in the biggest bear hug and said "Happy birthday, love. You're never drinking again."

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ja3hwa · 6 months

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♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 ♡

【Synopsis】 : The aftermath of Seonghwa ravishing, you had left your thirsty. Good thing whole you wander through the large easte, a grumpy vampire is more than happy to help show you the kitchen. After all, he, too, is thirsty.

『Word count』 : 1.89k

-> Genre: Fantasy. Gore. Suggestive. Mafia au.

Pairing: Vampire!Yeosang x Reader | Vampire!Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual Poly]

[Warnings] : Mention of sex. Blood drinking. Kissing. Seonghwa is already whipped for the reader. Nakedness. Pet names. Swearing. Mention of death. Mention of gore scenes involving flesh being ripped from bone by teeth. (whoops) Blood drinking. Yeosang is a grumpy boy. Modern meets medieval

Part One | Masterlist | Mini Series Materlist | Navigation

564 years later

Music infected the brain making it hard to hear your own thoughts. Liquor was everywhere. From the mouths of the drunk to the floor of the poor bar. Night clubs were where singles could find a chance to walk home with another and takens to hide their love affairs. It was sickening, to say the least. People throwing themselves at each other, hands falling to parts of the body only the private eye should take advantage of. Guess the saying "think with your dick" was invented at a club because all everyone does here is just that.

Yeosang sat quietly in the VIP lounge, sipping his drink while closely watching his entertainment for the evening. A piss poor excuse for humanity. He regrets agreeing to this ordeal now. Why couldn't San be the watchman or even Wooyoung? They love to spend time around humans. Especially when they get to drink off them. Yeosang was not the same. The idea of partying or drinking from a filthy human's neck, it scream disease in this era...

The thought makes Yeosang cringe. Have you ever tasted the flavour of a sexual disease in blood? It’s not pleasant. Bitter, tangy, and downright vial. Like tasting death. But alas no matter how much Yeosang pleaded his pain to the older males, they declined saying ‘We need you there tonight. Everyone else has their duties, now do yours’. Yeosang huffs reminding himself he needs to kill San and Wooyoung the next time he sees them.

His eyes wandered aimlessly at the passing face. One of his jobs here was not just to see who entered the club but to also do some side deals, moving drugs, importing expensive alcohol. You name it. So of course that means he had to deal with humans. Typical drunk humans. Typical horny drunk humans. Typical…. “Wait….” Yeosang cut off the cowardly man in front of him with the raise of his finger. His eyes locked on to a young woman dressed in black sitting at his bar. She was nursing a drink while another woman in a tight skimpy dress had caught her attention. They seemed to be chatting about something. More like yelling at one another but that was beside the point. The girl in black looked so familiar like he had met her before, a long time ago.

—

You shifted slightly, feeling an ache on your upper thighs. Your eyes were hazy, trying to look around the dim room. You felt a weight on your waist, making it hard to move. Your head turned to the side seeing Seonghwa’s peaceful face. You could still see some of your blood stained on his bottom lip. A tingle surged against your neck, reminding you about the small wound on it. Hwa hadn’t full-on bit you like vampires would normally do to their prey but the idea still lingered on your mind. He was a beast that had fed from you, slept with you and you like it? Something must be wrong with you.

“I can feel you staring at me.” His voice was deeper, more gravelled. It sent shivers down your spine. But you didn’t know how to answer, so instead, you leaned in closer, sealing your lips on his. He gladly took them, deepening the sensual yet passionate kiss. It didn’t last as long as Seonghwa would have liked though, as you pulled away you spoke softly.

“I’m going to go get a drink.” You shifted once again but this time, pulling away from Hwa’s bare body. He whined in the loss of your warmth but you just giggled reassuring him you wouldn’t be long.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you? It’s still sunny out. No one will be awake other than our workers.” He yawned clearly still in rest mode. Once again you eased his mind by saying if you needed help you’re sure one of the workers would help. And as you finished chatting to a sleepy Seonghwa while putting on your sleepwear, you left, slowly making your way down the hall. It might been dim inside but the sun was slinking its way in through some of the curtains as you passed them. One by one, until you reached the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. It dawned on you that maybe you should have taken Seonghwa’s advice about him going with you or maybe just asked him which direction was the kitchen.

Huffing out, you place your hands on either side of your hips, trying to think about where it could possibly be but your thoughts don’t last long as a tall man with thick biceps and slicked back hair that seemed to have a slight tinge of green in it appeared suddenly. He was very handsome, just like the others and the minute he closed the door behind him he knew you were in the all with him. A low grumble surged through him, making the vibrations disturb the ground, shocking its way up your legs. H was intimidating but you weren’t scared. If anything you felt safer with the idea of creatures like him roaming around, making you aware no human from your village and by that you mean your mother, would have no second thought in coming to the ruined castle.

“Wooyoung was right, you do have a staring problem.” His sharp voice made your heart sting a little. He seemed uninterested in you compared to the others. Which you didn’t mind but part of you wanted to know why? What made him feel different?

“I uh…” He had caught you so suddenly, that you probably looked like a deer in headlights from his perspective which made a sly smile paint his god-like features.

“Cat got your tongue, human?” He made it painfully aware to you that he was no mortal like you, showing off his fangs in the smile. His eyes were glowing and he was clearly not in the mood for small talk. Taking a few steps, he was suddenly in front of you. You could finally take in some details noting he was still wearing outing clothes instead of sleepwear. It only then dawned on you, that he was either Hongjoong or Yeosang. The vampires you hadn’t met yet. his smirk faded quickly, huffing out a shallow breath. He took one last step in front of you, chest to chest to him. Letting you feel his breath on your cheek, your heart started racing. You could smell death around him as if he had been hunting recently. His eyes staring at you harshly, such a familiar gaze. And then you realized as you noticed some of the blood stains sticking out from his undershirt who he was…

“Y-You are the one I saw last night. The one that bit…” Your voice was slacked and shaky, with your eyes wide. His pupils were blown out, with his iris’s changing from a brown to a deep red. His fingers dance along your exposed collarbone, dragging up over the already healed where Seonghwa had pricked you a couple of hours ago.

“Oh no, Pet…” His chuckle was dark, seductive. “I ripped his jugular out.” His words made your breath hitch, imagining long teeth shredding flesh down to the bone against Lucas’s neck. His face tilted down towards your neck, rubbing his nose against your skin. “He tasted fowl, tainted. I’m surprised if he lasts the day.” his tongue licked a stripe up your hot neck, taking in your scent.

“He’s still alive?” Again with the stupid questions. Did you even care about knowing? Why would you want to know about the life of a guy who could have done such terrible things to you?

“For now…” He pulled away with a groan, his hands holding your waist. “Sadly Hongjoong had patched him enough so if he is…'strong', then I guess he’ll live.” It fell silent for a moment, you had no idea how to respond. So he was Yeosang and from what you’ve heard, he was known for having a temper. “Enough about him. I’m more interested in why Hwa didn’t bite you properly. Hmm? All that talk about being your first for everything and oh I mean everything. Yet he didn’t drink from you?”

Your face was flustered at his words. Seonghwa wanted to be your first in everything. How long have these men been watching you? You gulped, not breaking eye contact with the vampire. His lip was sucking in tightly between his teeth, taking in yet another deep breath, as if he needed to get your scent in his system to live. “I guess he wouldn’t mind if I took the offer.”

Your eyes widened, feeling his grip tighten on your hips. One hand freed itself, snaking out to the back of your neck, pulling your head to the side sharply. You hissed at his forcefulness but did not dare to voice any such uncomfortableness, not wanting him to push away from your aching body. He didn’t waste another breath, not caring whether you even wanted this or not, licking a strip along your main vein before his long sharp fangs sank into your soft flesh.

“Y-Yeo…” You squirmed against him, the pain was nothing like you experienced before. It wasn’t a burning pain like a broken bone or a sprained ligament but a dizzy pain. One that is mixed with pleasure, or euphoric notions. You felt like your brain was in the clouds, untouched, protected. His grip got tighter, the hand that held your hip was now wrapped around your middle, caging you in his tight grasp. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling at his tunic. His groans rumbled in your ears, making your core wet.

He finally pulled back, blood pouring down his chin, staining his button-up and neck. His groans were music to your ears, the velvet vocals melting your brain. “Fuck pet, if I’d kept going I’d drink you dry. I’ve never tasted such sweetness.” He lapped at your wounds, cleaning any blood that had spilled out down your collarbone. The air seemed thinner to you, while your heart was racing, trying to pump more blood in you from the large amount you had just lost. “I wonder if other parts of you hold such palatableness.”

You had no clue the meaning behind his rambles, but if they meant anything like Seonghwa’s charming words, you soon realized where it makes you end up. He finally lets go of your head, your neck completely clean to the best of his abilities. Sadly he couldn’t say the same about your pj’s. one a nice baby blue, now covered in crimson. Your head was dizzy but no longer just from the loss of blood but more so from the intoxicating undead beast holding your caringly. Your body was yearning for him, like some sickness, wanting nothing other than these vampiric men. Not one, not two, but all of them.

—

Yeosang couldn’t control his feet, weaving quickly through the crowd, trying to get to the hypnotic woman sitting at the bar, but as he finally pushed the last drunk pig of a human past him, the woman was gone. He stood there for a moment, in disbelief. Was he dreaming? Was he losing his mind? Becoming unattached from the world? Raking his fingers through his hair he sighed out a frustrating growl, needing to contact someone. Holding his finger in his ear and the phone to the other, he searched through his contacts, but no one seemed to answer not until one did, “Jongho I think I just saw her…”

-♡

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amomentsescape · 6 months

Note

Heyyy darling,IM POLITELY BEGGING,for some stu and billy with feral ,hyper,punk gremlin s/o headcanons. Simply the boys trying to be as casual as possible so they dont get suspected for the previous murders but then they’re running around with their own little bundle of chaos. Im talking like a real troublemaker,just for the fun of it but always just watching all the drama happening,never being involved even though they caused it. For example: •causing misunderstandings in other friendgroups •cutting someone’s car wheels (or similar stuff) after they’ve been rude to someone in their friend group,maybe when gale didnt respect sidney‘s privacy in the first movie •S/O has a collection of anything shiny and glittery things they stole (from spoons to necklaces) just cause they like how it looks and they know it will cause some chaos. •Flirting with randy,tatum and stu to piss the boys off a bit •Oh or maybe billy getting them one of those vertical cloths or swings for their living room,I feel like that would fit cause billy would be a bit tired of his S/O letting their hyperness out on him. •When they come home from killing a bit later sometimes,they just find their s/o sleeping in the most uncomfy position (criss cross apple sauce type of shit) on their swing,drooling a bit,their body twitching every now and then

I dont know if any of this made sense my head is all over the place right now. <3

Billy and Stu (Separate) with Feral Gremlin Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader, Stu Macher x Reader

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write!

Billy Loomis

Boy, he didn't quite know what he was getting into when he first became interested in you

But he's in it for the long run, so here we go

Making Billy jealous is a common theme with you

Outright flirting, giggling, and dancing around with other people automatically makes Billy see red

But there's something about his possessiveness that you love so much that you keep doing it anyway

It almost always leads to a fight between Billy and the other party

And damn, isn't it fun to watch?

But that's not to say that you don't also feel your fair share of anger as well

Someone pisses you off even slightly? They're gonna regret it the next morning

Keyed cars, egged houses, graffitied threats

There is no limit to your creativity to get back at them

Billy simply huffs and puffs at you, berating you about being too "loud" with your actions

He's trying to keep things down-low by all means

And the last thing he wants is one of your actions getting him caught and put in jail

But there is something kinda attractive with how you stir up drama and give Billy some attitude

He doesn't like easy

He wants a challenge

And boy do you give him one

But on days where he simply cannot have you running amuck, he has you lay down in your own little hammock he bought you

For whatever reason, that always has you relaxed

It's like you become a whole different person with it

And Billy lets out a little "thank you" to the Gods each time he sees you just swinging away

He loves you, but damn, it's hard to keep up with you

Stu Macher

Stu on the other hand, is not phased at all by you

In fact, he matches your energy about 80% of the time

A friend pissed you off? You're both screaming and laughing while talking badly about them

Things are getting a little boring? You and Stu tell different people made up stuff that someone else is "saying" about them

You both love to stir up drama and watch how badly things can unfold

Stu is less concerned about getting caught than Billy anyways

What's even the point in killing if you can't have some fun outside of it?

So having you around is the perfect way for Stu to let out his hyper energy and keep things exciting when he isn't killing teens

But when he is out and about, he's thinking of you

You're probably at home eating all of his snacks in that moment, but he doesn't care

After his victims meet their fates, he is happy to dig around in their pockets and their homes, looking for anything even the slightest bit shiny to bring back to you

Nothing compares to the way your eyes light up at the gifts

Hell, you have a drawer in your room just filled with all things shiny and captivating

But Stu knows he'll have to wait until the morning to give you your gift

Because just about every night he comes home, he finds your head handing off the couch with your legs and arms splayed out, snoozing away

Remnants of chips and chocolate can still be found on your lips and fingertips

Stu secretly has made a photo album in his phone just for all the pictures he takes of you when you're sleeping

It's about time Stu had someone who met his chaotic energy

#slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slashers preference #slashers x reader #slashers #ghostface x reader #ghostface #scream #scream movie #scream franchise #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher headcanons

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awoogayanderes · 11 months

Text

KISS KISS OUT OF TROUBLE

➪ request : “HI there! I just thought of this while I was making my new account but like think off this Dazai, Atsushi and Akutagawa are on a mission at a party with their s/o and they get caught so they are running from the guards or something so them and their s/o had to pretend to be a couple making out in a hallway as to not get caught anyways love your writing! have a wonderful day!” - @ghostlyintervention

➪ warnings : slightly suggestive

➪ other notes : hey guys i’m back, it’s finally summer break, I’M SO HAPPY TO BE OUT OF SCHOOL !!! and thank you for the sweet message anon :) and also this was honestly trash but i wanted to write at 2 in the morning

Osamu Dazai :

- you two are often paired up, the agency knows how you two bounce off of each other making most missions successful

- however this one didn’t go as planned, your distraction didn’t woe over the people you wanted to woe over, instead it created chaos of anger with dazai right behind you

- this wasn’t a mission where physical altercation was a good idea, so when there’s no other plan, you and dazai fled

- your escape plan didn’t exactly work, with dazai purposely leading you to the wrong places

- your mind was spinning, trying to think of a plan before both of you got arrested

- that’s when you turn to dazai, a small smirk on his face, already knowing what to do

- you sighed, knowing this fell under his plan the whole time, in matter of seconds he was basically eating your mouth as disgusting as that sounds

- once the coast was clear, you pulled away, wheezing to yourself trying to catch your breathe while side eyeing dazai

- “how about we continue this later,” the bastard smirks at you before taking your hand and leading you to the proper exit

Atsushi Nakajima :

- it’s not too often that you’re paired with atsushi, everyone knowing how flustered he is around you, even months after starting your relationship

- now the dispute at this party wasn’t either of your fault, it was just someone recognizing you as an imposter, and that’s when both you and atsushi fled

- now, both of you didn’t exactly have a plan b, you didn’t think you’d need it

- obviously now it was a regretful mistake as you’ve wandered into the third dining hall, with guards right on your heels

- finally having some to breathe after being tucked into a corner, you quickly thought of a plan that involved both of you

- without a second thought, you lunged at atsushi, kissing him like your life depended on it, the poor boy was caught in shock but he went along with it

- he genuinely didn’t know it was some type of twisted plan of yours until the guards passed you by running not suspecting anything

- once that happens, you pull away, atsushi breathing hard being taken aback

- “please let me know the next time you do that, my heart can’t bare it” the white haired boy said with rosy cheeks

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa :

- it’s extremely rare for you and akutagawa to be together on a mission, mori doesn’t like to mix relationships with work

- his temper is what got both of you in trouble, he snapped at one of the party hosts, and with that, it started a huge fight

- while akutagawa was willing to kill everyone there, you managed to persuade him to not spill any blood on the shiny floors, instead just run

- both of you didn’t know where you were and aku’s grumbles of displeasure didn’t quite help

- that’s when you thought to yourself what the hell were you going to do to keep everyone alive and both of you out of trouble

- then an idea lit up, you slowly turned to akutagawa, “ryū please just go along with what i’m about to do,” you say and right as he was about to question you, you pushed your lips onto his, him almost pulling away

- it took all his might not to freak out on affection overload but it worked as no guards were chasing you now, instead running in the other direction

- as you pull back, akutagawa immediately turns around from you, face beet red

- “let’s just leave” he said, coughing into his hand, not looking back

#written by terra #sincerely terra #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #engraved with tenderness #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa x reader #back to writing

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kittyfuckincheshire · 1 month

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📺 WHAT DATING VOX IS LIKE 📺

-vox is very possessive of you.He gave you a reckless to wear that has the Vs symbol on it so people know that your his. So when some one flirts with you anyway he makes them regret it.He doesn't usually blame you for it but he can be a bot hostile after an encounter like that. Angry sex.

He takes pride in spoiling you he brags about all his power and money and proves it to you by getting you the most lavish and expensive gifts.

Your the only one allowed to touch his stuff,in fact he tends to prefer it.If he took off his suit jacket and someone else touched it he would electrocute them till they died. But if you touch it he'll just smile at you.

He can be very consumed bye his work so if he's working to much you usually have to convince him to let you drag him away from it. A shoulder massage works best.

If he found out someone was insulting you would never see or hear from them again and anytime you would ask vox about it he would just say don't worry I handled it.

Vox can be surprisingly tender with you, if he sees you crying he'll pull you down on his lap and hold you and give you head pats to calm you down before asking you what's wrong he'll always remove whatever or whoever made you sad.

Not necessarily so much PDA he has to keep his reputation but he may occasionally grad your waist or put his hand on your thigh if your sitting in public.

In private he can barley keep his hands off you,and not Evan purposely, his hands just seem to make contact with you no matter what. Hand almost always around your waist,shoulder and holding your hips. If he is sitting down his leg is touching yours and his hand is always on your thigh.

Doesn't do anything if Valentine is flirting with you like he does with everyone but if he gets to close or touches you vox will immediately step in and tell Val to keep his hands off his women.

You aren't an overload,but velvette and Val don't seem to mind to much because you don't really get involved in there overlords work.

velvette actually really likes you and you are one of the very few people in which she loves your fashion taste.

Valemtino mainly flirts with you to piss vox off.

Vox absolutely loves and will do so anywhere,whisper into your ear, weather its sweet nothing's or promises of what's to happen in the bed room later,or warnings, he loves doing so because he knows how reactive you are to it, to make you shudder and squirm.

When vox gets mad he can get very force full and scary, he hates scaring you but sometimes it happens,especially when he yells or grabs you while he's angry, but he's never hit you not once.

A shot ton of binge watching shows or movie nights,and gaming nights as dates despite his reputation, vox is not very social and doesn't like parties or anyplace with a lot of people.

You always sleep on vox's chest,if you don't fall asleep on it you wake up on it,he's very cuddly when he sleeps but will deny anyone who asks.

Loves checking you out, if you tell him to stop he says,"why? you're mine, I can stare at what's mine all I want,Or if you didn't want me to stare don't look so fucking hot.

Neck kisses loves giving them and receiving them,doesn't matter how distracted he is,if you kiss his neck once he gets turned on, he does the same to you if you don't focus on him.

He will give you little zaps as a joke or to tickle you as he loves to make you laugh.

He hates using hypnosis on you but if you do something he really doesn't like he'll use it on you to make you stop then apologize after.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #headcannons #fluff #oneshots

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fancyfeathers · 3 months

Text

Capitano falling in love with one of his subordinate’s daughters. A political party being held at the Zapolyarny Palace is where he meets her, she’s at her parents’ side, a young woman despite not being married yet. When the harbinger approaches them he can see her father visibly shaking as he introduces his daughter and wife to the captain. Capitano bows to them both before taking her father away to discuss political matters. The next time Capitano meets her, it’s not as the 1st harbinger, he knows how badly scared her father would be if he met his darling in full uniform. So he looses the mask and military garb, instead meeting her as a Sheznayan noble when she is visiting the capital one day. They become friends, for lack of a better word, and this does not go unnoticed by his archon. The Tsaritsa calls the captain to her side one day and tells him how she noticed his infatuation with that girl. She smiles and give him her blessing, to court and to marry if that’s what he wishes. Capitano wastes no time before making his way to his darling’s family estate, this time he goes as Capitano. He meets with her father and wastes no time cutting right to the point, he wants to marry his daughter. Her father, in shock , agrees as he has no other choice. When his darling returns, her father calls her to his office and there sitting there is the harbinger. Her father tells her the news and her stomach drops, where was her choice in this. The harbinger approaches her and takes off his helmet to kiss her hand, and everything clicks in place. She pushes him away and tells him that she would rather be disowned than be married off to someone who had been lying to her, especially to just to get her. She marches off, leaving the two men in the room.

Later that night, after being yelled at by both her father and mother, she is in her room, packing up her belongings, planning on running away. She ties bedsheets to her window and climbs out. She goes to stable to get her horse, but as she is taking them out of the stall a voice calls out, “running away?”

She spins around to see the harbinger standing there in the shadows. He tells her that he won’t stop her but that they both know she’ll freeze before she gets to the nearest town. Somehow he gets her to open up, how she hates her parents, how they have always been trying to force her to marry, it wasn’t just him, she didn’t hate him. He holds her while she cries, he tells her that her family doesn’t have to be involved, it could just be him and her. In her vulnerable and emotional state she agrees. He takes her to his carriage and by the time she regrets her choice, they are far away down the road in the Sheznayan countryside.

#yandere harbingers #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano

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goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Scandal

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry faces the biggest scandal of his career when a popular influencer claims that the singer forcefully entered his home and attacked him. Y/N sets on a mission to clear Harry’s name.

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: anxiety, physical violence, mentions of domestic violence, nonconsensual kiss, cheating, toxic masculinity, angst, smut (a bit of domrry and subrry)

A/N: Lots of protective!harry in this one. Pay attention to the warnings. Characters make some serious (false) accusations towards H. If anything makes you uncomfortable, click away! Otherwise, enjoy this angsty fic :)

***

Y/N doesn’t like parties.

Even when she was a little girl and her parents would invite all their extended family over to celebrate her birthday, her tiny self would cry and complain until one of her parents scolded her to shut her up. As she grew older, she developed methods of alleviating the discomfort brought on by social events—the main one involving alcohol.

Calling her an alcoholic would be inaccurate because the only time she ever really drinks is during social situations. In fact, she can go for weeks and months without drinking if she doesn’t have to attend a social event. Still, she knows it’s not healthy nor very effective. All it does is reinforce her belief that she can’t socialize without using alcohol as a crutch, worsening her anxiety in the long run.

Recently, she has decided to start overcoming this habit by completely avoiding alcohol before and during social situations. At first, she wanted to limit herself to one drink, but she knows that the suppressing effect on her overactive nervous system will be enough to lure her into having another, then another… then another.

Tonight is her first chance to put her new rule into practice. It’s her best friend Rosie’s birthday. Her fiance, Colin, threw her a surprise party at his house. Now, Y/N may despise parties, especially the big, extravagant ones that Colin likes to throw, but she is willing to sacrifice a part of her sanity for the people she loves, like Rosie.

Because they’re in LA and Colin is an influencer, most of the people he invited are also influencers of some sort. Y/N warned Harry about this, but he still chose to come along, much to her relief. Surprisingly, aside from a few people asking for a picture with him, he has managed to keep a low profile. He also knows about Y/N’s new rule for herself and has agreed to help her abide by it, even going as far as not drinking himself, though she told him that wasn’t necessary.

Now, while they’re conversing with a small group of people—or at least Harry converses while Y/N mostly just listens and nods and tries not to think about how badly she wants to go home—someone offers Harry a drink and she notices him hesitate for the briefest second before saying no.

“H, you can have a drink,” she tells him in his ear a minute later. “Seriously, I don’t mind. I promise you’ll still be the best boyfriend in the world by the end of the night.”

He smirks. “I’m going to need that on a mug or a t-shirt or something, you know, just so I don’t forget.”

“Fine, you’re getting that for Christmas this year, but that’s all you’re getting.”

He places a hand on his chest. “I would gladly accept that as my only gift.”

She rolls her eyes at his dramatics, smiling all the while.

“All right, I’ll grab a drink then, if you insist,” he says.

“Good. I’m going to use the washroom. Meet you back here in five?”

“Deal.”

They both go their separate ways—Harry to the bar and Y/N to the washroom. When she finds it, she opens the door and instantly regrets not knocking first. Next to the toilet is a girl kneeling on the floor with a guy’s dick in her mouth. And not just any girl, but a well-known Instagram model whose face Y/N has seen many times before.

“Shit, sorry! Sorry!” Y/N blurts out, quickly pulling the door shut. It’s only after the door closes that her brain registers who the guy was. He had his back to her, but the dirty blonde hair messily styled around his head gave him away.

It was Colin. Rosie’s Colin.

At first, she stays frozen in place, too shocked to move, but then she sees the doorknob twisting from the other side and suddenly snaps out of it. Her legs start taking her away from the washroom.

“Y/N!” she hears Colin shout from behind her.

She walks faster, pushing through the crowds of people, with no plan for where she’s headed. Eventually, she ends up out in the backyard by Colin’s pool, thinking she must have lost him somewhere in the crowd. But then the glass door slides opens and out comes Colin. He closes the door before walking over to her. The light from the pool reflects off his pale face. His blue eyes are wide and frantic.

“Look,” he starts, “what you saw back there, it wasn’t— We weren’t— It wasn’t—” He pauses before starting again, “She’s just a friend.”

She scoffs at his lame defense. “Do all your friends give you blowjobs?”

“She wasn’t giving me a blowjob.”

“Oh, so your dick just fell into her mouth by accident, is that it? How stupid do you think I am, Colin?”

In the time she has known him—which hasn’t been for very long, since he and Rosie only started dating eight months ago and got engaged three months into their relationship—she always got the impression that he views her as a naive little girl. People often make assumptions about Y/N based on her quiet, reserved nature, like that she is uptight or that she knows nothing about sex or the world. It never fails to annoy her.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he says slowly, patronizingly, which only contradicts his statement. “You just… You think you saw something you didn’t see.”

Her eyes narrow. “That sentence doesn’t even make sense.”

She can see him struggling to find more ways to gaslight her. When he realizes he can’t, he just says, “You can’t tell Rosie.”

She doesn’t reply, doesn’t feel the need to. And Colin clearly doesn’t like that. He begins walking towards her, eyes darkening dangerously. She takes a few steps backward, thinking he’ll stop, but he doesn’t, not until she’s right at the edge of the pool with no more room to move back. He looms over her, all six feet of him.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” he asks, his icy gaze boring into her.

She’s not sure where her boldness comes from in that moment, but all she says in response is, “Fuck you.”

Suddenly, he grips the back of her neck with both hands and smashes his lips against hers forcefully, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Y/N recoils so hard that she would have fallen back into the water if his hand wasn’t gripping her neck so tightly, holding her against him. She lifts her right foot off the ground and swings her leg back before driving the toe of her boot into his shin as hard as possible.

He grunts in pain and releases her, shouting, “Stupid bitch!”

She sidesteps him so that she’s no longer balancing on the edge of the pool and vigorously rubs her mouth with the back of her hand.

Clutching his shin, he pins her with a menacing glare. “You’re not going to say a word to Rosie,” he says between gritted teeth. Then he places his foot on the ground and limps back into the house.

Y/N doesn’t notice she’s shaking until he’s gone. She stays outside a little while longer to gather herself and suppress the nauseating feeling induced by having Colin’s lips on hers. Then she heads back inside to find Harry.

He has a drink in his hand now, and he’s talking to a couple of regular, non-influencer-looking people. As he lifts up his arm, she snuggles into his side, wrapping her arm around his back, resolving to stay there for the remainder of the night.

She will tell him what happened. Just not now. Not with Colin watching her from across the room with Rosie under his own arm, as if he didn’t just cheat on the poor girl and then proceed to kiss her best friend.

She will also tell Rosie what happened. Colin can try to intimidate her into silence, but it won’t work. Rosie will find out. Y/N will make sure of it. She just won’t unleash the devastating news on Rosie’s birthday with all these influencers surrounding them, eagerly awaiting some drama to go down so they can use it as “content.”

The party is nowhere close to done when Y/N and Harry decide to head home, but they’re both spent and ready to crawl into bed. They find Rosie to say their goodbyes, and Y/N tries to rush the process before Colin can show up.

“Happy birthday, girlie,” she says while giving Rosie a tight hug—tighter than usual after what she discovered tonight. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Thanks for everything.”

Unfortunately, right as the two friends are pulling out of their embrace, Colin appears at Rosie’s side.

“Colin told me that you helped plan this whole thing,” says Rosie.

“Yeah, Y/N was great. Couldn’t have pulled it off without her,” Colin tells her. Then he looks at Y/N. “Thanks for keeping it a secret from this one.” He points his thumb at Rosie, laughing easily, but the threat behind his eyes as he stares at Y/N is unmistakable.

She just gives him a tight smile, resisting the urge to slap the cocky grin right off his face. Then she says to Harry, “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for having u—” Harry begins to say to Colin and Rosie, but Y/N grabs his arm and starts dragging him away before he can finish his polite farewell.

Once they’re outside, she lets go of his arm and he gives her a puzzled look.

“What was that about?” he asks as they walk to his car.

“What?”

“Seemed like you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.”

“Oh, you know how I feel about parties.” She leaves it at that for now, and luckily, he doesn’t press any further.

He’s had a couple drinks, so Y/N drives them home. As soon as they enter Harry’s warm, empty house, she says, “H, I need to tell you something.”

“Hold that thought, lovie.” He holds up his index finger. “I really need a wee.”

He dashes off to the bathroom by the stairs. Meanwhile, Y/N heads to the living room and flops down on the couch, feeling exhaustion take over her after what transpired tonight. Just as she’s thinking about how she’s going to explain everything to Harry and how he’ll react, she hears the bathroom door open.

Harry joins her on the couch and says, “Right, what did you need to tell me?”

She takes a deep breath. “Something happened at the party tonight.”

“Okay…” He swipes his hair back, gazing at her intently.

“I caught Colin cheating on Rosie with another girl.”

He raises his brows, his expression growing serious.

“After I saw it happen, I walked away and Colin followed me out to the backyard. He tried denying it, but I obviously wasn’t falling for it, so then he said I can’t tell Rosie and he…” She pauses, hesitates. The memory of the repulsive kiss makes her stomach turn again. “He grabbed me by the neck and kissed me—”

“He what?” Harry’s brows climb even higher.

“—and I kicked him in the shin and then he left. I honestly think the kiss was just him trying to make me feel small and intimidate me into not telling Rosie.”

Harry’s usual easygoing demeanour has completely evaporated. His hands curl into fists on his thighs. His jaw clenches and unclenches, as his hard gaze fixates on the coffee table in front of them.

“That piece of shit,” he mutters. “That fucking piece of shit.” He closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m going to—”

“H,” she says, placing her small hand over one of his fists, “I know you’re pissed off right now, but I need you to help me figure something out here.”

He looks at her, eyes softening. His fist opens and turns to grasp her hand. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I need to tell Rosie what happened. I’m going to do it tomorrow. I’m going to tell her what I saw in the bathroom, but I just don’t know if I should mention the part about him kissing me. She’ll already be devastated to hear that he cheated, and I feel like I’d be adding unnecessary pain by mentioning that. What would you do if you were me?”

“I would tell her everything,” he replies. “Every detail. She deserves to know exactly how much of a prick he is.”

That’s exactly what she expected him to say. Nodding, she says, “Okay. Thank you.”

His anger seems to return after that. He rubs his free hand over his jaw, shaking his head. “It’s awful, what he did to you. And Rosie. Neither of you deserve that.”

She feels so fortunate to have him in that moment. If he wasn’t at the party tonight, she’s not sure what she would have done. Surely, she would have managed one way or another, but knowing that Harry was in the house, even when Colin was cornering her out by the pool, gave her a boost of courage—something she only realized later when she found her way back to him.

Now, she scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his torso, squeezing him tightly. He squeezes her back.

“Can we go to bed? I’m exhausted,” she tells him.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

***

The following day, when Y/N informs Rosie of Colin’s infidelity, she breaks down into tears before Y/N has even finished explaining what she saw in the bathroom. Her best friend seems so distraught, sobbing and barely forming coherent sentences, that she decides not to follow Harry’s advice about mentioning the kiss.

Before Colin came along, Rosie was always an intelligent, rational human being, the type to think long and hard before making any major decisions. When he appeared in her life, it was like she lost all sense of logic and reason within a matter of weeks of knowing him. Things moved so rapidly between the couple. Y/N thought Rosie was joking when, three months into their relationship, she revealed that Colin had proposed to her and that she had said yes.

Y/N could never understand the hold that this guy had on her friend, but for the most part, it seemed harmless. Until now. Watching someone she cares so deeply about fall apart right before her eyes drives a sword through her heart.

She offers to spend the day with Rosie at her apartment, suggesting that they binge-watch some trashy reality show while munching on their favourite comfort foods, but Rosie says she needs some time alone to process everything. Respecting her wishes, Y/N reminds her that she can call anytime she needs to talk, then heads home.

That night, she’s sitting in bed with Harry, both of them immersed in their own books—him, a romance novel and her, a mystery novel—when her phone buzzes with an incoming call from Rosie.

“Hey, Ros—”

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

Rosie’s hostile greeting makes her pull the phone away from her ear for a second.

“You lied to me.”

“I— What?” Y/N’s uneasy tone draws Harry’s attention away from his novel.

“Colin told me you kissed him.”

Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach. Immediate regret settles in at not telling Rosie about the kiss. She played right into Colin’s hands. “That’s not what happened, Rosie.”

“Oh, really?” She hears Rosie let out an unamused laugh. Then she hears his voice in the background, whispering something to Rosie. Y/N’s hand digs into the bedsheets, scrunching them between her fingers. Harry reaches for her hand and pulls it into his lap.

“He kissed me,” she states. “He’s just telling you it was the other way around to cover his ass after cheating on you.”

“He never denied cheating on me. He admitted to it.”

Y/N is genuinely taken aback by this, unsure how to respond.

“He said you walked in on him in the bathroom and then you walked away. When he found you later and tried to explain himself, you came onto him and told him that if he fucked you, you wouldn’t tell me that he cheated.”

She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “And you believe that? C’mon, Ro, you are so much smarter than this.”

Once again, her ears pick up on Colin mumbling something to Rosie.

“What lies is he feeding you now?” she asks.

“He thinks we should talk in person,” says Rosie. “All three of us. I agree. I’m at his place right now. Come over and let’s hash this out.”

She closes her eyes. “Rosie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What are you so scared of, Y/N?” Colin says into the speaker now, all loud and smug and condescending.

She feels Harry’s hand squeeze hers now.

“I’m giving you a chance to explain your side of the story,” says Colin. “And maybe even apologize.”

She huffs, “Apologize?”

“For trying to get between me and Rosie. She forgave me. Maybe she’ll forgive you too. But that won’t happen if you don’t come here and talk to us.”

Y/N’s blood is boiling. How could Rosie forgive him? It makes no sense. Yet again, she finds herself baffled by Colin’s hypnotic spell on her best friend. Except this time, she is also concerned for Rosie’s safety. Because if he could persuade her to forgive him for cheating, God knows what else he can make her do with the right amount of manipulation and coercion.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll come.”

“Good girl, Y/N,” says Colin.

She almost hurls. And she knows Harry heard that too from the way his hand tightens around hers. She hangs up.

Before she can say anything, Harry states, “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t know if—”

“It’s not up for discussion, Y/N. I already know I can’t convince you to not go, so I’m going with you. That’s it.”

“Fine.” She’s too tired to argue, and if she’s honest with herself, she’s relieved that he’s coming. Colin is bigger than her and has proven that he has no respect for her boundaries. If she has to swallow her pride and admit that she needs her boyfriend there to protect her just in case, then so be it.

Harry softens when he realizes how overbearing his words sounded. “I won’t do anything, I swear,” he reassures her. “I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

She nods. “Okay.”

On the drive to Colin’s house, Y/N gives Harry a rundown of the fabricated story that Colin has planted in Rosie’s head. She also mentions that she no longer feels safe leaving Rosie with Colin.

The house looks desolate tonight, a stark contrast to the previous night when it was filled to the brim with people and music and drugs and alcohol.

Rosie is the one who opens the door for them. Her puffy, bloodshot eyes convey that she hasn’t stopped crying today. Her dark brown hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders. She seems surprised to see Harry, but amidst the surprise, Y/N detects a hint of relief as well. The same relief that Y/N felt when Harry said he was coming with her.

Rosie leads them into the kitchen where Colin is slouched in a chair at the end of the dining table, his hand wrapped around an open bottle of whiskey on the table. A sickening smirk begins to form on his face when he sees Y/N, but it falters when his gaze falls on Harry.

“Why’s he here?” he says, turning his chin up at Harry.

“It’s fine. He can stay,” says Rosie. She sits on a chair that’s already pulled out from under the table, angled towards Colin.

Y/N grabs another chair and drags it far away from the table to maintain a fair distance from Colin. Meanwhile, Harry just leans against a wall off to the side, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. He’s dressed in a blue Adidas jacket and black gym shorts that he threw on before coming here. A hair clip keeps his curls up and away from his face.

“Harry, you wanna sit?” asks Rosie.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The group stares at each other. Y/N at Rosie. Colin at Y/N. Harry at Colin.

After a prolonged silence, Rosie finally says, “Okay, who wants to start?”

“Y/N can start,” Colin answers immediately.

There’s no doubt in her mind that this is merely a tactic to convince Rosie that he has nothing to hide and that Y/N is the one who should be explaining herself.

She clears her throat and shifts in her seat, trying not to let Colin’s annoyingly persistent gaze get to her. “Okay… Well, Rosie, like I said on the phone, I never kissed Colin. He kissed me and I pushed him away and he—”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this earlier?” Rosie interjects. “When you were at my apartment this morning and you told me that he cheated, why didn’t you mention the kiss?”

“You were so upset. I didn’t want to make it worse. I should’ve told you and I regret that I didn’t, but honestly, I just didn’t want to hurt you even more.”

“How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

Y/N frowns at her. “Because we’re best friends? And we have been for years? Way longer than you’ve known him.” She glances at Colin.

“He told me the truth. The whole truth. Something I would’ve expected my so-called best friend to do.”

Y/N just sighs and leans back in her chair, silent now as her mind grasps for some way, any way to convince her friend that Colin is the liar here.

Rosie turns to Harry now. “Did you know about this?”

He nods. “Y/N told me everything when we got home last night.” He pauses before adding sincerely, “She’s telling the truth, Rosie.”

“You weren’t even there when it happened. How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know her. And you know her. And we both know she’s not like that. You can call me biased, but it’s very clear to me which of these stories is the more plausible one.”

Y/N notices a subtle shift in Rosie’s expression, as if Harry’s words have actually made her see things from a different perspective. While she’s glad that at least Harry can get through to her friend, the fact that Rosie is quicker to trust Colin or Harry over her is maddening. She and Rosie have had several conversations over the years about people not believing women unless a man backs them up. It’s rather hypocritical of her to be doing the very thing she claims to be against.

Colin, who was previously slumped in his chair with a look of indifference, sits up when he realizes that he might be losing Rosie.

“What are you even doing here, man?” he asks Harry. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I disagree.” Harry’s relaxed disposition seems to irk Colin even more. “Oh, and you should know,” continues Harry, “that neither of these women feel safe being alone around you, which says a lot about the piece of shit you are.”

“I never said I don’t feel safe around him,” Rosie argues unconvincingly.

“You don’t need to. It’s pretty obvious. And Y/N said—”

“You should really stop believing everything your whore of a girlfriend tells you,” Colin interjects.

A tense moment of silence hangs in the air before Harry pushes himself off the wall and strides over to Colin.

“Harry,” says Y/N in a warning tone, her heart speeding up as she watches Colin rise to his feet. The two men are face-to-face with only a few inches of space between them. Colin is as tall as Harry but with considerably less muscle on his body. However, that doesn’t eliminate Y/N’s concerns about her boyfriend getting hurt. “Harry,” she says again, pleadingly this time.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m not going to do anything,” he tells her, still sounding calm as ever. The only indication that Colin’s words have gotten to him is in his fists, which are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles have lost colour.

“Yeah, he’s not,” says Colin, the smugness returning. “He doesn’t want to ruin his nice guy image. Isn’t that right, Styles?”

Harry lets out a brief, unamused laugh through his nose, then steps back, turning around to go back over to the wall. As he’s walking away, Colin says, “You know, now that I think about it, I should’ve just fucked your girlfriend when I had the chance. Show her what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.”

Now that Harry is turned away from Colin, Y/N can see his entire facial expression, including the rage that swims beneath the tranquil surface. His chest rises and falls with deep, controlled breaths. His eyes find Y/N’s.

“We’re leaving,” he states firmly. “Now.”

“What are you so scared of, Styles?” Colin goads him, the same way he did to Y/N over the phone. “Worried you’re gonna end up in the news for socking me? ‘Mr. Treat People With Kindness loses it on innocent civilian.’” He cackles at his own dumb joke.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, his patience visibly diminishing.

Y/N stands and turns to Rosie. “You’re coming with us.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Losing her composure, Y/N presses her hands against the sides of her head, which is pounding at this point. “Oh my God, Rosie! What kind of hold does this guy have on you?!”

“I just want to talk to him.” She rises to her feet too.

“Why? So he can tell you more lies and manipulate you—”

“Oh, don’t act so fucking righteous, Y/N! Let’s not forget that you lied too!”

“I was trying to protect you! I’m not going to apologize for—”

“Colin, stop!” Rosie’s attention has shifted to the guys, who are now going at each other. Or at least, Colin is going at Harry with his fists, but Harry blocks each and every blow either with his arms or by ducking out of the way completely.

“C’mon, hit me!” Colin shouts desperately, swinging and missing, then swinging and missing again. “Don’t be a fucking pussy! Hit me! What are you waiting for?!”

At the next swing, Harry grabs Colin’s arm and twists it behind his back, spinning him around, then kicking the backs of his knees to make them buckle. Colin collapses face-first onto the hardwood floor. Harry falls on top of him, still twisting Colin’s arm behind his back at a painful angle while pressing his head down into the floor with his other hand.

Colin cries out in agony, struggling underneath Harry’s weight. “Get off me, asshole!”

“Are you gonna stop?” asks Harry.

“You’re breaking my fucking arm!”

“Are you gonna stop?”

“Get off—”

“Are you gonna stop?”

Colin, finally realizing that he’s no match for the man holding him down, surrenders. “Yes! Yes! Fucking yes!”

But Harry doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, he leans down to Colin’s ear and says in a low, chilling tone, “Good boy, Colin.” Then he lets go.

He stands up, fixes his jacket around his torso, and turns around to face the women as if nothing just happened. “Y/N and I are leaving,” he tells Rosie. “You can come with us if you want. It’s your call.”

“I’m staying,” she replies, wincing a bit as she stares at Colin writhing on the floor.

“Okay.” Harry walks over to Y/N, grabs her hand, and starts pulling her towards the door, much like how she dragged him out of the party last night but with more urgency.

“I think he broke my arm,” they hear Colin whine pitifully as they leave.

Harry doesn’t release Y/N’s hand until they reach the car. Once they’re seated inside, she instantly starts assessing his appearance to check if he’s hurt anywhere, but he seems entirely unscathed. You wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’s just been in a fight.

“Are you okay?” she asks just to be sure.

“I’m fine,” he answers, securing his seatbelt before starting the car.

“That got way out of hand.”

“I wish you’d just left with me when I said so,” he mutters, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Harry, I didn’t want to leave her with him. I still feel awful about leaving her there.”

He takes a right, exiting Colin’s street. “What else were we meant to do, Y/N? Drag her out against her will? You think she’d still talk to you after that?” He scoffs.

His unusual harshness is making her feel even worse about a situation that is already difficult to grapple with. “No, of course not,” she says, a lump forming in her throat. “I understand why we had to leave her. I’m just saying that it fucking sucks, okay? The whole thing fucking sucks and I hate that my best friend is in the middle of it all and I can’t do anything to help her. I’m probably going to lose the only real friend I’ve made in my adult life all because of some fucking douchebag and I hate it, I hate him, I—I—” She breaks down then, her face falling into her hands as she sobs.

Anger is a strange emotion. When it’s there in full force, consuming you from head to toe, it leaves little room for anything else—anxiety, grief, and despair included. Then once it disappears, all those other emotions come hurtling in from all sides, crushing you beneath their weight.

Harry pulls over to the side of the road. “Y/N.” He turns to face her and carefully pries her hands away from her face.

She tilts her head back against the headrest, squeezing her eyes shut, tears falling unhindered.

“Hey, I get it,” he speaks gently. “I know it’s a shitty situation. I know you want to protect her, the same way I want to protect you, but you can’t save someone who’s constantly refusing your help. It’s not your fault, my love. You’ve done everything you can.” He holds both of her hands in one of his while using the other to wipe her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being harsh with you. I just hate the idea of you getting hurt. I’m sorry.” He kisses her hands several times.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, opening her eyes to look at him. She grabs a wad of tissues from the box on the dash and clears her throat before saying, “Thank you for being there tonight and handling everything so well… And not killing Colin, even though I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“Trust me, I wanted to. The prick needs someone to teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, that can’t be me.”

“I don’t know. I think you taught him pretty well that he’s not as man as he thinks he is.”

He smirks, and it’s the first sign of any pride he feels about overpowering Colin. He looks back at the road and says, “Let’s go home.”

***

It’s been a couple days since the incident at Colin’s house. Y/N hasn’t heard from Rosie again, nor does she expect to. Now, it’s the middle of the afternoon and she’s working on a new commissioned drawing when she receives a call from Jeff.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been trying to reach Harry all day,” he says when she picks up. “Is he with you?”

The urgency in Jeff’s voice makes her stop what she’s doing. “Uh, no, he’s out golfing with some friends. Why? Is everything okay?”

“Have you been online at all today?” She barely has a chance to answer before he says, “Sorry, dumb question. Of course you haven’t. That’s why you’re so calm. Anyway, there’s this guy, some TikToker, making some serious allegations against Harry. His name is Colin Rogers. Does that ring a bell?”

She sighs and closes her eyes. “Yeah. That’s Rosie’s fiance. What’s he saying about Harry?”

“To give you the CliffsNotes version, he’s saying that you cheated on Harry with him a few nights ago, and when Harry found out, he forced his way into Colin’s house and beat him badly enough to cause bruises and bleeding that landed him in the hospital.”

“Oh my God.”

“Like I said, that’s the CliffsNotes version. I skipped out a lot of details. It’s… bad. And he has a witness corroborating his statements.”

She frowns. “What witness?”

“Your friend Rosie.”

Y/N facepalms and groans in frustration.

“Now, we know all of this is bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not what happened,” she confirms.

“Which explains why he didn’t say a word to the police and went straight to his little Internet followers. Now it’s all anyone is talking about.”

“Are people believing it?”

“Some are. Some aren’t. That’s usually how it goes.” He sounds tired. “Look, I need to run, but I’ll send you an article detailing everything Colin said. I hate to give these tabloids any clicks, but this article is pretty thorough. Please tell H to call me when you hear from him.”

“Will do.”

Jeff sends her the article a few seconds later. She takes a deep breath before opening the link, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

The clickbait headline reads: Harry Styles’ first big SCANDAL! Read more to find out how the “As It Was” singer ASSAULTED TikTok influencer Colin Rogers in his home.

As Y/N scrolls through the article, she finds that Jeff was right. It’s bad. Very bad. There are clips from Colin’s TikTok where he describes in exaggerated detail his manufactured version of events from that night. In the clips, you can clearly see dark purple bruises on either side of his head and around his eyes as well as his neck. His lip is badly cut, the surrounding region swollen and puffy. Even his nose is bent at an odd shape, signalling a possible fracture.

Y/N recalls how desperately Colin was trying to provoke Harry that night, saying degrading things about her to get under his skin. He even alluded to Harry ending up in the news for hitting him. Colin may be an arrogant dickhead, but apparently he’s not stupid. He was planning this out in his head even then—how he would use that situation to publicly smear Harry’s reputation along with Y/N’s.

As another one of Colin’s TikToks plays, she sees him hold up a small object. Harry’s lion ring. Colin says he found it after Harry left his house, claiming that it must have fallen off during their altercation. But Y/N knows that’s a lie because Harry wasn’t even wearing any rings that night. He was, however, wearing rings the previous night at Rosie’s birthday party. It had to have slipped off his finger at the party without him knowing.

The ring is the only “proof” Colin has of Harry being at his house at one point. Other than that, he presents no solid evidence to back up his claims, but of course, anyone who has spent even a week on social media knows that it does not operate on facts and evidence. People’s insatiable hunger for drama trumps the truth in most online spaces.

Harry gets home from golfing a couple hours later, and Y/N sits him down to explain everything. By the end of it, he is befuddled and speechless. It takes a while for him to gather his thoughts, at which point he says he’s going to make some calls to Jeff, his publicist, and a few others on his team to get their input.

He disappears into the study for the next few hours, his deep voice occasionally carrying over to Y/N, who is working at the dining table. The sun has gone down. She contemplates getting started on dinner when Harry emerges from the study.

“Hi, baby,” she says.

He walks over to her and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat next to her. She notices the fatigue on his face.

“How did the calls go?”

“We’re releasing a statement tomorrow,” he says. “It’s been drafted up already. Just explaining what actually happened that night and making it very clear that I was invited into the house and the only time I touched Colin was to defend myself, but his injuries were not my doing.”

“Can’t you also sue him for defamation? Is that what it’s called?” Suddenly feeling self-conscious about her lack of knowledge on the law, she adds, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this stuff.”

He smiles sweetly. “It’s a bit early to take that step. Jeff thinks the statement might be enough to make Colin retract his story. I’m not so sure.” He shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nope, you just keep being your lovely self.” He pokes her cheek.

“Well, Rosie’s over on her Instagram, trying to convince everyone that Colin’s telling the truth. I feel like I should say something too, like maybe—”

“Darling, trust me,” he interrupts. “There’s no need. My team will handle it. They know what they’re doing.”

She bites her lip and lets out a soft sigh. “Okay.”

“And let’s stay off social media for a while, yeah? Just to keep our sanity intact.” She knows he’s mostly saying this for her. He hardly uses social media unless it’s to catch up with his loved ones, and while she also isn’t on there that much, she struggles more than him when it comes to ignoring people’s opinions online.

“Yeah, definitely,” she agrees.

But later that night, while she’s lying in bed and Harry is finishing up his nighttime routine in the bathroom, the urge to look online strikes and she can’t resist. She opens up the hellsite known as Twitter and doomscrolls through the shitty takes of people who clearly don’t know a thing about Harry but have been desperately waiting for something like this to come out about him just so they can jump on the bandwagon and “cancel” him and pile on the hate like their life depends on it, despite the fact that none of them know what they’re talking about and—

“What are you doing?” Harry’s voice startles her. She quickly turns off her phone and looks at him standing next to the bed in just his Calvin Klein underwear, which does nothing to hide his prominent bulge.

“Nothing,” she replies.

He gives her a skeptical look.

She sighs. “I’m sorry! It’s like a car crash that I can’t look away from… Except I’m involved in the car crash and I didn’t even get the worst of it.”

He climbs onto the bed, gingerly plucking the phone out of her hands and placing it on the bedside table. Then he lies on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. Y/N gazes up at him and shakes her head in awe at how laid-back he seems.

“I don’t understand how you’re able to stay so calm in just about every situation,” she says. “It’s infuriating and hot at the same time.”

He chuckles. “I just try to remind myself that these people don’t actually know me, so there’s no point in letting their opinions get to me.”

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Thanks to her social anxiety, Y/N has spent the better part of her life obsessing over what other people think of her, whether it be her loved ones or the random stranger that cashed her out at the grocery store. She has always yearned for the kind of cool indifference that people like Harry exude even in the face of immense scrutiny.

“I’ve had practice,” he says. “You’ll learn as well.”

“Yeah? Will you teach me?”

“Happily.”

His gaze shifts down to her lips, and he leans down to kiss them, soft and slow. Meanwhile, his finger traces along her jaw and down her neck until his hand comes to rest on one of her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and her thin shirt hardly acts as a barrier between his large hand and her supple skin. He squeezes her lightly in his palm, keeping his kisses and touches gentle, like he’s handling an expensive piece of porcelain.

For a moment, her mind drifts off to the comments she read online. She cannot fathom how anyone could believe that this man—this gentle, patient, loving man—would ever do the things that Colin accused him of.

It turns out that her mind isn’t the only one wandering off to other places because Harry suddenly pulls away and says, “Sorry to bring this up, but I…” His jaw clenches. “I just hate that he put his filthy hands on you.”

“I know,” she whispers, reaching up to weave her fingers through his curls in a soothing gesture. She had no idea that Colin’s actions towards her at the party were still bothering Harry.

“And with the press being all over it now, I almost wish I’d just beaten the living shit out of him. I mean, everyone thinks I did anyway.”

“Yeah, but that’s not you, H.”

He just shrugs.

Y/N sits up and tugs at his briefs. “Take these off.”

His brows perk up at her demand.

“I’m tired of thinking and talking about Colin,” she says. “So, let me give us both something else to think about.”

A smirk forms on his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pulls them down his legs.

Before he entered her life, Y/N would never take the lead during sex. She always felt like she lacked the self-confidence required for that, but then again, none of the men she’d previously slept with were ever willing to let her take the lead anyway. They were the type of guys to feel emasculated by relinquishing control to a woman, though they would never admit this.

Harry was different. He was equally happy to lead and be led, to give and to receive. That alone made sex with him an ethereal experience.

Now, once Y/N also strips naked, they rest on the bed with their positions reversed—him on his back and her propped up next to him. Her hand cradles his jaw before she leans down to kiss him. Then she brings her hand to his semi-erect cock, wrapping it around the base and stroking softly until he grows stiffer in her palm and starts leaking precum. She strokes his balls as well, drawing more fluid from his tip that she then uses to get his dick nice and wet.

Harry is ogling her exposed breasts now in that way he does when he really wants to suck on them, so she slides up the bed, allowing him to take them into his mouth. When she gives his cock a firm tug, he moans around her nipple. The sensation causes her own wetness to pool between her legs.

He continues licking and sucking on her tits, grazing his teeth over them ever so slightly. The pleasurable feeling momentarily distracts her from her task, but then she returns her attention to his needy cock twitching in her palm. She jerks him faster, moving her hand up and down his pinkish flesh with just enough pressure to turn him into a moaning mess under her. Her nipple falls from his mouth as his lips part.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he pants. “I— Wait, stop. Stop.”

She immediately stills her movements and starts to ask what’s wrong when he flips them over so that he’s on top of her.

“As much as I was enjoying that,” he says, “I want to feel your pussy on me when I cum.”

His erection prods her thigh as he hovers over her, his legs wedged between hers. He reaches down to her cunt, feeling the wetness that has accumulated there. She can see it in his eyes, in his blown out pupils, that he really wants to put his cock in her right then, but he takes a minute to toy with her clit and heighten the anticipation for both of them. At last, he grabs his cock and starts guiding it into her sopping pussy.

He pauses once he’s inside her and brings the hand that was playing with her clit up to her mouth, pressing his damp fingers against her lips until she opens up and takes them into her mouth.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he says.

Still sucking his fingers clean, she wraps her legs around his hips.

He grins at her quick compliance. “Such a good girl.” Then he emphasizes, “My good girl. Isn’t that right?”

She nods, closing her eyes as he grinds his hips down into her.

“Mhm. All mine.”

Her pussy contracts around him. Keeping his fingers in her mouth, he retracts his hips and thrusts back into her. She whimpers and wraps her arms around him, nails digging into his back muscles as the rhythm of his thrusts increases in speed and urgency.

He pulls his fingers from his mouth to place that hand on the bed for extra leverage. With her mouth free, all she can do is moan his name and cry out from the intoxicating feeling of his cock ramming deep into her cunt with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Taking my cock so well. My perfect girl. My dream girl.”

His voice and his cock are the centre of Y/N’s universe right now; nothing else matters. Her orgasm is just around the corner, building rapidly in her core.

“Ready to cum all over my cock, Y/N?”

“Oh yes, please, yes—” She gasps as his hips rock into hers at just the right angle to push her over the edge. Her whole body locks around him—legs around his hips and arms around his back.

Harry grunts with one final thrust before letting himself go, filling her up with his seed. His body relaxes on top of her. She eases her grip on him as well. Their breathing slowly returns to normal, the rising and falling of their chests syncing up.

It’s hard to think about anything else after that. She wants to stay like that forever, with him covering her like a weighted blanket, his length gradually softening inside her. She even starts to drift off after a few minutes until Harry lifts his head to look at her.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me yet,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

She groans as he rolls off of her. He chuckles at her reluctance and drags her out of bed with him.

***

The viral storm rages on for days, even after Harry’s team releases the statement. Contrary to Jeff’s predictions, Colin doesn’t retract any of his claims and instead doubles down on them even harder, emboldened by the blind support of his followers.

Y/N and Harry block it all out. While she found it difficult at first to look away from the trainwreck, she was eventually able to redirect her attention to her art instead. For several days, the couple remains in their happy little bubble, unbothered by the incessant buzz of the online world.

That bubble pops on one sunny Friday afternoon.

Y/N is in need of some new art supplies, and Harry is in the mood to add to his vinyl collection. They decide to make a whole day out of it, visiting the art supply store and the record store before wandering around a few other places. One shop specifically dedicated to vintage home decor catches their attention, and they end up spending over an hour in there, walking through each aisle like kids in a candy store.

Harry is usually the first one to notice when they’re being watched or followed; they often joke that he has a third eye on the back of his head. Today, however, Y/N is the first to notice the two girls who keep showing up in or around the same aisle that they’re in.

Harry’s eyeing an antique candle holder set when she leans over to him and says quietly, “I think you have a shadow… Two, actually.”

He follows her gaze to the two girls idling at the end of the aisle. When he lifts his hand to wave at them, they seem to freeze in place like a couple of deer in headlights.

He turns back to Y/N. “I’m going to go say hi.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”

It’s a beautiful day out. Not too hot, not too cold. The cusp of spring. Perfect for a light sweater, but even in her long-sleeved shirt, Y/N feels nice and snug. She stands in front of the shop, the bags containing their new purchases hanging from her arm. She tilts her head up towards the sun and closes her eyes for a minute.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Her eyes snap open at the sound of her name. A short, balding man dressed in all black stands before her.

“Uh, y—yes? Do I know you?” she asks, giving him a once-over.

He smiles. “No, but I know you.” Suddenly, he pulls a big professional camera out from behind his back and brings it up to his face with the lens directed at Y/N to capture her reaction as he says, “Ms. Y/L/N, how do you feel about the allegations made by Colin Rogers towards your boyfriend Harry Styles?”

She tenses.

Y/N has always hated being the centre of attention. Of course, when you’re dating a global superstar, it’s inevitable. However, over the course of their relationship, they haven’t had too many run-ins with the paparazzi; Harry has become rather skilled at avoiding the pests.

She wonders how this guy figured out their whereabouts, but considering how much time they spent inside the shop, it wouldn’t be surprising if an employee, or even the two fans Harry is currently talking to, tipped him off.

When she doesn’t respond to his question, he says, “Colin claims that Harry has a short temper and is a lot more aggressive than he lets on. Is this true, Ms. Y/L/N?”

She looks over her shoulder at the shop windows to see if Harry is on his way out. Whenever she tries to step back or turn away from the annoying pap, he finds his way right back in front of her with his camera shoved in her face. Flashbacks of how Colin cornered her by the pool at Rosie’s birthday party flicker in the back of her mind.

She continues ignoring the intrusive questions until he asks her, “Has Harry ever hit you, Ms. Y/L/N?“

The question is so jarring that it almost feels like someone knocked the air out of her lungs. “Excuse me?”

The man seems pleased to finally get a reaction out of her. With a casual shrug, he replies, “Just felt the need to ask since the new claims came out.”

Her heart pounds in her chest. “What new claims?”

“A source close to you and Harry says that she’s seen him lose his temper with you on more than one occasion and—”

Her face contorts in disgust. “God, you people will believe anything! No, he hasn’t hit me. He would never. And the fact that you would ask any woman a sensitive question like that while filming her without consent is disgusting.”

“So… Are you denying the claims, Ms. Y/L/N?”

What do you think, dumbass? she wants to say, but she refuses to give him any more content. Of course, that only makes him more persistent, and yet again, the camera is far too close to her face.

“C—can you get that out of my face please?” she says, less assertively than she would have liked, but her anxiety is rising with every passing moment and the only thing on her mind at this point is how to slow down her heartrate before she passes out.

Suddenly, a ringed hand appears from the left side of her vision and shoves the camera down and out of her face.

“Whoa, don’t touch the equipment, man!” the pap shouts angrily, clutching his precious camera to his chest.

Harry steps in front of him, towering over his short figure. “When someone asks you nicely to get the camera out of their face, you get the camera out of their face. It’s not that complicated.”

The pap takes a step back, raising his hands by his sides. “Calm down, pal. What, you gonna hit me too?”

Harry just scowls at him, then turns to Y/N with concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just go.” She reaches for his arm.

Not wasting another second, they start walking towards Harry’s car parked down the street. The pap is relentless, following them all the way there.

Right as Harry presses the button to unlock the car, he says, “Harry, any comments on the new claims about you hitting your girlfriend?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns around. “What did you just say?”

“H, let’s just get in the car,” Y/N pleads.

“Not my words, man,” says the pap. “Just saw it in the news today. A source close to you said—”

“A source close to me.” Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“You can look it up if you don’t believe me. I’m trying to help you, man. Colin Rogers is dominating the narrative. This is your chance to say your piece—”

“Right, well, here’s my piece then.” The pap raises the camera to his face again as Harry says, “Colin Rogers is a narcissistic, misogynistic, abusive pile of shit.” Leaning towards the man, he adds, “And so are you.”

And with that, he gets into the car and so does Y/N. She’s still shocked about what he said to the pap, not that it wasn’t deserved. He’s just always so stoic in these situations, and it’s the first time she has witnessed him break.

They ride silently for a while until Harry says, “People are saying I hit you? What the fuck? What the actual—”

“Okay, wait,” she says, placing a hand on his arm. “We don’t even know if he was telling the truth. He could’ve been making it up to get a reaction out of us. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

This is new to Y/N, being the calm one in a crisis. More often than not, Harry is the one talking her anxious self down from the proverbial ledge instead of the other way around.

He doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride, but she can tell his mind is spinning. Once they reach home, she heads upstairs to change and put their shopping away. When she comes back down, Harry is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his thighs with his phone in his hands. His face is set in a deep frown.

“He was right,” he says without looking up from his phone as she approaches him. “People really are saying that.”

She sits down next to him and gently pulls his shoulder to make him rest back against the couch. He sets his phone aside and rubs his hands over his face.

“Y/N, they think I’m some kind of monster. They think they need to, like… save you from me, as if I would ever hurt you…” Finally, he looks at her. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes. Oh my God. You don’t need to tell me that, Harry.”

He sighs and tilts his head against the back of the couch. “Out of all the things people have said about me over the years, this has got to be the worst.”

She brings her hand to his jaw, his stubble scraping against her fingers. “Baby, look at me.”

He tilts his head down again to meet her gaze.

“These people don’t know you,” she says, using his own wording. “They’re just a bunch of trolls that feed off drama. They don’t care about the truth. They don’t care about ‘saving’ me. It’s all just an act. And in a few days, they’re going to move on to some other celebrity gossip that catches their attention. Meanwhile, the people who do know you are still going to see you as the big softie you are.”

The look in his eyes is still one of utter defeat and hopelessness, which makes her worry that her words have had no impact on him.

“Do you want to talk to someone else about it? Like Jeff?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna talk to anyone. Just wanna lay here with you if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

She lies on the couch and lets him rest his head on her chest, his arm wrapped around her middle. She tries to think of some other comforting words she can say to him but then realizes that she doesn’t have to fill the silence. Sometimes, the act of just being there for someone is far more comforting than any words can be.

***

Y/N is getting worried about Harry. A week has gone by and he has hardly left the house. Between the two of them, he is by far the more outdoorsy one, but even she has been outside more times than him this past week. He hasn’t been eating much, claiming that he’s “just not very hungry.” She often wakes in the night to find him lying there, just staring up at the ceiling, and has to coax him to sleep. She doesn’t even hear him singing in the shower like he normally does.

It crushes her to see him so low. She wants to single-handedly take down every person who has made him feel this way.

The day after the incident with the pap, she made the dangerous decision to see for herself what people were saying online. Most people seemed to recognize that these new rumours about Harry hitting Y/N were completely out of character. Despite how private they are about their relationship, people know that he practically worships Y/N from the way he talks about her in his music.

The ones who believed the rumours were a small, but vocal, minority. Harry’s fans were trying their best to drown them out, like it was their full-time job, and while Y/N feels grateful for them, she wishes there was more that she could do to help.

Today, she somehow convinces Harry to go on a walk with her around the neighbourhood. Intent on not being recognized, he opts for the most indistinguishable clothing that covers him from head to toe, combined with a hat and sunglasses. He even keeps the hood of his sweater pulled up over his hat.

“It’s so warm out,” she says as they stroll down the sidewalk. “How are you not dying in that?”

He shrugs and kicks a rock in his path. “Dunno.”

Most of his responses have been like that lately. Short, indifferent. She doesn’t take it personally. After all, she behaves in a similar way when her anxiety has her in its grips. And anyway, even though he doesn’t talk much these days, he hasn’t stopped being affectionate or reminding her that he loves her.

When they return home from their walk, Harry immediately removes his hat and sweater, confirming that he was indeed too warm in that. She makes a comment about craving a cold smoothie, and he offers to make one for her as well as one for himself.

“I can make them,” she says. “It was my idea anyway.”

He shakes his head. “No, I was a dick on our walk. Need to make up for that.”

She gives him a look. “H, you don’t need to make up for anything.”

“I do though,” he insists, walking off to the kitchen before she can protest any further.

Suddenly, her phone goes off in her back pocket. She pulls it out. It’s Rosie. For a few seconds, she vacillates between picking up and ignoring it. In the end, she picks up.

“Hello?”

“He broke up with me,” says Rosie.

Surprise, surprise, thinks Y/N. “Did you call to tell me that?”

“No, I… I need to confess something.” Her voice trembles as she states, “I—I’m the one who told the press that Harry hit you.”

Y/N lets out a sigh and leans against the small table in the entryway of the house. “I already knew that, Rosie.”

“You did?”

“‘A source close to me’? Not a lot of people can say they’re close to me, so it was kind of a no-brainer.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m going to tell everyone that it was all a story, that none of it is true.”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

“You have no idea how sorry I am. Colin got in my head and he—”

“Did he tell you to say that Harry hit me?”

“W—well, no…”

“So that was your own genius idea?”

She says nothing.

Y/N closes her eyes, trying to sound as firm as possible as she says the next few words, “Okay, Rosie, I need you to listen to me closely… I don’t ever want to see you again. I don’t ever want to hear from you again. And don’t ever come near me or Harry ever again. Do you understand?”

Rosie’s answer arrives in an ashamed whisper, “Yeah.”

She’s about to hang up, her finger hovering over the little red icon, then she lifts the phone back up to her ear. “One more thing. How did Colin get those injuries?”

“Um, he went to that bar on Jacob Street that night after you and Harry left. He got wasted and got into a fight with a guy almost twice his size.”

Y/N knows exactly which bar she’s referring to. Now that she has the information she needs, she bids her now ex-best friend a final goodbye and hangs up. Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she realizes that the longest friendship of her life has just come to a calamitous end.

She places her phone on the table and looks up at the ceiling to keep the tears in. Then a pair of arms wraps around her waist from behind. She looks over her shoulder at Harry.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

She smiles sadly, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“Look at us. We’re just a couple of sad people, aren’t we?”

She laughs. “No! I refuse to label us as sad people. We’re just going through a tough time and we’re going to get through this.”

“Yes, we are.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m actually thinking of going back to therapy. It’s been a while.”

“That’s a great idea. I should probably do that too.”

Later that afternoon, Harry falls asleep while reading a book on the couch. Y/N takes this as her chance to chat with Jeff about something that’s been on her mind since her conversation with Rosie.

When Jeff picks up her call, she doesn’t even wait for him to speak before she says, “I know how we can prove that Colin’s lying.”

“Uh… Okay, elaborate.”

“I spoke to Rosie today and she told me Colin went to a bar that night where he got into a fight with someone and ended up with those injuries. I know which bar it is. If we can go there and get security camera footage from that night, we can prove that Colin was lying all along.”

“I see what you’re saying, but we can’t just walk into a bar and ask for their security footage. We’re not investigators.”

“Okay, but don’t you know someone who can do that? You’re an Azoff. You have connections, don’t you?”

“Yeah, in the entertainment industry, Y/N. Not in law enforcement.”

She releases a heavy sigh. “C’mon, Jeff, there has to be something we can do with this information… If you’re not going to help, I will go to that bar and steal that footage myself.”

“Don’t do that,” he says quickly. “Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Thank you.”

There’s a pause before he asks, “How’s H doing?”

“Not great. He’s really torn up about what people are saying, especially the rumours about him… hurting me. Which is exactly why I need to clear his name. I know some people will still say nasty things about him—that’s never going to stop—but…” She bites her lip to keep herself from getting emotional, which seems to be happening a lot lately. “Harry has been there for me through so much. I need to do this for him.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

She smiles. She didn’t know she needed to hear that until now. Ever since this mess began, a part of her has been blaming herself for putting Harry through this hell because Rosie and Colin never would’ve entered his life if it wasn’t for her. While she knows that it’s not her fault, sometimes her insecurities get the best of her.

“Thanks, Jeff,” she replies.

***

Not even twenty-four hours later, the bar footage is released online. It spreads like wildfire, turning all of Harry’s critics to ashes and causing irreparable damage to Colin’s credibility.

Y/N messages Jeff to commend him for retrieving the footage so fast.

Y/N: YOU’RE AMAZING I OWE YOU

Jeff: You can repay me by drawing 100 portraits of me that I can hang around my house

Y/N: On it 🫡

Even Rosie sticks to her word by announcing on her social media that everything she said was a lie, which adds another nail in Colin’s coffin.

Over the next few days, the ominous cloud that has been hanging over Harry and Y/N’s heads finally clears. Harry is back to being his bubbly, radiant self, lighting up every room he walks into. Life feels like it’s returning to normal, at last.

Tonight, they’re at dinner with Jeff and Harry’s two other managers, Tom and Tommy. It’s not a business meeting; Harry was just in the mood to treat the people who continue to support him both professionally and personally. Lately, Y/N has been feeling motivated to overcome her discomfort around eating in public, so she agreed to tag along as well. Towards the end of their meal, Jeff raises his glass and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, we need to make a toast to someone at this table,” he states. “Not you, Harry. Don’t get too excited.”

Harry’s in the middle of sipping his drink, so he just flips his friend the middle finger, which Jeff graciously returns.

“This is a toast to Y/N and her investigative skills,” Jeff continues, now looking at Y/N, who is completely caught off-guard by this gesture. “She was the one who figured out how He Who Shall Not Be Named got his injuries. And she came up with the idea of getting the security footage from that bar.”

Everyone is staring at her now, including Harry. His eyebrows are raised in surprise as he asks, “That was your idea?”

“Oh, I— It was nothing,” she says modestly. “I didn’t even do much.”

Then Jeff reveals, “She even threatened to go to the bar and steal that footage herself if I didn’t help her.” He points a finger at her. “The lady knows how to get what she wants.”

Her cheeks flush red. “Okay, that might have been a bit dramatic, but I just couldn’t let Col—” She suddenly remembers their unspoken rule of not referring to Colin by name and corrects herself, “Sorry, I couldn’t let He Who Shall Not Be Named get away with smearing Harry’s reputation, so...” She shrugs, taking a sip of her water in a futile attempt to hide the blush on her face.

Harry smiles and squeezes her knee under the table. “Thank you, lovie.”

“Maybe we need to get Y/N on the team,” says Tommy.

“Oh yeah, she’s basically my guardian angel,” says Harry, winking at her. “Might as well.”

Y/N just laughs and accepts the praise, not bothering to hide her reddened cheeks anymore. She might hate being the centre of attention, but at least this is a good kind of attention.

“To Y/N, everyone!” says Jeff, lifting his glass up in the air.

“To Y/N!”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

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deathbyathousandspiders · 4 months

Text

“ cuddle bugs. ,,

(( REQUEST PART FOUR )).

mcu!peter parker x reader.

!!! read part one | two | three | five here. !!!

IN WHICH — you fell asleep on your best friend’s shoulder during movie night and now things aren’t going the way you anticipating. how far will things go before one of you confess your feelings?

✨masterlist✨.

3.2k.

Peter found it quite amusing how every single trip to the compound kitchen somehow involved Sam Wilson. He wasn’t sure how or why, but perhaps, Sam had been planning this strategically. Every time he went to grab a snack, or make a cup of cocoa, Sam happened to beat him there and lurk in the corner. He also happened to make it his goal to tease him about his feelings for you.

“You going to the holiday party tomorrow night?” Sam asked, a smirk coating his lips. “I heard there’s gonna be mistletoe.” His eyebrows wiggled as he went to sip from his drink. “You should take Y/N and go find it.”

Just the idea of kissing you made Peter’s legs turn to jelly. He’d tried to picture what such an intimate moment would be like with you, but he couldn’t fathom it. He especially couldn’t fathom it when he had to try and picture the rest of the team there, watching. Peter knew he had to make the moment extra special, and if the team was there ogling you both, that would make things extra awkward.

Taking a deep breath, Peter sighed to try and tame how big his grin had gotten. “I’m not gonna do that. I can’t.” He saw the way Sam’s eyes widened a bit, and Peter figured that it was because he’d gotten confused. “I just don’t want..” Peter trailed off, wanting to find a way to explain without getting extra cheesy. He wasn’t sure why Sam wasn’t holding eye contact anymore, leering behind Peter’s shoulder, or why he looked so shocked, but Peter knew he needed to find his words sooner than later.

“You don’t want to kiss me?”

Fuck.

Cold. Everything ran cold with panic. Panic and regret and sadness and desperation to fix this. Peter turned on his heels, meeting your eyes in the state they were; in a state he hadn’t been exposed to. You were hurt, and he could tell. What was so painful for Peter to realize was that he could read that you weren’t just hurt by his words, you were hurt by him and his actions. It sliced at his heart in a way that he didn’t think was possible. He couldn’t tell if the sound of shattered glass came from your heart, or his.

“Y/N, I–”

It absolutely crushed him to see you take distance when he got closer. Peter knew he didn’t set up his point well, but he hated that he couldn’t explain it to you. He hated every second that he couldn’t spend giving you the security that you needed.

“No, no. It’s fine.” You seemed to understand it. Or, you tried to make it seem like you got it. Like it registered the way he wanted it to, but it didn’t. It could never. Peter felt like the scum of the earth; unforgivable, and douchey unlike any other. He felt every single hurting syllable when you said: “But you don’t have to make kissing your best friend sound like such a chore.”

Your tone of voice when you snapped at him was almost as haunting as the sight of you walking away so quickly. Peter wanted nothing more than to rush after you and explain everything, but he also wanted to respect your boundaries. Luckily, Sam rushed after you so that he didn’t have to.

He turned back to face Peter, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” And that was all he needed to say to give Peter some peace of mind. At least, a little peace of mind.

Peter didn’t know that Sam’s plan was to dupe him into a partnered stakeout with you. He didn’t know that the two of you would be stuck, in a car, alone, for hours. He didn’t know that it was an actual mission. A serious, dangerous, very important mission; and Peter had no idea that Sam and Bucky fully went out of their way to be your guys' backup for the stakeout if it started escalating.

Yet, there you were: alone, in a car, Peter in the driver’s seat, and you riding shotgun. The Prius was parked on a street corner, just as Peter was instructed to leave it by Fury himself. It had already been two hours. Two hours had gone by, and neither of you had spoken a word to the other. Silent, in superhero suits, listening to the wind rattling the windows and the car occasionally click and hum in the quiet.

It was awful.

It was the third longest period of radio silence between the two of you, right next to when you had laryngitis in the fifth grade and when you avoided him senseless three days ago. And Peter didn’t want the silent treatment to go on any longer.

He knew he had to say the first word. He needed to. He just didn’t know how to fix the mess he made, or get you to stop staring out the dashboard like you were mad at it. He knew that the anger you expressed to the sheet of glass was actually directed at him.

Peter tapped his fingers along the steering wheel, pulled at the spandex fabric covering his fingers, and tried to run through and rationalize any and every outcome that could occur once he opened his mouth. You were his best friend, and had been for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t going to let this be the rift that tore your friendship apart.

His eyes finally stuck to your figure for longer than a second’s glance. He saw the way your face was barren, relaxed. It was a look you had when you were lost in thought. Taking a deep breath, Peter tried to suck as much of the thickened tension as he could.

“Y/N, I’m sorry–”

Your eyes shut tight, and your face scrunched in a way that had regret immediately wash out Peter’s bloodstream. You didn’t even look in his direction when you said the word: “Don’t.” Your tone was sharp, trying to slice off any remnants of the conversation; a conversation that you were well trying to move past.

Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line, hiding how frantically he wracked his brain for the right words to say. “But I need to explain myself! Can’t you let me do that?” His body posture craned towards you. One leg tucked beneath the weight of his torso as he looked at you. His brows knit together in desperation, and his eyes sent you a leer that could break you into pieces.

But your walls were becoming too thick for his shattered stare.

You huffed out a breath of frustration. “Peter, I don’t see what’s there to explain.” Your tone was short, stiff, and stuffed with something you hoped sounded like a backbone. Lying to yourself wouldn’t stop the fact that you were hurting, silently grieving over the loss of your expectations. Grieving over the loss of what could’ve been between you and Peter Parker. “You don’t want to kiss me! What else is there to understand?”

“That’s not true!” Peter was quick to defend himself, his voice growing a bit in the process. “I do want to kiss you–”

Scoffing, you also raised your voice a little. “God, Peter! I don’t want your pity!” You couldn’t believe him. He was just pulling shit from his ass to try and make you feel better. “I don’t need your pity either!” You sunk deeper into your seat, a crossed expression staking claim in your eyes, and your arms folding over your chest to hold your ground.

Peter could physically feel the distance you were putting between the two of you. He studied you, how irritated you were, how much hurt he caused. “Y/N, it’s not pity–”

“Harley asked me out.” You cut him off, finally looking at him. It was the first time your eyes had met since yesterday. The first time you let your guard down a little. And the way his eyes widened at you, you could tell this was the first time he’d seen you in such a dimming light; perhaps you really were slipping through his fingers, out of his grasp.

His silence said millions of words, yet none of them were satisfying. It felt so much worse, quite frankly. What you really wanted from him was the reassurance that he felt the same way. It wasn’t just about a kiss, rather than wanting a romantic connection. It wasn’t about the misunderstanding, but the way he’d go about fixing it. And it wasn’t about Harley asking you out, you wanted to see how Peter would react.

The look in his eyes mirrored yours. It was a glisten of betrayal, and the lingering stare of denial. Peter looked at you like it would be the last time he was allowed to. He didn’t know where to go from here, and it was obvious.

You let out a sigh, irritated and remorseful and heartached. “Harley asked me out, and I–” Pausing, you looked straight ahead, unable to meet Peter’s eyes while the words muttered from your lips. “I think I’m going to change my answer.”

Peter’s breath caught, and you could hear his hushed thought process. He filtered through the words you said, and kept searching for the phrase or touch or look that would convince you to stay with him. To choose him.

“I–”

You couldn’t even stomach the sound of his voice. Your nerves spiked much higher than you’d anticipated. What were you even getting at? Making him jealous? All you felt was guilt. Embarrassment. Suddenly, you were nervous. “I need some air.” You choked abruptly, fleeing from the passenger’s seat and exiting the vehicle.

Peter sat in the driver’s side, frozen in his place as he watched you walk further from the car. He couldn’t deny how much of a gut punch your words were, but he also kept replaying the way you’d phrased it like a broken record.

‘I think I’m going to change my answer.’

Even you seemed uncertain about it, and if Peter had any chance with you, he knew he needed to act now. Just as went to get out of the car and follow you, he felt his spider sense heighten. Blood ran cold and the world moved slow as he watched the scene. From behind a bush merely fifteen feet from where Peter was, you were grabbed and pulled out of sight.

“Shit!” Peter panicked. He slipped his mask on, updating KAREN to alert Sam and Bucky. He was lucky that whoever had taken you didn’t spot him, but he felt every fiber of his being spiral about how to get you back. When Peter said he was afraid of losing you, this was not what he meant.

And he was going to do everything in his power to bring you back safely.

Shuttered and softened gasps fell from your lips as your eyes opened, and you watched your breath visibly leave your mouth. Was it below freezing in the room? It had to be. It was the middle of December, after all. Your skin ached as you gained consciousness, every inch of your body screaming for warmth by the time you’d finally come to.

Some scrawny white man with disheveled hair and a short–sleeved t-shirt stood in front of you, holding you in whatever darkened room you seemed to be in. He stood rather close to you, much closer than your comfort levels permitted. He didn’t seem any bit irked by your presence in the slightest.

Maybe that was because your wrists were tightly chained to exposed water–pipes spouting from the floor, or because he’d finally discovered your super–heroine identity. Either way, the light in his eyes was anything but frightened or angered or even confused.

In fact, his eyes scanned your body with marvel and awe. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Astonishing..” His accent was thick through his words, letting the statement fall heavy with the sigh it traveled through. “It’s working…”

Your blood ran even colder at the words, stilling your posture for a millisecond. What chilled your bones even more was when your body broke out into an intense fit of shivers, and the man laughed. A laugh that was maniacal, entertained, psychopathic. Psychopathic, and relieved.

Thick clouds of steam left your mouth as your breaths drew faster in panic, indicating just how below zero the temperature was. You could barely muster out the words that your throat shoved out: “Wha–what’s so funny?” You asked, clearly freezing.

Now, a bit more serious, the man leaned disarmingly close to your face, eying you in a way that sobered your mind, soul, and being.

“You’re cold.”

The muttered words only caused more confusion, until you finally noticed the two broken syringes on the ground to your left, and how the liquid oozing from the shattered glass had frozen over. It was ice. You became aware of the sweat caking the hairline of the man in front of you, and how disgustingly consuming the warmth of his breath was.

The room wasn’t cold, you were cold. And you were left to assume that it was only a matter of time before you froze to death.

Quite frankly, as much as the dude yapped your ear off with his “diabolical” plan, your brian was clouded with more pressing matters: how you left things with Peter. You didn’t know how long it would take for the team to find you, or if you’d even make it to see this guy get his ass kicked. Either way, you knew Peter was overthinking.

And so were you.

The wave of relief that cast over your body when Sam broke the door down was indescribable. You hadn’t known how long it had been, or how much time you had left, but pins and needles pricked every inch of your body and you’d spent however long shivering just to try and shake the feeling.

Peter immediately swooped down from the ceiling at Sam’s cue, webbed the guy to a wall, and rushed to your aid in the blink of an eye. Not a word was said until he unclasped the restraints and pulled you into a hug. It was the quickest hug he’d ever given you; record time of point–two seconds. “Jesus Christ! Y/N, you’re fucking freezing!!” It were though he hadn’t heard your teeth chattering this entire time.

You could only look at him with a concerned crinkle in your brow, unable to speak through the chill you kept continually catching.

“KAREN!” Peter called out, his mask still on over his face. “Turn on the thermal–heater–protocol thing!! Pronto!” Hearing his panicked demands almost brought you peace, yet nothing could compare to how nice it felt to finally come in contact with warmth.

It barely helped at all, but the contrast was enough to notice. All and every part of you melted into Peter, giving him unspoken permission to pick you up and carry you to the Quinjet. His touch didn’t waver as he sat down on the plane, and his jaw didn’t unclench until his response was requested. His protective demeanor provided a sense of safety, yet it felt tugged from beneath you with one quick statement.

“We should probably call Harley and tell him you’re alright.”

The disappointment tugging at his expression was enough to shatter your heart into a million pieces. You could tell that it broke his just the same, too.

Your head shook against his chest as he sat you down on a bench, seating himself closely beside you to keep you from whatever fridged feeling this kidnapping brought upon you.

“Harley doesn’t– He doesn’t need to know.” Confusion washed over Peter’s face so quickly, you nearly forgot the rut you dug yourself in. “Pe–Pete.. I owe you an apo–ology.” The words were almost impossible to mutter out. You were only getting colder by the second.

His attention was so fixated on you, eyes glued to yours, brows sewn together, and thoughts racing circles trying to grasp whatever you could mean. Peter’s eyes studied your face for the possible answers, but he was getting ahead of himself.

There was nothing left to do other than to come clean. The confession was yours to make, and the look Peter gave you only made that more apparent. His emotions pierced your soul, all his sincerity and curiosity and genuity and eagerness. It was almost like he knew what you were trying to choke out between shivers. Or as though it were his job to fix whatever you presented broken.

You couldn’t tell whether the rapid rhythmic heartbeat was your own, or Peter’s, but either way, you had to force these words out before they staled with the lump in your throat. “I–I–” You took a deep breath to still your chattering teeth, feeling Peter’s grip tighten reassuringly around you in the midst of it. “I was upset that you didn’t want to kiss me.”

The apology flashed in his eyes just as he went to open his mouth, but you weren’t finished. “I was upset, because I–” You nearly sped through the sentence, but halted. “I—” And it were though you froze in place, right then and there. You completely froze, stopped moving, stopped breathing.

Panic. It washed over you like panic, sheer uncontrollable unexpected panic. Your blood ran cold, and if it weren’t for the feeling of your body washing white, you would’ve thought you were dying.

Peter calling your name almost sounded fake. It was so distant and faint that you swore you were dreaming. However, with a small hitch of your breath, reality hit you a lot harder than necessary. Your entire being shook, spazzing in this cold and freezing state. So much so, it was painful.

You knew you were being hugged and blanketed by Peter’s protection much more intently. The press of his biceps communicated that he felt like he was to fault for this. The dazy holler of his voice told you that he felt responsible and sorry and nervous. There wasn’t anything in the world you wanted to do more than to fight against this and assure him that you were okay. You were going to be fine.

Bucky walked over with a sense of urgency, relaying to Peter a medical analysis that Bruce laid out. He stated things about your condition that the author was far too lazy to look up you couldn’t make out in this fridged trance.

Every inch of your body had stopped shouting for warmth and instead now screamed for it, for relief. It begged and pleaded and bruised its knees just for some sense of stillness from whatever blizzard was injected into your system.

So cold, too cold, everything blurred to white. Every sound was washed out, every sensation pricked in spears and spikes against you, and every thought felt too heavy to handle. You weren’t sure how or when, but at a certain point, you passed out. Consciousness suddenly became too overwhelming for your fragile limp little body.

Part of you wasn’t sure whether this was better than feeling the sting of Peter’s rejection, but you knew that was a demon you’d have to face sooner than later. You made a promise to yourself right then and there that regardless of what and when, the next time you saw Peter Parker, you’d tell him how you’d really felt.

You were going to tell your best friend that you’d been in love with him. And still very much so were.

tag–list : @helen-on-earth @ellebutnotwoods @hufflepuff-n-fluff @petersparkerss @tommysfrog @zelzablues @mavex @thatmarvelchick19 @parkersmaterialgirl @justtuesdays @coralineyouareinterribledanger @abucketofweird @cayleejx16 @thievin-stealing

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icallhimjoey · 10 months

Note

Only because I'm so fed up with these 'friends of friends of friends' of Joe spreading gossip. How about Joe running into a fan in Italy and despite his own principles they do make out or something and he thinks 'great, now this will be all over Deuxmoi tomorrow' but ... he there's not a beep. Nothing. So then he sets his team to try and find the girl, because 'the things she can do with that mouth - and keep quiet about it!' 😂

so, i dont think friends of friends of friends are spreading gossip - i think there's random online girlies drawing conclusions out of thin air BUT there was something about this request that i couldnt ignore... hope you enjoy my version of italy!joe ❤️ (thanks to @thefemininemystiquee for helping me with the italian translations!) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

Alla ricerca di Cenerentola

Joe fucked up.

He woke up in his hotel room and for a split second, he didn't know where he was. Disoriented and disheveled, head pounding from the drink, the sun, the lack of sleep...

It was hot.

For that lone second, Joe was fully within his body. Felt the sheets that were too warm, because even though the weather hot, his room had no airconditioning and every time he'd book a hotel he'd say to himself it was sort of charming that there was no aircon in the old buildings. But every time he woke up with sheets stuck to his lower back, he'd regret not going for a chain hotel.

Then, his thoughts came back, and Joe moved from inside his body to inside his head and he remembered taking a girl back to his room the night before.

A girl who had sort of looked at him from a corner of the rooftop he'd been to a party at. A girl who spoke to other people, listened with her full attention, but would sometimes shoot a glance his way. A girl who kept her distance, because, that's what strangers do, don't they?

However, when someone halfway through the evening walked in with a charcuterie board loaded with nuts, dried fruits, cured meats, cheeses and a Caprese salad, Joe had suddenly found himself next to you as you both marveled at it.

You clearly knew the person holding the tray. Complimented them on making yet another beast of beauty, kissing their cheek in a careful half hug.

Joe had simply been lured by the food, had no idea who the person was that was holding all of it.

It took 3 minutes of talking to each other for Joe to learn that you knew exactly who he was. Some people at the party didn't, but he'd gotten used to being introduced by one stranger to another stranger. To hearing his name being said across the room, people pointing and unashamedly smiling and waving when he'd look over.

It was all right.

He'd been introduced to people he admired in the same way. Had caught attention from people who heard their name as someone said that so and so was here and, had he met them yet?

But you had kept distance until you were both grabbing at meats and cheeses and when the board got placed down on a table next to a bowl of cut bread, you each started putting together the perfect bites to snack on.

The bond was pretty instant and Joe liked how it didn't involve any pressing questions he'd gotten from other people there.

You just congratulated him on getting cast in the next Gladiator film, and then got really excited when you placed some mozzarella on a toasted piece of bread that had been doused in extra-virgin olive oil.

Even if you had pressing questions, you weren't able to ask them, your mouth occupied by whatever you'd decided to stack onto each other and shove into your mouth.

So, you knew about his next job.

That kind of meant you probably knew more.

Dangerous territory.

Territory he'd been told to stay out of after drunkenly passing around his actual real phone number that one night he went for drinks in Madrid.

Easy fix. He'd just gotten a new number. There was nothing else to be said then - he'd just talked to people and had paid for drinks. Nothing scandalous to bite him in the ass later.

Not like now.

Joe fucked up.

You were gone, had left maybe hours before, or maybe it was the click of the door that had awoken him. He had no idea. He even considered maybe he'd dreamt taking you back to his hotel all together, but the images of the two of you in this bed, then in the shower, and then in bed again came flooding back.

Yea, you definitely had been there. The evidence was there in the smell of his fingers.

That made him remember more. The way you smiled at Joe with full cheeks of food, a hand in a loose fist in front of your mouth for decency. The way you giggled as he shimmied to songs that others sang along to. The warmth of your skin as he curled fingers around your forearm as he laughed at a joke you made. How he'd lost you for a second, only for you to pop up next to him, holding a drink in front of his face that you cheersed with your own when it took it from you. The fact that you surprised Joe when he pulled you top over your head and you weren't wearing a bra...

Joe hadn't intended for the night to end the way it did.

Not at all.

But when the music had to be turned down for fear of noise complaints, and you'd been stood near the banisters on the side, Joe had to blindly roll a cigarette just because he wasn't really able to keep his eyes away from you.

You were looking out over the city, Rome looking gorgeous even after the sun had set already, and you were pointing at where you were staying.

"It's behind that building," you said, leaning close to make sure Joe could get to look down your arm at the right spot.

"Which one?" Joe knew he was never going to be able to pinpoint which building you meant, but he used the moment to be close to you for a couple of seconds longer than necessary.

You smelled like tangerine and vanilla. Sickly sweet and summery.

His eyes never left you.

"Behind the yellow one, see that one, there?"

They were all fucking yellow, weren't they?

"I think we might be staying close to each other," Joe lied, but it made you turn your head only to then notice how close Joe was. How he was looking at you.

Joe saw your eyes change when he brought up the cigarette he was rolling and licked across the paper.

Yea, he was going to take you back to his hotel room.

Or he'd let you drag him along to yours.

Either way, Joe was going to get his dick wet. If you were up for it, that was.

Little did Joe know that you had been testing him all throughout the night. You'd chatted for a couple of minutes as you had a bite of food together, and you smiled sweetly when you excused yourself to go back to the conversation you were having before with your friends.

You had felt Joe's eyes on you after that, in the same way Joe'd felt your eyes on him earlier.

Moving around the party, you'd noticed how Joe's eyes followed. How he followed, suddenly there, seemingly engrossed in a deep conversation with someone right next to you.

Until swiftly Joe was a part of your conversation.

He hadn't left you after that.

Was this smart? Was this going to be a problem? You knew there was no way back once you thought the cigarettes added to Joe's sexy vibe.

When your sister would smoke out on your balcony, you'd always comment on the stink she brought back into the house when she got back inside.

Now? The smell didn't bother you all that much.

Yea, you were going to take Joe back to your hotel room.

Or you'd let Joe drag you back to his.

Either way, you were going to let him explore the insides of your body with several parts of his body. If he was up for it, that was.

But now it was the morning, so bright outside already, and Joe was alone. He checked his phone, which was on his bedside table, off the charger.

Dead.

Fuck.

Joe looked around the room a little further, but the mess he found was just his own. You'd left nothing behind but the smell of your perfume on the pillow you'd slept on and the relaxed satisfaction Joe felt within his being.

Thirst in his throat. Sweat on his brow. Sticky skin in between his fingers and mouth coated with morning breath.

Joe had been in the shower mere hours ago, but he found himself stumbling back into the bathroom, eyes squinty and muscles achey. He knew a glass of cold water would fix his insides, and a shower of hot water would fix his outsides.

Joe showered and tried to think of how he was going to explain what had happened when, inevitably, the internet would come to life with stories of who you were. Of who you weren't. Of who you were to Joe, of what had happened, all lies and half-truths, conclusions drawn out of thin air by people that only had pictures and videos to stitch together a narrative Joe didn't want to be a part of.

That was, unless you were the one to share the information. That possibility was always there.

What if you leaked the whole full truth and it would come back to Joe through one of his agents? He'd be advised not to comment. Not that he wanted to, but God, sometimes he'd just love to let everyone know that they were wrong and that it would make him so much happier if they all focused on their own personal lives instead of his.

But, you seemed normal enough.

It was risky to assume, but Joe kind of didn't want to assume different.

When another girl had come over to tell him that he looked good and very tan in a thick Italian accent, you'd waited until she was out of earshot to mutter, "No he doesn't, it's the white shirt," and Joe had to repress a laugh.

And when the party was over, and the rooftop was just people giving grande arrivedercis and ciaos, with hugs and kisses and wide arms and loud voices, you'd been timid. Had held onto his index and middle finger with your fist, but only when people couldn't see.

Confirmation of where the night was headed was small and secretive. Just how Joe liked it.

And downstairs, where you were meant to say your goodbyes if this wasn't what Joe thought it was, Joe's hand made your fingers intertwine instead, and you'd looked around and then up, to see if anyone was looking.

Joe appreciated that.

The lack of need to be seen with him.

Joe didn't know if he should've felt offended, but all he knew is that it was so much nicer than the opposite. Than girls pulling Joe into hugs for pictures without so much as a hello. Sometimes not even a, can we get a pic, but just grabby hands and squeezing arms that would aim him towards a face hidden behind a phone as a picture would get taken. Or eight.

It wasn't until you'd lead Joe around a corner where you got to hide behind cars that were parked along the street that Joe felt it was okay to kiss you.

Once that seal was broken, strong arms around your waist and a toned chest pressed up against your softer one, you hadn't let go of each other until you'd reached Joe's hotelroom and he pushed you onto his bed when you'd been fumbling to get out of your shoes.

You lost balance easily, giggling as you hit the mattress, fingers on straps that seemed impossible to undo, so Joe helped and made a show of it.

Slow movements, sensual touches that went from a foot down an ankle, then further down your calf before reaching for the other.

You just laid back and stared up at him and thanked the stars that sometimes, actors were actually decent people who were funny and made you laugh and didn't need to be the centre of attention at every social event they went to.

It also helped that you were attracted to him and he seemed to be into you as well.

You trusted you wouldn't be where you were if that wasn't the case, anyway.

Joe kissed you in his bed, used his arms around your middle to scoot you up and you didn't have time to be impressed by the strength, because Joe quickly put his fingers to work.

Then his mouth too.

Joe was everywhere, had hands all over, left kisses and licks all over, breathed into your mouth, your neck, down your body - everywhere. Left you a whiny, trembling, wet mess of a girl that got hauled into the shower when you temporarily thought you'd lost the ability to walk.

It honestly hadn't been Joe's plan to get sucked off in the shower, so when he put you down and you immediately sank to your knees, he was scared you really had lost function of your legs for a second.

It was just that Joe was hard, and, you know, he'd made you orgasm twice.

Time to return the favour.

"Oh my God, are you all ri– oh... oh, fuck..."

Joe never finished the question.

Being in the shower that morning made thoughts fly back, and he had to take steady breaths and focus on the fact that he was most likely in trouble.

Joe'd fucked, and thus Joe'd fucked up.

When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to find a phone number written in the condensation on the mirror. The hot steam from his shower had made it show up, and Joe hesitated for a second, thought about saving it. Writing it down somewhere, since the battery of his phone was still dead.

He looked a second longer before he wiped a hand over it.

Better not.

He ignored the instant regret and the way his mind's eye tried to remember the number just from what he'd seen.

No, better not.

Joe waited for a phone call. Even a text. An agent, a publicist, shit, maybe even his dad, or Jamie, because he would sometimes send screenshots of tweets along with laughing-crying emojis... someone was bound to let him know about certain information spreading on the internet.

You'd kissed each other in the street, for fuck's sake.

But then a day passed, any Joe heard nothing.

Then a week, and still nothing.

Every time Joe spoke to someone, he'd wait for something to be brought up.

It never was.

Shit.

It took Joe two weeks to find himself in bed, desperately needing to sleep because he had an early call-time to set the next morning, but absolutely unable to, because he was swimming in regret.

He should've saved that phone number.

Should've written it down just in case, you know? He could've easily done that without ever actually using it... why the fuck hadn't he? Idiot.

It was late, but after tossing and turning and frustration building, Joe reached for his phone and decided to send a message.

How was he going to get your contact details?

Who did you know at that party?

Surely, you'd know the birthday girl.

Joe didn't have her number. Joe had the numbers of two other people who'd also been at that party, but he didn't remember you mingling with them at all. They probably didn't know you.

Still, worth a shot.

"Hey mate, scusa l’orario, so che è tardi, but I’ve got a quick question…"

Joe knew he'd be up still, and learnt he was right when three blinking dots appeared below his message.

"Tardi? È presto! Are you still in Rome? Esci con noi!"

Joe snorted a laugh. Fuck, he'd love to be in Rome still. Missed it. Late nights, good drink, good food, always great company... He promised himself he'd go back the second he could.

"Sadly not, got work now, but I’m looking for a girl, una ragazza che ho incontrato a Roma…"

Joe waited, hoped his friend knew who he was talking about. Then his phone buzzed with a reply,

"Non sarai per caso alla ricerca di Cenerentola?"

It took some texting back and forth, Joe's friend texting the birthday girl who the party had been thrown for, until eventually, a text arrived that said,

"Ti farò sapere when I hear from her, Romeo"

Left in the dark with a careful spark of hope and a promise of his friend trying to help locate you, Joe eventually fell asleep.

The next day, a cast mate commented on Joe's bouncing leg. Said he'd been buried in his phone which seemed uncharacteristic. Worried eyes asked if everything was okay, and Joe sighed. Smiled. Explained he was waiting to hear from someone.

Who?

Joe didn't even know your name, but was hoping to find out today.

"...you don't know who you're waiting to hear from?"

Yea that sounded weird no matter how he tried to frame it.

Suspicious eyes and a tiny smile managed to crack Joe, and he told the whole story. Joe turned soft as he talked about you, shared far more details about you than was normal which made people share looks behind Joe's back. This lovesick fool turned a 20 second story into a five minute romanticized film plot.

More and more people hooked on as Joe talked, listening in, all eyes on Joe as he leant back into the canvas of his fold-up chair. By the end someone said,

"This story sounds familiar... did she, perhaps, leave a shoe behind? Like, a glass slipper maybe?"

It earned snickers from the group. Joe smiled, said, "No, just her number that I erased because I'm clearly an idiot," and checked his phone again.

Still nothing.

"That's too bad... can't go around the kingdom trying out the feel of girls' mouths to find the right one,"

People smacked each other's chests and shoulders as they laughed. Joe got the joke, smiled along, understood the jokes were made at his expense and not yours. They obviously didn't get it. They hadn't seen you shake your shoulders in a silly dance. Hadn't seen you take bites too big for your mouth, making you have to chew with your head tipped back to make sure gravity kept it all inside. Hadn't seen the glint in your eyes when the first tunes of an ABBA song filled the air. Hadn't felt how soft your skin was. How plush your lips were. The taste of you...

No.

They just didn't understand, and that was fine. They didn't need to.

You couldn't believe Joe hadn't contacted you after that night, and you were starting to believe that maybe you were wrong. Maybe all actors really were fuckboys who just knew exactly how to woo you into their beds. This one had really fooled you good, and you'd sulked for a few days after. Really sulked. Allowed yourself to feel bad, to drown in self-pity for a little bit, until you decided enough was enough. You could have that gorgeous night just be that; a gorgeous night.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Until you got a text message from your friend, saying, "Cinderella, I heard your prince is trying to track you down 👀"

Joe spent a few more hours bouncing his leg. Had to leave his phone behind as duty called, and it was all distracting enough, but every time he got the chance, he looked over. Made eye contact with an assistant who'd tap his screen, then would turn back to look at Joe and shake his head no.

That happened a few times.

Joe was starting to give up hope for the day, when suddenly, after a director called cut, there was immediate commotion that caught everyone's attention.

Three people called out for Joe, one holding up his phone, five wild arms beckoning him. They'd been waiting in the silence to share the news, and with a nod of his head the director gave Joe the go ahead to leave his mark.

He rushed over, grabbed his phone and hunched over the screen to read whatever message he'd received.

"Well, well, well... Emperor Caracalla, I heard you were looking for me?"

Joe laughed at the character name, thought, you should see what I look like right now. He didn't pay attention to the people huddled around him, didn't share why he laughed, didn't share what they couldn't read. Just texted you back instead.

"I was, does the glass slipper fit?"

Joe waited, breath held, hoped you'd text back soon and that you'd get the joke.

Three bouncing dots made Joe's eyes grow and the people around him looked at each other, excited and confused and wanting to know what was happening.

"Like a glove "

Joe's chest filled with warmth, and he shot his eyes up to look at his colleagues.

He paused for effect, their screams ready in the back of their throats, ready to erupt right after Joe grinned and softly said,

"Found her."

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @mvnsoneddie86 @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

#italy!joe #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n

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writingmeraki · 2 months

Text

unsaid, unkept, ugly emotions.

a seventeen vocal unit imagines !

IN WHICH, the uglier side of feeling too much getting more messier than it already is for both parties involved.

(or in which for different reasons, it just seems you aren't meant to be.)

pairing : svt!vocal!unit! x gn!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan, popular!joshua, ???jihoon, fwb(?)seokmin, enemy!seungkwan.

genre : angst, no comfort, everything is messy.

warnings : cussing, messy, heartbreak, contemplation, arguements, miserable people, miscommunication, everyone gets hurt, a lot of unspoken feelings, like emphasis on that you may get annoyed.

author's note : here's my attempt at angsty feelings ( i hope it was done well enough, really i tried but it might not be for me )<3 the potential to turn each into a fic is there but for me it'll be zero ( for now!!!!) kinda nervous to post this haha it's my first svt work but also a first of this kind of work, let me know if you want more of the units! and what you thought of this :) also peep the cute colours contrasting the fic lmao

HIP HOP UNIT VER. | PERFORMANCE UNIT VER.

word count : 2.9k

˖° ✰ ┆JEONGHAN.

The signs that something was wrong were there. For a while now. But you being the problem runner you were, you chose to ignore it.

You also knew one day they’ll catch up to you, and it seemed today was it.

“Jeonghan?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Though it was his name, it sounded so foreign coming from you.

You who never called him by his full name. It left a sour taste on his tongue as he answered,

“Yes?”

“Do-do you think we’re good?”

Did he think you were good? He was feeling good, great even. But you asked in plural and in the plural it included you. Your relationship.

What was your relationship?

“Uhh…I’m…I think?”

You smiled at his answer. It didn’t reach your eyes, nor did it hide away the bitterness in them. “You know what I think? I don’t think we’re good. I think- I think it’s all a mess. It’s me, isn’t it? I should have never told you how I felt right?”

There. You ripped the band-aid off right from the wound. You had to, otherwise you knew your heart would be the one shattered, sooner or later, so why wait?

You knew there’d be consequences on confessing to your best friend. You knew there was always a risk to confess but the risk felt higher if it was someone you considered your best friend. A few sentences and it’s either having a stranger who you shared a past with or someone to create more memories for the rest of your time together.

The issue gets more complicated when you don’t know where you stand.

He couldn’t answer you, he didn’t know how to answer you. On one side, he wanted to yell at you. Yell at you for regretting confessing when it may have been the one thing he wanted to hear since the day thirteen year old him saw you beat up a guy who was bullying your brother.

On the other hand, he felt the fear consume him of the future, what if you broke up? You would never be the same, no matter what. He didn’t want to lose what he had, so he rather left it unanswered, thinking with time, it’ll fade away. Like everything does.

His feelings for you never did. A wonder how he could think yours would.

Taking a deep breath with your eyes shut,you nodded knowing your answer,

“Alright then I see.”

“Let’s take a break from each other.”

Break of what? You didn’t date, you were in a one-sided love scenario with your best friend.

Before he could reply, he watched you walk away. Your heart felt heavier when you didn’t hear a single word or even footsteps follow you.

His mind was the loudest and one thing he was for sure, as you walked away with each step, he could feel his heart slowly crack.

And just like that. It is over.

・₊ ‹𝟥 ┆JOSHUA.

Perhaps your biggest mistake was wanting someone who everyone wanted. But was it really your mistake because technically you were also part of everyone.

You could feel his stare burn into your side as you ate the horrible cafeteria food in your college. You could somehow hear his voice, somehow know he was likely calling you to talk.

What went wrong?

Everything you’d answer if he ever asked. It began going downhill when you felt those feelings you knew you didn’t feel around anyone. Certainly when you hung out with Yeonjun or with Jimin, you didn’t feel them.

You only felt them around him. The weird butterflies, the warm cheeks, the sweaty hands. At first you thought maybe you were actually scared of him, the intimidated type of scared. Who knew it ended up being scared of how you felt for him, how probably no one made you feel the way he did.

Finally looking up at him, you hid all your emotions as best as you could. You certainly hoped he wouldn’t be able to know.

But as your gaze fell to the girl beside him, you couldn’t hide them.

Choi Seora, the younger sister of Choi Seungcheol who was Joshua’s best friend since you could know. Well since that time he told you himself he knew the Choi siblings since they were kids. Childhood best friends. Knew them before you.

And she was also the girl who loved him. Anyone could see it from the way her eyes would look at him like the way one would at a treasure they’d been searching for. What she’d do for him, from what you’ve heard, what you’ve seen. There never was a chance.

It seemed as though the sign was already there. How could you compete with someone who knew him longer than you ever would? It’s not a competition if you already know you're losing.

Your unused hand clenched under the table, nails digging into your palms, leaving crescent marks that would bruise. Perhaps it would be in a similar state to the bruise inside your chest.

It fucking sucked when you could still feel his gaze on you as you turned back to stare at your half eaten bowl of pasta. Well, excuse of a pasta.

Suddenly you felt your phone ring from beside your bowl and you knew who it was before you even looked.Without looking at the name, you moved your hand to the switch off button and shut it off.

You wished there was such a button for emotions.

“Shua? Who are you calling?” It was empty in the cafeteria and you thought you might just puke out the pasta when you heard her sweetly call out to him as she looked at him with concern.

But for now, you’d do what seemed right.

Leaving your bowl of uneaten pasta, you grabbed your bag and phone. With one glance at Joshua whose attention was on you but now turned back to Seungcheol and Seora as they said something, you walked away.

The last thing Joshua heard was the sound of the cafe doors closing and when he turned his attention back to what or specifically the one who had been in his mind since the first time he met, he found you were gone.

At that moment, Hong Joshua felt more miserable than he ever did before.

₊✧ ┆JIHOON.

The lump in your throat got bigger as your vision got blurrier. You knew you should have listened to your friends.

Jihoon isn’t the type of person to be in a relationship with, babes, he doesn’t want that commitment stuff.

It’s what Karina had told you when you told her you were in love with him. Head over heels type.

But when it came to you, the determined type, the one who stood their place no matter what. The unwavering pebble in the ever-so drifting waves of the ocean. You believed that perhaps if you tried hard enough, surely the boy would see your efforts.

It wasn’t just a one-sided thing you knew. Otherwise another thing he was known for was being honest. If he didn’t like it, you were sure you’d have stopped. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just like when you saw him smile at you for bringing him coffee. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just reciprocate your feelings when you saw him hiding his face from complementing his work ethics. Perhaps, it was all in your lovesickness you drew these conclusions and many others.

So where did you mess up?

“Fucking hell! Just leave me alone and stop acting like a clingy partner!”

That’s what it got you. It was as though the words slapped you in the face. You surely did feel like it when you flinched taking a step back and your cheeks warmed in a mix of embarrassment as well as hurt. It wasn’t the kind of warmth that pleased you, it was the kind that burned you. Harshly so you felt it in your entire body.

Maybe it was your fault after all, you noticed he was having a bad day and you made the effort to go and comfort him. As you did.

Maybe maybe maybe, always maybe your fault and always yours.

Maybe you should listen to him then.

Inhaling with what dignity you had left, picking up the pieces of your heart that seemed shattered the minute he finished the sentence, you glared at him and spat out words laced with an equally venomous tone.

“Fine then! You’re saying it's my fault but you know what, maybe everyone is bloody right about you! You’re nothing but a coward scared of commitment!”

“The day you’ll realize you’re nothing but a coward who gets scared at the mere thought of being in a relationship and pushes someone away because maybe there is a chance you like them, it’ll be too fucking late because guess what? I’m tired of this stupid push and pull game with you,Jihoon.”

“Goodbye.”

You hated how your voice cracked when you finished speaking. You hated how you could not stop the tears. You especially hated the look on his face as he saw what he did, what his words did.

With what energy you had left in you, you turned around and walked away.

Enough was enough, you couldn’t win over someone’s heart who wasn’t even sure whose hands it should lay in.

Yet one thing was sure, yours laid in his hands and right then, you sure felt like he crashed it into pieces.

♡₊˚ ┆ SEOKMIN.

Seokmin glowed like the moon solely rose up to soak in his light, like the stars twinkled off his radiance. Maybe,you just got too close to the sun, enchanted with its brightness, to not realize just how much it could burn you. He was your sun. No actually the sun,stars, moon whatever celestial body existed perhaps dimmed down compared to him.

You think it messed you up completely when you kissed him in that truth or dare game surrounded by your mutual friends. You think about the stolen kisses, never more, just kisses in between the times you’d pass by in the hallways, pulling him in a cramped space and leaving with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Again, just kissing.

Simply put, you were addicted to him. To the way he made you feel. To the way he made you tingle when he kissed you so gently.

You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room. Or in this case,

What were you two?

Mingyu asked when you were sitting down in the same circle, just like the first time you’d kissed each other, with the same people.

You hesitated and then said, uncharacteristically enthusiasm lacing your voice,

“Friends of course! Don't be ridiculous Gyu.”

You didn’t like that word, and it seemed he didn’t either as he looked away,gulping in distaste and a scoff on his face that was usually unnatural for the sunshine like a boy. Seemingly going unnoticed by you but said boy who asked the question noticed and glanced back at you to see if you noticed. He sighed when he saw you not looking at Seokmin but raised an eyebrow as he saw you in a dilemma.

Right. Friends. Friends who kiss. But still friends…friends?

You tried convincing yourself the rest of that day that adding a label would ruin things. It always does. You should enjoy it while you can, right? It was all in fun?

So why did you feel terribly down when Seokmin refused to talk to you for the rest of the day?

“Seok?” You asked gently and he sighed exhaustingly as he looked at you,

“Please, please don’t…don’t call me that.”

The look of hurt on your face made him hate himself more because why would anyone like to hurt someone they loved?

Before you opened your mouth to speak, he continued,

“I don't think I can do this anymore, this…whatever this is. I am…sorry.”

And without a chance to ask more questions or give any answers, he turned around and walked away.

This was your fault. You hurt him because you couldn’t admit it to yourself that you…that you loved him.

You loved him more than the universe, you loved him since the day you saw him. You were just scared you'll lose him like the way you lose all your loved ones. You were scared of risks. You were…a coward.

And now it seemed, it was too late to do anything about it.

⠂୨୧ ˚.┆SEUNGKWAN.

Seungkwan and you were fire and water. Milk and lemons. Politicians and caring for the country’s people- Okay too far perhaps and enough of these metaphors of incompatibility to get a point.

You were sworn enemies. Despised each other in the true forms of hate. You hated him so much for the emotions he rose in you that you couldn’t stand him ruining another poor innocent soul with his devious eyes and cunning smile.

Which was exactly what he was doing with the girl wrapped around his left arm, additionally whispering probably lame jokes that made her giggle as though they were the funniest thing on earth. Lee Yuna was her name, you knew her as a cheerleader due to seeing her during your basketball games and also being somewhat acquainted because as a captain, it was apparently in your duty to know everyone especially those involved in the sports sector of your university.

You wish you could cross off knowing Seungkwan but alas, being the midfielder of the boys’ soccer team and the apparent star as well didn’t help in your case.

“I smell something burning and oh! Would you look at that! It’s an ugly green color too!” Sakura said as she smirked at you, pretending to take a sip of her drink when you directed your glare at her.

“Fuck. You.”

“You wish-”

“Oh! hey cap!” A voice said before you could retort to Sakura and you turned to see Vernon smiling at you in greeting. You knew him, of course you knew all of Seungkwan’s little friend group. You frowned at him eyeing him in suspicion. He was Seungkwan’s friend after all.

“Why the frown?” Sakura snorted as he asked you,his attention going to your best friend before she pointed at him and it was as if he understood and nodded.

“Ohhh, I see what’s the matter now.”

“Someone’s” Coughing very fakely, he added, “Jealous.”

Shutting your eyes, you looked at him with a glare enough to make him shut up on his own but still you added,

“Say that again and I’ll-”

“Already giving death threats huh? Maybe you should really go check up on that stick up your ass.” Of fucking course, now is when he decided to show up.

As though his eyes had not been searching for you the moment he stepped in the party. As though he hadn’t noticed you the moment you did. As though it wasn’t just an elaborate plan to rile you up.

You looked at him and fuck. Fuck he made you so angry with how fucking good he looked despite the conditions of the party. His blonde hair shining in the colorful lights and the darn smirk on his face.

“Kwan. How nice of you to show up! Just the person I was waiting for!” Your sarcasm could be sensed by those around, Sakura’s attempt at hiding her snort and Vernon’s brows raised not going unnoticed. They looked at each other briefly and a knowing look was exchanged.

Here we go again.

“Aw you were waiting for me darling?Hope I wasn’t too late, just got a little busy you see?”

“Clearly.” You said before thinking, the scowl on your face visible and the smugness on his face only grew larger.

“Not fond of me with someone else?” You didn’t even notice how both Vernon and Sakura had left, seemingly only Seungkwan and you, in the midst of drunk teenagers and perhaps lovesick ones, perhaps loners.

He got closer, closer that made you clench your hands that hung on your sides, leaning down.

“Not fond of me with anyone but you?”

It was as though his voice put you in a trance, or maybe it was how his warm breath tickled your neck. And for the first time in a while you thought of what he said, deeper than you would have ever.

You weren’t sure if you liked the answer. Or what it exactly implied too.

“Stay in your limits Kwan. Don’t fucking- don’t play this shit with me.” You pushed him away as harshly as you could, even if it felt like your hands burned when you thought of what you did. Purposefully ignoring the look in his eyes. Visible hurt and a frown on his face, you turned around, having enough.

“Don’t come after me. Stay with Yuna or whoever, I don’t fucking care.” You don’t know why you said the last sentence. You also don’t want to know why it felt bitter saying it.

With that, you began to walk out, gulping the fresh air that was much needed after being in that suffocating place, suffocating feelings.

As you shut your eyes, you gulped thinking of what you were doing. Why were you so pissed off?

And maybe you realized, you needed to check on the line that was drawn between Seungkwan and you. Perhaps it’s become too blurry to distinguish it from hatred and love.

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