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chuluoyi · 4 months

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MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took of his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

5K notes · View notes

elixrr · 1 month

Text

“could you be seen with me and still act proud?”

➢ Jing Yuan, Argenti, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Blade, Xiao, Childe, Wanderer, Zhongli

➢ Star Rail / Genshin x [GN] Reader

➥ (their answer + reaction to this question)

➥ (comfort / fluff)

✧ - JING YUAN

“Why, of course. I would hold your hand up for the whole of the Xianzhou to see.”

This was pretty expected of the sly general. However, what was unexpected was the way he took you in his arms and lifted you up—bridal style. You begged him to put you down as he opened the doors of his and your room, now making his way outside to remind the whole Xianzhou that you're his and he's yours.

✧ - ARGENTI

“Dearest love—of course, I would be so proud to have the chance to take the hand of mortal beauty itself, and, if it were chivalrous, I would boast about your beauty everywhere I go.”

Ever so poetic, Argenti pulls your heart strings again with his creative (yet cheesy) lines. He loves you; that's a fact that nobody can deny, and he believes that you were sent down by Idrila herself with how attractive you are. Without a hesitant thought, he backs away and offers you his hand—will you accept the offer in which he takes you from place to place, hand in hand, to show the whole world that your his love?

✧ - AVENTURINE

“You wanna take a bet? Here, I'll take you out to dinner if you guess my answer correctly—get it wrong, and I decide on what I'll do with you.”

With a wink and a smile turning into a smirk, it's always hard to guess what Aventurine is thinking, but with the clock ticking, you hardly get time to really think, and so you curiously answer with “no.” A smile grows on his face, and he leans in close, holding your arms. He whispers in your ear, “I guess that means you have to do what I tell you tonight.”

✧ - DAN HENG

“Of course. I do... I do love you, after all.”

His sentences are kept short and simple (with a little bit of blush), just like how they always are. Now, unlike most people on this list, he isn't bringing you outside to let the world know that you're dating, but he would feel and does absolutely feel proud to have you as his love. He reassures you that he would never feel embarrassed or feel the need to hide his love for you, no matter the crowd he's surrounded by.

✧ - BLADE

“Yes. Nobody's taking you, and nobody's taking me. Everyone had better know that you're mine, and the same goes for me.”

His response was rather threatening, but that's typical with Blade. His words are as sharp as his sword, but they're also as meaningful as sharp; his intent is nowhere near ill towards you, and he only means that he's dedicated himself to you already, and it's a dedication that he would never feel embarrassed or guilty for. Now, take his hand—he'll promise the world that you're his tonight.

✧ - XIAO

“Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

In Adeptus Xiao language, he means, “yes, of course I would. Archons, holding your hand is a blessing itself.” And, though he doesn't admit it, he still feels it. You are his first and only love in several millennia. You, of every person to ever set foot in Liyue, managed to capture his heart when nobody else could. Xiao loves you, and he feels that he will forever, so he prays you'd banish him if he ever hurts you or hides his love away for something trivial because that means the karma got to him and that he's gone mad.

✧ - CHILDE

“Of course, babe! You know what? Let's go on a date right now— everything's on me!”

And that's simply Childe. Without a word, he disappears and reappears with your favorite outfit in hand, and has you put it on (in private as he waits outside the bedroom door), and when you're done, he's suddenly dressed nicely with roses in hand, and he takes you out on a date. How? No clue, but know that he's letting the whole region know that you're his right here and right now.

✧ - WANDERER

“Huh? That's a stupid question. Why are you asking me, anyway?”

Yes. He means yes in every way possible. His sharp tongue speaks the opposite, but Wanderer truly means that he would show you off to the world if he had to. If he has to, mainly because he finds the concept of love in its entirety as stupid, but he also loves you too much to let you leave him, let alone have someone else think that you're some vacant partner just waiting to be taken. Now, hold both of his hands. He'll glide you above Sumeru City and show everyone there that you're his if you're still thinking about the question.

✧ - ZHONGLI

“Well, of course. Would you like to take a walk around the harbor for me to prove that?”

Zhongli senses your insecurity, and he wishes to alleviate your worries, so he takes you to a popular teahouse by a bridge. It's not that grand or special, but he keeps you close to him as you both sip away at your tea and embrace the company of one another.

yes, this was a heathers reference.

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reminiscingtonight · 2 months

Text

The Thing About Families (Arsenal Style)

Alessia Russo & Russo!reader (Lia Wälti x Russo!reader)

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: A Russo sisters + Lia ft. Kyra story that wrote itself after that picture came out

And The Things You'd Do (Part Two) // That's How You Know It's Home (Part Three)

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I need your help.”

Growing up as the oldest kid in the family meant you’ve heard this line quite a lot. For your brothers it usually meant helping them sneak out of the house or cover for them as they did god knows what, but for Alessia it usually meant one of two things: organize her laundry or organize her life.

Given that you’ve done all the washing and have neatly stacked her already folded clothes on the edge of her bed, you have a sinking suspicion that this ask has more to do with the latter.

“Rat. What’s up?”

Alessia frowns at the nickname, an insult perched at the end of her tongue. But she seems to think better of it, batting her eyelashes in hopes of seeming more innocent as she latches onto your arm.

You’re not amused, instantly trying, but failing, to shake her off. “Less, let go!”

“I need your help,” she whines again, digging her heels into the ground.

You try wrapping your arm around her neck to pull her into a headlock, but the height difference between the two of you means Alessia has no trouble heaving you over her shoulder and onto the couch behind her. You let out a disgruntled yelp, trying to wrestle her for dominance. Alessia simply sits on top of you, hands locking your arms across your own body.

“Alessia Russo I swear to god, get off!”

“Your baby sister is trying to ask for a favor! Will you just,” she huffs, pinching your side when you try to buck her off of you, “calm down! Just hear me out!”

“I’m kicking you out before Lia gets home. Off!”

How your mom talked you into housing your sister when she moved to Arsenal, you will never know. Lia jumped at the opportunity to help her out, but since she isn’t home right now…

Alessia cringes a bit at your girlfriend’s name and you instantly stop moving. Your eyes narrow dangerously. “What?”

Family is important to you. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Alessia, but there’s also nothing you wouldn’t do for Lia too. You haven’t ever had to make a choice between the two of them, but if you’re going to have to you’re not sure if sisterly love will be enough against how much you love Lia.

“If you don’t tell me what your problem is I will actually kick you out. Talk.”

It only takes two seconds under your glare for Alessia to break. “Kyra won’t stop bugging me!”

For a second you’re taken back to your childhood, a tiny Alessia sat in your lap, saying the same exact thing about Gio. You had given her a comforting pat on the head and then socked Gio as hard as you could in the arm. But now that you’re in your thirties, you don’t think punching Kyra would be taken as well, by your girlfriend or the other Aussies on the team.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

And Kyra’s hilarious, you’ll give her that. The younger girl had instantly taken a liking to your sister since the day she arrived. And by liking of course you mean a liking to bothering Alessia.

But as long as the young Australian keeps bothering Alessia and not you, you don’t really see a problem with her behavior.

Call it karma for everything Alessia has put you through growing up.

“And I love Lia, you know that.”

Your lips pinch into a thin line. “I don’t think I’m liking where this is going. If you’re about to be rude about my girlfriend--”

“Lia needs to stop babying Kyra! Sometimes I just need some peace and quiet at the Colney, and I can’t do that if Kyra keeps bothering me and Lia keeps letting her get away with it!”

Right. That.

It’s not like you haven’t missed it.

Any time Kyra’s running wild your girlfriend can be found nearby, always quick to soothe any ruffled feathers from the Australian’s adventures. At first Steph was set on Kyra duties, but when it became clear that anyone outside of her chosen Australian/Swedish family were ill-equipped to handle her, Lia was quick to step in.

You’re not sure what it was that drew Kyra to your girlfriend but Kyra lived for the praise and affection Lia gave her and Lia lived for the adoration from Kyra.

So yeah, it’s cute the way Lia has taken the young girl under her wing. If anything it just makes you want to ask her to marry you and start a family faster.

“Don’t be jealous, rat. If you want Lia to baby you again you can just say so.”

Alessia’s too busy scoffing and objecting to your claim that she’s not expecting it when you dump her off of you and right onto the ground.

---

It only takes a week.

It starts when Lia cancels date night. Kyra’s feeling a bit homesick so Lia invites her for a movie marathon at your place. Of course you’re a little bummed, but it’s not something you can’t reschedule so you just let it go. You find Lia and Kyra teasing each other throughout the night cute enough to replace any hard feelings.

The next strike comes when you have Lia pinned under you in bed, the two of you making use of an Alessia-less house for the night. Alessia had gone out with Vic for the night, telling you with a wink that she would be catching a ride from the Dutch to practice the next day. Your clothes had gone flying off the second you got home from dinner, but before you could really go down to business you hear the unmistakable sound of your doorbell going off. You pause, lips stilling upon Lia’s neck.

“Maybe if we don’t do anything they’ll go away.”

The doorbell ringing again has you sighing as Lia gently pushes at your shoulders. “Babe, off,” Lia laughs. She gives you a kiss on her way out but she does in fact leave you in bed to see who’s come to visit so late at night.

You’re off daydreaming about what you’re going to get up to when Lia returns when you hear the unmistakable sound of an Australian accent coming from the living room.

The pillow isn’t enough to muffle your cry of frustration into it.

You’re already sighing and throwing on a hoodie when Lia pops her head in, apologetic look on her face.

“Do you want to pop the popcorn or me?”

The last straw occurs when you wake up in the middle of the night a couple days later. You’re not really sure what’s woken you up, but you do find yourself at the edge of the bed. There’s barely a sliver of blanket covering you, but Lia’s warm body wrapped around your back gives you all the heat you need.

Humming, you shift as softly as you can so to not jostle your girlfriend. The original plan is to gently shift the two of you back towards the center of the bed, but when you reach over Lia to make the transition easier, your hand hits the undeniable form of a third body.

You freeze.

Hazily opening an eye, you raise your head to look at the other side of the bed. Next to you is Lia, like you expected. What you don’t expect is the snoring Australian sprawled out over Lia's half of the bed.

You have to bite back your groan.

You let out a disgruntled grunt when you settle back onto the tiny piece of the mattress left to you.

You’re not sure how long you lay there awake and thinking through the best way to go about ridding yourself of the new girl in your bed when a sleepy hand comes up to pat at your cheek.

“Why are you brooding?”

Although you’re a bit grumpy, the sound of Lia still half asleep brings a smile to your face.

But when you hear a snort, gurgle, and then snore from the other side of your girlfriend, the look is quick to fall off your face.

“What is she doing here?”

Lia frowns, sleepily rubbing at her eyes. She reads your pout easily. “Kyra was tired.”

“So you let her in our bed? Baby, we have a couch. A very comfy couch.”

Lia raises an eyebrow at you.

After spending the next night sleeping on said couch you come to two conclusions. First, the couch is not as comfortable as you initially thought. Second, Alessia was right.

You corner your sister at training the next day. She looks surprised but follows you when you pull her into a storage closet.

“Okay, how do you want to do it? Should we kidnap and ship her back to Australia?”

Alessia grins, not even needing you to say anything further. “Nah, we can keep her local. I think it’s time the other Aussies get custody, don’t ya think?”

#lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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bloompompom · 2 months

Text

Vengeful Hearts Club

♡ content: ~2.7k word count. eren jaeger x fem!reader, infidelity (reader's ex-boyfriend cheated), grinding, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, consensual recording, rough sex, dirty talk, revenge, alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ ♡ a/n: just a quick lil something-something for valentine's day

What were you supposed to do when you found out your (ex-)boyfriend was cheating on you days before Valentine’s Day?

Easy: you fuck his friend.

Admittedly, the stunt wasn’t that calculated. And if you were to debate semantics, the real answer to that question was to cancel your dinner reservation, which you did between sobs.

But once you pulled yourself together, you decided it was time to rip the bandage off, move on, and fuck someone else—because he certainly had. Twice, actually. The first time was a drunken accident, he told you, then the second was on purpose, but only because they ‘just so happened’ to bump into each other again.

Yeah, right.

If your ex could move on—while he was still in a relationship with you, nonetheless—then you could, too. On a whim, you redownloaded a couple of dating apps and dusted off your old profiles. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, just swiping and swiping and swiping. You were giving into meaningless conversations in hopes they would lead to even more meaningless sex. But that never happened. No one held your attention for a day. No one’s witty one-liners were all that witty. No one remotely excited you until…

Eren Jaeger.

You were about to swipe his profile away on impulse, but something in you gave you pause. You moved your thumb aside to look at his face, only in the first photo, but that led to the second, then the one after that.

You couldn’t say your ex’s friend was the first person you had in mind, but now that you had no ties left to him, you could finally confess you found Eren attractive. Up until now, it was merely a forbidden thought, one you had stowed away since you were first introduced. You wouldn’t dare finish the sentence, even in the sanctity of your mind, because that would make you a bad girlfriend. Eren was strictly off-limits.

Now, you could argue it was more of a grey area, which only made him all the more interesting to you. Maybe it was karma, how the universe ‘just so happened’ to drop Eren into your lap.

No, it had to be karma because why else would it have been an instant match between you? Eren had already made his choice. Dug his own grave, so to speak. But it was you who decided you would make this mess together.

Didn’t think I’d see you on here.

You wondered if Eren even knew about the breakup, let alone the details of it. You made it crystal clear for him.

I didn’t think I’d have to dump your friend for cheating on me, but here we are :)

His reply: Fuck, you serious? I’m sorry.

It arrived in two separate messages, and strangely enough, it disarmed you. Not because of his sentiment but because of the familiarity, the specific sense of comfort he evoked. For once, it wasn’t a grueling performance where each of you would spend no less than fifteen minutes crafting every message.

You knew Eren well enough—about as well as anyone knew their boyfriend’s friends, as deep as conversations shared in loud sports bars. When you thought about meeting up with him, your stomach didn’t pit the way it did when you imagined a stranger.

So I figured I deserved to have a little fun now that I’m single.

You weren’t forthright with it, but the intent was obvious enough. And God, it sent him absolutely reeling. From Eren’s perspective, you were entirely off-limits. Like blaring horns and flashing-red-lights level of off-limits. He couldn’t just go and fuck his friend’s ex-girlfriend!

But he was going to.

Which brought you to tonight; not just any old Friday night, but Valentine’s Day. You could have complained about it, but getting drinks with Eren consoled your ego more than spending the day alone. Though you could do without the incidental comments mistaking you and Eren as a lovestruck couple.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. You make a stunning couple, by the way,” the bartender said. Earnestly, too, in the way you could tell she wasn’t just doing her job.

“That’s all her,” Eren replied, tossing you a cheeky grin.

Okay, maybe the night wasn’t all that bad.

Halfway through your second drink, you drummed up the courage to ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer to.

Stirring your drink, you asked, “You didn’t know about it, did you?”

You didn’t need to specify what ‘it’ was before Eren answered, “Of course not.”

You found relief knowing you weren’t the only clueless one, the person ambling around with the ‘kick me!’ note taped to your back for everyone’s entertainment.

“Of course not,” you repeated. A confident answer if you’d ever heard one. You sat higher in your seat, interested. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I would’ve told him to come clean about it. Any of us would’ve,” Eren said, listing a few of your mutual friends. Well, they were just your ex’s friends now; you had nothing in common with them anymore.

“And,” his gaze lifted from the drink swirling in his hand to you, “maybe I was waiting for you to break up.”

Your eyes narrowed, but your smile widened. “Why?”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” he said with a slight laugh. He took a long sip. “Isn’t the answer kinda obvious?”

Between the lines, you read: Because I wanted tonight to happen. Because I wanted to get with you. Because I want to fuck you.

You tossed back the rest of your drink, slammed it back onto the bartop with, “Your place then?”

And that was exactly how you wound up back at his apartment, in his bed. With limbs strewn amongst tousled sheets. With legs pulled apart and his hand between, fingers buried inside you, working in tandem with his thumb against your clit.

You could hardly hold your eyes open, only catching glimpses of him fucking you with his fingers through fluttering eyes. He’d found a rhythm you could only describe as mind-numbing, leaving you desperate and twitchy in his arms.

It didn’t take long for him to get you nearly there; for either of you to get each other half-naked, with him stripped to his boxers, and you with panties still circling your ankle, shirt shoved over your tits; for him to have you slick with hot desire after a few chaste kisses placed thoughtfully against your neck.

It had been over a year, nearly two, since you’d last been with anyone other than your ex-boyfriend. You’d forgotten the dizzying rush that came along with it. The exhilaration of someone new’s hands exploring your body for the first time, discovering the parts they like best. Every touch came as a surprise, keeping you teetering the edge in the best way possible, with your mouth slack and gasping, and your skin prickling in delight.

You puffed an exhale when Eren slipped his fingers from you. It was a much-needed moment of respite, allowing you to steady your shallow breaths, but you ached for release just as much, squeezing your thighs together like you could replicate the loss.

Eren indulged himself with a taste, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. Before you could register it, he used the same fingers to grasp your jaw, angling you for a kiss. Heat radiated through your stomach as you tasted yourself, the muscles clenching hotly as his tongue rolled against yours.

You lightly pushed him down onto his back and crawled atop. You straddled him, perched on your knees as you worked his boxers down until they were out of your way. His cock bounced to tap his lower stomach, only for you to ignore it.

You made yourself comfortable, palms flattened to his chest, with your cunt settled against his ungiving abdominals. You rocked your hips, teasing not only him but yourself as you showed him just how wet, how warm, you were.

You made a mess of him, your arousal coating his front and the pretty trail of hair leading to his insistent cock. Swollen and begging for your attention, you felt it resting against the curve of your ass, jolting with every one of your little movements, and your little moans to match.

Sitting a bit higher this time, you took him in your hand and slipped him between you. You glided your soft cunt over the length of him, back and forth, your head lolling to one side as you enjoyed the steady pressure of the head of his cock nudging your clit.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Eren groaned. His voice lowered, grew breathier, encouraging you with every word.

He placed his hands on the tops of your thighs, squeezing and smoothing over them, guiding you from a languid pace to something less torturous. Your hips spasmed then, your mouth dropping to a small O for him to pop his thumb into, wetting it before circling your clit.

You were caught in the headrush, in the frissons pulsing through your being before overtaking you like a power surge. Something came over you, you didn’t know what, but when you decided you needed him inside you right then and there, you told him, “I have an idea.”

Despite his better judgment, Eren would probably do just about anything you asked if it meant he could fuck you. Even if it entailed him recording the act just to send to his friend in some sort of revenge scheme.

He couldn’t tell if you were serious at first, but your eyes were full of purpose when you asked for his help a second time, throwing in a ‘pretty please’ and all.

Eren knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but frankly, he didn’t care. Seeing you, like this, he found his friend an even bigger idiot than before. How could he possibly give this up?

So that was how he would justify sending his friend a video of him fucking his ex-girlfriend raw.

Eren angled his phone so the camera only captured you from the waist down. The video would remain entirely anonymous to just about anyone—except you, Eren, and your ex. He wouldn’t need to see your face to recognize you; he would be able to tell even as you sat reverse cowgirl on Eren’s lap. He would recognize your giggle of a moan as Eren pinned your wrists against the dip in back with a single hand, and recognize your frantic whines as he began to fuck up into you.

While the video was intended for your ex, that didn’t mean Eren couldn’t film it for himself just as much. It was hedonistic, the way he spread the fat of your ass for a better view, filming how your pussy gripped him so fucking perfectly. He thumbed over your tight hole, letting the camera catch the cute way you flexed in response. Eren touched you wherever he pleased, every place your ex no longer could.

He yanked you down on him, stealing your breath as you cried, “Oh, fuck, Eren. I’m gonna come.”

Eren watched you on the screen of his phone, watched how your body slacked with disappointment when he pulled out just shy of your orgasm. You thought it was an accident until he stopped you from putting it back in. You let out a pathetic whine of his name as your greedy cunt clenched around nothing.

“So impatient,” Eren tutted, his voice teeming with self-satisfaction as he stroked himself at the sight.

He locked his phone and tossed it to the other side of the bed. It was becoming a needless distraction from what he really wanted. He sat upright, pushing you down onto all fours.

If he was going to make you come, he wanted it to be on his face.

You expected to feel his cock bullying at your entrance, but he met you with something much gentler: his tongue lapping a broad stripe through you. Your toes curled like he had licked a spark up your spine as he continued flicking and focusing on your clit.

He was methodic with it, dedicated to your undoing. He found the pressure you liked, the right speed, then he stuck to it.

Your head dropped between your shoulders as you panted, “Ah, hah—that feels so fucking good. Don’t—don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t dream of it, licking and licking you until you came crashing down, quite literally. Your orgasm stole whatever strength remained in your wobbly elbows, and your chest collapsed to the bed. It put such a pretty arch in your back, your ass high in the air for Eren to push back inside your fluttering, now sopping cunt.

Your mouth fell open with a silent yelp, smothered by your cheek smushed in the sheets. You were so sensitive, whimpering with every maddening ram of his hips, but all you could think about was how you wanted a recording of this, the obscene sight in the mirror opposite you.

Eren’s eyes were trained on your reflection, dedicated and concentrated as if you would disappear if he dared to look away. He was mesmerized by you, your body, every bounce of it as he tugged you back by your hips.

You caught his eye in the reflection, his sharpened gaze meeting your dreamy—or as he’d call it, fucked-out—one. You reached a hand back to try and touch him, fingertips barely grazing his thigh.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere,” Eren shushed softly, contrasting the harsh, deep, thrust that had your vision spotting white.

You didn’t notice when his movements turned sloppy or how shameless he became in getting himself off the more it closed in on him.

He curved a hand around your neck, just beneath your jaw. He tilted your head back to look at him, not with a choking force but with a caress of your face. It was tender despite the filthy way he asked you, “He never fucked you like this, did he? Never made you feel this good, like you deserved.”

You could only moan incoherently, but Eren felt his word’s effect on you. Your walls throbbed around him, like you were sucking him in for more. You wanted more.

He pinched your cheeks together. “Tell me what you deserve.”

Your voice was a moony babble, barely-there whispers of, “To make you come. Please, Eren. Come for me.”

He moaned—practically whined—at your unexpected pleas, quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t last another second before pulling out just in time, pumping his come across your back.

You finally let your heavy limbs drop to the bed, shooting Eren a lazy smile over your shoulder. He breathlessly returned it, running a hand through his hair. He plucked a few tissues from his nightstand and wiped you off before you rolled onto your back.

You watched the rise and fall of your chest, the valley between your breasts sporting a thin layer of sweat as you sweltered in the heady bedroom. You stayed like that for what felt like too long, leading Eren to worry he was too rough.

He propped himself on his elbow, pushing some of your hair from your face to get a good look at you. When he asked if you were okay, you assured him you were. You were only a bit dazy, basking in the comedown of it all.

Eren remembered the recording and searched for his phone. He flipped through it, ready to ask if you seriously wanted him to send it to your ex-boyfriend (and secretly crossing his fingers you wouldn't ask him to delete it), when he interrupted himself with, “Fuck.”

“What?” you asked, unbothered and lying there with your eyes closed.

“I didn’t press record,” he groaned.

You shot upright. “Seriously?”

“Sorry, I was a little occupied,” he deflected. You pulled a face. “Listen, I’m just as disappointed as you. Trust me.”

You flopped back to the bed with a sigh. You supposed it didn’t matter much; who knew if you even had the courage to send it anyway?

Eren thought it over as another silent minute passed between you. He had already crossed the point of no return, so surely, there was no harm in innocently asking, "We could try again, you know?"

thank you for reading xo

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #divider by @/cafekitsune

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hisbitchhh · 2 months

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ARE WE DONE? (GETO SUGURU X READER)

I DUNNO... MAYBE?

Notes: Trash post :P wanted to post smth because I luvvvvv u guys!!😘 it's angst w comfort btw. NOT PROOFREAD CS IM LAZY😍🤞

WC: 1.7K

“I'm just– I'm only asking you a simple question! Why do you have to get so mad about it? Are you hiding something from me?” You asked, voice almost sounding desperate when you gently placed a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder. He shrugged your hand off of his shoulder, standing up from the bed.

“I told you I'm not hiding shit from you, Y/n. Drop the topic already.” You were about to put your hand on him again, but the dirty glare he sent you made you pull your hand back.

You and Geto had dated for three years already– and you couldn't help but feel him distancing himself from you. And you would know if he wasn't, considering how touchy he usually gets with you. Lately he's been acting differently with you. No more morning kisses– he used to pepper you with them, and you'd jokingly complain about his morning breath, but now that you even attempt getting close to him when you wake up beside him, your sleep-swollen eyes watch as his face contorts into one of disgust whenever you go in for even a single peck. He would lightly push you away and turn to face the other side, muttering a “Brush your teeth before going in for a kiss”. Just a small gesture like that would make you feel bad about yourself. Was it karma? No, of course it wasn’t. You'd happily accept any kiss from him even if his breath smelled like grass dog shit.

It wasn't just that, though. Of course not. There was more to the story– Only cleaning himself off after sex, leaving you to do house chores by yourself, going out for a drive on his bike without a single ‘I love you’ or ‘Goodbye’, and so much more. The main one, you ask? He barely even spends time with you anymore. Usually he'd drive out with you on his bike, cuddle you whenever you had an afternoon nap, have various movie nights with you that'd end either with his full body weight on you, head resting on your chest with drool staining your shirt or his groans muffling your moans, cock passionately drilling in and out of your swollen pussy with most of his cum getting fucked back into your cervix that the mushroom tip of his dick deliciously kissed with each thrust. Now though, it was so different. Instead of doing any of those, he'd go out by himself on his bike, Leave you to nap by yourself with the messages of someone else resting on the bright screen of his phone, and his eyes being glued to the device in his hands instead of paying attention to whatever was playing on the tv.

It was always that damned phone now. What was so important about it now that not even you could know what he was up to? Every time you asked he would either turn his phone off, reply with a bored hum, or say it's nothing. You didn't want to because he was the greatest man you'd ever met, but you came to the conclusion that he was cheating on you. Your heart sank every time you thought about it, trying to distract yourself with a house chore that would make you eventually forget about the thought.

Today, you had gotten ready for bed, lying with him in the darkness of your shared bedroom. The two of you even owned a house together because of your well paying jobs and also because of his endless begging for you to move with him to a new home after only a year into your relationship.

His back was turned to you, and his phone was resting in his hands. You silently looked over his shoulder in curiosity as you had seen him grinning at his phone earlier, a soft hum leaving your lips.

“Who're you texting?”

This made Geto flinch. He looked over at you with wide eyes, not even bothering to get out of the tab or turn his phone off.

“What are you doing awake? I thought you were asleep.”

“I can't sleep without you cuddling me,” You gave him a soft smile, propping yourself up on your shoulder, looking at his phone.

“Who's Reiko?”

And now, you're here.

“Why are you always running off when I ask you these questions?-- Suguru, where are you going?” You watched as he got out of the bed, changing into a muscle shirt and gray sweatpants that he had thrown and left on the floor much earlier.

“‘M goin’ out for fresh air.”

“But It's late, you shouldn't–”

“I already told you I have nothing to hide from you, can you quit fuckin’ nagging me so much?! I'm not doing anything and that person that I was texting is no one.”

“I'm not nagging I'm just worried!– Suguru, don't leave, please, I wanna talk about this–”

“I'll be back in an hour.”

You were already following him down the stairs when he walked out of the bedroom, trying to match his pace as he walked into the garage. A wince left your lips when your warm feet touched the cold concrete floor, but you followed him nonetheless as he placed his helmet over his head, covering his whole head but his eyes, and the same dark orbs that usually looked at you with love and admiration were now replaced by an unrecognizable pair full of nothing but boredom and disinterest when he glanced at you before sliding his face shield down, backing out of the now opened garage. You could only watch as he revved and noisily sped off, feeling the warmth of your tears land on your now cold cheeks.

Is it over now? Is this really the end of your relationship with him? You didn't know, and you didn't want to know.

More than an hour has passed. Geto stepped off of his motorcycle to fill it with gas, sighing to himself as he thought the argument over. In all honesty, He can't exactly call it an argument when all he did was avoid most of your questions and leave the house with nothing but a sharp glare sent your way. The man sighed and took his helmet off, holding it against his waist as he stared at his surroundings. He couldn't help but think about you. He was definitely more relaxed now, thinking everything through.

Did he feel bad for having sex with another woman? Yes.

Did he feel bad for constantly visiting the other woman? Now he did.

Was he regretting all of his past decisions? Definitely.

His dark hair blew gently in the cold winter breeze. What was he going to do when he got home to his girlfriend? His girlfriend, the one who he left deprived of his love and affection, the one who waited and stayed up for him every time he had to work overtime and got home late, the one he hid another woman from, the one he cheated on. Scratch that, you're more than just a girlfriend to him. You're his woman, the one he should respect, love, and cherish the best moments with instead of hiding another woman from. You were doing so much for him, and here he was giving you the silent treatment and pushing you away because he lost interest?

Fucking bullshit.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He ran a hand through his silky strands of black hair. He couldn't leave you alone for long. He had to go home to his woman, his one and only, his everything– immediately. He had to apologize.

Who knew a two hour bike ride could change someone's entire mindset?

Your head rested in your arms and lay on your thighs as you waited for your boyfriend, sitting on the floor of the entrance to your garage. It was cold, and the nightly wind didn't do anything but dry the tears that continued leaving your eyes, hitting your spaghetti strap clad figure with a strong breeze. You didn't care, though. As long as your man got home safe, nothing else mattered. You'd be able to go to sleep peacefully knowing that he was still alive and in the house, even if he probably planned to sleep in another bedroom. A soft whine left your lips as you lightly shivered on the floor, leaning against the doorway.

When was he going to get back? It felt like it had been at least three hours already…

Your overthinking was not helping at all with the tears of worry rolling down your frozen cheeks, silently sobbing in both physical and mental pain. You really hoped your relationship with him wouldn't end, that you'd be able to keep him with you and try to make things go back to how they we–

Your head perked up at the sound of a loud motorcycle engine, breathing heavily as you struggled to get up on your feet when you saw him drive into the garage. Geto’s eyes widened at the sight of your trembling figure, face completely stained with tears, your eyes and lips puffy. If he regretted his actions before, he absolutely does even more now. He immediately parked his bike and pulled his helmet off, not caring about the loud thud it made when it fell to the floor.

“Y/n? What the hell are you doing outside?!” The bigger man dashed to you, instantly taking you in his arms. You replied with a gentle sob, clinging to him as he brought you back into the house.

“I was w-worried,” You stuttered, a soft whimper leaving your chapped lips when you moved your head to look up at him.

His heart sank.

Geto hated to see you cry. It was one of the many things he couldn't stand when it came to you. He'd go as far as threatening to kill anyone if you had ever been hurt, but the only person that he was threatening to kill was himself. Why didn't he think about your feelings when he found that other woman? You were so patient and fragile, so sweet yet easy to break. Why was he being such an idiot?

Tears continued to roll down your cheeks when he sat on the sofa with your smaller figure resting in his lap.

“Suguru, I-I know you don't wanna talk about it, but–”

“Shhh, it's okay.” The man sighed, rubbing warm circles into your back and hiding your face in his chest. He couldn't bear to see you cry any longer.

“Don't worry about that right now. I'm here with you.”

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wonryllis · 4 months

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somewhere in northern italy | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇.

synopsis. park sunghoon hates oranges, he always has. the tangy citrusy tingles he's so not fond of it. he also hates you, the living embodiment of an orange: cheery, full of life, and well, round. why should he be bothered by it though? all he has to do is work hard to get into his dream university. but the thing is, he really needs a specific recommendation letter for it. something which he can only get from your father. and hypothetically speaking, he can't just ask for it, so he does you 'a favor for a favor'; he fake dates you on your trip home for summer break and surprise surprise your family owns the biggest orange farm in the country.

or where, sunghoon falls for the one thing he has hated all his life.

word count. 1.6k (teaser) full fic: est 10k-15k? maybe more?

meet the cast. park sunghoon who has an obsession of taking photos with fem!reader who loves being photographed.

genre. fake dating AUUUU!!!! ANDDD enemies to lovers!!!(for hoon), frenemies to lovers(for you), fluff, crackkkk, nsfw, suggestive, sunghoon getting cockblocked all the damn time, set in lombardy, northern italy. popular x unpopular but it's mildly mentioned. sunghoon thinks you are a spoiled brat, a very very studious and upright sunghoon. oh and did you know? orange, orange and orange (sunghoons nightmare) rich girlie and old money reader, sunghoon is gobsmacked at reader's house, parents..(do i really need to add?) and the orange farm.

warnings. allusions as to reader being daddy's princess and being sheltered and hoon struggling every day with oranges and painting a good image of himself to get that letter. nsfw warnings will be added in the full fic. (also no it's not a chubby reader)

RELEASE DATE. TBD

written so far. 15%

author's note﹙ ��. ﹚ had this random ass idea while having orange juice yesterday ksjksj. taglist is open for this as well as the permanent one, just let me know and i'll add you asap! not sure if this' good enough kindly bear with me. PLS DONT LET THIS FLOP I REALLY LOVE THIS BABY ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

꒰⠀ N O W P L A Y I N G. ⠀꒱ cruel summer by taylor swift, one kiss by calvin harris & dua lipa, karma by taylor swift, me by taylor swift, call it what you want by taylor swift, blinding lights by the weekend, fireworks by katy perry

"you wanna go down to the lake?" sunghoon looks up to find you at the door, more like peeping in from outside. his hands stopping mid-air with his spongebob boxers in hand, in the middle of unpacking what was left of his luggage. he moves at the speed of light, shoving them back in before you can notice the print. but too late you already saw it well, "you wear spongebob?" your laugh tickles his insides and it feels weird how he seems to like it.

no, he did not want to go out right now. after that stressful breakfast in the garden he just wants to fall face first into your fluffy mattress and sleep it out under your silk comforter. but something about your laugh makes him intrigued, would going down to the lake with you show him more of this side of yours? now this would probably be the seventh time he has wondered of how prettily you laugh. the curve of your eyes and the faint dimples on your cheeks his favourite things. oh? he picked favourites already it's weird, he thinks.

"yeah, let's go. just lemme change my shirt real quick," disappearing into the bathroom before you have the chance to speak. though when he steps back into the room,"your taste is funny," his spongebob boxers hang at the tip of your index finger as you look closely at the design. "put that back!" he scolds, choking on his spit while he rushing over.

"why? don't tell me you haven't washed it? now that's really bad hoonie," the tone of your voice teases his nerves but honestly he's used to it, more precisely he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he did.

"y/n," he warns, albeit not seriously and you can see it.

"baby," in a sweet little smile, (one that has sunghoon's hate for you faltering in the slightest each time you put it on) you correct him,"remember?" my fake boyfriend, mouthing out through a sly grin.

it's like an immediate que for him to give it up, he's not gonna win against you. when he used to see you around the university, mingling amidst a crowd of people every single time, he always thought you'd hold nothing against him. in his eyes you were a hollow image, nothing worth it. perhaps he was wrong, for so far you have him tight in a grip, he can't seem to find something to properly hate. that is if he takes the oranges out the picture.

he sighs in resignation,"come on, let's go, baby." happy? his brows rising in a question, softening up at your smile getting wider with a swift nod.

he relaxed too soon.

"was this really necessary?" the palm of his hand slides around your wrist as you walk down the steps of your italian chateau. supporting your heel clad feet and gesturing at the big beige floppy beach hat sitting atop your head. "absolutely! it's my fa- dad!" sunghoon's head snaps at that, immediately turning to look at the pitch of your voice going higher. the real deal, your father still seated in the garden with a newspaper in his hands and dear lord, a glass of orange juice.

it's embarrassing to be seen with you like that, he was gonna say. but oh well, nevermind.

"i see you have your favorite hat on, going somewhere with sunghoon?" your dad asks smiling warmly at your pair. it makes sunghoon scared, aren't dads supposed to hate boyfriends? is he being bamboozled by your family? will he be preyed upon later when you are not there to see? as if it was possible, your entire family though really welcoming of him are a bunch of weirdos, who the fuck let's their precious daughter share her room with her boyfriend they've met for the first time?

when he agreed to fake date you he didn't know he'd have to put on such a detailed act. there's literally no restrictions for you in the house. you do whatever you want, when ever you want. and that includes taking him everywhere you go, because apparently your parents know him as the boyfriend who loves you so much that he can't let you be alone at any time. shouldn't that be a red flag though? he can't with this anymore, just over a day in and he's convinced he can't make it make sense anymore, it's a white towel, he can only go with the flow.

"yes he really wanted to go down to the lake," what me? when? sunghoon's eyes wander in a panic while you smile as if you weren't just lying through your teeth. smile sunghoon smile, just fucking smile, he reminds himself wondering if he should maybe say something, maybe not?,"didn't you, baby?" the little nudge of your elbow against him tells him that he should, oh god its difficult to learn when to do what.

"yeah the weather seems really good," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, internally facepalming himself. he has one job, and he's failing even that.

"hm, true," the acknowledgement from your father helps calm his nerves a bit but it runs on high again at his next words,"be back before lunch though, your brother and sister in law will be home soon. it's been so long since we last ate together," you have a brother? why wasn't he informed about this? is the universe playing a game with him? as if your parents weren't enough, now he has to impress more people. he can do this, for the sake of his recommendation letter he has to do it.

"yes dad! love you," sunghoon waits like a lone statue as you leave his side to press a kiss to your father's cheek. grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away the moment he opens his mouth to bid your father. at this rate you'll ruin it for him before he can ruin it himself. "slowdown, fluffy. i'll fall at this speed," he tries but it's to no avail, he should have known by now, no one can control you.

the walk down to the lake is quieter than he expected, no bickering or fighting. you show him around the small streets and shops on the way, telling him little stories back from your childhood. sometimes stopping at a spot,"so pretty, can you take a picture of me here?" and it's already the fourth time. he doesn't mind though, on the contrary he finds himself enjoying it. it's not everyday he gets to roam around the streets of italy with the perfect weather.

it doesn't take long for you both to reach the deck on the far left. following your lead, he sits down on the edge beside you, legs hanging low over the cold water and your shoes placed on one side. you sit close, arms brushing each other, little finger atop one another. your hair flowing with the wind swipes against his face when you turn the other way, a subtle hint of sweet (you guessed it) orange tingling his smell buds. instead of grimacing his life off, he leans closer for another whiff of it. "sunghoon!" retracting immediately when you turn back to him.

"hm?" a feeling so out of this world, a haze lost in his mind. your words sound blurry and your extravagant hat looks so pretty on you. he almost feels like he has to capture this. "i asked how you like it? weren't you listening? what're you thinking?" and he does, taking out his phone and clicking a candid. he can't believe he now has a photo of you in his gallery that he's taken on his own accord. he's been doing many weird things lately,"it's really pretty," so so many weird things.

"hey fluffy i've been wondering about something," he speaks again, looking away to try to ignore tiny little fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

"what is it?"

"haven't you ever dated before, why do your parents seem so excited to see you have a boyfriend?" there he asked it, the biggest mystery he can't stop thinking about from the moment he set foot in your palace of a house. if it's your first then maybe that would somewhat explain their behaviour, not that it would become normal altogether, just kind of justifiable that he won't be put on the rack. that he's truly welcomed and he's safe.

"not really, no one ever met my standards," your answer throws him off. what?

"does that mean i do?" he tests the water, cautious above all yet his tone still comes off as one of tease.

"yes, except one," he eyes turn to you at that, pupils dilated with curiosity for the one thing stopping him from the title of 'perfect for you' as your parents claimed. meeting his eyes in a lock of contact, you give him a small smile. hands moving over to his white button up, fingers tracing his collar and undone buttons watching his adam's apple bob in a hard gulp as his brown orbs follow your movements, sweat building up at the close proximity when you both lock eyes again,"you don't really like me," sunghoon immediately looks away, a stab of reality, he was actually anticipating something he could change. really park sunghoon? remember you don't like her?

"am i wrong?" you laugh leaning forward to have a look at his face.

"i never said that," sunghoon clears his throat, turning back, suddenly gaining a surge of confidence. park sunghoon what???

TAGLIST ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @deobitifull @nottkwiwin @enhyven @crysieberry @eneiyri @sovlidago @fertiliezedtoesw @laylasmother @pockyyasii @ladyartemesia @kaispulshies @nctislifue @capri-cuntz @sweetjaemss @parksunghoonsgf @ariadores @asteria-wood @laurradoesloveu @en-dream

#SO EXCITED BUT NERVOUS TO SHARE THIS KSJSKH #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen hyung line #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jay imagines

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wineauntie · 3 months

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KARMA – Quinn Hughes x famous singer!reader

summary: where the captain of the canucks gets the entire team tickets to his famous singer!gf’s tour, only to find out that she’s in the mood to shake up some of her lyrics.

note: songs from both Sabrina Carpenter and Taylor Swift are referenced to have been written by reader! Both songs referenced are Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter and Karma by Taylor Swift (both of which have been plaguing my brain for the past two weeks!)

warnings: use of y/n, fem reader, simp Quinn, use of nicknames like baby and sweetheart, tooth-rotting morning fluff, I think that’s about it really.

word count: 2.4k+

(lyrics have been italicised and lyrics italicised in bold are the lyrics you change 🙏)

Golden light filtered into your apartment bedroom through a slight crack in your curtains. Your alarm had gone off twice in the last ten minutes, but all you could focus on was the man whose head was cradled on your chest and whose hair your fingers were mindlessly running through as he slept.

You had missed mornings like these. Mornings where the world seemed so small, where everything you needed was confined in this one apartment.

Mornings where the world was all just a little bit softer.

You'd been on tour for a month and a half prior to this moment, and tonight you were playing BC Place in your home city, which meant you had gotten to spend a few days and nights in the comfort of your own apartment and in the warmth of your boyfriend's arms.

Your third and final alarm for the morning chirped causing the man lying on your chest to groan, the sound vibrating down your spine as you moved to turn off the irritating noise, hoping to linger in the previous serenity. He shifted his position slightly, manoeuvring himself so that his face buried itself into your neck, leaving delicate kisses all the way up to your jaw.

"If you mark me up my makeup artist won't be happy with you," you forewarned as you hummed gently, your hand brushing a small strand of hair back from his face.

Quinn Hughes grumbled incoherently as he tightened his grip around you. You laughed at the groggy man's actions. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and usually, he was up and at it already, but he had a four-day period with no games, just training in the afternoon, which may or may not be the reason you had scheduled your shows and following rest period to fall on those days.

What could you say? You were greedy. You would give anything to have more time with your love.

"I have to go soon," You started, making no attempt to get up from the bed. Quinn's eyes blinked slowly as he adjusted to the morning light, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your hip. "I have rehearsals all day until later. Are you still planning on coming and bringing everyone?"

You had ensured that Quinn had a ticket to all of the shows you were going to be playing at BC Place (three in total, all of which had been sold out!). You'd also provided tickets to his teammates and their partners, wanting to see them all to catch up as well as reserving some for his parents, who’d be flying up to visit within the next day or two.

Quinn grunted as he pushed himself further up the bed so that he could be face-to-face with you. He placed another delicate kiss on your lips this time, despite your brewing complaints about morning breath.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he whispered softly, his nose nudging your own. The depth of his morning voice, paired with his gentleness made you melt into his touch, all your previous worries fading into the background. "Everyone is coming tonight...they haven't stopped talking about it."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Despite your extensive fame, you hadn't quite gotten used to the whole 'being famous' aspect. You could hardly believe so many people supported you and your music, it seemed so far away from you–so unreal.

"I'm excited," you smiled sheepishly, your eyes closing as Quinn pulled you closer to his warm body and held you firmly between his arms.

"Me too," He sighed with a sleepy grin of his own, "Can't wait to watch you on stage, waited long enough."

"I offered you tickets to the other ones but you had hockey," you whined with a yawn, your head nestling into his bare chest. "I think we should both just quit our jobs and buy a cottage out in the middle of nowhere."

Quinn hummed in amusement at your dramatics, his fingers traipsing up and down your spine. "Let's make it through today and reconsider," he suggested tiredly, "now five more minutes, please."

You didn't have to answer as you obliged his request and closed your eyes for another faithful five minutes.

—

"I...dah, dah, dah...I...duh, duh, duh."

Your halfhearted rehearsing of one of your songs backstage kept your mind occupied as your mic and earpiece were being attached to you. You could hear the buzzing of the crowd from outside, a small smile gracing your face to combat the nerves.

You'd been dressed and made up to perfection, not a single strand of hair out of place as people flitted around backstage preparing for you to take the stage. You shook out your limbs slightly, your jitteriness growing before you were scooped up from behind and carefully spun around. Your grin widened at the familiar grip around you as you let out a melodic laugh.

Once you were placed back on solid ground, you turned and hugged Quinn tightly, the comforting smell of his cologne soothing any remaining nerves lingering. He'd dressed up for the occasion, wearing a dress shirt and pants with his typical beanie covering his hair.

"How was practice?" You asked, your hands on his forearms as you scanned him for any signs of tiredness or bruises.

"Good, went well just as usual," he spoke soothingly. He knew you got nervous in the run-up to actually going on stage so he welcomed any distractions you threw his way. "Everyone's here by the way, and they were so excited when they saw their view for the show. They sent me back here with a million thanks."

You ducked your head as you smiled, "I can't wait until I can join you guys after the show," you remark, your hands fiddling with the buttons of his shirt cuffs.

"I know, but my girl has a job to do now," Quinn nodded his head behind you where your assistant had been trying to stall everyone attempting to sort you out for the show. "Go on out there and give it your all, baby,"

"I'll see you after?" You questioned as Quinn moved his hands to hold yours briefly.

"Oh, you're all mine after," he smirked and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Quinn!" You called after him which caused him to turn and face you, "Enjoy the show!"

"You know I will!”

—

Your show had started flawlessly from the moment you'd stepped out onto the stage. The crowd tonight was insane, all of them an array of colours and varying screams. You'd been beaming from the second you'd started performing, the type of smile that couldn't be faked which only seemed to widen whenever you caught a glimpse of Quinn and his teammates and friends in their box.

You were five songs into your set when your first scheme began to kick in. Your eyes had been drawn towards Quinn almost every few minutes, so it hadn't taken your fans long to realise exactly who was in that section. The majority of them pointing their phones towards the team to catch their various reactions.

"Vancouver!" You exclaimed gleefully into your microphone. "I want to hear all of you singing along…I want you to be the loudest crowd I've had yet!"

The opening beats of your next song flooded the stadium and a roar of excitement swept over the crowd. You let a mischievous grin creep onto your face as your plan set into action.

"Now, this song, I wrote on the balcony of a boy's apartment. It took me twenty minutes to write and two minutes to adore," you explained as the elongated intro played. "I found myself in love with someone, and all of a sudden, everything I felt was just...nonsense."

This song was one of your more ‘upfront' songs. You'd written after a date with Quinn one month into your relationship. You'd been sitting on his lap on the balcony of his apartment when inspiration had struck. You remembered his arms tightening around you as you scribbled the words on a crumpled napkin in front of you. It was honestly one of the more fun songs for you to perform, not only because of how entertaining the lyrics were but because you were able to make up a new outro with each city you'd been in and tonight was no different.

As you sang the song, your scheme rolled right into place, and your lips twitched up.

"I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense, I'm talkin', I'm talkin', "I'm talkin' all around the clock." you swayed your hips as you moved towards the part of the stands where you knew Quinn and the Canucks were located.

“I'm talkin' you on the Canucks, I'm talkin' opposite of soft, I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts," your cheeky grin spread across your face as you winked towards the man you loved. You danced the routine dance, giggling slightly as the change of words didn't go unnoticed by anybody which resulted in a series of high-pitched yelps and gasps. “You gotta keep up with me, I got some young energy, I caught the L-O-V-E, How do you do this to me?"

The energy maintained its high level as you made your way to centre stage, where you were the only one left by now. You held your mic towards the crowd for them to sing feeling yourself tear up slightly when they echoed clearly off of the stadium walls.

"This song catchier than chickenpox is, I bet your house is where my other sock is, Woke up this morning, thought I'd write a pop hit!"

"How quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz?" You joined in before pausing slightly with a tilt of your head, a small hush of anticipation fell over the audience as they waited for your new outro.

"No, Mom, I swear this is not a phase," you grinned as you leaned towards the crowd, "I love hockey ‘specially when my man plays… but hush, you guys have my heart, BC Place.”

You let the cheers roll over you as you lowered your mic and feigned a curtsy, your lips drawing back into a smile as you waited for your next song to begin.

–

Ten songs later and the night was coming to a close. You knew you had two more nights in the city but a twinge ricocheted through your heart at the thought of having to leave again.

"Alright, BC Place, this is our last song for tonight!" You spoke with a smile as your words were instantly met with a chorus of booing. Sweat had gathered along your hairline, and your once meticulous look had now been somewhat displaced due to your dancing around, yet, you couldn't be happier. “I know, I know…”

You bit your lip as disgruntled and sorrowful yells of “more” and “no!” rang out all around.

"I just want to say that you guys have been incredible tonight, and there's no other place I'd rather be than here performing for you tonight. And so, for this final song, I want everyone up and dancing! I want you to scream the lyrics, cry the lyrics— honestly, as long as you guys are having fun, you don't even need to know the lyrics..." You continued brushing hair out of your face.

"I just want you to let loose as much as possible! So, my wonderful and beautiful audience, for the final time tonight, enjoy the song…this is Karma!”

The intro to your final song was met with a flurry of excitement, your fingers waggling as you waved to the crowd with a knowing smile.

"You're talking shit for the hell of it," You sang out the opening line, your eyes moving across the crowd as your dancers got into formation. "Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant,"

As the song continued, you moved gracefully across the stage, trying to give as much attention to each side of the stadium as possible. Your heart was thudding so loud you swore you could hear it despite the volume of the room.

This was it. Your final scheme of the night.

"'Cause Karma is the thunder, rattling your ground, Karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter, Karma's gonna track you down," you moved closer to centre stage, your eyes focused ahead of you. "Step by step and town from town,"

"Sweet like justice, karma is a queen, Karma takes all my friends to the summit," your eyes glinted with mischief as you waltzed to the part of the stage closest to where Quinn was standing, managing to lock eyes with the man himself.

"Karma is the guy on that team," you smirked, curling your fingers in a come hither motion towards your boyfriend. You knew the camera broadcasting to the screens on either side of the stage briefly flitted toward Quinn and the Canucks before they refocused on you. "Coming straight home to me!"

Your words were met with a deafening thunder of screaming, as you giggled, winking up at the box where you swore you could see Quinn grinning, blushing under the stadium lights, his teammates nudging him with laughter. You waved towards them one last time before continuing your performance.

Once Karma’s last beat fell upon your ears, you found yourself so overwhelmed with love and joy. “Thank you, Vancouver, good night!” You cheered, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd before, you were ushered off the stage.

Your heart was racing as you exited backstage, the sound thrumming in your ears, fizzling along every nerve in your body. Your body was practically vibrating with adrenaline as people around you patted you in congratulations whilst someone began to take off your mic pack.

Your eyes jolted around the room and the chaos it inhabited. Your lip was between your teeth as the swell of adrenaline simmered out, your eyes continuing their search until they finally landed on the bright smile you yearned to see.

You quickly brushed off those around you as you half ran, half skipped towards Quinn, who caught you in his arms and allowed you to press your smiling lips to his.

“You were insane out there,” he beamed proudly, his arms around your waist as he pulled away from your kiss.

“You liked it?” You questioned softly, with your eyebrows drawn together with a nervous smile as your fingers traced his cheekbones.

“Of course I did,” Quinn teased, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple as the two of you began to move towards the dressing rooms. “but changing the lyrics? People will start to think you like me, sweetheart…”

You found yourself laughing, your head dropping as he tightened his arm around your waist.

“Why would they ever think that?!”

pls ignore how bad the nonsense outro is, it was one of five outros I tested and it was the one that worked the best 😭

#wineauntie #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #famous!reader #singer!reader #I love quinn hughes what a man #literally toothrotting fluff #hughes brothers x y/n

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jahayla-parker · 7 months

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Karma : Kaz Brekker x Reader Series

Part 1

For full warnings, descriptions, and other parts, see series masterlist here.

2.1k wc

Kaz squinted his eyes as he gave y/n a grave stare. He willed himself to wait a few more minutes in silence, hoping she’d open up and explain the cause behind her condition. Kaz was painfully aware that it had already been five minutes since she’d arrived and hadn’t so much as acknowledged him. He had watched in wrathful anticipation as y/n had tried to slide in under the radar. But, unbeknownst to her, y/n’s presence never went unnoticed by Kaz. Especially not right now when she had come in wearing a dazed expression, her hands trembling, and being uncharacteristically silent when she entered the room.

Upon not getting any explanation from y/n, Kaz sighed lowly. He ran his gloved hands down the sides of his pants as he rose from his desk. Kaz grabbed his cane and used its support to quickly make his way to y/n. When Kaz was within only a few feet of y/n’s tense body as she perched on the windowsill of his office, he cleared his throat. “You’re shaking,” Kaz murmured when y/n’s head shifted slightly at the sound.

“Huh?” Y/n asked absentmindedly, staring out of the cracked pane of Kaz’s window. She was seated parallel to the window with her legs tucked against her chest and arms around the top of her knees. Through the dirty window, Y/n was counting how many crows were flocking around the business across the street. Or, that had been her plan. If anyone asked y/n how many there were, she wouldn’t actually be able to answer as her mind was elsewhere.

Kaz cautiously moved closer, his steps slow as to not spook y/n. But, now that he’d at least let her hear his voice coming from nearby, he hoped that would be less likely. Kaz delicately tapped the end of his cane against the sole of y/n’s scuffed black boot to get her attention.

When y/n finally turned towards Kaz, he repeated his concern, “you’re shaking”. Kaz licked his lips, “what’s wrong?”. He watched as y/n took in his words and processed them, waiting to give him an answer. It wasn’t unusual for her to think things through before speaking, but Kaz could tell she was having a harder time doing so right now. Whatever had happened between the last time he’d seen y/n and now had clearly caused her mind to slow down.

“Nothing,” y/n lied, her voice lifeless. She faked a smile as she looked at Kaz. “I’m fine,” y/n protested, shrugging her shoulders to add to her lie.

Kaz lifted an eyebrow at y/n knowingly. But, he let it fall from his face when he took in the way her hands were still shaking. Even as y/n tried to pull herself together enough to cover up her predicament, Kaz could see her nerves were resisting. So, as much as Kaz hated being told even a small white lie, he knew this wasn’t personal. Rather, he suspected it was y/n trying to guard herself from further scrutiny.

That didn’t mean Kaz was going to let it go though. Rather, Kaz was even more determined to get to the bottom of this now. Y/n wasn’t an open book to many people, but after Kaz had discovered her scars and learned of the associated trauma a few years back, the two could talk without an emotional barrier between them. So, something major must have happened to cause y/n to be resorting to this type of response to Kaz’s line of questioning.

“No,” Kaz retorted, his gravely voice intentionally quiet so that it wouldn’t sound like he was angry. Which he wasn’t; at least not at y/n. “You are not fine,” Kaz pointed out simply, leaning against the wall beside her feet at the edge of the windowsill. “Answer me,” he demanded in a (at least when it came to speaking to/with others) uncharacteristically polite tone.

Y/n’s wandering eyes moved from Kaz’s focused attention to the dust that had collected along the crack in his window. She sheepishly picked at the buildup with her thumbnail. Y/n could still feel Kaz’s expectant eyes on her so she whispered, “noth-“.

Kaz shifted his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment to keep his composure. If she were anyone else, Kaz wouldn’t have even cared, much less have kept himself from snapping at them for not answering his question the way he was now. But, this was y/n, and Kaz not only cared, he’d never reacted in such a harsh way to her. Kaz didn’t want to accidentally start behaving that way now despite his frustration over this change in their dynamic.

“Y/n, you’ve never come back from a task looking like this,” Kaz stated matter of factly. He tried to soften his gaze as she shifted her gaze away from the window and over to him. “If you don’t tell me what caused this,” he began, voice calm, “I’ll find out for myself”.

Y/n’s emotionless eyes narrowed faintly at Kaz. “How are you going to do that?” she asked in a whisper.

Kaz dared to take a step closer to y/n. He analyzed her body language in response to his movement to determine if he needed to retract the step. Kaz realized y/n was okay with it, or perhaps hadn’t noticed the slight difference. “However I have to,” Kaz vowed confidently.

Y/n sighed as she saw Kaz’s expression. She knew that look. Not only was he serious about looking into this himself if needed, Kaz would do whatever he had to do to find the answer. Y/n had to accept that he’d know the cause of her behavior one way or another.

Kaz waited silently as he watched y/n bite her bottom lip. He could tell she was going to explain to him what was going on, he just needed to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. So, Kaz let his eyes rest casually, dropping their normal intense gaze and focus for a more calm appearance as he waited.

Y/n sighed loudly as she turned back to the window again. She frowned as she noticed most of the crows had flown away, leaving only one sad looking crow behind. She couldn’t help but see herself in that abandoned bird in this moment. “I hate that I still get like this,” y/n confessed, glancing down at her trembling hands that still hadn’t steadied.

Kaz pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Over what?” He asked.

Y/n glanced over at Kaz. Her eyes were starting to water despite the fear they showed underneath. Y/n took a shaky breath as she held eye contact with Kaz, watching as the realization hit him. She knew she didn’t have to say it, and she appreciated that tremendously in this tense moment.

Kaz stiffened, his hand tightening around his cane. “You saw him?” He questioned, voice disdainful. Kaz’s desire for vengeance was instantaneously boiling inside of him as he asked the rhetorical question. He knew the answer was yes; there was nothing else that could make his strong and confident girl behave like this.

Y/n nodded. Her body quivered as the image of his face from earlier today flashed before her eyes again. Y/n hated that she was reacting like this after all this time. But, she couldn’t help the way her body responded to being in his presence again; in Ketterdam no less. This was her safe space, her sanctuary, and his presence threatened that.

“Where?” Kaz’s growl pulled y/n from her anxious thoughts. She shook her head as she shifted her lips and nose around to keep from tearing up more. “Doesn’t matter,” y/n answered in a defeated voice. She’d already accepted that her sanctuary, her freedom, and her confidence were over now.

Kaz’s groan echoed vibratingly from deep in his throat. “Yes it does,” he snapped. Kaz sighed as he saw the distant look in y/n’s eyes. Kaz slowly moved towards her until he was standing directly beside her head. “Yes, it does,” he said in a much softer manner. “Where?” Kaz inquired again.

Y/n took a shaky breath. “Too close,” she admitted, her fear and frustration over the proximity radiating in her voice. “…Zentsbridge,” y/n mumbled, looking into Kaz’s eyes. She knew her eyes told him how intense her conflicting emotions were today.

Kaz nodded silently. He swallowed thickly, grinding his teeth as he shifted his jaw. He couldn’t stand the dull look full of fear and pain in y/n’s usually comforting and glowing eyes. Kaz let out an exasperated sigh as he turned from y/n and began towards the door.

“Kaz?” Y/n’s fragile voice called out.

Kaz turned to face y/n and nodded.

“Where are you going?” Y/n questioned, her fearful eyes focused on Kaz’s departing frame. She fiddled with her fingers resting in her lap as her hands continued to shake.

Kaz noticed y/n’s worry and felt the corners of his lips curl downwards. “I’m seeing to this,” Kaz explained simply. He knew she didn’t want him to leave, but he had to handle this; then he’d be back.

“Kaz,-“ y/n murmured, her voice a soft and reluctant sound.

“I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” Kaz declared firmly. His eyes were staring into y/n’s, communicating his intense desire to uphold the deal.

Y/n gave Kaz a weak half-smile, only the left side of her lips moving. “He didn’t hurt me,” she argued. Y/n appreciated Kaz’s protective behavior, but she didn’t want him to get into a situation he’d have to spend years trying to get out of.

“This isn’t hurt?” Kaz remarked, his eyes trailing y/n’s form. He looked at the way she was still trembling, had shut herself off from others, had a distant and fearful gaze, having flashbacks, etc. She was hurt and Kaz was going to address it the best way he could; attack the source directly.

Y/n promptly broke her gaze away from Kaz at the implication. Her eyes dropped down to her lap as she sighed. There wasn’t much y/n could say to argue with Kaz’s point. She was a mess and she knew it.

Kaz noticed y/n’s shy and embarrassed body language. He swallowed his guilt over his word choice and silently made his way back over to her. Kaz dropped his hold on his cane down to the stick, placing the crow’s head handle under y/n’s tucked chin. Kaz moved the cane softly, tilting y/n’s head up towards him. “He deserves everything he has coming,” Kaz proclaimed sternly.

Kaz saw y/n was about to argue so he shook his head to stop her. “No one is allowed to hurt you,” he vowed. Lowering the crow’s head from her chin, Kaz clenched his jaw. “No one.”

“Kaz,” y/n sighed quietly. She bit her lip nervously. “He-He’s-,” y/n stuttered, trying to warn Kaz of what he was getting into.

Kaz chuckled humorously. “I know who he is,” Kaz assured y/n. “I don’t care.” He pushed his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip, a quiet click sound ringing in his mouth. “No one, y/n,” Kaz stated, “No one”. Kaz stared warmly into her eyes, taking in the way the sunlight made her y/e/c eyes glow despite the uncharacteristically dull state of them today.

“It’s my fault…,” y/n argued in a muffled voice. She regretted bringing all of this chaos Kaz’s way. It hadn’t been her intention, but here they were. She should’ve known she couldn’t ever completely escape.

“No.” Kaz grumbled. He could read y/n well enough to know what she was referring to. And Kaz wasn’t going to have any of it.

“But,-“ y/n began, her voice cracking with just the one word.

Kaz shook his head, his eyes darker now. “No.” “What he did was wrong,” Kaz stated firmly, “and he might not have paid back then…”. Kaz’s clenched jaw twitched with fury. “But, he sure as hell is going to now,” Kaz declared.

“He made the wrong choice in coming here,” Kaz told y/n. He recalled how frail she sounded moments ago when telling him how close the Darkling had been earlier today. She deserved to feel safe and know that the Darkling couldn’t touch her; that Kaz wouldn’t let him. “This place belongs to us,” Kaz grinned wickedly, his mind already forming vengeful plans.

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strlingsav · 1 year

Text

Drive: One

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Your relationship with your Lieutenant changes, drastically.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your eyes were fixed on the road before you, watching the lines blur together under the glow of headlights. You stretched your legs out; being cramped in the tight space for hours made you restless. You'd been on edge; not just during the drive, or while entering foreign territory, but when your Lieutenant climbed into the driver's seat.

It was dark, well past midnight, and your eyelids began to flutter shut with the rhythm of tires on pavement. You sunk back into the seat, getting comfortable against the headrest. The silence was deafening, the cabin noise and soft breaths hardly saved you from the tension. If you slept, you wouldn't need to talk.

"L/N," Your Lieutenant's voice pulled you from the brink of sleep. "Stay awake."

You shifted upward, sighing as you looked over at him.

"Sorry, Sir," You said, your hand running over your eyes to wake yourself up.

"Y'tired?" He asked, his gaze shifting to yours briefly.

You nodded. "We've been driving for a while. Any idea when we'll be there?"

"Not long now," His short response was met with a nod, and you turned your head to look out the window at passing lights. "Another hour or two."

Yourself and the Lieutenant were headed toward Al Mazrah, at least a few hours behind the rest of 141. You were the last to be briefed, and they'd sent Soap, Gaz and Captain Price to gather intel before you arrived. They'd been in a convoy of SUVs carrying ammunition and rifles, ready to track down Hassan. It would be a while before anything concrete took place, but Price and Laswell always made sure every base was covered.

It was an uncomfortable situation- riding alone with your Lieutenant. You hadn't spent much one-on-one time with him, and you weren't sure if he expected you to talk or stay quiet. He was difficult to read.

His mysterious outward appearance only drew you to him, in a dangerous way. You frequently imagined what he looked like underneath the mask, if he was as well-built as your imagination made him out to be. The imagery was enticing, and maybe you flattered him a bit too much, but the bait was easy to take. His flippant regard for you made it even easier- you'd never been so motivated to be in someone's good graces.

You knew very well it was a violation of the code of conduct to engage in sexual or romantic relations with your superior. That didn't stop you from thinking of your Lieutenant in unsavoury ways, or positions, rather. The idea alone made your stomach flip- his calloused hands on your soft skin, his lips against your neck, lavishing your body with hungry kisses.

It was a twisted dose of karma, sitting side-by-side, trapped with the man you fantasized about. The man that was strictly off-limits. But you felt like you knew him, at least parts of him, the ones you saw when you watched him, and the fabricated images of his body. It was pure torture, and the more you tried to resist, the harder it became.

Ghost's hand gripped the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift. He was stoic, as usual, but his shoulders were stiff, knuckles white with tension, head nodding side to side with the movements of the vehicle.

"Are you tired?" You looked over, stepping over an unspoken line as you teased him.

You knew you were playing a risky game; you'd been working alongside 141 for close to a year, but Ghost was a locked vault. It was difficult having a conversation with him, ever since you'd arrived.

He wasn't a quiet man, you'd seen the way he interacted with Soap and Price, he only seemed to limit conversation with you specifically. Without coming on too strong, you made an effort to talk to him, hoping he'd warm up to you. Your attempts were futile, only met with one or two word answers and the harsh taste of rejection.

He looked over at you, no hint of expression in his eyes. "No," He shook his head. "'M gettin' sick of the scenery though."

"I can drive if you need to rest."

He looked at the dashboard, checking the time. "Be there soon, no need."

"Anything I can do to help you stay awake? Cold air? Loud music?" You quirked a brow up.

He shook his head again.

"I could sing?" You teased again, hearing him grumble.

"'M sure you'd put me right to sleep," He said, making you laugh.

"I've been told I have the voice of an angel, Lieutenant," You replied, with a soft hum of disbelief coming from him.

You turned your attention back to the road, satisfied with the interaction. It was a tiny glimpse into his actual personality.

"Think you're more the devilish type," He said suddenly, catching your attention.

Your eyes shifted to the side of his head. "Why's that?"

He was silent again, thinking his words over. You could see his eyes dart back and forth across the road ahead, looking around as if gathering a sentence.

His words had intrigued you. It was the usual ribbing you'd expect from your teammates, not your Lieutenant. You knew he was likely making a joke, likely not suggestive in any manner- but it reached your lower abdomen and sent tingles through your spine.

"I've seen you starin'," He said, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. "Like you're plottin' somethin'."

You felt your cheeks warm at being discovered and your only priority was to cover your tracks.

"Only trying to figure you out Loot, you're an enigma."

"What've you figured out so far?" He asked, a hint of interest in his tone.

You huffed, pursing your lips are you thought.

"You're not the quiet type, in fact, I think you're very chatty. Surprisingly selfless, mostly fearless."

He scoffed. "Mostly?"

"You seem to be scared of me," You answered, your eyes focusing on the side of his head.

He didn't reply, taking his time with your words, reflecting on whether he wanted to be honest, or brutally crush your feelings so he wouldn't have to speak of it again. As he looked at you, his eyes landing on your lips, then your eyes, he wondered if you really had figured him out, and hadn't even noticed. He couldn't resist the look in your eye, the shape of your lips, your smell even, and he debated whether telling you was a good idea- he knew once it started he wouldn't want to stop.

Of course, he was hesitant to say anything, the last thing he needed was to be discharged on account of a sexual harassment accusation. Though the way your body leaned toward his, eyes poring into his, an innocent expression of curiosity on your face, he was confident you were ready to hear the truth- maybe even eager.

"Ain't scared of anything. 'Specially not you. Restraint is more like it," He said, eyes locked on yours for a dangerously long time.

You were nearly dumbfounded, unsure how to respond to the revelation. The entire car ride was a cage match, locked in the tiny space with him until something came of it. A solution, clarification- anything. Maybe even rejection so you'd able to move on and scrub every nasty thought of him from your brain.

You lifted your eyes to him, lips parting in confusion.

"You have to restrain yourself around me?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you laughed lightly.

"Think you do the same," He said. "You just ain't nearly as good at hidin' your wanderin' eyes."

You flushed again, this time, it went deep into your core. A flood of arousal working it's way into the depths of your womb, twisting and turning. You weren't sure whether you had deliberately chosen to stay silent, or if you were at a loss for words. Mustering some confidence, you knew you couldn't let the sliver of information slip from your grasp.

"You watch me, L.T.?"

His gaze met yours, no words following. You chose your next words carefully, but couldn't deny how badly you wanted to move things forward. As you scanned his face, your heart pounding in your chest, you knew it needed to be done, needed to be out in the open. You only hoped he'd be just as transparent with you.

"If I'd known that, I would've given you a show," You said, half-teasing, half-serious, and incredibly invested in where the conversation was headed. It was another line crossed- impossible to turn back.

"That so?" He quipped, intrigued. "Never too late."

You were suddenly aware of how very real it was- the risk of being caught, court-marshalled, discharged- it drove you to rebel even more. You'd never been a big fan of rules anyway. You wanted what you couldn't have, and the temptation was far too strong now to retreat.

"Is that what you want, Lieutenant?" You asked, unbuckling the seatbelt.

"Show me," He nodded, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back.

You sat up straight, your fingers reaching for the buttons on your jacket. Your eyes hadn't left him, intently staring, waiting for a reaction. He glanced over every few seconds, his eyes unreadable as he scoured your frame. You felt the scorch of lust, licking up your spine and engulfing you as your pussy began to seep with wetness.

Your mind was swimming with questions and fears, wondering if it was a mistake; if he hadn't truly meant it. But the anxiety in your gut was quickly replaced with desire, burning straight through you when his eyes met yours.

As you undid the bottom button, you pulled the jacket open, sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your bra, and Ghost had a difficult time keeping his eyes on the road.

"Easily distracted," You said, amused. "I'll add that to the list." You moved closer.

"Hard not to be," He shot back.

You leaned back against the seat, goosebumps covering your flesh when he looked over, eyes glued to your breasts, then up to your eyes.

"I'm waitin'," He urged, his free hand falling to your thigh. "Go on."

You shut your eyes, the first taste of intimacy was delicious, warming you inside and out.

You reached your fatigues, unbuttoning them slowly while his hand stroked your thigh. Sliding them down, you sat in your bra and panties on the cool leather seat.

His palm against your skin spread waves of shivers through you.

"Pretty little thing you are," He said, his fingers inching up toward your pussy. "Been waitin' for me to touch you, haven't you?"

You were shocked to hear him speak to you that way; never had you imagined you'd have Lieutenant Ghost calling you pretty, stroking your skin like you were made of glass. It aroused you to no end.

"Yes Sir," You nodded, your hand coming to rest over his as his fingertips ghosted your pussy.

He was infatuated with the sight of your body, your skin, the curves of your flesh, your breasts, thighs on display for him. It didn't take long for his cock to harden, and he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his chest rising and falling quickly. You noticed his disposition, and took it upon yourself to slide in closer.

"I'd like to please you," You said softly, your sweet voice emanating in his ear; it made his cock twitch. "Help keep you awake."

"Have at it, sweetheart."

You pressed your body against his shoulder. The feeling made you shudder, impatience coursing through you, adrenaline-fuelled confidence overriding any doubts. His grip on the steering wheel tightened when your hand grazed his thigh, a trail of warmth left behind as you eased upward, toward the belt of his fatigues.

"Bloody hell," He muttered, his head snapping to look at you as you wrenched his belt open, snaking your hand into his pants to feel him over his briefs.

He sounded tense, like he desperately needed relief. His voice was hoarse, jugular pounding against his neck as his heart raced. You leaned forward, feeling his pulse on your soft lips, taking the opportunity to slide beneath his briefs and take his cock in your hand. He let out a shaky exhale, though his demeanour hadn't changed.

You licked a stripe up your palm, adding lubrication to better massage him. He grunted when you teased the tip of his cock, your thumb rubbing soft circles over it. You ended his torture relatively quickly, you yourself unable to resist the sounds he made when your hand ran up and down his cock.

"Tha's' it," He mumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut before snapping open to watch his driving.

"Tell me how you like it, Sir," You whispered, your voice welcoming and warm against his covered ear.

"Just like that, sweetheart."

You smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, squeezing your palm firmly around him while your wrist twisted.

He lifted one hand off the steering wheel, welcoming you under his arm as you leaned down to wrap your lips over the head of his cock. You hollowed your cheeks, applying suction as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue sliding back and forth on the underside of his cock. He was big, uncomfortably large, stretching your lips and causing an ache in your jaw, but you wouldn't relent.

"Fuuuuckin' hell," He slurred.

It had been a long time since he'd slept with anyone. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want it. He was completely satisfied with his vow of celibacy; not having to explain anything to potential partners, only answering to himself, no tearful goodbyes or leaving someone alone if he were K.I.A. He had it perfected, until he laid his eyes on you.

He knew almost immediately that he'd drop to his knees for you, worship every inch of your body if you let him. But his rational brain knew better, knew that a relationship of any kind between a C.O. and his private was bound to end in fiery wreckage. It seemed, however, that he wasn't up to the challenge of resisting you, especially not now, with your lips wrapped around his cock.

"Atta girl," He grunted.

You could hear the low grunts and rumbles of approval from his chest, his hips bucking against your mouth as you bobbed up and down his cock. You felt the vehicle sway a bit, then felt his hand reach down to gather your hair, pulling just enough to make you moan with pleasure.

Saliva dropped from your mouth down his cock, accidental slurps slipping from you as you struggled to keep a quick pace. It was messy, rough, invigorating, as you imagined him restraining himself, trying his best to keep the vehicle centred.

He growled when you took him to the back of your throat, closing it around his cock. Lifting your head, you gulped in air, tear stains on your cheeks, swollen lips.

You didn't waste another second diving back down, wrapping your hand around his cock as your mouth focused all your attention on the engorged tip. You smoothed your tongue over the ridges and veins, moaning softly when he exhaled sharply.

Suddenly, you felt the SUV come to a halt, and Ghost threw it in park. Sitting up, your eyes scanned your surroundings. A side road, unencumbered by lights or traffic.

"Lie back," He said, taking off his seatbelt. "Will y'let me eat this pretty cunt? Been dyin' to taste you."

You exhaled sharply, his words dripping like honey, sweet and slow, enshrouding you in warmth.

You nodded, "Yes, Sir."

His hand gripped your waist, guiding you into position, leaning back against the door while he moved your legs into his shoulders. He slipped his mask up over his nose, and your eyes flew to his lips- moist, pink, almost raw with how hard he'd been biting to keep quiet. His jawline was covered with stubble, you were antsy to feel the prickly skin against yours.

His hands dipped down to your thighs, gripping the supple flesh, large enough to hold the circumference of them. He gave a gentle squeeze- reassurance- and you felt his breath fan over your pussy.

His finger hooked into the seat of your panties, tugging them aside. You watched with bated breath, distracted by the way his eyes never left yours as he neared your pussy.

"Suckin' my cock make you this wet, sweetheart?" He asked, an inflection of mockery in his tone.

"Yes," You breathed out, your pussy flinching expectantly with every gust of warm air against you.

"Jesus," He mumbled.

You sighed with content, relaxing into his hold when you finally felt his silky tongue slide between your folds, making contact with your clit. You flinched, but his iron grip held you still under his ministrations.

Your hands reached out to grip his mask, digging into his hair to release even a small amount of pent up frustration.

He was relentless, licking and sucking at your clit fervidly, unabashed. He devoured your pussy, unafraid to make a mess of himself. He grunted with approval at the taste of you and his hands couldn't stop from massaging the malleable flesh of your thighs, spreading your pussy for easier access.

"Yes, Sir," You whimpered, voice cracking at the awkward angle and pleasure rendering you unintelligible. "Please- right there."

He hummed, "I like hearin' you beg."

Your soft exhales turned to whines. The sounds of your pussy were amplified in the cabin, only adding to the arousal pooling in your womb.

"Knew you'd taste fuckin' divine," He whispered against you, and you shivered.

You arched your back, silently begging him to continue massaging your clit with his tongue, and he surprised you with two fingers, sliding inside you with ease.

"Tight fuckin' cunt you have," He grunted, flexing his fingers inside you.

He curled his fingers, his tongue running back and forth over your clit, and your thighs began to shake. Your toes curled over his shoulders, your pussy clenching down as your orgasm neared.

He felt the way you hugged his fingers, and huffed softly against you. Enveloping your clit in his mouth, he sucked gently, his fingers matching the pace. You felt your abdomen tighten, before your climax took over; your eyes falling closed, mouth wide as you let out a strangled moan.

"Tha's it," He whispered, coaxing your orgasm from you and prolonging it with the flick of his tongue and fingers.

You shivered, hitting plateaus of pleasure as you came down from your high, exhaling harshly when his tongue grazed your sensitive clit.

He sat up, his hands grabbing your waist as he shifted his seat further back, practically lifting you over to his lap.

You settled yourself over his thighs, feeling his cock nestled between your folds. You couldn't help but grind your hips over him, and he lurched forward to grab the back of your neck. His hands tugged you in to press his lips against yours, his tongue finding purchase in your mouth.

He swallowed the soft, breathless moans that escaped your throat, your pussy flinching every time his cock nudged your clit. His lips were soft- softer than you'd expected them to be- and it made you melt in his arms. You drew your arms around his shoulders, your hands digging into the flesh of his neck, locking him in position as you kissed.

He grunted into your mouth, the feeling of your slick core grinding over him was making him impatient.

"Stop teasin'," He scolded, his hand reaching back to grip your ass, stopping your hips from rolling forward. "Can't wait much longer."

You shivered, keeping eye contact as you perched forward, helping him to position his cock at your entrance. Your lips parted with a gasp as he slid inside you, stretching your pussy. His fingers dug into your flesh, a sharp exhale leaving his lips.

"Shit," He choked. "Y'feel like fuckin' heaven, sweetheart."

You felt a surge of pride, before it was shattered with just how much you whimpered while sliding down his length. You sat still for a moment, letting yourself adjust to the intrusion, taking a deep breath. You moved forward, and his vice-like grip helped you grind your hips against his.

You fell into his chest, your arms still clinging to his shoulders, your breasts brushing against his vest. He watched you with an intense stare, mesmerized by the way you reacted to his cock deep inside you.

"Fuckin' hell," He growled.

You continued to ride his lap, thighs and ass flexing as you pushed forward, your hands gripping his vest for leverage. He reached down, using his thumb to rub over your clit. You moaned aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as you focused on the impending orgasm building in your gut.

He relished the way you moaned, softly spoke his callsign, Sir, whimpered, nearly cried as he overstimulated you. He leaned forward, lavishing your throat with hungry kisses, traces of teeth and tongue mixing with his lips. It was too much, or maybe just enough- you were so numb with pleasure it was hard to tell.

"God," You cried, your fingers reaching into his hair beneath his balaclava.

"Tell me how good this cock feels, buried in you."

"So good- so fucking deep," You whined.

"Christ," Another groan as your pussy clenched around him. "Y'look good on my cock."

His vulgar words pushed you even closer to the edge, panting as you chased your orgasm. A part of you had yet to come to terms with the fact that you were fucking your Lieutenant, the other didn't care much what his rank was. His cock was nuzzled against your G-spot, his raspy voice whispering words of encouragement- he was only Ghost, and the repercussions had all but left your mind.

"Keep talking like that, please, Sir," You whimpered, your voice breaking.

He hummed in response. "Fuck," A gust of air from his nose as he struggled to keep his composure while your pussy hugged him tightly. "You just keep ridin' my cock. Make yourself cum."

"Yes, Sir."

"Think you get off on callin' me Sir," He paused between strangled breaths. "And bein' told what to do."

You nodded. "Yes, Sir."

His hand moved to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh. His fingers traced over your nipples, goosebumps erupting across your body. He pinched them softly, and you let out a whimper.

"Then be a good girl and cum for me," He said, watching as you bounced on his cock.

"I'm so close," Your voice broke.

His thumb hadn't relented, and the added stimulation made it even easier to unfold. Your hand reached out, slamming against the window to brace yourself when your body went rigid. Your pussy clenched one last time before you squeezed your eyes shut, writhing in his grip as ecstasy lit up every nerve in your body. You tried to hold it back, tried to hold out a bit longer, but he played your body so well it almost broke you.

"Shit!" You cried, your head falling forward to his.

You gasped for air through your muscles contracting, your orgasm enveloping your entire body. He breathed out, his cock twitching when your pussy clenched around him. His fingers were bruising your waist and hip, holding onto you firmly like you'd vanish if he didn't.

He choked on his words, a sharp gasp from the back of his throat as the silken muscles of your pussy flexed around his cock.

You bucked your hips, extending the longevity of your orgasm while he watched with intrigue, pride swelling with how well he could unravel you.

"Not long now, pussy is too good," He said, his voice strangled and tight.

You were still suffering the after-effects of your orgasm, sweat lining your forehead, relaxing into his hold on your body. You pushed yourself to continue, wanting so badly to feel him release inside you.

"Cum in me," You whispered.

He didn't give it a second thought, though he should've, but your body against his, the doughy feel of your pussy- he almost didn't have a choice. His breathing faltered as he bucked his hips up into yours. He grunted softly, your waist already sore with his heavy touch, keeping you in place as he came in you.

The air was still for a moment, both of you catching your breath while still reeling from your orgasm. You quickly collected yourself, sliding off of him to ease back into the passenger seat.

"Here," He said, handing you a rag from his vest.

"Thanks," You muttered.

You quickly cleaned up and dressed yourself as he turned the car off the side road and toward the destination. You let out a soft sigh, feeling more tired than before. Your head landed against the window.

"You alright?" He asked, looking over at you.

You nodded, "Tired."

"Be there soon. We can pick this up later."

A sly smile crossed your lips. "You're not going to hold back on me again, are you?"

His eyes met yours with a chilling stare. He'd had his first fix, and he knew now there was no end in sight- he was addicted.

"Quite the opposite, sweetheart."

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #drive series

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anzulvr · 9 months

Note

What do you think Karma would be like with a calm/chill reader who's easygoing and effortlessly charming personality sometimes turns completely 180 when they feel strong emotions? Like they can go from sweetly comforting Nagisa to yelling oddly detailed threats at Terasaka while chasing him with a metal bottle for eating her food. (Maybe mix in some passive aggressive sarcastic sass when Korosensei's being annoying?)

Karma x Chill(..but actually really passive aggressive) reader 🤗🤗 Ty for the request!! (Sorry took long)

— You don’t argue often and you are also very good at listening to everyones perspective and ideas even if they’re different from you. People view you as very understanding so seeing you actually getting into a heated fight it’s surprising at first.

— Karma is so surprised when he sees you angry for the first time like he didn’t know you had it in you to say the things you did.

— He TRIES to get you pissed off just to see you react, since you know he’s kidding and dating him gives you a soft spot for him it’s basically just him failing to annoy you.

— This one time Karma scribbled over your paper to bother you and all you did was frown for a second and erase / re do anything he messed up. (He felt bad and helped you when he realized you weren’t going to fight 😭)

— then in a group project with Yoshida (also Isogai and Rinka) Yoshida scribbled a little bit on your notes (not nearly as much damage as Karma made) but it pissed you off so badly you grabbed a marker and started scribbling on his face

“I’ve been working on those notes for days you actual dumbass”

“Hey- I’m sorry!! I’ll rewrite them— get off me your using permanent marker it’ll be hard to take off!!”

“GOOD.”

— “Damn [name] that mad?” When you hear Karma mention how you reacted you stop so fast

“I wasn’t actually mad. We we’re just playing right Yoshida?”

Only out of fear he agrees “Right..”

— You’re tolerance for everything is way higher for Karma because you like him too much to get mad, that doesn’t mean you never get mad at him it just takes a little more to.

— Some of the things you respond with are shady in the way people expect Karma and it’s just so confusing cause it feels so out of character for you.

— but it’s definitely one of the things Karma likes the most about you because 1. It’s funny 2. Hes glad to see you stand up for yourself once in a while because he’s usually the one telling people off for you.

— passive aggressiveness would come whenever Korosensei or really E class is too pushy about certain topics.

For example before Karma confessed to you theyd push you to do it first and come up with crazy plans to make things happen.

— they full on locked you in a room together and instead of waiting it out you found a way to break the doorknob (together #romanceisreal)

Angry you and happy Karma is a mix end class fears because he’ll be constantly hyping it up😭

Like you’ll be be hitting Terasaka with a notebook because he said something stupid and Karma will go:

“[Name] wait— Use this one it’s way thicker!!”

(took inspo for ur original request lollol)

Karma will support anything you try and honestly rile you up more to see what you do

Angry you and Angry Karma is definitely the worst mix of all

hell on earth

! but it hardly happens since you usually reel each other in

Just tell him to chill tf out😭

Having strong emotions isn’t all bad, you’re empathetic, kind and care for everyone in class— even Terasaka no matter how much of a pain he can be.

mom friend-ish?? (Awe yeah Mom friend definitely)

They don’t actually mind it and are grateful for the times you stand up for them bc they know you love them

Especially Karma even though you’re prone to getting into arguments like all couples do it’ll work out fine because you both care to much about eachother.

If you’re the type to remind people you love them after arguing it’s another thing he loves about you, since he himself has trouble saying he’s wrong first it’s helped him swallow his pride and apologize faster.

(Literally so cute my fave relationship dynamic)

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

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chuluoyi · 6 months

Text

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 11 months

Text

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting. Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it)

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA! I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets. Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody, a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys.

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country and western, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

“What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?”

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss. Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke. Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks.

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you.

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body. The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close. His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free. It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you. The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender. "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me. You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence. You didn’t know how to finish the sentence. You were so hurt and confused. That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?”

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.” he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that. Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you. “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours. The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,” he whispered, as he looked down at you. His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own. “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so. Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek. With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes, slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft. Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own. He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline. His other hand on your chest continued its exploration. It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater. The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that? Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me. I wanna hear you moan for me.”

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater. Deftly he fumbled under your t-shirt and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat. “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you as pleasure surged through your veins.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses. “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase. Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you.

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor like raindrops and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there.

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“It’s too much.” you said hoarsely “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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Thank you for reading. Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe #obx #obx rafe cameron #selfreblog #timezone reblog

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