#but i hope you're all having a wonderful day so far !
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Chapter 10: even my daddy just loves him
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader
WC: 3.5k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, period- and class-typical views about the economy, idiots in love being idiots in love, heavy on the idiots, heavy on the in love
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
A/N: the first TTPD chapter title :,) also no interaction between reader and colin in this one IM SORRY it'll come soon i promise
June 23, 1816 – In the wake of yesterday's lackluster ball, one can't help but lament the dreary fashion choices on display, particularly the Featheringtons' blinding ensembles in shades of yellow. Sadly, the absence of Lady Y/N Montclair was acutely felt, as her impeccable gowns and Parisian flair were sorely missed. However, tonight at the Ashbury ball proves a wonderful opportunity for her to dazzle us with her sense of style.
“Well, don't you look gorgeous tonight,” gushed Eloise upon seeing you, kissing your cheeks in greeting.
Your heart soared, delighted that your best friend had taken to your French customs so easily.
“I didn’t particularly have a choice after Whistledown’s column today,” you joked, smoothing out your skirts.
Of course, it was flattering to have the ton’s most trusted source speak about you in such a positive manner, but at times it did build a fair amount of undue pressure. Though you supposed you preferred feeling pressure to dress well over pressure to marry someone as you had with Lord Barlow.
“Either way, you look stunning. I’ve caught more than a few gentlemen staring at you already. You’d think they would have been able to pick up their jaws off the floor by now,” Eloise teased, linking arms with you, and leading you toward the far end of the ballroom.
You politely covered your laugh with your hand, shaking your head as you assessed who was present at the ball today. More accurately, you were assessing whether Colin Bridgerton was present.
It had been two weeks since you’d even seen him, and you were exerting more mental energy than you cared to admit pretending that you were unbothered. You supposed you couldn’t blame him. You were the one who had asked him not to speak with you anymore, and he’d listened to you better than you could have hoped.
Secretly, you’d been hoping he would still have shown up and tried to talk to you. It was an absurd desire, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Apart from balls like these where all you did was speak with Eloise, you had to admit that arguing with Colin was the most fun you’d had in England, and perhaps everywhere else, too.
You hated him, you reminded yourself. And he hated you, too. Worse, actually. He had no respect for you. Or any woman in general. Which only brought you back to the shameful burning at the top of your ears every time you searched for him in a crowd.
But you were only human. And there were times when you couldn’t help but give in to your self-sabotaging. “Is the rest of your family in attendance tonight?” you asked Eloise, trying to seem casual and uninterested.
“Anthony and Kate are,” she responded brightly. “Benedict was able to weasel his way out of this one, I’m afraid. But it’s all for the better. He was being quite irritating at dinner last night.”
You turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I assumed you’d stay home if Benedict stayed home, too. I thought you hated these things.”
“Oh, not at all! Now that you aren’t being swarmed by suitors at every moment and I have you somewhat to myself, the balls are far more enjoyable.”
Shaking your head at her fondly, you laughed in disbelief. She was truly the only reason you hadn’t gone completely mad these past two weeks.
Lady Whistledown, whoever she was, had proven to be quite perceptive. As she had reported, you effectively had laid your parents’ dreams of marrying you off to an Englishman to rest. You’d only told Pen and Eloise about your disillusionment, but you supposed it was rather obvious to everyone else given that you barely danced with anyone anymore.
You looked through the crowd once again searching for the face you knew would not be there, and you felt your gut twist, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was in relief or disappointment.
“And what about Colin?” you asked, internally cringing at not being able to help yourself. “Has he left the country again?”
Eloise looked at you carefully, noting your barely hidden grimace and shifting eyes. She would’ve laughed at how obviously painful the question was for you if she didn’t completely understand what was happening. Eloise still had no idea why you hated Colin in the first place, but she could tell that it was tearing you up inside anyway.
“No, he’s still at home, believe it or not. He just doesn’t particularly enjoy these kinds of events anymore, I suppose. It must be the ambitious mamas wanting to auction him off to their daughters,” Eloise finally responded, trying to keep her tone light.
Although that wasn’t the whole truth, Eloise couldn’t just come out and tell you that her brother was completely in love with you and that you had broken his heart enough that he had no desire to come to ton events anymore. It would have been unusually cruel for her to do so.
Besides, she could tell you had been feeling the same way. The only difference was that your parents were not as forgiving as Violet Bridgerton, and you had to come to most balls whether you wanted to or not.
“Oh, that’s a shame, I guess,” you said, not particularly knowing how to respond. In a pathetic attempt to make it seem like you truly were unbothered, you added, “It’s rather nice when he isn’t here, though, isn’t it?”
Eloise stared at you suspiciously. Though she always thought it easier to stay away from your conflict with Colin, the curiosity was killing her. And she could only go so long before she went insane trying to figure it out.
“Why do the two of you hate each other so much, anyway?” she asked, hoping her disinterested tone would make you more likely to open up.
No one seemed to know why you hated Colin. You weren’t particularly forthcoming with the information, but Eloise could sense that it wasn’t something trivial. Having grown to know you fairly well over your time in England, Eloise was still perplexed by this specific detail.
Next to Eloise, you were tactfully avoiding eye contact and staring intently at the floor in front of you. You couldn’t tell her. You simply couldn’t. It wasn’t that you were worried about your reputation. You knew Eloise well enough to know that she wouldn’t spread rumors that would sully your image.
But if you told her the truth, she’d be heartbroken. If someone were to tell you that they hated one of your brothers for the same reason you hated Colin, you would crumble. You were incredibly close with them, and knowing that they thought of women that way would crush you. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same to Eloise.
Luckily, some man you’d never spoken to before asked you for a dance right at that moment. He had barely finished speaking before you placed your hand on his elbow and rushed him to the ballroom. Dancing with someone was far easier than having to figure out what you were going to say to Eloise.
Eloise stared silently as you were whisked away to dance. She let out a small laugh in disbelief, amazed that her question had been what finally propelled you to start dancing at balls again.
But her work tonight was not done. Shaking her head, Eloise looked around the ballroom, looking for your brother. Unsurprisingly, he was by the refreshments.
“Hello, Louis,” greeted the Bridgerton. “I believe you might have some information that would be of interest to me.”
“I do?” asked Louis, confused.
Eloise nodded over to where you were dancing and smiling politely and turned back to your brother with an expectant look.
“Oh,” said Louis, catching onto what your friend was saying. “I don’t, unfortunately.”
“Are you serious?” she responded, exasperated. “She would rather dance with that…man than tell me why she hates Colin!”
Louis shot her a sympathetic look. “She won’t tell me either. But she’s never been this upset over someone, so I wager it must have been something serious.”
“Colin doesn’t even know! And he only hates her because she hated him first! It’s terribly unreasonable.”
Having overheard the conversation about you and Colin from a few paces away, Carlos quickly joined Eloise and Louis with a knowing smile. He considered himself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to matters of the heart, having found a true love match after falling completely head over heels for your sister.
“Yes, but Colin is completely in love with Y/N,” he said. “So, I suppose he doesn’t hate her that much.”
“We know,” responded Eloise dejectedly. “That’s why I need to know why she hates him.”
“Excuse me, we? We know?” scoffed Louis. “I most certainly did not know this. What do you mean Colin loves Y/N? I should think that I would know if someone was in love with my little sister.”
Eloise looked at him, unimpressed. “I fear you only have yourself to blame, then. Colin came to every single event on the social calendar until your sister told him to stop talking to her, and he hasn’t come to another one since. Why exactly did you think that was?”
“I don’t know! I suppose I thought… I don’t know what I thought! But it doesn’t matter. He does not love her, Eloise. I know because Y/N is the exact same with Colin as he is with her.”
This time Carlos looked at Louis in disbelief. “Yes, Louis. Precisely,” he spoke slowly, nodding to make sure your brother understood.
Louis furrowed his eyebrows, eyes widening as he came to grips with the realization. “What do you mean? Does this mean that…”
“Yes,” confirmed Carlos. “Y/N loves him too.”
“What? How did I miss this?”
---
Colin was standing in Anthony’s study, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at his eldest brother.
“I won’t go,” he said defiantly.
“You will, and you will be the perfect gentleman while you’re there.”
“Why do I even need to be there? It’s not like I know what I’m doing when I hunt, anyway,” Colin huffed, uncrossing his arms and fiddling with a quill on Anthony’s desk.
Watching his brother, Anthony sighed, exasperated. “Because it would be impossibly rude not to go. And the Bridgertons, especially Colin Bridgerton, if I recall correctly, are never impossibly rude.”
Colin groaned. “It’s one hunt without me! Please-”
“Y/N won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. She and Eloise went to the modiste and won’t be back until later.”
“But what if-”
“She won’t be there,” assured Anthony firmly. He had an inkling about why the Montclairs had suddenly invited the Bridgerton brothers on a hunting outing, and he was not about to let Colin ruin what were most likely some very well-laid-out plans.
Colin blinked and licked his lips, still considering whether being rude to your family was worth the risk of running into you. Resigned, he sighed and turned away from his brother.
“Very well. But this is the only time I’m doing it. I’m not particularly eager to have a run-in with the woman who wishes I didn’t even exist.”
Not seeing you for two weeks had proven to be an extraordinarily difficult challenge. But it was better than having to look at your face and know that he would never be in your good graces. You wanted nothing to do with him, and it was more than he could take.
Even though Colin had relatively successfully convinced himself that the only reason he was upset at your rejection was because he wanted to maintain his status as the best-liked member of the ton, he’d still barely been able to get out of bed since he’d last seen you. His heart ached too much when he thought of seeing you at any events. Yet it also ached when he thought of not seeing you. So he was confined to his chambers night after night, pacing as he thought of you laughing with someone else while he sat in agony at home.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She can’t hate you that much,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes as he patted his brother on the back, leading him out of his study.
“You’d be surprised,” muttered Colin lowly.
---
“Frères, il nous faut causer,” announced Louis upon entering the mudroom (Brothers, we need to talk).
Seeing Edward preparing for the afternoon’s upcoming hunt alongside Philippe and Jacques, Louis cleared his throat and tried again.
“Brothers, we must have a chat. And Edward too, I suppose.”
Philippe and Jacques looked up at their younger brother in surprise.
“A chat about what, pray tell,” asked Jacques, fiddling with his hunting boots as he placed them on his feet.
“It has come to my attention that our dearest sister Y/N might be in love with Colin Bridgerton. I thought it best to discuss the matter between us before we go out and hunt with him.”
Philippe shot his youngest brother an amused look. “Well, yes, Louis. That’s why we’re having this hunting trip.”
Louis’ face contorted into an expression that was a funny mixture of disbelief and annoyance. He most certainly did not like to be the only one out of his siblings who didn’t know something. “How does everyone know this except for me? Am I truly that clueless?”
Laughing, Jacques clapped his younger brother on the back. “I suppose it’s a certain sensibility that comes once you’re married, Louis. Don’t feel too badly about it.”
“A sensibility that comes from your wife telling you that the man is obviously in love with Y/N, is what you mean, Jacques,” Philippe quipped, looking even more amused.
“I would’ve been able to tell!” argued Jacques. “If Chiara hadn’t told me within five minutes, I could’ve figured it out. Probably. In a few days. Who cares! We still have an advantage over Louis because we’re married, and our wives are more attuned to those things than we are.”
“Carlos was the one who told me, actually,” commented Edward. “Charlotte would have been the one to do it, but she thought it was so obvious that it wasn’t worth mentioning. I doubt I would have been able to tell on my own, anyway.”
Louis laughed, not feeling so bad about how oblivious he was anymore. “I suppose you’re right. But I still want to be included in the scheming! How is our little hunting trip going to help Colin and Y/N come to their senses?”
Philippe sighed deeply, and Louis got the impression that he had aged about ten years in the making of this plan. “Y/N has been spectacularly miserable these past couple of weeks. That is certainly no secret. And as much as it is not in my nature to meddle in her affairs, I don’t take any joy in seeing her like this.”
Jacques nodded in agreement. “Especially after what Nigel Berbrooke said to her, we think it would be nice for her to get a love match. Something that has been made much easier by the fact that she is already in love, even if she doesn’t know it.”
Although it had been two weeks since you’d told the rest of your siblings what Mr. Berbooke had said, Louis still felt a surge of anger rise in him when he remembered his words. “He’s worse than Barlow, that one.”
“I was at Eton with Berbrooke, and I assure you it was torture,” agreed Edward, crinkling his nose as he recalled his younger years alongside Nigel.
Sending his brother-in-law a sympathetic look, Louis continued, “That still doesn’t solve the main problem. Even if Y/N does love Colin, she still absolutely hates him. Despises him, actually.”
“Actually, the main problem is that Father wants his daughters to marry a title and a fortune. No offense, Edward.”
But Edward, ever agreeable, waved Philippe’s apology away. “Not at all. It was an advantageous match for me, too. I’m just lucky we grew to love each other. But I do recall your father being quite insistent that she marry nobility.”
“Precisely,” agreed Jacques. “I’ll wager that Y/N will realize she loves Colin quicker than Father will come around to the idea of her marrying for love.”
Louis hummed thoughtfully. “But what if it goes wrong? What if Father hates Colin, and this hunting trip only makes it more difficult for him and Y/N?”
“Not a chance.”
“Absolutely not.”
“That won’t happen.”
Louis just stared at the three men in front of him, looking entirely unconvinced. “How can all three of you be so sure?”
“Because it’s Colin Bridgerton!” said Edward. “Everybody likes Colin. He’s the ton favorite.”
“Y/N doesn’t like him,” argued Louis, still unsure about how effective the plan would be.
“But she loves him, so that’s different,” said Philippe, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, Louis. Father will surely like him and it’ll be a step in the right direction. Now, are you ready? I believe the Bridgertons should be arriving shortly.”
---
All in all, Colin was having a lovely time this afternoon. As Anthony had assured, you were at the modiste when he arrived at your home, and he was barely there long enough to spend time looking for any trace of you. It was just as well because he feared what would have happened if he did find anything that reminded you of him.
Hunting, and specifically shooting, was not Colin’s greatest strength. As a result, he’d been mostly hanging toward the back of the group, chatting pleasantly with Edward, who didn’t seem to be very enthusiastic about hunting either.
That is until your father started talking about his travels. Truly, Colin’s biggest weakness was the opportunity to talk about his time abroad. That and you, he thought longingly.
Colin jogged to catch up to your father, Anthony, and Jacques so he could join the conversation.
“You and Chiara are settled in Tuscany, then?” asked your father.
Jacques laughed. “More than settled, I think. Hello, Colin! Lovely afternoon out, isn’t it?”
“Quite,” Colin agreed. “You would think it would make me a better shot, but I think this just proves I’m completely hopeless.”
Lord Montclair laughed, and Jacques felt an internal sense of pride as he saw their plan progressing.
“My sons tell me you’ve traveled a lot,” said your father, turning his gaze to the younger Bridgerton. “Have your travels taken you to the Persian Gulf, perchance? I am contemplating investing in pearl diving there.”
“Indeed, I have,” confirmed Colin. “However, if you seek pearls, might I suggest Ceylon instead? I visited last year and witnessed firsthand the expanding pearl industry.”
“Really?” said Lord Montclair, immediately immersed in the conversation. “But wouldn’t the Persian Gulf offer the most promising returns?”
“It certainly would right now, but trust me, Ceylon holds vast untapped potential.” Colin was in his element. This was practically all he did, and he was glad it was proving useful, and interesting, for once. “The industry there is on the precipice of greatness. In five years' time, mark my words, it shall surpass all others. I've even noted down a particular lagoon in my journals that I think will be particularly successful, based on what the locals have said.”
Impressed, Lord Montclair arched an eyebrow in interest. “You have my attention, Colin. Shall we meet next week to explore this further? A partnership between us could prove quite lucrative.”
Colin’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by your father’s offer. “Absolutely, my Lord. It would be my pleasure.”
“Please, call me Philippe,” he replied, clapping Colin on the back.
Turning to Jacques, your father spoke softly, “Je suppose qu'un titre n'est pas tout” (I suppose a title isn’t everything).
—
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exactly what he needs, pt. 3 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt1 | pt 2
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: nate takes you shopping at the mall, to dinner, then bowling, before dropping you off at home.
— tags: having a great day with nate, even if he has ulterior motives
— tw: dollification, objectification, sexualization, emotional manipulation, pushing boundaries, guilt-tripping, drinking, eating
— word count: approx. 6.4k
— a/n: i have never been inside a nordstrom in my life, so i have 0 idea what their changing rooms actually look like. | baby-doll dresses | tennis skirt | blush | necklace
GIF by msgorillagripcoochie
Once you and Nate are on the road, he decides to offer you full access to his car's stereo once again—he has an aux cord stored away in the center console, which he'll only offer if you can't figure out how to pair your phone through bluetooth.
There's just something about the idea of his truck being saved in your phone that appeals to him. Hell, maybe he'll get lucky and you'll fuck up, letting it read your calls and texts, too. He wouldn't mind finding out who all you're talking to.
If he's lucky, it'll be people he knows. People he can spin stories to you about to get you to cut them out of your life.
He'd made the mistake with Maddy in letting her have friends. Like Cassie—he didn't need to list the problems she'd caused. Then there was Kat, always her enabling little sidekick. Even Lexi to an extent, who he knows you're also friends with. He supposes as far as female friends to have goes, Lexi is the better one to keep company with, but she's still Cassie's sister.
He knows he'll, in time, need to figure out a way to get rid of her. But that's a problem for future him.
"Would you like to play some music?"
You smooth out the skirt of your dress. "Sure. Do you have a uh-"
"It has bluetooth."
"Oh."
Great, you think, I get to spend the next fifteen minutes looking like an idiot as I fight to get the thing to pair with my cell.
Surprisingly, however, you get it to sync up rather quickly. You scan through your music, now sweating, wondering what song to choose. What if he thinks your taste in music is stupid? Then, you mentally shrug. He can take over at that point if he thinks so.
Eventually, a soft melody begins to drift through the cabin, low enough that it serves simply as pleasant background noise, until Nate reaches over, turning the volume up, making you shrink back in your seat.
You turn the room a shade heaven, and learn my name.
You flush. You shouldn't have chosen a stupid romantic song. You should've chosen anything else.
You look out the window, refusing to sing along like you normally would as the chorus starts.
No one ever will love me better than your everlasting love. I found only one way in and no way out...
You fold your hands in your lap, waiting for the damn song to eventually end.
Finally, once the tempo has faded, Nate turns the radio down.
"Is that one of your favorite songs?"
You glance at him, nodding.
He can tell you're embarrassed, but can't understand why. He thinks it sweet: one of your favorite songs being one about love.
He then wonders if you sing. Perhaps, if so, you'll do so once you're more comfortable being around him like this.
"I liked it."
"Oh, good," you say, still flushed.
He likes how easily he has that effect on you.
"So, where are you wanting to head to?"
You shrug, fumbling with your phone and turning some lofi music on instead now. Nothing with lyrics.
"Wherever you want to go is fine with me."
He likes that: you letting him choose for you. Letting him make a decision for the both of you.
He enjoys how easily agreeable you are today.
He hopes it's due to you feeling comfortable enough with him that you trust him to do so.
"Do you want to eat first, or would you like to go to the mall for a bit?"
You glance at the clock and see that it's only a few minutes past four. "I can wait a couple more hours to eat."
He nods, heading in the direction of the East Highland mall.
Once Nate has parked, he comes around to your side and you nearly slip on the running board, falling against his chest.
He catches you, helping you down.
You look up at him, your face a shade of red. "Sorry. Thanks."
Stupid klutz—should've worn boots, you think.
He shuts the door behind you, quickly locking the vehicle before placing his hand against the small of your back. "No problem."
As you enter the mall, a pair of men leave, glancing at you. Admiring you, from Nate's perspective.
His grip tightens imperceptibly, pulling you the least bit closer to him as he gives the men a nasty look.
Meanwhile, you're oblivious, instead overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells, the awful florescent lighting overhead. God, you hate crowds.
You look up to him, just wanting him to pick a store to get you out of the way of everyone milling about. Coming here on a Friday afternoon was a bad idea.
He looks down at you. "Where to first?"
He can see that you're nervous. His brows furrow. "Do crowds make you uneasy?"
You nod, your eyes staring into his, practically screaming for him to get you out of here.
He lets his hand drop to his side, then speaks again. "Do you want to hold my hand?"
You blanch.
Having something—someone—to ground you and lead you through the throngs of people surrounding you sounds nice enough, but what if someone from school is here and sees you? And won't it seem a bit childish? That you're that easily overstimulated that you have to hold another grown-person's hand in a shopping mall?
Just as you're about to tell him no—that you're ok—someone bumps into you, shoving you into his side.
Your hand quickly latches onto his.
Nate twines his fingers between yours.
You don't see the smirk on his face.
Nate leads you into Nordstrom, a store you've never been in before because you know it's far, far out of your price-range, but you don't object as you step inside, the crowds behind you fading away as quiet pop music plays overhead, only a handful of people browsing the racks of clothing.
You look up to him, suddenly unsure of yourself.
"You can look around, if you want."
You release his hand and he already hates the feeling of his palm being empty.
You step over to a rack of midi dresses and your eyes widen when you see a price tag for $120.
Nate keeps close to your side. "Do you like that one?"
He knows he doesn't—hates midi and maxi dresses—but he wants to buy you something today. Anything. He just wants to give you your first real present from him.
He doesn't count him bringing you breakfast everyday for the last week—despite your objections, even if you did always finish it with a grateful 'thank you'—as as much.
You place the dress back where it was hanging, shaking your head. You look up to him. "That dress it over one-hundred dollars. Nate, I can't afford to shop here."
Not unless they have a clearance section, you think. But even then...
Nate steps away from you for a moment, his attention now stolen away by a white babydoll dress with puffy sleeves. Fucking perfect, he thinks.
He grabs it off the high hook which it hangs from—something you'd never be able to reach—and goes to hand it to you.
"Try this on."
You hesitantly take it from him, a confused expression on your face. "Why?"
He shrugs. "I just think it'd look nice on you."
You hold it up to yourself, not liking that it comes up well-above your knees.
"I don't thi-"
"The changing rooms are this way," he says, nodding his head in the direction of the back of the store. He doesn't care to hear you argue. You're trying the dress on. He needs to see it on you.
He'd been picturing you wearing—essentially—that exact dress for over a week now.
He places his palm against your back, leading you to the desired destination.
Once you've reached the back of the store, Nate opens a wooden door to one of the changing areas and just stares at you, waiting for you to enter.
Finally, you sigh, stepping in.
"I'll be waiting right out here," he says before closing the door behind you.
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, realizing just how different—how little—you look like yourself right now. But you consider it, perhaps, a good thing: forcing yourself out of your comfort zone, even just a little.
You'd been considering finally wearing the sundress that Nate had picked out for you for a few weeks now. It was nice of him to compliment it—you. You aren't entirely sure how you feel about your hair being down, however.
Finally, you hang the dress up that he'd handed you, deciding to get undressed. The sooner you've tried it on, the sooner you can be out of this over-priced boutique.
Nate sits in a chair directly outside of your changing room, watching your legs shift from one foot to the other, until, finally, your sundress pools at your feet.
His cock hardens, knowing just a few feet away is your half-naked body. He leans back, waiting a minute, then two, then he stands.
He gently knocks on the door and you jolt in surprise.
"Y-yes?"
"Do you have it on?"
"Yes..."
"May I come in? I'd like to see."
You balk. He wants to come into the changing room with you? Is that even allowed?
"Isn't that against some sort of policy?"
He likes how much of a good girl you are—no, fuck it, loves it—but in this moment his patience is wearing real fucking thin. "No one else is out here," he replies as gently as he can.
A beat of silence, and then the lock on the door handle clicks.
He quickly enters the changing room, promptly taking in every inch of you.
You look just how he had imagined you would.
You don't meet his eyes. "I look so stu-"
"Perfect," he interrupts.
You look up to him. "What? Really?"
He studies you for a moment, your wide innocent eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to answer.
He runs his fingers through the hair draped over your shoulder. He then runs his hand along that same shoulder down your upper arm, where it comes to rest. "Yes. I just wish you could see what I do."
You blink up at him, then sniffle.
"Are you crying?" He nearly cringes. That question had come out a bit more harsh than he'd meant for it to. He'd wanted you emotionally vulnerable numerous times for the last week so he could finally find a way in, and now here it is. He prays he didn't just fuck it up.
You nod. "I'm sorry. I'm just...no one has ever been this nice to me."
He almost breathes a sigh of relief. He hadn't hurt your feelings.
So that's all it's going to take with you: a few kind gestures, some nice words, a few soft touches, and you'd be like putty in his hands. His to mold as he pleases.
This was what being alone for so long had done to you: made you desperate for affection—of any kind.
You step a bit closer to him, unsure of yourself, unsure what you're doing or even why.
When he doesn't move, you press yourself against his broad chest, taking him completely by surprise.
Fine with being alone his ass. That entire statement had been utter bullshit. Not even you understand just how lonely you are.
Finally, he wraps one arm around you, holding you close, his other hand slipping into your hair, massaging your scalp.
You remain quiet, just focusing on his breathing, the beat of his heart, his warmth. When was the last time someone had held you like this? Hugged you? Shown you any form of affection or attention?
You'd truly thought you were fine without it.
Meanwhile, Nate's head is racing. God, you'd shown him just in this action alone just how easy it was going to be to manipulate you. A couple of compliments had nearly brought you to tears? Just wait until the two of you are in a relationship. No, starting tonight he'll begin pouring it on heavier.
But once you two are together? He'll fucking suffocate you with gifts and attention and love. And above all: sex. That will be his weapon. You're inexperienced. Know nothing about it. A few orgasm denials and Lexi will be long-gone from your life.
Then he'll no longer have to worry about the risk of her relaying stories of he and Cassie, or he and Maddy to you. Won't have to worry about his occasional shitty behavior toward them coming to light, driving—no, taking—you away from him.
If you ever find out about the choking incident...it'll be over before it ever begins.
He feels you snuggle the least bit closer to him and he briefly glances to the mirror to the side of both of you. He sees that your eyes are closed and your cheeks are flushed.
Finally, he pulls away and you look up at him, shame filling your features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-"
He gently grips your chin. "I didn't mind."
"Oh." It's the only reply you have. It feels inappropriate—being here with him like this. You're in a changing room together, for God's sake. You'd tutored numerous people before and never had you ever spent any amount of time with any of them outside of school.
But Nate is different. You tutor him in private, whereas all the rest had been at school or in public. There'd never been a chance at friendship with any of them. You'd convinced yourself that it was something you didn't need in the first place anyway. Told yourself you were better off alone.
High school is temporary, along with the friends that come with it. No point in getting attached to someone who won't be sticking around.
You know all too well about abandonment.
Nate will probably be just like all the rest.
You take a step back. "I should probably change."
"I never got to see the whole dress. Can you turn for me?"
You pause. "Like... Twirl?"
He crosses his arms, just staring at you.
Finally, you begin to slowly turn until you're facing him once again. "Ta-da,"you say nervously.
He turns toward the door, placing his hand over the handle. "It looks really cute on you, just so you know."
While you're busy changing, Nate quickly returns to the rack from earlier, grabbing the same dress you were currently taking off, along with another one, but in light blue. He then spots a pink tennis skirt and grabs it as well, with a matching flowy top. He takes all the items up front, to a register.
When you exit the changing room, you see Nate straight ahead, standing just outside the store.
You come up to him, glancing down to the shopping bag in his hand, then up to him with a concerned impression. Surely he didn't...
He shrugs. "Just something for my mom."
You smile, feeling relieved. "That's very sweet of you, to get something for her."
He just offers you his hand again, which you take after a moment.
As the two of you wander around, mostly window-shopping, you try to ignore just how nice it feels to be holding someone else's hand. To be touched at all. You briefly wonder if he thinks you pathetic now, after what happened in the changing room.
You glance up to him. "Nate?"
"Hm?"
"You're sure it didn't bother you?"
He doesn't need you to elaborate to know what you're referring to. He likes that you're insecure and emotionally fragile. Broken pieces in the palms of his hands.
That had been another issue with Maddy—she'd been too independent, too confident, too secure and comfortable with herself. Whereas Cassie had known what he wanted and had tried to mold herself into it, all in some attempt to keep him interested.
But you? You're clueless to the ways of men. You're just...you. Intelligent, book only in a book-smart sort of way. Sweet—so fucking sweet it makes his teeth ache. Quiet, and reserved—prim and proper and meek.
And he'd thought it before and would again—so. fucking. innocent. You have no idea the power you already have over him. And he wants it to stay that way. Wants to be the one in complete control this time around, without being given permission to be, like Cassie had given him.
She'd told him what she had wanted: him to choose her clothes, what she eats, to decide who she could talk to—the list went on and on. Because she had clocked him from day one—the type of guy he was—that he was desperate for control.
With you, it will be gradual, insidious manipulation until he's all you have left in your life to turn to. Until, one day, you look up, and everything is different and you have no goddamn idea how you've gotten to where you are.
He stops walking, still keeping your hand firmly in his, incase you decide to wander. "Not at all."
"I don't..." you shift nervously. "I don't know what happened. I'm not usually like that. I don't get emotional in front of other people, like, ever."
He gives you a kind smile. "It's ok, really. I just don't think you're used to it."
"What?"
"Kindness. Someone wanting to give you their attention and time. You don't have to worry, I still like hanging out with you."
You look down and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
"Good," you reply.
The two of you stop in at Sephora, and while you browse their lipglosses, Nate steps away, looking through their selection of blushes, until he finds a soft pink shade that he likes and he takes it up, quickly paying for it, and placing the small bag within the larger Nordstrom one. One more gift for you.
When you leave the cosmetic store, you excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes into the Tiffany store next door, browsing their necklace collection, until he spots one that he deems perfect for you: silver, with a small diamond pendant hanging from it. He doesn't even bother looking at the price tag when he asks an employee to retrieve the item from a glass case and box it up for him.
He's waiting for you when you exit the restroom.
He takes your hand in his, not bothering to let you make the gesture this time.
"Hungry?"
You nod.
Nate, though he doesn't want to, bothers with asking where you'd like to go to eat as he watches you buckle yourself in—wishing you'd let him do that himself, but knows him taking such an extreme measure for your safety this early will do nothing more than freak you out.
You shrug. "I don't go out much, so I'm not sure what all is around here. You can choose, if you'd like?"
He smiles, unsure the last time he felt so happy and in-control as he shuts your door.
Nate takes you to a rather expensive bistro, perhaps twenty minutes away from the mall, his right hand itching to wedge itself between your bare thighs as he drives, but he doesn't dare touch you. Not yet. The only thing he has to keep himself in-check right now is the surety that, soon enough, you'll be all his to do with as he pleases.
Every inch of you.
When Nate comes around to your side of the truck, after he's opened your door, he takes things a step further this time, gripping both of your hips, helping you down. As he sets you on your feet again, before you can say a word, he speaks. "Didn't want to risk you tripping again."
He adjusts your dress and your hair, then takes your hand firmly in his as he leads the two of you inside.
You immediately feel regret in him bringing you here. You should've told him literally anywhere else, so long as it was cheaper.
The rustic décor alone screams pretentious. And you know the menu will be even worse.
But just as you think to tug on his arm and ask him to take you elsewhere, a hostess greets the two of you, leading you to a table in a corner near a window.
Nate pulls out your seat for you, scooting you in, then seating himself.
You both pick up menus, and you're thankful your face is hidden by yours when you see the outrageous pricing.
You can barely afford a small salad here.
"Have you been here before?" You ask, still hidden by your menu.
"Mhm, their food is pretty good. I thought you might like it."
Unless it's dipped in gold, it can't be worth what they're charging is what you want to say. Instead, you remain silent.
Finally, your server arrives. An older woman, with red curly hair, freckles, and a curvaceous figure greets the two of you with a smile. "Do you two know what you'd like to drink?"
Nate looks at you.
"Water, thank you."
She nods.
"It'll be one check, and a diet coke."
She nods again, leaving the two of you to each other.
You look at him, now panicking...just a bit. "You don't have to pay for me. It's fine, really, I-"
He lifts his menu, glad that it apparently works in getting you to be quiet about his spending money on you. Again.
You'd already freaked out enough over him bringing you breakfast for three days in a row, until the fourth when you finally ate in silence.
"I told you I was taking you to dinner. It was my idea to bring you here, so it's only fair that I pay."
You cross your legs at the ankle, unsure how to feel about that.
You simply lift your menu again, now even more unsure of what to get.
He sets his menu down, seeing that you're now hidden behind your own once again. "I know their choices can seem a bit overwhelming the first time you come here. Would you like me to order for you?"
You lower your menu. "You're sure?"
He gives a slight nod of confirmation.
It's then that your waitress returns with your drinks and you stay silent, sipping on ice water as Nate orders dinner for both of you.
As you wait for your penne alla vodka—all you know is that it's some sort of pasta—Nate stretches out his long legs under the table on either side of your chair.
"I've had a really nice time with you today," he says, a soft look in his eyes.
You wrap your sweaty hands around your cold glass. You smile. "Me too."
He crooks his head slightly to the side. "Would you like to go bowling after this?"
Your brows raise. "You want to?"
He nods. "I do if you do."
You glance out the window for a moment. "I'm not sure the last time I went bowling. I think when I was really little."
He leans forward, foot brushing against one of yours completely on purpose, so as to pull your attention back to him. "So is that a yes?"
You blush. "I guess so."
Nate glances up to you every few moments from his steak and rice, watching as you take small bites of your pasta.
"Do you like it?"
You quickly grab your napkin, wiping your lips. You nod, swallowing. "It's really good. You chose well for me. Thank you."
He smiles, his foot "accidentally" brushing against your leg again. "You're welcome, sweetheart."
You grow quiet again at the pet name, taking another bite of your meal.
Once the two of you have finished your dinner, Nate pays the check from his phone before standing, throwing two twenty-dollar bills on the table—you're impressed that he tips so generously—then pulling your chair out for you.
He twines his fingers between yours before leading you back out to the truck.
Once Nate has paid for a game of bowling for the two of you, you both go to your designated spot. You sit to put on the pair of hideous bowling shoes you've been given, until Nate sits on the small table in front of you, grabbing your foot and resting it atop his knee as he slips the shoe on your foot, tying the laces.
You laugh nervously. "I can do that."
He merely glances up to you, before doing the same with your other foot.
Once you feel well and truly like you have on a pair of clown shoes, you go first...and miss every single pin.
Nate stands behind you laughing. "It was a good try."
He'd not actually bothered watching you play, he'd instead watched as you'd bended over slightly, getting a brief flash of your pink panties before you released the heavy bowling ball.
You go to sit down. "Shut up," you say, clearly embarrassed.
Nate goes next...and of course gets a strike on the first try.
You tell yourself not to pout; that you're not a competitive person by nature.
"I'm just rusty is all."
"Mhm," he replies with a knowing smirk before leaning down, hands planted on either side of you. "I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"
You glance behind you at the concessions, looking over their menu. Meanwhile, Nate looks you over. Your neck, which he wants to lick and kiss and leave hickies all over to mark you as his. Then down your dress at the swell of your breasts...which he wants to do the same to. Then your thighs that he wants to shove his face between.
When you finally look back at him, you jump, seeing that he's still looking right at you. "Oh, uh, maybe just a water?"
He reaches up, brushing some hair out of your face. "Not hungry?"
You shake your head. "I'm still full from dinner."
Right. Dinner.
"I thought at least some cotton candy," he replies, before walking away.
You're left sitting there, wondering what that was supposed to have meant.
When Nate returns, it's with two Budweisers and a bottle of water, which he hands to you.
You stare at the extra bottle he sets on the table as he twists the top off of the other one, taking a swig of it.
"Is that smart?"
He looks at you with a raised brow. "Hm?"
"Drinking...since you're driving?"
He smirks. "It takes a lot more than two beers to get me drunk, Y/N. But if it makes you that uncomfortable, you can always drive us back."
He's not sure how he feels about letting you drive his truck, in truth. He'd never let Maddy, and sure as hell not Cassie behind the wheel. He was more-so offering to see if you'd let on whether you know how to drive or not.
And he gets his answer, just like he was wanting.
"I...I don't know how."
He sits on the same table from earlier, your legs between both of his knees.
"Not at all?"
You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed of the admittance. "No one has ever exactly been around to teach me."
You're no longer looking at him now, so you don't see the frown on his lips.
"I could teach you."
Your head jerks up. "That's probably not a good idea."
He takes another sip of his beer. "Why not?"
"What if...what if I hit something with your truck, or damage it?"
"I have insurance."
You nearly roll your eyes. "Ok, what if I hit a person?"
He notices your lip twitch, trying to fight a smile.
He grins. "It has a big bed."
You laugh and so does he. God, being with you is so easy.
He holds out the bottle to you. "Do you want a drink?"
You consider it for a moment, then of course shake your head. "No, thank you."
"Have you ever even drank before?"
You don't want to give him the answer to that either. "No."
"Really?" He asks, a bit of surprise to his tone—even if he isn't actually surprised at all. If it's 'bad' for you, he's sure you've never done it before.
You nod, feeling like a total fucking square. "How did they even give it to you in the first place?"
He stands, briefly removing his wallet from his back pocket and he hands you his fake ID.
"Oh."
"I can get you one made, if you want?"
You shake your head, handing it back to him. "I'm ok."
He likes you innocent and unknowing, but he isn't used to someone being so...within the lines. He can't tell whether he wants to corrupt you or not. Perhaps he'll just start with doing so in bed and go from there when the time comes.
Once he has you daydreaming about his cock, he'll move onto bigger targets.
He puts his wallet back away, then jerks his head back toward the bowling alley. "Your turn, sweetheart."
Halfway through the game, you get your first strike and you squeal in delight, causing a smile to breakout across Nate's face.
You jump up and down, then run toward him and he catches you in his arms just in time as you wrap your legs around his waist, only spilling a little of his beer. "I did it!"
He laughs, loving seeing you so fucking happy for just one moment.
"I see that, baby."
You're so pleased with yourself that you barely even catch the new term-of-endearment he's given you.
You look down at him, your hair falling over his face as he looks up at you. "Sorry, that was exciting," you say with a laugh.
One arm firmly holds you up, under you bottom, while the other comes up to cup your cheek. "I like seeing you happy like this. You don't smile nearly enough."
He should really make more of an effort to get you drunk before the two of you leave. He has a feeling you're a happy one, and if he's extra lucky—all the alcohol will go straight between your legs.
You beam at him again, trying to prove him wrong, and all he wants is to kiss you until you can't breathe.
Finally, he lowers you back to your feet and you sit, now excited, as he takes his turn again.
You skip through the parking lot, your hand in his, completely elated at having won.
And to your knowledge, it was fair and square.
Even if Nate knows otherwise.
He'd offered to buy another game, but you'd told him you were starting to get tired, so he'd agreed to take you home, even if he wanted to stay out with you all night. Preferably in the back seat of his truck with your clothes off and lying underneath him as he explores your soft, sensitive body.
Instead, you sit in the passenger seat, all smiles and giggles as he drives you back home.
He's in enough of a good mood himself that he turns up the radio, some song with thumping bass coming through the speakers, as he rolls the windows down, the warm summer night air blowing your hair.
Nate, now actually nervous—afraid he's about to ruin everything—reaches over, resting his palm over your bare knee.
You don't push it away. Instead, you simply glance at it for a moment, feeling something...something you're not sure how to describe at the sight of him touching you like that, and then lean back, content to leave his hand right where it is.
And so he does. The entire drive back to your place.
It doesn't matter how desperately he wants to, he doesn't move it any higher.
Once he's pulled into your driveway, he removes his hand, your leg now feeling cold, and kills the engine. You unbuckle yourself and turn toward him. "I know we said it earlier, but I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, for dinner and bowling and just...today."
He reaches up, running his fingers through your now-tangled hair. "It was my pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"
You nod, smiling. "I'd like that."
He wants to lean across the console and kiss you, but once again tells himself no. Something he's quickly tiring of having to do.
He glances out the windshield. "I'll walk you to the door."
He retrieves the Nordstrom bag from the backseat before coming around to your side, holding it behind his back as he offers you his hand to help you down.
Nate walks you to your door, watching as you unlock it. He wishes you'd just come back to his house instead, but doesn't dare suggest as much. He'd rather you sleep in his bed with him than stay in this empty house where you're not safe on your own.
Even if he'd made sure you were a couple night this last week when he parked across the street, a couple houses down, pistol in his glovebox. Just incase.
You look up to him with a shy smile. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," he replies, handing you the shopping bag.
Your brows furrow. "I thought this was for your mom?"
He shrugs. "I lied. I wanted to buy you something all day, but knew if I asked, you'd tell me no. This way was easier."
You're not sure how to feel about the fact he'd lied to you so easily. Had made—most likely, if the brand-name on the bag is any indication—a rather expensive purchase for you. You're just not sure why.
Before you can bother asking, he plants a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Hope you like it," he says before heading back to his truck.
Once you're inside and in your room, you immediately start pulling out the contents from the bag and setting them on your bed. Your heartrate only rises with each item. A small bag from Sephora, another one from Tiffany, and four clothing items from Nordstrom—one being the dress he'd asked you to try on.
You feel lightheaded at the price tags on the clothing. But when you look in the Tiffany bag—pull out the jewelry box and open it, you sit down on the edge of your bed.
A diamond necklace.
"Nate..." you whisper to yourself in a panicked voice, wondering what had gotten into him to think that this is ok.
Surely...surely this item is meant for his mom. He'd just accidently thrown it in with everything else.
You pick up your phone with shaking hands, drop it, then pick it back up once again and call him.
"Hey, everything okay? I'm not too far away. I can turn back arou-"
You shake your head, despite the fact he can't see it. "The...the necklace for your mom, you accidentally put it in with-"
"I didn't get it for my mom. Everything there was purchased for you."
You go quiet suddenly, forcing Nate to check that you're even still on the line. He waits for you to respond.
"Nate, I don't know that I feel comfortable with this."
He slams on the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road, throwing the truck in park. "With what?"
"It...it'd be one thing if you'd bought me some cheap keychain or t-shirt or something. But all of this...do I even want to know how much this necklace costs?"
"Probably not," he replies, nonchalantly. Even if he wants to tell you that it was over a grand.
You hang your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You don't need to buy me stuff to try and repay me for tutoring you. I do it for free because I like helping people."
"I didn't do it for that."
"Then why?"
How to say, without alarming you: it makes my dick hard spoiling and spending obscene amounts of money on you?
"I just wanted to give you a few nice things. That's all."
"Nate, I don't-"
"Listen, do you want to repay me?"
You go quiet again. Meanwhile, he wants to say, if you say yes: then do it in sexual favors, starting with letting me wrap you hair around my fist as I face-fuck you.
"How?"
"Enjoy it. Wear the white dress and necklace to school on Monday." He wants to throw in the blush, but doesn't, hoping you'll decide to use that all on your own.
You lay back on your bed. "It's all very nice and pretty, and I appreciate it immensely. But-"
"Do you want me to turn around and come get it?" His tone is now the slightest bit annoyed. "If you don't like it, you can tell me. You're not going to hurt my feelings. I'm sorry, I guess I fucked up."
You feel guilty now somehow. Like you're being ungrateful. Even if you hadn't asked for any of it. Maybe...maybe this is what Nate thinks you have to do to make friends: buy their affection?
When you grow up wealthy like he has, you reason, it makes sense.
"No, I'm sorry." Your voice is soft and gentle and feminine now, and he relaxes, his grip on his phone loosening.
You don't even realize it, but his sudden shift in mood had been so imperceptible that it had scared you.
All you do know is that you somehow feel wrong, but you're not sure how, exactly. So, you just brush it off and blame it on being tired. Blame it on anything but him.
"I'm just...I'm not used to people buying me gifts. It's very sweet of you. Thank you," you say as you lightly run your fingers over the soft material of the white dress he wants you to wear in a couple of days.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
You're not sure how to feel about the pet names, either, but don't want to hurt his feelings again, so you ignore your discomfort.
"I'm going to go take a shower and throw my new clothes in the washer. Be safe driving home. Goodnight...again," you say it with a small laugh.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagine#euphoria x you#euphoria x reader#whew lad look at me exploring my emotional abuse trauma through my writing#i hope this chap doesn't suck‚ i feel like it sucks
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Golden Week Happy Bag 2024
Kagari’s Story
One day, during my stay in Kogyoku, I had been whisked away by Kagari.
Kagari: "Princess."
Emma: "Wah...!"
Suddenly pulled back by the shoulders, I instinctively cling to Kagari sitting beside me.
Kagari: "...You were leaning too far forward. You would have fallen if you stayed like that."
Emma: "Oops, Sorry, I'll be more careful."
Kagari: "You better be. If you get injured, it'll ruin the cherry blossom viewing."
(Even though it was you who forcefully brought me here...)
(But you don't often get to see such a beautiful view, do you?)
The place where Kagari took me to was atop a cherry blossom tree in the castle with red tiles.
The fully bloomed cherry blossoms filling my sight, along with the blue sky and the town visible through the gaps, create a fantastical scene like a painting.
I gaze in wonder, as a gentle breeze caresses my skin, carrying the cherry blossom petals that fluttered around.
(It's beautiful...)
Kagari: "In Kogyoku, it's said that if you can catch falling cherry blossom petals with your non-dominant hand, you'll find happiness."
Kagari: "I suppose you want to try it, Princess?"
Emma: "Of course. I'll make it happen in one go, so please watch."
Focusing on the fluttering petals, I waited for the right moment.
(Now!)
Kagari: "..."
(Here it is!)
Kagari: "..."
(This time for sure!)
Emma: "That's odd, seems like I'm off my game today."
Kagari: "Just admit that your reflexes and visual acuity are lacking."
(Well... that's harsh.)
The result was a crushing defeat, ending with me just grabbing at thin air.
Kagari: "Your hair seems to be doing a better job."
As soon as the hand wrapped in red gloves touched my hair, petals began to fall from it.
Kagari: "That’s one, two, three... four petals."
Emma: "That's a lot."
Kagari: "It seems you're fond of this cherry blossom. Hold still since there are still some left."
Emma: "Uh, okay."
(It feels like being petted on the head. It's nice, but a little embarrassing.)
Pretending not to notice the warmth on my cheeks, I wait for Kagari to withdraw his hand.
Kagari: "..."
Emma: "Um, is something the matter, Kagari?"
Noticing the intense gaze, I keep my gaze on Kagari without averting them.
For some reason, Kagari takes a cherry blossom petal from my hair and puts it in his own, then tilts his head towards me.
(Is he… asking me to take it?)
Reaching out to his fiery red hair, I pluck the petal.
Occasionally, my hand is pressed against his head, and instinctively, I start to stroke it...
(Ah… it feels like being affectionately approached by a big cat, it's cute.)
Seeing a slight softening in his expression, my heart tightens.
Kagari: "Is it over already?"
Emma: "Yes. I've taken all the petals out."
Kagari: "...I see."
(Somehow, he seems disappointed.)
(Come to think of it, why did Kagari bring me to see the cherry blossoms?)
Subordinate: "Your highness."
I lowered my gaze at the sudden voice to find Kagari's subordinate standing there.
Subordinate: "The preparations for the meeting are complete."
Kagari: "Alright. You may proceed with it."
Subordinate: "Yes, understood."
(A meeting...)
●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●
Emma: "Um, Kagari, you seem to be injured..."
Kagari: "It's not my blood."
Kagari: "Your timing is truly terrible, Princess."
●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●
(Is another battle about to begin?)
Anxiety and fear crawl up my spine as the image of Kagari covered in blood flashes in my mind.
(I’d been taught that battles are like everyday occurrences in Kogyoku.)
(Still, I hope the damage isn't too severe.)
Although I'm an outsider, I can't help but earnestly wish for it.
Kagari: "...Apologies are meaningless now."
Emma: "Huh?"
When I looked up, the expressionless emerald eyes that had been staring at me turned towards the cherry blossoms as if passing by.
Kagari: "The cherry blossom viewing is over. It was a good distraction."
The wind once again stirred the cherry blossoms, showering petals.
Kagari effortlessly plucked a petal dancing in the air between his thumb and forefinger, and offered it to me.
Kagari: "A petal caught by a demon should have some effect."
Emma: "Only some effect?"
Kagari: "Don't want it? Fine then, suit yourself."
Kagari: "Did you want to become that happy?"
Emma: "I want it because it's a petal you caught for me."
Kagari: "Is that so?"
Emma: "Yes, it is."
Kagari: "...I see. It feels good to hear that."
Emma: "Thank you. I'll treasure it."
(An apology... Was that the meaning behind the cherry blossom viewing?)
(Yasha and battle maniac are terms used to describe him, but at heart, he's a kind person.)
I carefully cradle the received petal in both hands, making sure it doesn't get swept away by the wind.
(Another memory that's been made in here in kogyoku.)
Kagari: "You're that happy over just one petal? You're an easy-to-please Princess."
Emma: "Whoa...!?"
As I’m forcefully pulled closer, Kagari scooped me up in his arms and descended from the cherry blossom tree.
He’s always abrupt and forceful like this.
As my feet touch the ground, a sense of loneliness washes over me, as if signaling the end of a dream.
Kagari: "Farewell, Princess."
Emma: "...Yes."
(I've met Kagari many times already.)
(Yet... he never says "see you later," does he?)
▼・ᴥ・▼
#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikepri jp#ikemen prince spoilers#ikepri spoilers#ikepri translations#kagari amagase#ikepri kagari
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Headcanons of Lucifer watching his s/o and Charlie getting along and maybe even having a little musical note together I just know he'd be getting all teary eyed and shit seeing his baby girl having some form of mother figure or someone she can really look to for advice currently present in her life ❤️ Thanks sm hope u have a good day/night!
Absolutely!
I think at first the relationship between Charlie and anyone her dad dates is awkward because she's so nice and trying to be supportive and Lucifer's new s/o would be trying too hard to create that bond. But steadily, you two would find real things you have in common and begin spending time together.
I'm going to use myself for reference here, but I personally really like arts and crafts kind of stuff and am willing to listen to pretty much all genres of music as long as I like the beat/rhythm. So I imagine most of your bonding is done making posters for the hotel, doing crafts with the guests, and just in general vibing to music together.
Like, one suggested activity for the group is coloring because it's a good outlet and it becomes so popular you guys just have a permanent stack of coloring pages and books available with marker, pens, colored pencils, and you, Charlie, Lucifer, and Vaggie are all just coloring and talking, Lucifer's telling embarrassing stories about baby Charlie for you and Vaggie, and you share a few embarrassing stories of yourself to make Charlie feel better and the absolute relief on her face is palpable.
Charlie is nervous because some sinners critiqued her hotel, her appearance, how her dad had to bail her out in the fight against heaven and it's all just making her upset. And of course her dad and her girlfriend are gonna say stuff about how she's beautiful, the hotel is a wonderful idea, and she was so brave in that fight. And like, yeah you're dating her dad and you've been super nice so far, but when you sit down next to her and ask quietly, "Can I offer you some advice?"
"Please? I feel like I don't know what I'm doing."
You laugh, patting her shoulder. "You're young, Charlie, you're not supposed to have it all figured out. But one thing you can do, is decide not to let judgemental pricks get to you. Take every criticism with a grain of salt. Improve, adapt, and filter out bullshit. You can't make everyone happy, and you'll exhaust yourself if you try. So as long as you're happy and at the end of the day you can say you're proud of what you've done, that you tried....well, that should be enough, right?"
Charlie thinks about it and nods. There's a visible shift in her attitude. "Thanks, I needed to hear that....Do you think you could help me read through some of the reviews and stuff? I want to improve if there's any genuine issue that I can address and Dad and Vaggie are....a lot. They just keep trying to tell me everything is perfect."
"They're just trying to hype you up. They love you a lot, so naturally they want you to feel successful and excited. Come on, let's go make some big bowls of ice cream and read through those reviews using silly AI voices. It'll be hilarious."
You and Charlie head off to do just that, talkin and laughing, and neither one of you notices Lucifer absolutely melting into the floor from a few floors up, as he clings to the railing he was leaning against to ease drop. He's gonna need a few minutes to recover. He's crying happy tears. His little girl is grown up and getting along with his partner and they're spending time together and enjoying things together. You're giving her advice and offering her comfort and meeting Charlienat her level and he's just more convinced you're perfect.
He may or may not be ring shopping in the near future. Probably with Ozzie and Bee. They've always had good taste and will probably be thrilled to help him. And if Ozzie is also casually looking for a ring while they're out, well, Lucifer won't say anything.
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hello!! hi. i hope you are not too busy. i have been enjoying your 'falling in love' hcs for the ts characters, and i was wondering if i could ask for the same concept with kuras? if possible? please take your time with it. ^_^ i thinjk he would be silly with it but would also want to biblically smite the reader with his mind (/affectionate) . or you two are psychoanalyzing each other from opposite sides of the room FAR away from each other. I Dont Know. packingf my suitcase and leaving
KURAS FALLING IN LOVE
gn!reader | didn't realize how poor a read i have on his possible plot until writing this. my bad. good job red spring studio U and ur mysteries and kuras's identity in the overarching lore got me this time...
this is going to be the most normal start of a relationship of the LIs. like he's just ('just') a doctor. you're about to strangers -> friends this through coffee and chatting
kuras doesn't...seek you out? not at first. that's not to say he isn't interested by you, but he has a job (and secrets) to handle. but he welcomes your visits as long as he has a break!
it starts with offering to grab or buy something, then staying and helping, learning about a random medicine he has on the counter, and then you're a semi-regular presence at the clinic, and you know which cabinets to check for the average sickness/bandaging. his practiced smile turns into a genuine one when you come through the door. he's asking how your trip was, catching you up on what's been happening lately
one moment i feel might happen is you finding yourself in his clinic, needing his help again,, hopefully your clothes are in tact this time. he jokes about how he'd rather not see you on the cot if you wanted to visit again.
little pranks...!! the senobium or him. roleplaying to throw guards off your trail y'know. getting to see that playful side of him :3
if it's him, he pranks you back, shooting you the same 'innocent' smile he does the guards. be careful about spilling that ink. you've been misplacing papers and pens all day too, haven't you? are you feeling alright?
another moment is. it's hard to say what, but you unknowingly say something tied to his situation. you casually drop your opinion on guilt and atonement—smth smth how guilt will rot and your atonement will never end if you don't let it smth smth the evil that others do with your kindness does not corrupt you smth smth—and it gets him.. Thinking. ! maybe you find those stories about a teacher and harbinger of chaos, and after bringing it up to kuras, he asks you for your opinion on them.
!! one moment i hope we get is kuras 'letting loose' or being silly. laughing really loud and apologizing as it lessens to a chuckle. trying to eat food because you don't know he doesn't eat, and it goes terribly wrong so he gives up and lets you laugh at him
LOL the psychoanalyzing. you say something and he has a weird reaction like Hm. sure, of course. and you're like ??? and he tells you it's nothing, just that that makes sense for you. and you're like Woah you wanna talk about My observations about You? and kuras looks at you like [ !! ] [ ?! ]
there's also small things that suddenly feel more intimate—him cleaning up a wound on your face and holding eye contact, his fingers lingering as they brush your cheek. you instinctively reaching for him when someone bumps into you, and him making sure you're alright.
kuras starts taking more initiative by inviting you to join him places and talking about himself. (cue joke about how information is power and him saying he'll make an exception for you.)
but it won't be all sunshine and rainbows considering he's an incredibly old angel and he has. shit going on.... who knows what shit honestly
you notice how he still doesn't share everything, which is fair enough—you're not spilling your entire life story either. but you still don't know basic things about this guy, you don't even know how he's kept his clothes clean all this time or how Old he is
that distance kuras keeps between you grows again because he doesn't want you to get in harm's way, and it's inevitable if you stick too close. he's an expert at dodging questions, answering just enough to keep people satisfied, but what does this mean for you? someone he's unexpectedly grown fond of, and who keeps calling him out for it?
you voice what you're both thinking. he has a frustrated expression when you point out you both like each other, and you want to help him for once, because ??!! he doesn't know what to do here.
something something, kuras's true form, him invalidating all the good he's done for the chaos and ruin he's brought, the world before, being the one to help him find forgiveness, the divine as neither good nor bad, kuras defining himself outside of a teacher and sinner Something Somethigngggaaghhh
Honestly. i've been messing with both ideas in my head and i haven't picked one i enjoy more so.
there's kuras, who's never been in love and is suddenly fumbling for once, trying really hard to 'do it right' and figuring out what it means to be in a relationship and in love (he's overthinking) (he was doing alright) (he asks ais/mhin for their opinions)
and then there's kuras who goes with what he was doing before, just with more affection/intimacy, because seriously he was already doing a great job at being a good partner :sob:
i think kuras's feelings are a slow burn themself. like, he takes the time to get to know you, to open up, etc, and he wouldn't define what he feels as 'being in love' for a while ?? he knows you're incredible important to him, and know him better than...probably anyone else. but he thinks "i love you" is a very significant thing to think and say out loud and he wants to make sure he knows for sure.
if you wait for him to say it first, i think he'd make it a really special moment! ^^ he thinks for a while about how to do it and, maybe uncharacteristically, gets nervous. his face lights up in its own way when you say it back (not a huge face-splitting grin, but his smile does grow and it's obvious he's relieved/happy)
it isn't often that the doctor is thrown off his game, especially not for longer than a few minutes, so if you ever casually, and Very Quickly*, say "love you" while you're leaving, it's a Sight to See. imagining ais coming to see him and going ...?? when kuras opens the wrong cabinet for the most basic medicine. he applauds your work the next time you see him
*very quickly because if you're in a situation where you're alone and he isn't needed, he's going to stop you?? like what?? can we have a conversation about this (not mad just stunned and values communication and also in love with you and)
#touchstarved x reader#kuras x reader#got writers block specifically for reqs... Again... but i pushed through! i got it. hah#not proofreading this i dont know whats been written If theres a typo. ... dont even tell me. judtodntlekdlcmekdn
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apologies if this has been asked/answered/referenced somewhere i haven't seen but where did the title for 'oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)' come from??? every time i see/read it i feel like i've read something inherently profound. if you came up with it you're even more of a poet and a genius than reading the fic had led me to believe - which was a lot lol (seriously it's so good, literally how???????????????????? i feel like this title is haunting me and the fic has definitely caused some level of brain rot)
THANK YOU FOR SAYING IT GAVE YOU BRAIN ROT. I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO FLATTERED.
The closest I have come to talking bout the title is here but at that point the title was still redacted on my posts so I'd say that barely counts!
So this is going to be long. Do try to bear with me, I've done my best.
The title is pieced together from two different song lyrics, but I think I did an excellent job in both picking a title that echoes the themes AND in smushing it together to make something new.
Oh god you're gonna get it is from Florence + The Machine's 'Girls Against God', which is one of those songs that came on when I was deep in the blorbo feels and they imprinted on the song so now that song just is a Roy Kent song to me, with many parts of it speaking to the vibe I wanted to bring into this fic. The quiet helplessness, the barely restrained incandescent rage -- all set against tragic, mundane life.
What I love most about this part of the title is that it's so loaded with meaning. Because 'oh god you're gonna get it' can read as 'oh god, you will understand'. Is it reassurance? Is it telling someone that it's okay if you're confused and lost now, because in the future they will understand?
Is it foreshadowing? Is it a warning? 'Oh enjoy you're obliviousness and confusion now, because one day it will make sense and you will understand. Oh god, will you ever understand.'
Then we have the part of the song that contains the title:
Oh God, you're gonna get it
You'll be sorry that you messed with us
And here it becomes a threat of violence, and echo of rage acting against outside forces.
So that's part 1 of the title.
The nested part of the title, the part in parenthesis, is 'you have not been given love' by A Balladeer. Now, this song is more vibes than lyrics, though it does have some echoing ideas towards Jamie regarding generational trauma. That mixed with the lamenting tonality with which it's sung made this one really stick out.
Well, that and the fact that the title is repeated no less than sixteen fucking times. You can see why it was stuck in my head, yes?
Again, though, the lyric when taken at face-value feels loaded with meaning. On the one hand, it's someone recognizing, 'oh, I understand now. there have been circumstances in your life that have brought you to were you are now, and how you are able to perceive love has been directly affected by how you have not received it before.' But then it's also saying 'hey, those things you lived through, those things that other people gave you. those weren't love. you know that right?' And finally it's an understanding about someone, 'oh, you are an unfed thing. you do not know what love is, because you have never been given it'
Even if you take each part of the song piecemeal, with each section representing a different character, you end up with a fascinating tension. But if we combine the two we get this reverberation between the getting and the given. 'You will get', and nested with it 'you have not been given'. You will get your understanding (that you have not been given love). Oh god you will understand (that you are an unloved thing). You will make them pay (for they did not give you love). And most importantly
Oh god you're gonna to get (the love you were not given)
#I hope this makes sense#thank you so much for your wonderful message - I quite literally thought about it all day#and I'm glad you've enjoyed my one very very long chapter so far!#fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)#ask box is always open#fic testimonials
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Happy Pride!
This has been incredible to work on! There are 170 characters here, with only 5 of them being my own.
I want to say thank you to everyone who took part, without you this wouldn’t have been possible! It means so much to me that so many people wanted to help me with this.
Below the cut is everyone who sent me characters as well as every colour individually so you can see them better!
Thank you to:
@kerra-and-company, @krewe-yukii, @sylvarilining, @where-is-caithe, @thatonebirbnerd, @bonethot, @sheepaleepz, @moonlit-grove, @kamiporterbridges, @commander-gloryforge, @chibilllama, @menotthatkindoforc, @commander-triangle, @i-mybrunettelady, @chyoatas, @anarrowthroughtimesideblog, @engineer-makk, @storm-called, @dasozelotvonnebenan, @commander-wame, @thorns-and-brambles, @uselessidiotsquad, @redwoodrroad, @keverbloomgames, @creativebrainrot, @kingmaker-twice, @fractured-rift, @warhorns, @archesa, @mythicbox, @nyoka-gorefell, @cycle-of-dusk, @virtue-of-justice, @space-plume, @vampiricsheep, @looseinthecatroom, @orrianreaper, @nozoryx, @thiefseeker, @astralarias, @senterya, @celticrune, @waterhobbit, @spxtr99, @silentsable, @cryptichobbit (sorry to those last three, I’m not sure why i can’t tag you!)
If I somehow missed you, tell me so I can add you!
And thank you to everyone who shared this project, even if you didn’t take part!
A special thank you to the official GW2 tumblr for sharing this as well!
#gw2#guild wars 2#gw2 fan submission#gw2prideflag#i cannot put into words how wonderful working on this was#i am so happy i got to bring together all these incredible characters#i did have to move a few around but mostly characters are where people asked me to put them!#i could get all sappy about why this matters so much but i shan't#also hahaha i managed to get two characters i know are a couple to line up#i made all of these seperately so i had to guess#and it worked out well#also if you're this far in the tags#hi!#i hope you're doing well#you deserve the best#i am here if you need me#okay bye bye!#have a good day!
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Wakes up. Chooses violence. Against himself - by knocking his head on the doorframe. Why is this his life.
#[ fjfjjf THE LIFE OF A 215 CM MAN ]#[ i'm tiny i can't relate ]#[ but anyways !! HELLO GUYS!! ]#[ man oh man i have been super busy these days ]#[ but i have had a LOT of fun wtf ]#[ my life is so !! fun !! so many nice people !! so much stuff to do !! ]#[ and then i come online here when i have a day to rest and everyone is so sweet and aaa ]#[ love my online friends so much t-t ]#[ and of course I MISSED NNOITRA ]#[ my best boi ]#[ i'm super far behind on drafts asks messages ect ]#[ gonna work hard !! ]#[ hope you're all having a wonderful day! and thank you very much for your patience and the asks you sent me! ;O; ]#despair for me. ╱ in character.#burn the city. ╱ main verse.
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More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰
Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)
Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader
A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.
Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues
[First part]
The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."
Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.
Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."
"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.
Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.
"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.
Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.
"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."
Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."
Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.
Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#monster x reader#monster x human#terato#teratophillia#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#monster imagine#monster romance#monster husband#monster smut#monster fucker#female reader
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good morning~
#i'm tired :/#like i know why but it's annoying#i got extra sleep too and my body's just like 'nope' lol#i'll answer the ask from last night... sometime today#i think that's all i have to say so far this morning#hope you're all having a wonderful day/night <3#morning rambles
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Sex Tutor
Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.
A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!
Word Count: 10k
Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink
. . .
“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”
That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough
You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.
So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.
“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”
“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.
“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”
You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”
Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.
“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.
“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”
You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.
And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.
Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.
Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.
Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.
Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.
Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.
You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.
Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.
You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.
Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.
You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.
He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”
You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.
When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.
He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”
Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.
You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.
“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”
He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”
Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.
“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.
Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”
You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.
“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”
He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”
You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”
He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”
You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”
“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”
You nodded again.
Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”
“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”
He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.
But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.
Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.
And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…
You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”
“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.
“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”
Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.
“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”
You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.
“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.
So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.
Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.
“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.
He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.
When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.
He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.
“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”
You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.
“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”
You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.
Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”
You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”
“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”
“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”
Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”
“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.
“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”
It made sense you guessed.
“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”
He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”
You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.
“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“
“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”
“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.
You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.
“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”
You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”
Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”
Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”
“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”
Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”
“Did it turn you on?”
Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”
Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”
You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”
“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”
“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”
It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.
“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”
Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”
You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”
Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”
You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.
“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”
“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”
“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”
It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.
He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”
You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.
“So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”
You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”
Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.
It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.
For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.
“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”
He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.
You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.
Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”
He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.
Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.
“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”
You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”
Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“
“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”
“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”
Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.
The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.
Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”
You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”
“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”
You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.
Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”
You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”
You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.
You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”
You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”
“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”
You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.
You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.
He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.
He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.
“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”
You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”
He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”
You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.
The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.
“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”
You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”
Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”
You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”
“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.
After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.
Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”
You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”
Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”
Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.
When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”
The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.
The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.
And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.
Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.
It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).
The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.
He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.
When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.
Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.
“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.
“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.
Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”
You nodded.
“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.
He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”
Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.
You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.
“Fuck! Yes…”
You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.
You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.
He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”
You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”
He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.
You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.
When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.
And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.
But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.
Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.
He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”
You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…
You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.
“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.
A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.
Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.
“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”
Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.
And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.
Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.
The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.
“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”
Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.
When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”
He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”
He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.
You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.
You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.
He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.
When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.
You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”
But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.
When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.
“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”
He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.
He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.
The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.
Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.
You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.
“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.
You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.
If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.
He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.
“Did that all for me? Yeah?”
You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.
“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.
Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.
“Feel okay?”
You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”
“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.
You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”
You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.
“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”
There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.
Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.
You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.
When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.
“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”
He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”
“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“
He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.
You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”
“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”
PART 2 COMING SOON
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What the hell happens in the pikmin game?? Those little colourful bitches have been around for ages, but i never bothered looking them up, i just figured they were cute little mascots of some game. But your posts are making me question everything. Is it a horror game? (I know i could just google it, but asking you is funnier)
Yeah you're right asking me is much funnier :)
Pikmin is a fun and relaxing game! You play as a little astronaut man who gets to spend his days growing Pikmin, who are sweet and peaceful little plant creatures with leaves, buds, or flowers on their heads. You can corral them around with a little trumpet, like a bouquet of flowers following you through the pretty and whimsical landscapes of planet PNF-404 :)
Wait did I say fun and relaxing?
Sorry, typo.
It's a brutal skill-based survival game (❁´◡`❁)
So then maybe you're wondering, what's up with the Pikmin? What was that about growing a bunch of little flower guys? Well growing the Pikmin is super important!
It's super duper important mainly because you need to replace the Pikmin who die in the carnage of battle for you!
Battle against what?
Everything.
See on PNF-404, Pikmin are the bottom of the food chain. Just about every living breathing creature on this planet is orders of magnitude larger than the Pikmin and munch Pikmin by the hundreds for breakfast. Predators will do this instinctively. They will do this unprompted. They will do this while you're not looking. They will do this endlessly until every last Pikmin is dead.
So... what good are the Pikmin? What chance do they stand?
Really easy. Pikmin are the most violent creatures in the entire game 🥰🥰🥰.
How else do you survive when you're small and fragile other than incredible violence? Pikmin can exist out and about in swarms of up to 100. And the only way to survive predators as small little leaf creatures is to beat those predators to death with incredible mob violence before they can kill all of you.
Pikmin don't die like plants. They die like warriors.
And sometimes, this is the hardest mechanic to handle. Left to their own devices Pikmin will seek to shed blood. It's up to you to call them away from orchestrating their own demise, their own pursuit of the glory of Valhalla. It's in their nature. It's in their plant-blood.
And they go down hard. They shriek when snapped up in the jaws of predators. They glub and wail when drowning in water. They trill out screams when on fire. They choke and cough in poison. They die instantly to electricity. And you'll know a Pikmin is well and truly dead once it lets out a final whimper, and a ghost drifts away from where it once stood. This can happen by the dozens. This can happen to all 100 at once.
So wait, wait I've gotten far ahead of myself. Why the violence? Why the death? Why the fighting? What was that about a little astronaut man?
Well your astronaut man is Olimar, an honest and simple family man who's a freight ship captain from his home planet of Hocotate. He's a truck driver! He's just a guy taking his first vacation in years.
And a meteorite strikes his ship, tearing it to pieces as it crash-lands on a completely uncharted planet. Welcome to PNF-404...
And so you're Olimar. A truck driver. A nice dad. A victim of capitalism with the world's worst boss. Out on vacation.
Your ship is destroyed. No one is coming for you. No one will save you.
The oxygen on PNF-404 is poisonous.
You have 30 days before your life support system runs out.
You have 30 days until you die a brutal and lonely death.
Your only hope is to find every scattered missing piece of your ship--30 of them--strewn across the planet, return them to your ship, and repair it, before your 30 days are up.
But this is simply impossible. You're one tiny little man. You wouldn't be able to lift a single piece of your ship, let alone 30 of them, let alone doing so while fending off the wildlife hellbent on killing you.
But the Pikmin seem to like you...
So all that death? All the carnage and destruction? It's all in the effort to repair Olimar's ship before he suffocates. You pave a path of destruction decorated with the bodies of any creature that stands before you and your missing ship pieces.
The Pikmin do it. The Pikmin trust you. The Pikmin follow your command and die by your command. After all, you're growing their species. Oh did I forget to explain that part? The "how" of how growing Pikmin works?
Simple. Pikmin are grown from the corpses of the creatures they kill :).
If you kill something, the Pikmin take it back to their base and process it for pieces, and grow new Pikmin from it. That's how you get all the nice little flower creatures following you around. :)
Is it good enough? Can you sleep at night knowing that 50 creatures who trusted you implicitly were slaughtered under your misdirection? All to retrieve a hunk of metal which is 1/30 of the hope of getting you home alive? 100 slaughtered? 200? Day 30 is approaching. Things are looking bleak.
You're Olimar. Day 30 has arrived, and you haven't fully reconstructed your ship. You have no option to stay. Your life support has run out. You watch the Pikmin you've left behind, as you attempt to start up your ship which has not been safely repaired.
You try to take off, and try to make it home.
It does not go well.
But at least the Pikmin have another corpse to carry.
#pikmin#and maybe. if youre me. you are 6 years old the first time you get Olimar killed#because your sweet and well-meaning aunt bought the colorful little creature game for you for christmas#for your family's new game cube#chrissy talks pikmin
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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺
You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Vows
Sukuna x Reader
Word count: 4.5k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)
It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.
You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?
Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.
And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.
So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.
When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.
''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.
''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?
''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.
''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.
But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.
You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''
''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.
''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.
That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.
Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.
It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.
You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.
Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.
''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.
''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.
"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.
Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.
You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.
You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.
"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.
You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.
-
You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.
He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.
"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.
Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"
There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.
"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."
You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.
"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."
You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.
He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?
Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.
-
Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.
He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.
He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.
He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.
You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.
You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''
''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?
''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...
''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''
You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.
Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.
You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.
Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.
''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.
''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.
Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.
Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''
You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.
-
You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.
And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.
He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.
You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.
When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.
He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.
You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.
''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.
He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.
"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."
Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.
The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.
Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.
And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.
Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.
Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.
The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.
Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst#sukuna#soft sukuna#i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics#also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader#yes weve heard it a thousand times#idc it makes me happy
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A one shot where Bucky doesn’t like the reader and makes her life at the compound a little rough? Like enemies (maybe to lover or friends?) and she is like the sunshine personality 🥺🥺🥺
I live for this shit This type of angst where he's mean and finds her annoying even though she's a sweetheart, ugh, yes. YES.
Bucky groaned, trying to ignore the shooting pain that seared in his abdomen, clutching an old t-shirt to stop the bleeding from the stab wound he'd received during his latest mission.
"You good there, terminator?" Sam cocked an eyebrow watching Bucky unconvincingly nod, grunting a half assed yes before squeezing his eyes shut and flopping back on the seat.
"You're gonna need stiches" Steve snorted, shaking his head at his stubborn friend.
"I'm fine" Bucky gritted out, preferring to bleed out on the jet instead of going to the med bay where he'd be surrounded by doctors and needles and if he was really unlucky, you.
"Seriously? That's the second shirt you've bled through, I don't think the serum's gonna cut it, punk" Steve sighed, knowing how Bucky felt about getting medical care but it wasn't like he had a choice. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky was shoved in the direction of the medical wing, pouting and grumpy as he limped with Steve supporting him. Bucky frowned when Steve pushed him to lay down on the examination table, grumbling and wincing under his breath.
"You stay here. I'm gonna finish writing up our reports, don't go sneaking off" Steve chuckled, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze before leaving. The soldier stared up at the florescent lights, his eyes anxiously darting about the room, hoping and praying that at the very least he wouldn't have to deal with-
"Good afternoon Bucky!"
For fucks sake.
Bucky groaned at the chirpy voice that piped up from the door, his brows knotted together from frustration.
He hated it. You'd ask about his day as if he wasn't there go get sewn up. You'd talk to him like you'd known him for years, almost oblivious to the fact that he was a former brain washed assassin. Every time he saw you, you were so giggly and pretty and bouncy and cute and happy and it irked his soul because it was to the point it was unnecessary. I mean you were just so kind and sweet to everyone as if everyone deserved such amazingness from such a wonderful person, okay that's enough Bucky.
The world wasn't fucking sunshine and rainbows and he had no idea why you acted like it was.
"Steve said you needed a few stitches so-
"Where's Dr. Cho" Bucky cut you off, hoping anyone else would help him so he could get on with his day, willing to take the needle and thread himself instead of having you do it while talking his ear off.
"Oh, she's with another patient right now but it's fine, I promise I'll get you out of here soon, do you mind if I remove your vest-
"Yeah, I got it" Bucky huffed, wincing to get his gear off but you stopped him, urging him to stay down.
"No, it's okay, I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, I'll cut it off, don't worry"
Bucky nodded, lying back down while you grabbed a tray with medical supplied, carefully cutting around the blood soaked material and discarding it. You cleaned the area, mumbling apologies incase the alcohol caused any pain, moving on to closing the cut.
"I heard about the mission you all went on. I can't even imagine going through all that, it sounded terrifying. You're very brave Sargent" You smiled, tossing your gloves aside after patching Bucky up. Bucky grunted as he hopped off the table without a word, ready to whack Steve on the head for telling you of all people he needed help.
"If you need anything else, let me know! Just get some rest for a few days, it'll heal soon-
"I know" Bucky walked out of the room without looking back, his shoulders relaxing when he was far away from he med wing. There was truly no reason for him to be this annoyed but he was tired, in pain and he knew for a fact there would be a pile of papers for him to fill out in the conference room.
You didn't take Bucky's grumpy attitude to heart, understanding the stress that came with going on missions, getting injured every time coupled with the fact that he was probably still healing from his own past. You put away the supplies before taking a coffee break, running into a very excited Tony along the way.
"Hey cupcake, just who I was looking for, do you like chocolate or vanilla"
"Tony, I told you, you don't have to-
"That doesn't answer the question. Pick one or the other or both or another flavor, all the flavours, but give me something"
You giggled at the way he looked at you expectantly, sighing seeing as he wouldn't let up until you answered.
"I'm not picky, you know I'd love anything. Get something everyone would like, seriously, I don't even need all this, I'm just the nurse-
"Stop that right now, there's no one else like you" Tony huffed, planting a quick kiss your head before texting his caterers about everything he wanted, ensuring everything was perfect, especially when it came to you.
-
You woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains, stretching before getting out of bed and padding over to the bathroom to go through your morning routine. You had the day off, throwing on your joggers instead of your typical scrubs and making your way down to the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for baking.
You hummed, scooping out spoons of cookie batter, plopping it onto the tray and throwing it into the oven, cleaning up the area in between, waiting for the oven timer to go off. You set the chocolate chip cookies onto a tray, piping the last bit of icing onto the top and sweeping away the smidges of frosting that got onto the counter.
Bucky blinked at the smell of baking, making his way to the kitchen for some water after a run. He groaned, nearly walking right back out when he saw you singing to yourself, arranging cookies in a circle, each one decorated for a different person in the tower.
"Good morning Bucky" You smiled while he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, "I-I made made cookies for everyone, did you want one?" You asked hopefully, looking at the little dog tags you'd piped on the cookie you made for him while he shrugged in response.
"Why do you keep trying so hard, do you not have any friends?" Bucky scoffed, ignoring the fresh plate of cookies that sat on the counter, not caring that your face had fallen. He wanted to strike a nerve, feeling a sick satisfaction at the way you silenced yourself, giving him the peace and quiet he wanted.
"S-sorry, I just thought-
"You thought what?" Buck cocked an eyebrow, the tick in his jaw making your stomach churn.
"Nothing, sorry" You mumbled, turning back to continue cleaning while he chugged the rest of the bottle. "I've just leave them here if you want one later on-
"No, I don't want one now and I don't think I'll want one later either" Bucky glared at you, tired of you always trying to do things for others as if anyone asked.
"I-I'm sorry I didn't-" you bit your lip hard to keep from crying, not wanting to annoy Bucky more.
"Why do you always act like everything great? Like we don't come back from almost dying, risking our lives while you go about like the world is perfect"
"I just-I didn't mean-
"You didn't mean what, to be annoying? Did anyone even ask for this?" Bucky nodded to the cookies while you shook your head, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, not realizing others also probably found you annoying.
"I-it was my birthday, I thought-" you sniffled, choking back a whimper, "I wanted to do something nice - never mind" You bit your lip to keep from breaking down, blinking back tears as you scurried off to your room, without looking back.
The initial satisfaction Bucky was short lived as he stood in the now empty kitchen, tossing the bottle aside. The plate caught his eye once more as he walked by, reluctantly stopping to look at each one, your skilled hands decorating each one with clean details. He instantly spotting the one you made for him which had been dusted with silver just like his tags; he had no idea how you managed to get his name and number piped to precisely.
Not that it mattered.
Bucky continued to make his way to the gym, feeling a little bad that he made you cry but he figured you'd get over soon enough, after all that seemed to be your strong suit, you were always happy and smiling anyway.
-
"You're coming tonight, right?" Steve dropped the weights he was curling while Bucky frowned, unsure of what the captain was referring to.
"Why, what's tonight" Bucky grunted, still in the middle of his set.
"Seriously, Tony told us like a month ago"
"Yeah, fine" Bucky huffed, not really caring what it was about, knowing he'd be dragged to go regardless. He finished the rest of his workout, retreating back to his room to shower. He flopped onto his bed after, grabbing a book from his bedside table seeing as there was still plenty of time till he had to get ready.
The book had been a Christmas present from you and as much as he hated to admit it, it was perfect and one of his favorites. He tried to focus on the words, feeling bad again thinking about how your face had fallen earlier when all you did was offer him a cookie.
Maybe he went a little overboard with his reaction...
Bucky shook the guilt he felt, hoping that you'd be running around somewhere getting ready for whatever tonight was.
-
"Where's y/n" Sam looked around the room seeing everyone else present but you, the night in full swing seeing as Tony had gone all out as usual "I swear she said she'd be here, this is literally her birthday party"
"I didn't see her" Nat frowned, putting down the drink she was sipping on, scanning the room again, "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen her all day"
Bucky felt a deep pang in his chest when he realized the party was for you, his stomach twisting in knots.
"Where's our birthday girl" Steve asked as he joined the others, the guilt making Bucky feel even more sick. He ran a hand over his face while the others continued to wonder where you were. "I hope she isn't working, she deserves a day off, she already worked over time for 3 months straight when we were running back to back missions"
Bucky remembered that.
They'd all been sent out on missions spread across different months and you'd been the one on call to patch them up the entire time. You hadn't complained once even through you were thoroughly sleep deprived. At the time Bucky was annoyed you were in such an upbeat mood when they were all scraping by but you had been struggling yourself.
"I fucked up" Bucky groaned, feeling awful for how he'd treated you in the morning and for how he'd been acting towards you in general.
"Why, what did you do" Steve's face twisted in confusion while Bucky's face reddened in embarrassment. Steve was aware Bucky complained about you but he figured it was because his bestfriend got flustered around the pretty nurse, he'd seen Bucky get tongue tied plenty of times whenever you walked by.
"You were a grumpy asshole to y/n, weren't you" Sam frowned seeing Bucky's guilty face. The soldier didn't say another word, leaving the group to find you instead, debating on getting Steve to clock him in the jaw first. Bucky ran to the elevator, pushing the button to your floor, hoping he'd see you making your way down, only to find the hallway empty. His heart broke hearing the soft sniffles coming from your room, the door closed. He gently knocked on the door, your cries quieting down as if you'd silenced yourself to pretend you were asleep instead of opening the door.
"Y/n?" Bucky called for you only to be met with more silence, "Can-can you please open the door?" His heart started to beat faster when he head your footsteps approaching the door, clicking the lock open; you were still in your joggers from earlier, your face puffy from crying.
All because of him.
"Sorry, I fell asleep" you lied, keeping your face trained on your feet, worried Bucky had come to yell at you about the party Tony had thrown for you, "and I'm sorry about the party, you didn't have to go if you didn't want to, I promise I didn't tell Tony you had to come, I know you don' like me-
"No, no baby no, stop" Bucky hushed you, his heart breaking when your voice cracked, rambling out apologies. His body moved on its own, wrapping his arms around you while you started to cry again, rocking you while holding you to his chest. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you have nothing to apologize for doll, nothing at all"
Bucky held you tightly while your body shook, feeling sick with himself for how he'd been treating you. You'd never been anything short of sweet and he'd made a point of always letting you know he couldn't care less. He lifted you in his arms, walking over to your bed, sitting down with you in his lap, ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
"I didn't mean to be so annoying" You shrugged, fidgeting with your fingers, the light that always made your eyes twinkle dimmed from Bucky's words.
"Y/n, please, no" Bucky whispered, pleading with you to stop. "Don't doll. It was never ever you, please let me apologize. I've been awful to you, you've done nothing wrong. You've always been an angel, sweets, it's me whose been an annoying asshole. I don't deserve your kindness but that's never stopped you from giving it to me when I least deserved it"
"You deserve kindness Bucky" you gave him a small smile, one that didn't meet your eyes and Bucky felt his eyes sting. Even when he was the one in the wrong, you were still comforting him with your sweetness.
"Y/n, I don't know anyone that deserves the sort of kindness you give. I don't know anyone that would deserve someone as wonderful as you. You're a light for everyone when its dark. I was a fuckin' idiot for everything I've ever said to you. That isn't an excuse for how I've been treating you doll, I know that. It's just- I've been awful to you and you've never done anything wrong. I'm truly sorry sweets"
"Its okay Bucky" You whispered, reaching up to wipe the tear that streaked down his face, your cheeks heating up when you realized you were still in his lap, "S-sorry, I didn't realize-
Bucky shook his head, holding you securely in his lap, not wanting to let you go.
"You have nothing to apologize for, pretty girl" Bucky shrugged, loosening his hold in case you wanted to get off but your doe eyes darted around instead, settling further in his lap. "You really are like sunshine"
"You're very charming, Sargent" you smiled bashfully while Bucky chuckled, his heart beating erratically in his chest when your hands came up to toy with the tags that hung around his neck.
"Would it-would it be if I kissed you?" He whispered shyly, blushing when you nodded, pressing his soft lips to yours. Bucky took his time kissing you, pouring every ounce of his feelings with soft touches, holding onto you like porcelain.
"Everyone's waiting for you sweets" Bucky gave you a gentle squeeze, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, hoping that you'd still want to go to your own party. "Would you like to go downstairs?"
You slinked off Bucky's lap to get ready, the soldier watching you with heart eyes the entire time you did your hair and makeup. He knew he had a lot to make up for, starting with the fact that he'd never hurt you again. He was still upset with himself for ever hurting you in the first place but he was ready to protect your innocent heart for the rest of his life. His breath hitched in his throat when you finished applying the last of your gloss, blushing when you slipped your hand into his so he could lead you down.
"Theres our cupcake!" Tony grinned when he saw you approaching, the rest of the team cheering making you giggle. Steve smirked seeing Bucky follow closely behind you in protective mode, keeping his hand around your waist. He spent the entire time, doting on you, following you like a lost puppy.
By the end of the night, he had you in his lap again, shamelessly looking at you with heart eyes while the rest of the team watched curiously, his sole focus on you.
"Happy birthday sweet girl" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you nuzzled into him with a shy smile, "My little sunshine"
-
Now imagine Bucky doesn't quickly get over the fact that he was a dick. Sure you forgave him because you're an absolute sweetheart but Bucky can't even deal with the way he'd acted, especially when he had a crush on you the entire time and just refused to acknowledge it, acting like a cunt instead.
He's the most lovestuck boyfriend to ever exist. Your office is always full of fresh flowers. He's a clingy little puppy, outside of the medwing until your done, always finding excuses to sneak in and see you. You had to tell him a papercut wasn't a good enough reason for him to request your services.
Neither was a stubbed toe.
The time he nicked himself while shaving was the worst because he was pouty until you kissed him better.
He slips his dog tags around you, his possessive/jealous side occasionally sneaking out.
He doesn't even hide the fact that he's a simp for you, knowing he's the luckiest person on the planet to get the sweetest person in the world. He shows your off like no tomorrow, proud of the angel he gets to call his.
He absolutely loved his sunshine.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x f reader#bucky x female yn#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fandom#bucky fan fics#bucky fan fic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky fluff#bucky barnes x fluff
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HAPPY MARRIAGE
- nanami kento x reader
“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love
genre:
post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!
note:
this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos
to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3
listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
No divorce ever comes easy.
When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.
When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.
Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.
“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—
“Gojo, you prick!”
Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"
Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”
"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"
"Wha—"
"Because of you!"
"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"
You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"
Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.
"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."
Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.
He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"
You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"
"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"
"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"
You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.
And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.
. . .
He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.
More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.
Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.
Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.
Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.
“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”
Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...
“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”
“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”
He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.
“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”
"Nanami-san, you okay?"
He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."
"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.
Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."
Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.
Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."
Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.
It might verge on invading his privacy, but—
"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."
To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."
"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."
"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."
"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"
Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.
"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."
"But still... now—"
To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:
"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."
Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."
Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”
In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.
It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.
“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”
Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.
It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.
"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"
You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...
And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."
That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.
"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"
You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.
"I'm fine."
"Oh, that's good then."
Silence. This was the absolute worst.
Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.
He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"
You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."
Darn it. Another dry reply.
"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."
"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."
"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."
"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."
Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.
"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.
It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.
"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.
Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?
"I can take care of myse—"
"That's a whole load of bullshit!"
Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?
The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.
“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”
"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"
Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.
Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—
Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.
Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.
"Oiii, Nanami!"
He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.
"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"
"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."
“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”
“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”
What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”
But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"
"What exactly is she not good with?"
"Everything? You never ask her."
This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.
"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."
With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—
He knew you were there, hearing all of this.
Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."
. . .
There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.
But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.
But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.
By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.
Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.
You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.
At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.
Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.
This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.
If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.
Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.
"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"
And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.
Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."
"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"
For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.
"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"
Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.
Until—
"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"
...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
You're hurt?
"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"
Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.
"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.
"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"
"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.
At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.
Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?
This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—
To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.
Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—
Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?
Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.
Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.
And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—
Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—
Huh, what?
The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.
"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.
His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.
“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”
“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”
“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”
“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”
“Gojo did—”
Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”
You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”
“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”
If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”
He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.
Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?
Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”
"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."
"Y/N, you're missing the—"
"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"
Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.
"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"
"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"
"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"
"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"
You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.
But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.
Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.
"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"
"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.
It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.
Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?
. . .
And that was when he decided it.
He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.
Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.
You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.
After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."
But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."
You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.
At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—
"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.
Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.
"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.
"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."
Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.
"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."
Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?
"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."
Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.
"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.
"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"
"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."
And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—
"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."
The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.
There was only one answer you had in mind.
Five years later
"Yes! Yes! Yay!"
Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.
A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.
The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.
The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.
As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.
"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.
"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"
"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.
Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"
"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."
"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."
"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."
Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.
Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...
And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.
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GOT WHAT YOU WANTED
summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.
now spinning: too many nights by metro & future
word count: 11.5k
warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)
truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry.
it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs.
those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.
to jj that is.
you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.
jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you.
“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this.
“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire.
jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.
“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.
“other.. boy?”
“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.
“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”
“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”
“no. it didn’t come up.”
“ah. got it.”
“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.
“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.
you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.
“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”
“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”
“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”
“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.”
“no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-”
“just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve.
and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.
but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it.
you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder.
“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”
“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you.
“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.
“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it.
it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.
“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”
“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.
“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”
“guys-”
“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”
“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”
“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.
“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj.
whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.
“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”
“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”
“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.
“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”
“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.
“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.”
“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.
“yes, you do.”
“no, i don’t.”
“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.
“no, she’s not.”
“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-”
“m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”
“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”
“no you fuckin’ don’t.”
“who are you to tell me-”
“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”
you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.
“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.
“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”
“what else do you want me to say, huh?”
“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”
“m’not ignoring anything-”
“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”
“shut up.”
“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”
“what? what do you want?”
“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”
“don’t talk like that.”
“rafe.”
exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you.
that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet.
you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with.
the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.
rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.
“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out.
you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.
“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.
“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.
“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”
“is that your way of apologizing?”
“it’s not an apology.”
“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”
“i didn’t.”
“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”
rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.
“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.
“thanks rafe.”
“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window.
“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.
“kid.”
“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.
“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.
“but you get to do it?”
“that’s different-”
“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.
“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”
“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”
“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”
“excuse me?”
“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”
“rafe. shut up.”
“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”
“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”
“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”
“rafe?”
“yeah?”
“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.
“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”
“goodbye, rafe.”
you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.
sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality.
then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you.
key word: maybe.
the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement.
maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.
you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.
.☘︎ ݁˖
rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him.
“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”
“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.
“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.
“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”
“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.
“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.
“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”
“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”
“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”
“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”
“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”
“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.
“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”
“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.
“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.”
“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.
he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped.
when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning.
you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.
if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you.
kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.
“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.
“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.
“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water.
“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”
“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.
“then shut up ‘bout it.”
“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.
when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.
“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you.
the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.
“yeah. i guess i am.”
you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.
“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.
“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”
“you need a ride?”
“no, i drove here, remember?”
“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”
“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.”
“yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.
“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.
“talk about it? talk about what?”
“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”
“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.
“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.
“oh my god-”
“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.
“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”
“what? your mom let me in.”
“you didn’t even text-”
“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”
“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”
“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.
“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.
“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”
“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.
“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”
“oh.”
“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.
“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.
“what about that girl?”
“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”
“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”
“oh. okay. promise?”
“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.
“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.
“alright. get on the bed.”
“rafe-”
“what? i just said-”
“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”
“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”
“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”
“ha-ha. get on the bed.”
“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”
“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”
you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe.
you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head.
the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.
rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.
“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”
“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.
“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.
he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.
“you wearin’ anything under this?”
he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no.
“good girl.”
your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties.
you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.
“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”
before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.
“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!”
“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”
you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.
you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you.
rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers.
“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand.
limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.
“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?
“nothin’.”
“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”
“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now.
“well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.
“what?”
“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea.
he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to.
“god, you’re such a boy.”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.
“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.
“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.
“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.
“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”
“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away.
you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.
you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.
he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder.
your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.
with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours.
you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.
he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy.
rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.
“you didn’t last very long.”
“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”
“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”
“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.
“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay.
you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry.
“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest.
“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”
“your parents are downstairs, remember?”
“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.
“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”
“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”
“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.
“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes.
“why? got nowhere else to be.”
“oh. okay.”
“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”
“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.
“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.
and the part where you slept with your best friend.
a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.
top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere
kelce: maybe princess finally killed him
top: stop hanging out without us
kelce: top lets just pull up next time
you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.
“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.”
“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”
“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”
rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.
“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”
you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.
“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”
rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.
“you wanna say that again?”
“uhh-”
“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”
“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”
“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.
“get out!”
“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”
“okay! wait, stay.”
“s’what i thought.”
“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.
“you woke me up.”
“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”
“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.
“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.
“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone.
about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.
you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.
but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it.
with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not.
after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead.
the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.
“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.
“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”
“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.
“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”
“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”
“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”
“you too. tell them i say hi.”
the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.
you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you.
you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.
“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.
“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.
“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”
“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.
“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”
“thanks top.”
you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top.
walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.
it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on.
“hey.”
“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”
“yeah.”
“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”
“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.
“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”
“yeah, i did.”
“i just hope they’re sweet.”
“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”
“it’s a great day. good weather.”
“you already said that.”
“oh.”
“would you stop and look at me?”
“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.
“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.
“i’m fine.. are you okay?”
“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”
“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”
“you were on board-”
“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”
“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.
“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”
“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.
“why are you being so nice about it?”
“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”
“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”
“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”
“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”
“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”
“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.
“you’re starin’.”
“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”
“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”
turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.
from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.
“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.
“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”
you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear.
he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.
“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.
“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?”
“shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”
“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”
“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck.
“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away
“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.
“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.
your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.
you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.
“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.
“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.
“fun. what time?”
.☘︎ ݁˖
finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.
“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.
“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat.
you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.
topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now).
you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.
inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks.
the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.
“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.
“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.
“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.
he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands.
if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.
“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.
he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.
“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.
“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot.
he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.
“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.
“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”
“but i made the last one!”
“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”
“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.
for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.
“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.
“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”
“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you.
“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.
“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer.
“alright, you’re cut off.”
the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him.
you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.
“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”
“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.
“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.
“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.
“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch.
you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.
this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are.
rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.
“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”
“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.
“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”
“man, why am i always on top watch-”
in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.
“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.
kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now.
“enough. why?”
“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.
“you saw me?”
“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.
“what, you jealous, kid?”
“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.
“no, m’not.”
you bite your cheek and stare out the window.
“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.
tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.
you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.
you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?
grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.
“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.
“the couch.”
“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”
“i’m starting something new.”
“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.
you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.
“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.
rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.
“what the hell was that?”
“this whole thing was a mistake.”
“it’s been two days.”
“well i’m an emotional fuck!”
“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.
“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?”
“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”
“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”
“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”
“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?”
in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.
or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.
the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you.
you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.
and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.
“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”
“you should have just confessed.”
“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”
“it’s been two days,” you mock.
“yeah, well, we tried it.”
“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.
“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”
“so if we break up-”
“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”
“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets.
“learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”
“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”
“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.
“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”
#😭here it is#i am so nervous about this if you think it’s ass . i apologize in advance#kook trio reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader
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