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Let her go

Drew Starkey x Actress! Reader

Summary : ❤️Drew Starkey ends things with the reader out of fear of falling too quickly for her. During an interview, both struggle to hide their heartbreak, but by the end, Drew apologizes, admitting he was afraid of how deeply he cared for her…they find their way back to each other, finally ready to face their feelings.❤️

Warning ⚠️ : Some heartbreak,fluff at the end and love (it’s not possible for me to write something super sad about Drew I can’t 😫)

Word Count 1.1k

(Strongly advise for you guys to listen to this song while reading 😖!)

The interview room felt colder than it should, the sterile white walls pressing in on you. The low hum of the overhead lights was the only sound that filled the silence between you and Drew Starkey. Both of you sat across from each other, your backs straight, hands clasped in your laps as if the mere act of looking at each other would make everything fall apart.

It had been weeks since the filming wrapped, and the tension between you and Drew was thicker than any on-screen chemistry you had shared. But this wasn’t acting. This was real.

It had started so simply—a connection that was easy to ignore at first, an innocent conversation here and there, a laugh shared on set. But before you knew it, you were both slipping into something more—something that made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain.

But then, out of nowhere, Drew had pulled away. You had tried to understand, tried to accept his sudden distance, but the words still haunted you, echoing in your mind with painful clarity: “I can’t do this. I can’t fall for you.”

You had pretended to understand at first, given his reasoning: He was scared of falling too quickly, too deeply. But the truth was, you had never stopped loving him. You just hadn’t known how to make him stay, and now, having to sit across from him in this cold room, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs.

You couldn’t look at him. Every time you did, your heart clenched, and the pain of his rejection threatened to spill out. He wasn’t looking at you either. He was too busy smiling at the interviewer, nodding along to questions that felt like a blur. There was nothing real about this moment, nothing that resembled the Drew you had known. It was as though you were two strangers forced into a room together.

“So, Drew,” the interviewer asked, turning towards him, “your character in the film is really complex, very reserved. Did you draw from your personal life for that?”

You saw Drew tense, just slightly. “I think everyone has a part of themselves in the roles they play,” he said, his voice calm but distant. “But it’s more about understanding the emotional truth of the character. You can’t just play the role—you have to believe it.” He shifted slightly in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

You felt a pang in your chest, but you fought to keep it from showing. You had to be professional.

The interviewer then turned to you, and for a moment, you wished they hadn’t. “And what about you? Your character is much more open, vulnerable… was there a part of you that you found hard to let go of for this role?”

You hesitated. If only they knew the truth—that you were struggling to keep it together, struggling to not show how deeply this rejection had hurt. How every time you stepped on set, you had to act like everything was fine when, in reality, your heart was still somewhere in the pieces of the relationship that Drew had ended.

“It was hard,” you answered, your voice quiet, “because sometimes, you’re asked to leave a part of yourself behind to play someone else. But it’s… it’s important to let go. For the character. For the story.”

But as the interview wore on, it felt like the words were becoming harder to say. Your throat ached, and every time Drew glanced your way, even for a second, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. His presence was suffocating. The walls of the interview room seemed to close in, and you knew that if you didn’t leave soon, you would break down in front of everyone.

—

When the interview finally ended, you made your way toward the door, your steps slow, heavy, each one more difficult than the last. But as you reached for the door handle, you heard Drew’s voice from behind you, a soft, tentative call that made you freeze.

“Wait.”

You turned, heart pounding in your chest. He was standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, a nervous energy emanating from him that mirrored your own.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, his voice shaky, almost as if the words were escaping him before he could stop them. “I—I never wanted to hurt you. I was just scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words felt like a punch, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, trying to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your heart ached at the rawness in his eyes. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I was scared of falling too fast. Too deep. I told myself it was better to walk away before it got worse, before I ruined everything… but the truth is, I was afraid. I was afraid of how much I cared about you.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. “You—you ended it because you were afraid?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You hurt me, Drew. You broke me, and you didn’t even give me a chance to understand.”

“I know,” he whispered, stepping closer still, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. There was never anyone else. It wasn’t about not wanting you—it was about being terrified of how real it felt. Of how much I was falling for you.”

You closed your eyes, fighting the tears. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to pretend like everything was okay. To keep my distance while my heart was still here, still with you.”

Drew reached out, slowly, carefully, as if afraid you would pull away. He cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the tear that had fallen.

“I was so stupid. I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do,” he said softly. “But I can’t do it anymore. I’m not afraid anymore. I love you. And I’m sorry it took me this long to say it.”

For a moment, you just stood there, letting the words sink in, your heart slowly mending itself in the warmth of his touch. You had waited so long for this, for him to realize that he had never been alone in this fear.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “And I thought I’d lost you.”

Drew’s face softened, and he gently pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you. “I was wrong,” he murmured against your hair. “I never should’ve let you go. But I swear to you, I won’t let you slip away again.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe again, the ache in your chest slowly fading. The future felt uncertain, but in his arms, it didn’t matter anymore.

Because sometimes, love wasn’t about never being afraid—it was about admitting that fear, facing it, and knowing that no matter what, you’d face it together.

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Title: Talking Body

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings ⚠️⛔️( kissing, smoking joints, slight suggestive smut, no actual smut)

Word count: 1.3k

———

The night was thick with the scent of saltwater, the hum of the ocean waves crashing against the shore in the distance.

You sat on the porch of the Chateau, trying to lose yourself in the haze of the joint between your fingers.

The smoke twisted and curled into the warm air, but it wasn't enough to drown out the thoughts that had been gnawing at you all day.

You took another hit, inhaling deeply, but it didn't work. It never did.

You couldn't stop thinking about him.

Rafe Cameron.

You'd always known better than to get involved with a Kook. You were a Pogue.

The world had made that distinction clear.

And it didn't matter how often he looked at you-those long, piercing glances-or how his hands brushed against yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

There were lines, unspoken rules. And Rafe Cameron was, without a doubt, a line you shouldn't cross.

Still, you found yourself here, sitting alone under the stars, trying to get the thought of him out of your head. But every drag of the joint only seemed to make the desire for him grow.

The burning ache in your chest was undeniable.

A crunch of gravel snapped you out of your haze. You didn't need to look up to know who it was. You could feel him before you even saw him.

Rafe's voice broke through the air, smooth and teasing as always. "Still smoking that stuff?"

You didn't respond right away, keeping your eyes on the horizon, unwilling to give in to the inevitable.

But you felt him, the heat of his presence behind you, close enough that you could almost feel the warmth radiating off him.

"Maybe," you murmured, taking another slow drag, watching the smoke dance into the air.

There was a beat of silence, and then, the soft sound of his boots on the gravel grew louder. He stepped closer, until you could almost feel the weight of him, like gravity itself was pulling him toward you.

"Does it help you forget?" he asked, his voice quiet now, almost softer than usual.

You finally turned your head to meet his gaze. He stood there, inches away, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes were dark, almost predatory, but you could see something else-something softer. It was in the way his gaze lingered, like he was seeing right through you.

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you held the joint out to him, wordlessly offering. Rafe took it without hesitation, inhaling slowly. You watched the smoke roll from his lips, swirling in the night air.

"I don't want to forget," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment of silence. You couldn't look away now, and neither could he.

It was as if the space between you was shrinking with every heartbeat. You felt it-the tension, the magnetic pull.

Neither of you had said the words, but the truth was hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Rafe took another drag, his eyes never leaving yours. His expression softened, and he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking by inches. His hand brushed against your arm as he passed, and the simple touch sent a jolt of heat through you.

"You're not good at lying," he said softly, the words almost a challenge.

You turned fully toward him then, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no escaping this, no pretending it wasn't happening.

Your fingers ached to reach out, to touch him, to close the distance between you.

"Maybe I don't want to lie anymore," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Rafe didn't say anything. Instead, his fingers brushed against your cheek, and his lips met yours in a kiss that took your breath away.

It was sudden, urgent-like a switch had flipped between you two.

You hadn't even realized how much you wanted it, how much you had been craving it, until he kissed you.

You responded immediately, your body leaning into him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. There was no hesitation now. It was as if the world outside of this moment didn't exist.

There was only the press of his lips against yours, the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Rafe's hands slid down your waist, pulling you closer, until you were flush against him. The feeling of his body against yours, the way your heart beat in sync, made everything else fall away.

All that mattered in that moment was him, and the hunger between you both that had been building for months.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His hands lingered on your waist, the pressure of his touch grounding you.

You could feel his pulse, the rhythm of his body, and it matched yours.

"Tell me you don't want this," he whispered, his voice low, almost desperate.

You didn't need to think. You didn't need to say anything else. Your body had already answered him. You kissed him again, your lips moving against his with a need that was deeper than anything you'd felt before.

The kiss deepened. Rafe's hands moved from your waist to your back, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. Without breaking the kiss, he turned and pressed you against the side of the house, his body shielding you from everything else.

His hands slid bernath your shirt, lifting it over your head in one smooth motion.

The cool air hit your skin, but the warmth of Rafe's body quickly replaced it. He kissed down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat on your skin, and your body arched into him, unable to get close enough.

"You've wanted this, haven't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

There was no point in denying it.

You didn't want to.

You nodded, your hands sliding over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the heat of him.

"I've wanted you," you whispered back, your voice shaky as his hands continued their exploration, sending electric shivers through your body.

Rafe's lips found yours again, this kiss slower, deeper, as if he was savoring every second of this.

His hands worked on the button of your jeans, and you didn't stop him.

You didn't even want to.

When your jeans were discarded, you didn't care about anything else-only the feeling of him, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his hands were everywhere, knowing exactly where to touch, how to make you feel alive.

There was no more pretending, no more holding back. It was messy, raw, and perfect.

Rafe's lips moved from yours to your neck, his hands roaming down your body, pulling you closer.

The heat between you was unbearable, and you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him.

You wanted more, needed more, and when he finally pressed into you, the world outside of this moment ceased to exist.

He was everything you'd ever wanted, even if you hadn't been brave enough to admit it until now.

When the moment passed, and both of you lay there tangled in each other's arms, the sound of your ragged breathing the only noise between you, Rafe pulled you closer, his lips brushing your hair.

"You're not like them," you whispered against his chest, your fingers tracing the faint outline of his muscles.

Rafe's chuckle vibrated against your skin.

"Neither are you," he said, his voice low and content.

You smiled, your fingers finding his, intertwining them.

There was no pretending anymore. No more walls between you two. For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

"I don't want you to go," you said softly, your voice muffled against his chest.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

And for once, the lines between Kook and Pogue didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was you two, tangled in the quiet aftermath, the world outside forgotten.

[officerfriendlysblogs]

Hidden Chords

Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: The story follows a long-time friendship between Harry Styles and the reader, who meet during Harry's One Direction days. As they both rise to fame, their bond remains strong despite busy schedules. Over the years, the reader secretly falls in love with Harry but keeps her feelings hidden, especially when he starts dating someone else.Heartbroken, she channels her emotions into a song, which becomes a hit. Harry later confronts her about the song, revealing that he has loved her all along.After years of missed chances, they finally confess their feelings and start a relationship, proving that their love was worth the wait.

Warnings:⚠️This story features elements of mildangst, minor jealousy, and heartbreak, yet it is also infused with excessively sweet moments, culminating in a joyful conclusion.⚠️

Word count: 1,184

You met Harry Styles when you were just two teenagers chasing dreams. He had his wild curls and charming grin, and you had a notebook filled with half-finished songs. It was 2010, and One Direction was on the rise. You were signed to a small record label, opening for big acts and waiting for your moment.

It was a chance meeting at a shared soundcheck that changed everything. He walked in with his bandmates, a gaggle of exuberant energy, and you were busy trying to fix a broken guitar string.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his green eyes twinkling.

“Do you know how to restring a guitar?” you shot back, skeptical but amused.

“Not a clue,” he said with a laugh, “but I could fetch someone who does.”

You smiled at that. And just like that, Harry Styles became your friend.

The years that followed were a whirlwind. You watched One Direction skyrocket to unimaginable heights while your own career slowly took off. Harry never let fame change him, though. He still texted you terrible jokes, shared Spotify playlists, and called late at night when he needed to vent about the pressures of being in the world’s biggest boyband.

“I don’t know how you handle it,” you told him once, lying on the floor of your London flat, phone pressed to your ear.

“Sometimes I don’t,” he admitted. “But then I think of people like you. Grounded, real. It keeps me sane.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

When the band announced their hiatus in 2015, Harry confided in you first.

“I think this is it,” he said, voice low and uncertain. “I think we’re done.”

You wanted to comfort him, to say the right thing, but all you managed was, “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he said after a pause. “I think I’m ready to do my own thing.”

And he did. You watched him transform from boyband heartthrob to a solo artist who commanded the world’s attention. You couldn’t have been prouder, but with every milestone he reached, you felt the distance between you growing.

You stayed close, though. Somehow. Amid tours and albums and award shows, Harry always made time for you. But somewhere along the way, your feelings shifted.

It wasn’t just friendship anymore.

It hit you one night in New York. You were both there for different reasons—he was recording his debut album, and you were promoting your second. He invited you to his studio, where he played you a rough cut of “Sign of the Times.”

The song was beautiful, haunting. And so was he, sitting there with his guitar, eyes closed as he sang.

When he finished, you clapped, a little too enthusiastically to hide the way your heart was racing.

“It’s incredible,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said, looking almost shy. “Means a lot coming from you.”

You wanted to tell him everything in that moment, but fear held you back. He was Harry Styles. Your best friend. What if you ruined it?

Then came Camille.

She was stunning, of course—French, sophisticated, effortlessly cool. You found out through a tabloid, and your heart sank.

When you saw Harry next, you tried to act normal. He brought her to a party you were both attending, introducing her with a proud smile.

“This is Camille,” he said, arm draped around her shoulder.

“Hi,” you said, forcing a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She was kind, polite, everything you knew Harry deserved. And that made it worse.

The first time you cried over Harry was after that party. You went home, locked yourself in your room, and let the tears fall.

You hated yourself for it. For being jealous. For wanting something you could never have.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You wrote.

The song poured out of you in a way nothing ever had before. It was raw, painful, and honest—a confession you couldn’t give him in words.

The chorus was a plea: “How do I compete with the stars in your sky, when I’m just the shadow in your light?”

When your producer heard it, he insisted it go on your next album. You hesitated, terrified of what Harry would think, but eventually agreed.

The album came out, and the song—aptly titled “Shadow”—became a hit. Fans speculated endlessly about who it was about, but you never confirmed anything.

Harry called you after hearing it.

“‘Shadow,’” he said. “It’s beautiful. Heartbreaking, but beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice tight.

“You okay?” he asked, sensing something in your tone.

“Yeah,” you lied.

Months passed. Harry and Camille broke up, but you didn’t let yourself hope. Instead, you threw yourself into work, trying to forget the way his smile made you feel, the way his voice lingered in your mind.

It wasn’t until a late night in Los Angeles that everything came to a head.

You were there for a show, and Harry was in town for a film premiere. He invited you to dinner, just the two of you, like old times.

Over glasses of wine, you talked about everything and nothing, laughing until your sides hurt.

Then, out of nowhere, he brought up “Shadow.”

“Was it about someone specific?” he asked, his tone careful.

You froze, the truth threatening to spill out.

“Why do you ask?” you countered, stalling.

“Because…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I feel like I know who it’s about.”

Your heart stopped. “Harry—”

“Is it me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear.

“I…” You swallowed hard. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” he said.

When you finally met his eyes, you saw something there—something that looked a lot like hope.

“I wrote it because I didn’t know how else to deal,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Harry reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“You could never ruin it,” he said softly. “But you should’ve told me.”

“Why?” you asked, tears brimming in your eyes. “So you could tell me you don’t feel the same?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “So I could tell you I do.”

The world seemed to stop in that moment.

“You… what?”

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he confessed. “But I didn’t think you felt the same. And then Camille happened, and I thought maybe I’d missed my chance.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, a mix of relief and disbelief.

“Harry…”

He stood, pulling you into his arms. You melted against him, all the unspoken words finally finding their place.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “We’re here now.”

And as he pressed his lips to yours, everything else faded away.

From that moment on, your relationship changed. It wasn’t easy—balancing two demanding careers never is—but you made it work.

Because love, you realized, was worth the wait.

[officerfriendlysblogs]

My Masterlist

(If you have any requests lmk!)

Contains:

Angst💔, Fluff🥰, Smut🔥-

Outer Banks:

Rafe Cameron:

Confessions Under The Stars 🥰🔥

JJ Maybank coming soon..

The 100:

Bellamy Blake:

You’ll Always Have Me 💔🥰🔥

The Walking Dead:

Rick Grimes coming soon…

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Steve Rogers coming soon…

Bucky Barns coming soon…

Pietro Maximoff coming soon..

Harry Styles:

Harry Styles:

Hidden Chords 💔🥰

Zayn Malik:

Zayn Malik coming soon…

[officerfriendlysblogs]

Title: Confessions under the stars

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe has loved you since you moved to the outer banks, and one day while you're at his house, he shares his love for you. Little does he realize that you feel the exact same way, and things escalate.

Warning: ⚠️This is only for writing purposes and has sexual themes, smut, and no protection. I strongly suggest readers to use protection.⚠️

Word count: 1,414 words

The night was calm and peaceful, a serenity unique to a remote house by the ocean. The soft sound of waves hitting the shore filled the air with a soothing rhythm.

You were curled up on the couch in Rafe Cameron’s living room, your legs tucked under you, absorbed in the flickering glow of the TV. It was one of those lazy evenings that felt like time could stretch endlessly.

Even with the movie playing, you felt Rafe's presence beside you. He was always hard to read—his thoughts, feelings, and intentions often a mystery. Since arriving on the Outer Banks, you had spent more time with him than anticipated.

What began as simple hangouts had evolved into something deeper, creating an unspoken connection between you.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the TV’s light and the moon shining through the windows. Rafe’s usual confident demeanor was softened as he relaxed into the couch, his gaze on you. When your eyes met his, you quickly looked away, heart racing.

“Hey, you alright?” Rafe's voice broke the quiet. It sounded different, softer and unsure, as though he was hesitant about what he wanted to say.

You met his eyes, feeling a tightness in your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

He nodded, but uncertainty still lingered in his gaze. His hand rested on the back of the couch, near your shoulder.

You recognized that touch—the confidence he usually displayed gave way to a more vulnerable side during these quiet moments.

“You know,” he began again, his tone more serious. “I’ve been thinking about us.”

You turned to face him fully, heart racing. “What about us?” you questioned, unsure of what you wanted to hear.

Rafe shifted, the air heavy with unspoken words. He glanced out the window, moonlight highlighting his features, then turned back to you. “I never thought much about relationships. I usually did my own thing. But since you came into my life, everything feels different—in a good way. I didn’t expect it, but it’s real.”

You looked at him, uncertain where this was going, but the intensity in his gaze signaled its importance. “Rafe… what do you mean?”

He paused, swallowing hard, and for a moment, it seemed he might back away. But then, surprisingly, he reached out and placed his hand over yours, offering warmth and comfort.

“I’m saying that I care about you. A lot. More than I have in a long time. I can’t pretend it’s just a phase. It’s not,” he said, his thumb brushing your hand, revealing a side of Rafe you rarely saw.

Your breath caught, heart racing. “Rafe… I—”

He interrupted you with a gentle laugh, his body relaxing just a bit. “I know it sounds wild, right? But I’ve been keeping this inside too long. I love you. You make me feel like I’m more than just a failure, like I really matter. You inspire me to improve, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

His words lingered heavily in the air, their truth settling in your heart. For ages, you had tried to dismiss your feelings for him. You believed it was just a passing crush, convinced that Rafe wouldn’t feel the same. But now, with him confessing, you recognized the truth—you felt that connection too.

“I love you too,” you softly replied, as though those words had been trapped inside you, finally breaking free. “I’ve been scared to say it, but I do. I don’t want to lose you.”

A genuine smile spread across his face, relief shining in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his hand still holding yours, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then don’t let me go,” he said quietly, his voice thick with feeling. “I’m here to stay.”

You moved in even closer, your heart racing as the outside world faded away. The moment felt significant—his declaration and your response.

Rafe tenderly cradled your face, and suddenly, his lips were on yours, soft and slow at first.

The kiss deepened, carrying years of unspoken desire. Everything felt perfect, as if this was where you were always meant to be. His touch was gentle yet filled with passion, as if he was finally letting go of everything he had held back.

When you pulled away, breathless, Rafe rested his forehead against yours, still holding your face tenderly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted that,” he murmured, emotion thick in his voice.

“I think I have an idea,” you replied softly, a playful smile on your lips.

Rafe chuckled quietly, his hands sliding down to your waist as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. The chemistry was unmistakable.

Now sitting on top of Rafe, you locked eyes, both feeling as if you were in a dream. You leaned in slowly, your lips meeting and moving together passionately.

He grasped your hips tighter as the kiss intensified, his tongue exploring your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, making you feel as if you might burst from the pleasure of tasting him.

Rafe says, "I love you so much," pulling back from your kiss to kiss your neck.

You move against him, craving more contact as his kisses make you feel warm. "Please, I need more," you moan softly.

Looking up with his striking blue eyes, Rafe removes your shirt, leaving you in just a bra. "Anything you want, baby," he replies in a low voice, kissing your chest. He then reaches behind you, unclipping your bra, and gazes at you with desire.

"You have too many clothes on," you giggle as he kisses you again and removes his shirt.

After that, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom, laying you on his bed, now positioned on top of you.

"I’ve wanted you for so long, baby," Rafe says as he kisses down your body, reaching your pants and glancing at you for permission. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

He slips your pants off along with your lacy black panties, revealing that you're already wet, and he teases you gently.

"Please just touch me," you plead, desperate for his touch. He smirks and slowly inserts a finger, pumping gently in and out. "Like that, baby?" he asks. You moan in response and plead for more.

He adds another finger, increasing the pace and teasing your clit with his tongue, savoring your sweetness. "You taste so amazing," he exclaims, driving you closer to your peak.

As you feel the pressure build, you cry out, "I’m gonna cum!" and soon after, you experience a powerful climax. Rafe continues licking before taking his fingers out and tasting them.

Then, he removes his pants, revealing his impressive size. "See something you like?" he asks, smirking as he holds your chin. You take hold of him, moving your hand slowly. "Keep doing that and I'm going to cum," he moans, but then he stops you.

"I want to cum in that pretty pussy of yours, but we can save that for later," he says, pushing you back gently on the bed.

He teases your wetness with his tip, moving it from your clit to your entrance. You grow impatient and urge him, "Just fuck me already, Rafe."

"Be a good girl and wait," he replies, teasing you a bit longer before finally entering you. "Mmm, your dick feels so good," you moan as he thrusts deep and fast.

"Do you like that, baby?" he asks, pulling out only to slam back into you, claiming you as his own.

“Tell me you’re mines” Rafe moans

"I’m all yours," you respond, feeling the pleasure building again as you guide his hand to your neck.

His eyes darken with desire as he moves faster, and you tighten around him. "You're all mine," he groans, and you cry out, "I'm about to cum!" You tighten around him, reaching another peak.

Feeling your grip, Rafe's thrusts become wild. "Ahh, fuck!" he moans, releasing himself inside you, his body trembling from the aftershocks.

He withdraws slowly, missing your warmth, and lays beside you, pulling you close.

Both of you are breathless and glistening with sweat from your intense moment. He kisses your forehead, catching his breath. "I'm going to change for you; I really do love you."

You smile back at him, "I love you too, and I'm not going anywhere."

He holds you tighter and grins, and you both settle into a comforting silence, drifting off to sleep.

[officerfriendlysblogs]

You’ll always have me

Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Bellamy is overwhelmed by the challenges facing the camp and the pressure of everyone looking to him for solutions. He takes out his frustration on you, and you grow fed up with his attitude. Eventually, Bellamy apologizes, leading to an intimate encounter. The pent-up sexual tension between you two becomes too intense to ignore.

Warning ⚠️: The story contains mild emotional tension, heartwarming moments, and sensual but tasteful intimate scenes between consenting partners, without the use of protection. Readers are advised to practice safe sex.

Word Count : 1,389 words.

-

Bellamy and I are the leaders of the camp, but working with him and his volatile attitude has been wearing on my nerves lately.

He walks into my tent.

"Hey, princess," he says.

I look at him, annoyed by his attitude towards me recently. "What do you want, Bellamy?"

"We need to talk," he states, standing there with his arms crossed and an air of defiance.

"Talk about what?" I reply, still frustrated with him.

"About the camp - there are some issues that need to be addressed," he explains.

"The only thing that needs fixing right now is your attitude," I retort.

He scoffs. "My attitude? I don't have an attitude," he insists.

"Yeah, you do. I don't know what I did, but this attitude of yours needs to stop," I say, taking off my jacket as the tension in the tent makes it feel stifling.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine... maybe you're right. I'm just stressed, that's all."

As I gaze at him, my irritation softening, I say, "I understand you're stressed, but don't take that out on me. I haven't done anything to deserve it."

We stare at each other for a moment, and I ask, "What are you so stressed about?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, hesitant to open up. "A lot of things..."

I step closer to him and say, "You can talk to me, Bellamy.

You don't always have to put on this 'tough guy' act in front of me. You're a person too."

He reluctantly admits, "There's a lot of pressure on me to protect everyone, including myself."

I place my hand on his face, and he holds me by the waist.

"You're not alone in this. I'll fight alongside you, and I promise it's going to be okay.

We always find a way to make it through, right?" I say with a reassuring smile.

He rests his forehead against mine and lets out a slight laugh.

"Right... we always make it in the end, somehow."

I look at him with nothing but love and understanding.

"I'll always be by your side, Bellamy."

He feels his nerves start to melt away at your comforting words.

"You're the only one who really understands me in this camp, Y/N."

I gather my courage and say, "And I trust you most too. That's why I think you should stop stressing so much - you’ll always have me."

He pulls you closer, his hands tightening around your waist, and the tension between you becomes palpable as you stare into each other's eyes, both of you suddenly at a loss for words.

We both stared at each other, lost for words as the tension between us grew palpable.

He pulled me closer, and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The intensity of his gaze, soft yet intense, captivated me.

He seemed unaware that he was drawing me nearer, his eyes fixed on my lips.

I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss him. He did not pull back, but instead held me tighter, kissing me passionately yet tenderly.

The kiss felt transcendent, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the two of us in that moment.

All the pressure and anxiety melted away, replaced by a profound sense of comfort and belonging.

As I pulled away, I said, "Bellamy, I don't want to lose you, and I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I care about you... I want you."

He listened intently, his vulnerability palpable yet tempered by the palpable shift in his demeanor when he was with me.

He rested his forehead against mine. "I don't want to lose you either. I... I want you too, and I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I want it all with you... I need you with me."

The tension built as I gazed into his eyes, my expression soft. "Well, you have me," I said.

He moved his hand from my waist to the hem of my shirt, looking to me for permission.

I nodded, and he slowly removed my shirt, then my bra, his eyes drinking in my form.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured reverently, before placing tender kisses along my collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from me.

He was captivated by your body, mesmerized by your perfection.

He couldn't believe you were allowing him such vulnerability.

Gently, he pushed you onto the bed and climbed on top, kissing your body passionately, wanting you to know how serious he was about you.

As he kissed your stomach, he moved lower to your waist, removing your pants.

You reached up to him, removing his shirt and pants as well. "You're perfect," you said, cherishing the moment.

He kissed you again, this time with intense, lustful passion.

"No, you're the one who's perfect," he murmured, pressing you deeper into the bed in the tent.

He gazed at your soaked panties, dripping with your arousal.

He slowly removed your panties, kissing up your leg to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"I've wanted you for so long," he whispered, before placing a tender kiss on your throbbing clit.

He began to pleasure you with his mouth, his strokes soft yet passionate, as if he'd been dreaming of this moment.

You moaned softly, mindful of the others nearby.

As you neared climax, he suddenly stopped, kissing you again so you could taste your own essence on his lips.

You then flipped him, straddling his body taking him out his boxers.

Gazing at his impressive member , you felt your anticipation growing.

I spit on his hard cock and gently lick the tip, then suck on it. "Fuck," Bellamy groaned.

He then grabs my hair and pulls my head down, taking all of him into my mouth.

I stare at him, trying not to gag at his rough movements, and moan around his cock.

The vibration of my mouth on his cock makes him want to explode.

As he becomes more gentle and releases my hair, I massage his balls. "Shit, if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum," he warns.

I stop my movements, and he groans at the loss of my mouth on his cock.

He flips me onto my back and grabs his cock, teasing my clit and wet hole before slipping it inside.

"I could be inside you forever," Bellamy says as he feels my tight, wet walls hug his cock.

He gives me time to adjust to his large size before moving.

As I start to adjust, the pain turns to pleasure, and I moan at how good he feels.

"Fuck, can you please move?" I beg.

He listens and starts off slow, one hand around my neck, choking me slightly.

As he thrusts faster and deeper, he squeezes my neck harder, and I get even wetter.

"I can cum in this sweet pussy right now," he says, trying to hold back.

"Fuck, go faster," I moan in his ear, which turns him on even more.

As he increases his pace, I feel myself getting closer to orgasm.

The pleasure soon takes over, and I moan, "Just like that," grabbing his face as I cum hard, my walls clenching tightly around him, my juices spilling out.

As he feels my cunt squeeze him, the pleasure becomes too much, and he spills his white seed inside me with a groan of "Fuck!" We stare at each other for a minute, and then he gently grabs my face and kisses me.

He then pulls out, and his cum seeps out of my throbbing hole.

"I'm sorry if I was being too rough with you," he says, noticing the mark he left on my neck.

"You don't have to be sorry, I liked it," I say as I get up to clean myself off and then lay back in the bed with him.

I wonder if tomorrow will be different, if he'll look at me differently, and I start to overthink.

He senses this and says, "I'm not going anywhere."

I look at him with a soft smile, feeling myself getting tired.

He cuddles up against me, and I say, "Let's get some rest for a bit - we deserve it."

He nods, gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead, and we drift off to sleep.