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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.”

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin.

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked.

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course.

Why is he talking to you?

He glances down at your drink.

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?”

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles.

“You live around here?”

“I go to Rice.”

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?”

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult.

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats.

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you.

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool.

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak.

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.”

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need.

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready.

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff.

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask.

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite.

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay?

Everything is not okay.

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes.

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules.

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.” As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours.

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens.

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell.

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that?

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it.

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care.

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.” Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever.

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin.

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand.

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”

No strings attached.

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to.

What’re you doing?

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first.

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened.

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come.

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap.

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny."

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy.

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs.

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself.

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow.

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #ghost x soap #if you saw my technical difficulty earlier no you didn't!

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princessbrunette · 3 months

Text

basketball!rafe knew he needed you the moment he set eyes on you once more in that hotel bar.

personally, you thought he might’ve been a nobody on first glance. a really handsome nobody, so he couldn’t have actually been a nobody — but it was the intrigue that drew you in regardless. to set the scene, you didn’t have to go far to find him, no — this was the fanciest hotel in your hometown and you were there alone. something about getting all dressed up and then your friends cancelling last minute, it didn’t matter — it felt like so long ago that you’d forgotten all about it. all you remember was seeing the handsome nobody in a t-shirt and a cap strolling up to the bar.

it was only after doing a double take, you realised the nobody was rafe cameron.

now you’d already known rafe from the obx. distantly, of course — a couple of parties here and there, some lingering glances when you were convinced he was a fuck boy. he was apparently a little unhinged back in the day, but after his dad died he fixed his shit and went pro with basketball, making it big. like mentioned, you weren’t friends, merely acquaintances with the boy a couple of years your senior— but he’d always been someone you saw get their shit together and think, you know what? good for him i guess.

now rafe remembers his history with you differently. apparently, he used to shoot hoops with your older brother in your backyard with a few other friends back when they were younger. still a casual hobby for rafe, and playing it anywhere else but a kook’s backyard might’ve looked too poguey for him to be caught partaking in. at the end of the day, golf was meant to be his sport. it was fitting and low maintenance. basketball took the cake everytime however— helping him mentally in more ways than anyone could imagine.

anyway, he remembers you — a lot younger than you are now, flip flops slapping along the patio as you arrive on destination — mouthing off to your big brother about bouncing the ball too loudly off your wall or spending all the money your mother had left for pizza on the counter. you were this tiny mouthy weapon, even having the infamous rafe cameron snickering down at his shoes as your brother whined back at you, trying to shoo you back inside. he recalls even catching a couple of strays, your shrill youthful voice referring to the eldest cameron as a ‘lanky meathead’.

“jesus, you gotta keep your sisters mouth in check dude. gonna grow up n’get her in trouble n’shit.” he’d shake his head as you’d waddle back inside, bouncing the ball and shooting. after that it was just parties as you grew up, seeing a familiar pretty face through a coked out haze and thinking ‘who’s that again?’ in passing or overhearing you talking to your friends, still carrying that same slick mouth that you only got away with because you were so hot.

only now, he’s staring across this dimly lit hotel bar, the first time in a while that he’d been back in his hometown and there you are — staring back at him, a face he’d never forget except you’re all grown up now— practically spilling out that slinky little dress and acting as a magnet, his feet dragging him over to you before his drink had even arrived from the bartender.

not even five minutes into conversation and it’s abundantly clear that you’re still that spoiled little cheerleader he knew once upon a time, only this time you’re tilting your head to the side with your brows furrowed in confusion that bordered on disinterest when he tried to explain what happened in his most recent game. you weren’t here to talk about that and it showed, leaning over your margarita to adjust his expensive looking chain, pulling it to sit above his tshirt instead of tucked beneath, cutting him off to question “so you knew my brother, right?” he liked that directness about you. the fact you kinda seemed like a bitch. it was a challenge, the urge to tame and rough someone up still very much sat at the surface of his wants and desires.

once a spoiled brat — always a spoiled brat, only now you’re his spoiled brat six months later, clinging to his arm and digging your manicure into his bicep with a whine as a silent command for him to magically vanish any of the surrounding paparazzi outside the airport.

“get rid of them.” you eventually mewl, in a demanding way that represented the physical embodiment of you stomping your pedicured foot.

“you think i fuckin’ want them here?” he sighs, no stranger to your ridiculous requests. that’s what was so intoxicating about your relationship — yes you were a little bitch sometimes, but he learnt how was best to put you in your place. most of the time you were happy, fucked and fed with racks upon racks sat in your expensive handbag, clinging to him and tottering along at his side in heels that cost an arm and a leg— but the times you were snarking up at him, telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ he was more than happy to grab your throat and ask “the fuck are you talking to like that, huh?” which oddly would cause a smile to emerge on your face and the attitude to melt off you for an hour or so.

that being said, you kept him in check too. now rafe wasn’t like he always was — unhinged, explosive and overall angry at the world. no, he had an access to therapy now and basketball worked for a good outlet of his frustrations, all whilst opening up a new world for him to get his fresh start away from all that family bullshit he had to put up with a while back (cut them all off, minus wheezie who he sends money to every month and facetimes to talk shit.) that being said — he would be the one to catch an attitude out of the blue sometimes, which was often remedied by a sharp eyebrow raise from you, a dramatic head swivel and a “you better fucking talk to me nice, rafe cameron. not one of your fucking fan girls.”

with a tongue in his cheek, he’ll shake his head and drop the whole thing — but not without saying “y’know you run your mouth like you’re six foot four with two pistols tucked sometimes. shit.”

life outside of your relationship with rafe became a dream all because of him. quickly, as rafe skyrockets to success in the basketball world, you’re skyrocketing to being the top pinterest muse— starring in every girls ‘future manifestation’ moodboard with snaps of you courtside in your pretty little outfits cheering on your boyfriend. you were glammed to the nines at every game, because you knew you’d end up on that big screen one way or another.

when travelling with rafe for his tournaments, you’d get the princess treatment you deserved and that was a promise. designer shoes, designer bags, steak meals that cost the same as your house back home and you were not poor by any stretch of the word. he liked to flaunt you, flaunt his success. he was the man now, like he’d always wanted to be — and effortlessly so, not the charade he was putting on back at tanny hill throwing those parties whilst suffering on the sly. no, he had everything now— and was happy to share that with you. you didn’t have to do much to gain this treatment, no. holding him down was enough, but he’d be happy to accept your payment of gratitude in having his cock wedged down your throat in the limo back to the hotel, ending the night on your back with your ankles on his shoulders and that same chain you fiddled with when you first reunited swinging in your face.

it was no secret that the two of you fucked. it made up a good 60% of your free time together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. rafe could still get very frustrated — with his manager, with his teammates, with people from his past cropping up, even with the general public who had opinions on his playing — and with that, what better way to pound out some frustrations then by bending you over a balcony in a foreign country? rafe had a good team behind him, and luckily so — because it wouldn’t be the first time a hotel had attempted to get the two of you blacklisted for causing too much of a noise disturbance, notes pinned to your door found in the morning reading ‘Dear guests, whilst we are thrilled that you are enjoying our hotel, we please ask that you keep it down for the sake of the other guests. To remind you, other guests do not need to hear your lovemaking through the night! If this continues throughout your stay you will be asked to leave.’

your basketball player boyfriend would pluck the note off the door the next morning when you’re leaving together for the day, your sleepy self tucked under the arm of his hoodie covering his jersey as he scoffs, handing it your way carelessly. “pussies. they can’t do shit about it.”

unstoppably so, despite your hate for gossip past being in high school the notes would turn to blind items as rafe truly came into the public eye. you couldn’t scroll three videos on tiktok without hearing ‘this north carolina basketball player and hometown it girl may have come into hot water again at this famous vegas hotel after making sure their wall neighbours heard the ins and outs of their passion — april 27th, crazy days and nights.’ that, or the blogosphere getting ahold of the blurry and ambiguous paparazzi shots taken of you supposedly ‘getting it on’ on the beach.

unfortunately, this public knowledge that the two of you were real fuckers was not enough for twitter, which resulted in your first leaked video.

rafe should have known to be careful when the two of you in a lustful haze filmed an amateur tape the day before you had to fly home for a little while, the basketball player knowing he’d miss being in it and needed some material to work off whilst you were gone.

the video was 1 minute and 49 seconds of pure glory. filmed on landscape with an outstretched arm rafe captures you, whining and mewling as you roll your hips on his lap, bouncing on his cock as he watches the two of you through the screen, swollen lips parting and tongue flattening to catch your nipple as you do so. he grips your ass hungrily, aiding you on fucking down on him before delivering a firm smack to your ass that makes you jolt, only unlatching his mouth from your tit to grumble out “s’what i’m fuckin’ talking about baby. who’s your daddy, huh?” looking up at you from your needy spread out position.

you still recall the way your heart dropped into your ass seeing your name along side rafes in the trending tab, following by the words ‘leaked video’.

your legal teams were all over it instantly, working hard to get it shut down off every site it had been reuploaded and desperately attempting to track down whoever had managed to get into your boyfriends cloud to expose it— a couple weeks of watching paparazzi shots of rafe taking calls outside buildings, yelling down the phone and flipping off the cameras in moments of frustration and stress — for him to then be on the phone to you from a hotel room later that night, talking you down as you cry like a baby and complain.

“i know, i know alright i’m workin’ on it. gonna get that shit wiped from the net i can promise you that now, i got the guy who can make it happen for me. but for now, look y’know there’s — there’s nothin’ i can do alright, i can’t make people fuckin’… unsee that shit unfortunately just be glad you look so sexy in the video cause — okay, shit, the hell are you yelling for? m’just tryna help—”

after a while it does infact die down, and the video can no longer be found — yes, even on the shitty pop up porn sites that had reposted it with twelve watermarks in the worst quality. however, it didn’t stop jaded basketball fans from bringing it up any chance they got — getting in heated debates online and using it as an insult to the cameron boys playing skills. god forbid a rafe fan would speak up for him after a particularly poor game, his mentions getting filled with nothing but a screenshot of your boyfriend with your titty in his mouth.

though it had faded, the two of you learned that there was no way around it than to humour it — your boyfriend barely addressing the tape by quoting it in his instagram caption after one of his big wins, the post of him grinning on the court with his trophy tilted ‘who’s your daddy, huh?’ which of course, sent twitter into a spiral.

#div by crylynnluv #rafe cameron prompt #basketball!rafe #just a lore post … enjoy

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punkshort · 25 days

Text

Swept Away | Chapter 6: Undertow

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel does his best to distance himself after that morning on the yacht, but you finally have enough of his games after attending an art gallery exhibition.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, jealousy, sexual tension, flirting, threat of physical violence, good ol' fashioned argument where reader demands some goddamn answers, fingering

A/N: thank you @txtattoostark for beta-ing ❤️ And Happy Birthday @pedropascalsbbg 🎂

WC: 8.7K

Series Masterlist

You weren't going to beg. At least, that's what you told yourself over and over whenever Joel grazed a hand over your back at dinner or you caught him staring at you in your bikini just a little too long.

It had been five excruciating days since the yacht. Five days since that morning you shamelessly fucked yourself on his lap. And five days since you had found another envelope of cash on your pillow after you took a shower. You had stared at it, stomach churning with shame before you tossed it in your bag with the other unopened envelope. You had held out hope that the morning on the yacht would finally tear down his walls and he would let you in, but the cash on your pillow told you that you were wrong.

Ain't part of the deal.

Was that all this was? Were you too naive to think there was something more developing between you?

More than once that week you laid in your bed and wondered how he managed to get you all twisted around so fast. You don't let people steamroll you and you know your worth. That was his assessment of you when you first met, and he was right. That first day in his office you could hardly stand his overly confident and pompous attitude. You stood up for yourself and had a fucking spine. So where did that girl go?

Why don't you hear my terms first and then decide how much your dignity is worth?

How much was your dignity worth now? You rolled onto your side and pulled your knees to your chest, your stomach suddenly feeling queasy. You've never, ever acted this way over a man before. Was it because he kept rejecting you? Were you really that vain? No, that wasn't you. It was something more. You liked him... or, at least, you liked the parts of him he allowed you to see.

And, you don't quit. You're determined.

You breathed out a heavy sigh and rolled out of bed, giving up on the idea of sleep. You had plans to get lunch with Zoe that afternoon but until then, you had nothing but time to kill. Joel had thrown himself back into work the minute you came back from the yacht, so he spent most of his time doing that or he joined Glenn and the others to golf or play cards in the afternoons. He rarely came up for air. If he joined you by the pool, he stayed in the lounge chair, no matter how warm it was, but you could feel his eyes on you when your back was turned. You knew deep down this attraction wasn't one sided, but his resistance was driving you insane.

It was early. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the living room in a dark blue hue. You sat with your legs tucked under you on the couch, your robe pulled tight over your sleepwear with a cup of coffee clutched between both hands, watching as the sun began to rise over the ocean.

Stop feeling bad for yourself. You're in fucking paradise.

"Oh, you're up."

"Jesus!"

You swiveled around in surprise when you saw Joel standing between the kitchen and living room, panting and covered with sweat. Your eyes swooped down before you could stop them to take in his drenched shirt and athletic shorts before looking him in the eye.

"I didn't even know you were gone," you said while trying your best to ignore the very physical reaction you were having to a post-workout Joel.

"Got an early start," he said before reaching into the fridge for a water. You turned back towards the windows to continue watching the sunrise because if you didn't, your brain was going to short circuit.

It was silent for a few minutes and you had assumed Joel had went to his room to shower, but suddenly he spoke up directly behind you. "Any plans for today?"

You took a sip of coffee so you could resist turning around to gaze at him with big fuck-me eyes. "Just lunch with Zoe."

He hummed while he chugged his water. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up from his proximity, but you remained firm and refused to turn around.

"Meant to tell you last night - Glenn invited the group of us to his daughter's art gallery. She's the curator there," Joel rounded the couch and sat down next to you with a grunt, causing you to tug your legs closer. "She's got some exhibition show all weekend, supposed to be a real big deal for her. Told 'em we'd go and show our support."

You nodded and took another sip from your coffee, eyes still glued to the ocean.

"Alright."

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed you a credit card. "Why don't you go shoppin' with Zoe and get yourself a dress?"

You finally tore your eyes away to look at the heavy, black card dangling from his fingers.

"I think your assistant already bought plenty of options."

"So what's one more?" he asked with a little grin. He tilted his head to the side and caught your eye before saying, "I want you to pick somethin' out. Not my assistant. Want you to get somethin' you like."

The gesture was weak, but it was there, so you slowly took the card and slid it into the pocket of your robe. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome, darlin'," he said breezily before standing up to head towards his room. Only then did you allow your eyes to slide appreciatively down his back, your gaze lingering until he disappeared down the hall. You set your coffee mug down on the table before pulling the heavy credit card from your pocket to examine it. He infuriated you with how easily he was able to disregard what happened while you had spent almost every waking moment for the past week obsessing over it. Then a slow smile spread across your face as you tucked the credit card away for safe keeping.

If he wanted to play games, you could play right back.

"Holy fuck, girl," Zoe gasped when you stepped out from behind the curtain of the fitting room. She was holding a glass of champagne daintily between her fingers, her long legs crossed over one another as she perched on the edge of a pure white sofa. "That's the one. You have to get it. Joel's gonna lose his shit."

You grinned and turned towards the three panel mirror in front of a small platform. Stepping up, you swished the red satin material back and forth, admiring the way it hugged your curves but the eye was particularly drawn to the long slit up your left leg, ending mere inches away from your hip.

"You think so? You don't think it's a little much for an art gallery?"

Zoe shook her head and stood to join you in the mirror. "No, it's absolutely stunning. It was fucking made for you."

You couldn't stop smiling as you fiddled with the off the shoulder sleeves. "Alright, fine," you conceded as Zoe giddily clapped her hands.

After you carefully stepped out of the dress and handed it to a sales clerk, you put your own clothes back on and made your way through the store to the register when something else caught your eye.

You picked up a matching red silk thong with black lace embroidery, feeling the smooth material between your fingers.

"No brainer," Zoe said before you even questioned if you should get it. You giggled and tried your best to ignore the absurd price tag and brought it to the counter with you. You handed over Joel's credit card while the sales clerk carefully wrapped up both items in what you thought should be solid fucking gold given the price of everything in the store, then you were both on your way back to the hotel.

"Good use of an afternoon, if I do say so myself," Zoe said with an easy laugh. You had to agree, although for a different reason. For the first time all week, you felt like yourself again. The shame and the embarrassment didn't have room in your head while Zoe kept you entertained over lunch. You thought when it came time to shop for a dress with Joel's money, those feelings would come rushing back, but no. You felt confident and sexy and if Joel's reaction to your new acquisitions was half of Zoe's, you would finally have the upper hand.

By the time you arrived back to your room, you were feeling worlds better. You quietly shut the door behind you in case Joel was on a call and kicked off your strappy sandals before making your way into the living space. Joel turned around from the dining table to glance your way once before turning back to his laptop.

"Have fun?"

"Mhmm, thank you," you told him, sliding his card across the table. His eyes flickered from the card to your face to the wardrobe bag and small box in your hand.

"Found somethin' you liked?"

You grinned and nodded vigorously. "Very much."

Joel could pick up on your improved mood almost instantly and a wave of relief washed over him. He kept fucking things up with you, but that was no surprise. What was a surprise was how bad he felt when it became apparent you were hurt by something he did or said. He convinced himself it was all for the best, anyway. The more he pushed you away, the easier it would be.

"That's great," he said, eyes trailing after you as you walked towards your room. "Goin' to meet Glenn and the others for golf in a bit." He fucking hated golf, but he sucked it up to rub the right elbows. "You gonna be alright on your own for dinner?"

You glanced over your shoulder and nodded. "I think I'm just going to sit out by the pool and call it an early night. Didn't sleep too well."

You disappeared inside your bedroom and he focused back on his work. You must have went outside because it was so quiet, he became so engrossed in work that he nearly lost track of time. When the calendar reminder popped up on his phone, he quickly shut down his laptop and stood, gathering his things so he could run and get changed, but he only made it one step away from the table before he froze.

He swallowed thickly when he saw you sunbathing, which wasn't out of the ordinary but this time you had chosen to remove your bikini top completely, leaving it discarded in a pathetic little pile next to your chair. You were face down so he couldn't see anything except your perfect ass covered by a deep purple, barely there swimsuit bottom, but it was enough to send a rush of blood between his legs.

He had been doing so good. He forced himself into staying busy, staying away from you, because otherwise he knew it wouldn't take much to tear down what little defenses he had left, especially after that morning on the yacht. And now here you were, practically laid out on a silver platter for him once again while he fought with his inner demons.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, he began to move slowly down the hallway, the destination his bedroom but his eyes remained glued to the window at the end of the hall. He was within arms length of his room. If only he had moved just a hair faster because then he wouldn't have seen you sit up to get a drink of water. He wouldn't have seen the towel you had been laying on get stuck on the arm of the lounge chair. And he wouldn't have caught a quick but very revealing eye full of your bare chest.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he continued to stare, feeling like a creep but still unable to move. You had quickly covered back up, unaware he had seen a thing as he stood cemented to the ground outside his bedroom, his cock uncomfortably hard. So hard that it made his stomach hurt.

He should have fucked you when he had the chance.

No, that would be wrong. You had no idea the type of man he was, and you deserved far better than him.

But maybe you would like him anyway.

He shook his head, muttering no under his breath as he tore his eyes away from you and slipped inside his bedroom.

He wouldn't fall for it. Not again.

"Glenn's daughter's name is Rose," Joel had told you in the car. He was forcing himself to stare out the window instead of your exposed leg in that slinky fucking dress that made him lightheaded the moment he first saw you in it. "His youngest. It's her first big exhibition as a curator. Supposed to be mostly abstract art from a local artist that's growin' a large following online."

You hadn't been to an art gallery since you were in high school. Art was never really an interest of yours and it was a topic you knew very little about, so you prayed nobody would try to test your knowledge at any point during the night.

When you first stepped into the modernist building, you had to take a moment to absorb your surroundings in awe.

The floor was a shiny, dark hardwood that contrasted nicely with the off white walls which held stunning paintings around the entire room. There was the occasional piece of furniture, a couple of chairs or a table, but the room was designed mostly with space for movement in mind.

The room itself appeared to have three or four partially closed off smaller rooms, most likely created that way so the artist could break up different sections of their collection. And most of the lighting came from the small spotlights hung directly above each wall so it allowed guests to view the works of art in the best possible light.

"This place is beautiful," you whispered so only Joel could hear. He had his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hardly giving his surroundings a second glance when he had you looking like a piece of art right next to him.

"Hey, Miller," a deep voice said from behind, startling you both. Turning around, you tried to keep your face from falling when you were greeted by Scott and Tammy. Scott stretched out his arm and Joel reluctantly removed his grasp on you to shake his hand.

"Some place, huh?" Scott remarked, glancing around at the art while you and Tammy tried to avoid looking at one another.

"Yeah, seems like a really talented artist," Joel replied. Scott shrugged and made a face just as a young woman in her early twenties walked slowly past, all alone, and stopped in front of a blue and pink painting.

"Abstract ain't really my thing," he said, "I'll have to take your word for it." You frowned and looked around incredulously.

"Are you kidding?" you asked without even thinking. All three looked at you in surprise and the young woman nearby tilted her head to listen.

"What do you mean?" Tammy asked with an air of fake politeness.

"What I mean is this artist is extremely talented," you said, sweeping your arm out to your side to gesture to a wall of paintings. "Look at the way they used complimentary colors in each piece. Look at the texture. I don't know much about abstract art, either, but if you can't feel something when you look at these paintings, you probably should check your pulse."

The young woman smirked to herself and walked away while Scott and Tammy stared at you in surprise. The corner of Joel's mouth twitched and he ducked his chin into his chest.

"N-no, you're right," Scott stammered guiltily, taking another look around the room. "It's always good to broaden your horizons and try to find enjoyment in things you don't expect. Right, Tam?"

You smiled sweetly at them both as you felt Joel's hand slink around your waist again.

"Yes," Tammy hissed through her teeth. "Of course, you're right. Why don't we go admire the paintings that look like someone kicked a few cans of color over the canvas and called it a day?"

Scott's ears turned a little red and excused them both. While they walked away, you caught them angrily whispering to each other and you turned to smirk at Joel.

"Sorry," you told him. He just shook his head and steered you in the opposite direction.

"No, you ain't."

You giggled. "Yeah, you're right."

Then much to your surprise, he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. Before you had a chance to react, you were greeted by Glenn and Mary.

"Oh, there you are!" Mary exclaimed before wrapping her fingers around the shoulders of a beautiful blonde girl who appeared to be in her mid twenties. Her hair was brushed back into a neat, professional bun and she wore a white blouse with flowing sleeves and well fitting black slacks.

"This is our daughter, Rose," Mary beamed. You both eagerly shook her hand and introduced yourselves before you added, "This is such a lovely gallery, thank you for having us."

"Pleasure's all mine," she said with a wide grin. "Truthfully I was terrified only five people would show up."

You laughed and glanced quickly around the packed room. "Looks like it's a little more than five."

"And I'm so grateful," Rose said sincerely. "The artist is so talented that I would have felt horrible if we had a poor showing."

"Where is the artist, anyway?" Glenn asked.

"They have an anonymous persona, it's how they prefer it. Even online, no one knows their real name or what they look like. Took a while before they even trusted me enough to meet face to face," Rose explained with a smile and shrug. "Genius tends to bring along little quirks."

Shortly thereafter, someone else stole Rose's attention and with a quick wave to Glenn and Mary, Joel led you away to look at the art a little closer.

"So, what'dya think so far?" Joel asked, plucking two glasses of champagne from a serving tray before joining you in front of a pink and blue painting that caught your eye earlier. You thanked him softly for the drink and continued to stare at the painting.

"I'll be honest, I thought I would hate it but I think I'm in love," you joked. Joel chuckled and gestured to the painting with his glass.

"You like this one?"

You nodded and took a sip of champagne. "It reminds me of something," you said, tilting your head to the side, studying each stroke of blues, pinks and bits of white throughout the canvas. "I find it so peaceful to look at."

He nodded in agreement and inched a little closer to your side. "So it makes you feel somethin'."

You flushed and averted your eyes. "I hope that didn't embarrass you."

Joel shook his head. "'Course not. I liked it. I like when you stand your ground and speak your mind."

"Careful what you wish for," you chuckled. He grinned and let his eyes roam up and down your body for a moment before blowing a disbelieving puff of air past his lips and shaking his head.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and you wanted to kick yourself for being so weak for him.

"Thank you," you breathed, watching as his eyes continued to devour you. "I picked it out for you," you added a little nervously. His eyebrows shot up and you held your breath as he leaned in a little closer.

"That right?" he murmured, knuckles dragging gently down your arm and sending a shiver down your spine. "Thought 'bout me when you were tryin' on dresses? Wondered what I would like the most?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, eyelids growing heavy as you fell under his spell with ease. "And I got something else, too," you whispered, knowing full well you were pushing it, but you couldn't resist.

It took him a moment, but he figured out what you meant. You could see it in his eyes when they flickered down to your waist and then back up. They turned a shade darker and his jaw tensed, like he was physically trying to restrain himself.

"Careful," he warned lowly. The way he said it made you wonder if he was talking to you or himself.

"Or what?" you teased, cocking your head to the side playfully. He maintained his intense stare for another moment before dragging his gaze away and clearing his throat. His eyes found the painting again and he jutted his chin towards it.

"You really like it that much?"

You blinked, trying to keep up with the quick change in tone. At this point, you weren't sure why you were surprised anymore. Turning back to look at it, you nodded.

"Alright, then," Joel said firmly. "Excuse me."

You swiveled around and watched him weave his way through the crowd, making a beeline for Glenn, Mary, and Rose. You had to stifle your laugh when you realized what he was doing, but then you made eye contact with a set of dark brown, almost black eyes next to Rose and the smile slid right off your face.

Of course Brooks would be there. Why didn't you think of that sooner?

When you spun back around to give the painting one last look, you were surprised to find a young woman standing next to you admiring the painting, as well.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, then tucked a loose piece of brown hair behind her ear. The rest of her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she wore a midnight black suit with a matching tie.

"No need, I wasn't paying attention," you said sweetly. The pair of you stood in silence for a few minutes while the laughter and clinking glasses from the other guests occupied the air.

"Isn't this piece beautiful?" you asked her, trying to strike up a conversation. She grinned and shrugged.

"What do you find beautiful about it?"

You looked back at the painting, letting your gaze slide over the differing shades of blues, pinks, and whites.

"It's calming," you said. "I feel like I've seen it before but I can't pinpoint where."

The young woman nodded, urging you to continue.

You studied it a moment longer and then let out a dry chuckle. "You know, I'm gonna sound crazy, but there are these pink seashells in the ocean. My fiancé picked some up for me when we were swimming last week. It reminds me of the way they looked through the water, like the pink all distorted with the blue."

"That's exactly right."

You turned to her in surprise. "W-what do you mean?"

She stuck out her hand and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo running up her sleeve. "I'm Ellie. The artist."

"Oh, my god!" you practically exclaimed, covering your mouth before remembering your manners and shaking her hand, giving her your name. "You are incredibly talented," you told her, "and I swear I'm not just saying that."

"I know," she said, releasing your hand and shoving it back into her pants pocket. "I heard you defending me to that asshole and that overly botoxed wife of his. Thank you, by the way."

You laughed and shook your head in disbelief. "You're so welcome." You looked back at the painting as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. "So the seashells on the ocean floor inspired this?"

"Yep," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. "That one over there's palm trees in a tropical storm. The one next to it is all the different colored beach umbrellas at a resort. And the one all the way in the corner is -"

"Wait, let me guess."

Ellie smiled. "Okay."

You studied it for a minute, tapping your finger against you chin, deep in thought.

"Oh!" you said excitedly. "All the hibiscus flowers along the highway!"

She nodded with a look that told you she was impressed.

"How'd you tell?"

"We drove by them on our first day. You used greys at the bottom and bits of green in between, representing the bushes, right?"

"You got it," she said with a laugh.

"Wow," you breathed as you looked around at her paintings in a completely different light. "I know I sound like a broken record, but you're so talented. You truly have a gift."

"Thanks," Ellie said shyly. "I don't do good in crowds though, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone who I am."

"Promise," you said, giving her your pinky finger. She grinned and looped her finger around yours with a firm shake, and then her phone chimed in her pocket. She let you go and pulled it out, her expression unreadable.

"This painting just sold," she said softly, eyes slowly widening. "Shit, I'm sorry. I would've-"

"It's alright," you told her, glancing over your shoulder, but you couldn't spot Joel anywhere. "I think I know who bought it."

Ellie breathed a sigh of relief and put her phone away. "The fiancé?"

You nodded. "I should probably go thank him."

"Thank him for me, too," she joked. "It was great meeting you."

"Likewise," you said, giving her hand one more shake. "Good luck with the rest of the evening."

You weaved your way through the crowd, heading towards the back of the building where you last saw Joel. On your way, you caught Zoe's eye from across the room and waved, laughing when she fanned herself and gave you an exaggerated once over.

"Hi, honey," Glenn said when he spotted you walking by.

"Hi... have you seen Joel?" you asked, then Brooks piped up with an sinister smile.

"Think he went towards the bathrooms with Scott's wife," he told you, pretending to search his brain while his foot tapped restlessly against the wooden floor. Then he snapped his fingers as if struck with a great idea. "Tammy! That's her name, right?"

Your blood felt like fire in your veins and it must have shown because Brooks grinned and shot you a wink before you hurried off towards the back of the room.

The bathrooms were down a long hallway and around the bend. You walked as fast as you could without the sound of your heels causing someone to think you were running. As you approached the turn, you heard Joel's voice before you got a chance to see him. You couldn't hear what he said over your own heavy breathing, but his tone sounded surprised.

When you turned the corner, you stopped dead in your tracks, unable to believe your eyes.

There, right in front of the men's bathroom, was Tammy. She was pressing her lips against Joel's with her long, fake fingernails raking through his hair. You were too stunned and just barely had a moment to process the shocked look on Joel's face, one where his eyes didn't even close and his brows furrowed in anger before he pushed her back and wiped his mouth with his hand.

Before he had a chance to say anything, someone shouted down the corridor, causing them both to swivel in your direction. It wasn't until you had almost closed in on them that you realized you were the one shouting.

"You fucking bitch!" you yelled, lunging forward, completely fueled by white hot rage. Joel's arms wrapped around you before you could hit her like you intended, but you did manage to get your fingers around a good chunk of her hair. She yelped and clawed at your wrist, begging you to let go, but you ignored her pleas. Instead, you shook her head back and forth like a dog and it wasn't until her hair-do was almost completely destroyed that you finally let go, but not before angrily kicking in her direction while Joel hauled you away.

"You fucking psycho!" she screeched, frantically trying to tame her hair as she stumbled against the wall. "Nothing even happened!"

"Stay away from my fucking fiancé or so help me, I'll undo a decade of plastic surgery in ten minutes," you sneered.

"Relax!" Joel told you sternly. He turned his attention to Tammy, who was catching her breath and looked like a dissolved mess. "Get outta here," he snapped, and just like that, she scurried into the women's room to try to fix her hair.

He released his grip around you and you immediately turned on him.

"What the fuck?" you seethed, jabbing a shaky finger into his chest. He held up his palms and shook his head.

"You saw it, I didn't kiss her back, I need you calm the fuck down right now."

You dragged in a deep, ragged breath but you were still driven by unbridled anger.

"You told me this was over," you said through clenched teeth. Joel grabbed your wrists but you shook him off and stepped back. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand propped on his hip.

"It is," he said calmly. "She was waitin' for me and - y'know what? I don't gotta explain anythin' to you," he glanced up and down the hallway before dropping his voice and towering over you, anger now radiating off him. "Do I gotta remind you this ain't real?"

Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. "I don't care. Anyone could have come down this hallway and seen you, and then what? Huh? What if it was Glenn? What if it was fucking Scott?"

He knew you were right, but he just silently glared down at you, each of you breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off.

"I'm leaving," you told him, gathering up your dress and straightening it out. "I'm so sick and tired of your fucking head games and I won't stay here and let you embarrass me any longer."

Something in his expression changed but you didn't linger long enough to find out what it was. You bunched up the skirt of your dress and quickly walked away, doing your best to move fast without breaking a heel. You heard Joel call your name but you ignored him, hellbent on disappearing into the crowd and getting away from him as fast as possible.

Something inside him broke when you said you were leaving. Something deep in his chest he didn't expect to feel, and suddenly he was overcome with an immense amount of guilt and shame. He needed to apologize. He needed to make things right.

Shit, did you mean you were leaving for good? Or just leaving the art gallery? Why did he keep saying the wrong fucking thing?

Panic coursed through his veins in seconds and he found himself rushing after you. He must have looked like a fool when he raced out of the hallway and back into the bustling gallery, head twisting around every which way as he desperately searched for a flash of your deep red dress, but all he saw was a sea of unrecognizable faces.

"Better keep an eye on that one."

Joel spun around, eyes wild, when he came face to face with Brooks.

"Which way did she go?" he asked. Brooks just grinned and casually swiped at his nose with a sniffle and Joel narrowed his eyes.

"Where?" he said, dropping his voice angrily. Brooks held up his hands and chuckled.

"Calm down," he warned, making the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stand up. "She looked like she was going towards the side exit. Looked pretty upset. Hope there's no trouble in paradise."

Something about the way Brooks said it gave Joel pause.

"No," Joel said, eyes flickering towards the door, "We're fine. She just wanted to head back to the hotel."

Brooks nodded and rubbed at his chin. "That's a relief. I'd hate for someone to come along and snatch her up from you."

"What did you just say?" Joel asked, taking a menacing step forward before catching himself. What the fuck did that mean?

"C'mon, you know what I mean," he replied, nudging Joel's shoulder good naturedly as if he were in on some joke. Joel clenched his teeth and tried to refrain from doing something stupid, and if he wasn't Glenn's son, he might not have held back. "Girl like that needs to be taken care of."

"I take care of her just fine," Joel said defensively, and as much as he wished he could figure out exactly what Brooks thought he knew, he didn't have time to waste. "Tell your parents she wasn't feelin' well and we had to leave."

Before Joel stepped away, Brooks winked and gave him a thumbs up. "Sure thing, man."

He hurried through the crowd, a chorus of excuse mes being uttered from his lips every other second until he finally reached the door.

The moment he stepped outside he was hit with the tropical humidity he had somehow grown accustomed to in the past two weeks, but also finally found some quiet.

He took a moment to take a few deep breaths and look around. When he spotted you further down the street with your arms wrapped around your middle and your dress fluttering in the night breeze, he breathed a sigh of relief.

You were waiting for the car to pull around with your chin tucked into your chest and he swore if he had made you cry again he would never forgive himself. But when you heard him approach and lifted your head, he didn't see tears. Instead, he saw disappointment mixed with anger.

He couldn't decide which made him feel worse.

"I'm sorry," he tried, but you shook your head as the car pulled up to the curb. He tried to reach out and open the door for you but you didn't allow it, so he hurried around to the other side of the car and slid into the seat next you.

Once the driver pulled out onto the street, he readjusted himself in his seat and turned to look at you.

"Not here," you said coldly before he could speak, gaze pinned to your window. He clamped his mouth shut and sat back. It was smart. He couldn't risk the driver overhearing something and spreading rumors, so instead he focused on what he was going to say to you to make things right once you were back in the room.

I'm sorry, she doesn't mean anything.

Would that imply you do mean something to him? Of course, you did, but he couldn't share that with you. Not after he just told you twenty minutes prior what you had wasn't real.

I'm sorry, this situation is more complicated than you thought.

Somehow he thought that wouldn't go over well.

He knew what he should really say but he couldn't bring himself to do it. I'm sorry for confusing you and leading you on. I can't help myself, I'm weak.

So instead, he settled on I'm sorry, you were right. If someone else saw, it would have ruined everything.

That is exactly what he said to you once the hotel room door finally closed behind you and you kicked off your heels, snatching them up in your hand and storming into the living room.

"Yeah, no shit," you muttered over your shoulder.

"C'mon, you know what you saw," he pleaded, "you know she took me by surprise when I was comin' outta the bathroom. I had nothin' to do with it. I told you it was over and it is, I don't know why-"

"Good question, Joel," you said, spinning around to pin him with a glare. "Why did she think she could do that? Hm?"

Joel shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Alright, let me ask you this," you said, dropping your shoes to the floor and perching against the dining room table. "What did she say to you on the yacht?"

"When?"

"You know damn well when," you snapped. You were getting too fed up now to play nice and it felt liberating to have that side of you back once again. You don't let people steamroll you. "When she followed you inside that day before the island dinner. When you told me, I only need to know what you say I need to know. Well, Joel, I need to know. So fucking tell me. What'd she say?"

His nostrils flared when he took a deep breath. People didn't talk to him like that. If it were anyone else, he would send them packing without a second thought, and maybe with a few choice words in return. But you? He couldn't do it. He couldn't stomach the thought of losing you.

"Fine," he grumbled, yanking out a chair at the table next to where you were standing and collapsing into it. He tugged at his tie, loosening the knot so it hung wide at his neck, then unfastened the top two buttons of his dress shirt before he spoke.

"She was surprised to hear 'bout our engagement. Wondered why I didn't warn her. Asked if we're happy. Usual beatin' 'round the bush shit."

You quirked an eyebrow and crossed your ankles. "What do you mean, beat around the bush? What was she really asking about?"

He raked his fingers through his hair and shrugged. "Y'know. Lookin' to see if I was interested in meetin' up with her during the stay."

"And what did you say?"

He rolled his eyes and gave you a disbelieving look. "The hell you think I said? No. I fuckin' said no."

"And she still kissed you after you said no on the yacht?"

"Yeah," he replied, crossing his arms and glancing up at you. "Think you ruffled her feathers a bit. Got her jealous."

You scoffed and looked away but secretly you found a sick sense of satisfaction from it.

"Happy now?" he asked after the silence dragged on a moment too long for his liking.

"Thrilled," you said sarcastically. You clasped your hands together in front of you and stared down at the floor. He watched you for another minute, feeling the energy in the room begin to shift back to normal, and he smirked to himself.

"What?"

"Never had two women fight over me before," he said with a wide smile, one which he tried to cover with his palm when he dragged his hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, well," you murmured, fiddling with your ring, "I would have wrecked her if you didn't stop me."

"I got no doubt," he replied, his hand dropping to find your exposed knee. Now that you seemed less pissed, his focus was being drawn back to you wearing that dress just for him. And then he remembered your earlier comment and it took every ounce of restraint not to slide his hand up your thigh and under your skirt to see what else you had on.

"We were havin' such a nice time 'fore all that happened," he murmured, his gaze wandering up and down your leg and you felt yourself begin to soften. "Think you were sayin' you bought more than just the dress, hm?"

Goddamnit, how did he do it? How did he manage to pull every emotion out of you in just one evening?

"You wanna see?" you asked, hoping he didn't hear the tremor in your voice or notice the way your legs fell open a fraction more.

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, gaze still fixed on your bare leg while his hand began to migrate further past your knee.

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, please show me. Let me see all of you. But he caught himself and his hand stilled.

"Why don't you just tell me, instead?"

"Or you could just move your hand a few more inches and find out for yourself," you teased, spreading your thighs a little more. His fingers pressed into your skin and you saw him swallow.

"Can't, y'know that."

You let out a frustrated huff and pushed yourself off the table, away from him.

"You're confusing the fuck out of me, Joel! One second you're all over me and the next you're pushing me away. And don't try to tell me it's all for show. You do this shit all the time."

You marched into the living room and plopped down onto one of the couches. You were fucking tired. Tired from the rollercoaster evening, tired from Joel's mixed signals, tired from everything.

He stood up with a groan and followed you to the living room, raking his fingers through his hair as he moved.

"I'm tryin' to protect you," he snapped, startling you. "I don't fuckin' trust myself 'round you, don't you see that? Don't you see what you're doin' to me?"

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood in front of you, imploring you to understand with a pained look on his face.

"Then why are you fighting it?" you whined, standing up. As you approached you saw his shoulders stiffen, but he didn't move away. "Why can't we-"

"'Cause I ain't a good man, darlin'," he said sadly, gaze dropping to the floor. "You deserve so much better."

"But I like you," you told him softly, reaching out and taking his hand. You brought it up to cup your face while a war waged behind his eyes. "I refuse to believe you're not a good man, Joel."

You turned so you could press a kiss into the palm of his hand, then slowly guided his arm lower, all the while staring him right in the eye until his fingertips brushed against the slit in your dress. Your breath hitched as you led him lower, underneath the material until his fingers finally came in contact with the silky red panties trimmed with black lace.

"Fuck," he whispered, cheeks tinting pink and eyes all wide and dark when he felt the wet patch that had seeped through. After that, he couldn't stop himself. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he growled, taking a step closer so he could tower over you while two thick fingers pressed and stroked steadily over your panties. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you released his arm so you could grab onto his shoulders for support. Joel wrapped his other arm around your waist and walked you back towards the sofa, all the while staring down at you like he was a predator who finally caught their prey.

You thought he would have laid you down but to your surprise, he twisted you both around at the last second and sat down on the couch, legs spread wide. He removed his hand from between your legs and you were about to protest when you heard the deafening tear of fabric. You gasped and looked down to see Joel had torn your brand new fucking dress from the slit up, exposing half your stomach.

"What the f-" you were about to scold him and tell him how much you liked that goddamn dress when he grabbed you by the hips and yanked you forward so he could bury his face against your clothed pussy. Your eyes bugged out of your head and you grabbed his hair to keep you steady, your shaky legs no longer able to be trusted. And when he took a deep, steady breath in through his nose, your face flushed with heat while staining the red satin of your underwear even darker.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he groaned before taking another deep breath. "Bet you taste even better."

"Jesus Christ," you whimpered, your fingers getting tangled in his hair. "Please, Joel, please..."

"Sit on my lap," he demanded, tearing himself away and leaning back into the couch. He slapped the tops of his thighs and ushered you forward with his fingers.

On shaky legs, you obeyed, spreading them wide so you could rest them on either side of his thighs. He stretched up to latch his mouth onto the hollow part underneath your jaw while his fingers resumed their torturous pace over your center.

"You're right, these were made to be seen," he murmured against your throat. Your hips began to rock, encouraging him to keep going with each little sound from the back of your throat. "Got these just for me, huh? Wanted me to see 'em?"

"Yeah," you whined, arms circling around his neck and jaw falling open as he brought you closer and closer to your climax without still having actually touched you.

"What'd you want me to do, baby?" he asked softly. Your breath was growing shallow and the noises you were making were getting louder and he smirked, knowing you were close from just a few minutes of petting you through your clothes. If this is how responsive you were from just his fingers, he couldn't fucking wait to take you apart with his cock. "Tell me. Did'ya want me to bend you over the table?"

You nodded and gasped when his fingers began to move faster. "Everywhere. In the car. At the art gallery. In the fucking elevator... fuck, Joel!"

His cock swelled in his pants, the material already too unforgiving and tight, when you came shouting his name. A shudder ran through your body when you slumped forward to rest your head on his shoulder, but unfortunately he didn't give you the courtesy of recovery because in an instant, he hooked the material of your underwear to the side and two fingers slid right into your soaked cunt.

You weren't sure who groaned louder, you or Joel, but it felt like both of you were equally desperate.

"Oh, fuck," you whimpered, sweat dotting your forehead and upper lip from the welcome intrusion his fingers caused. You forced yourself to straighten back up so you could grab his face with both hands and slant your mouth eagerly over his. His tongue immediately invaded your mouth and his wrist began to snap between your legs, causing your mind to go numb as you focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

"Joel," you moaned in between biting at his lower lip. "I don't think I can come again."

"Yes, you fuckin' will," he said roughly. His free hand, which was clutching your hip, began to guide you up and down on his fingers. "You wanted me so bad and now you're tellin' me you can't come again? Gimme what I want and maybe I'll give you what you want."

You nodded dumbly and followed his lead, rolling your hips and then bouncing on his lap until you found what worked and you felt that familiar warmth building low in your stomach again.

"Keep going, just like that," you panted against his lips. He nodded, eyes so dark they looked black as he stared up at you. Your eyes were squeezed shut, too focused on chasing your high to see the way he was looking at you. It was probably for the best because he was fairly certain you would be able to see right through him in that moment and it scared the shit out of him.

"Oh, fuck, baby, that's it," he breathed, pulling you closer so he could hide his face against your throat. He could feel you tightening around his fingers and your nails were digging into his shoulders, the bite of pain sending shivers down his spine. Your moans grew more high pitched and your skin felt hot to the touch. He leaned forward on the couch and, circling his other arm around your waist, tugged you as close as possible while using the force from his entire body to thrust his fingers as deep as he could into your cunt, curling them inside you each time he retracted his hand.

"Oh, god, Joel," you whined breathlessly, stomach tensing the closer you came to your orgasm. "I think... I think I'm gonna-"

You cut yourself off with a shaky moan when you came for the second time, your entire body pulsing in his arms as your orgasm shot through you violently, taking every shred of energy you had left.

You murmured softly against his neck when he eventually dragged his fingers out of you. Your eye cracked open just in time to see him pop both fingers into his mouth and hum appreciatively to himself while still holding you close against his chest.

"You alright?" he asked before kissing the top of your head.

"You ruined my dress," you whispered sleepily. He chuckled, the vibrations from his chest melting into yours, making you smile.

"It's not funny. It was over a thousand dollars."

"Money well spent," he replied before tipping the back of his head against the couch with a deep sigh. He was still painfully hard but you were too weak and tired to do anything about it. He maneuvered you so your legs were no longer spread open on his lap, then hooked an arm underneath your knees. With his other arm around your shoulders, he stood with a groan and began to carry you down the hall.

Your own arms were still wrapped tightly around his neck and once he approached the bedrooms, you opened your eyes to see which room he would pick. It didn't surprise you when he turned into your room but you were too tired to really care.

"You oughta change outta this dress," he murmured as he laid you down in bed.

"Mhmm, I will," you promised, then smiled when he brushed your hair out of your eyes and kissed your forehead.

"Get some sleep," he said, and just as he was about to step back into the hall, you called out his name. He spun around, the sight of you spread out over your bed, all fucked out in a torn up dress giving him pause before he cleared his throat and responded.

"Yeah?"

"You better not fucking tip me this time."

You giggled when you saw the grin on his face and he shook his head in disbelief.

"'Night."

"Good night."

Once he left, you slipped out of the dress but you couldn't bring yourself to throw it out, so you zipped it back up in its bag and tucked it into the back of your closet before drifting off and feeling the calmest you ever felt.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us au #swept away fic #joel miller smut

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ribbonprincess · 5 months

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🍯࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

note: road head (don't do that folks!) reader and Rafe refers to him as daddy,rafe is a head pusher.

You and Rafe are driving back home after a long afternoon of golfing,more like him as you were just admiring your boyfriend from the golf cart and sometimes giving him his club. He looked so hot with his white shirt and the few drops of sweat that you would occasionally see roll down the side of his face. So you do the only thing that seems right in your mind.

"Jesus,stop that- I'm driving,you're gonna make us crash!" Rafe's pushing your hand away from his crotch,making you whine as you put it back "please..wanna make you feel good rayray,I'll be quick! You just need to focus on the road,I'll be quick!"

Your boyfriend seems hesitant,looking at you before looking back at the road "okay...yeah,fine. Always need something in your mouth hm? Even while I'm driving." You're quick to undo his pants and pull the zipper down,pulling his dick out of his boxer and smiling widely before bending down to kitten lick at his tip. "thank you!" you mumble with your mouth full of him.

Rafe's eyes are stuck on the road as he tries to keep the steering wheel straight "jeez,what even got into you" one of his hands move to sit on top of your head,sighing shakily. "you just look so hot today,daddy- needed to have you." He nods to himself,pushing you down on his length "there you go...good girl" a small smirk creeps up on his face once he steals a quick glance down. Your eyes are glazed over,tears treating to spill over and ruin your mascara and he can see himself bulging into your cheek as you continue to work on him.

One of your hands cup his balls,massaging them softly making the man above you release a low growl "fuck, you're gonna get yourself in trouble princess. Behave" he says before pushing you completely down,your nose touching the small patch of nearly trimmed blonde hair "hm! Can't breathe rafey!" you whine immediately,coming back up for a quick breath.

"Hey,where are you going? back to work sweetie,cmon I'm close" you have no time to complain as he pushes you on him again,thrusting you into your mouth as best of his abilities "yeah...that's what I mean,nice and warm for me. Always taking me so well baby" your mascara Is now completely smudged all over your cheeks and under eye,making your lashes stick together uncomfortably. "help daddy out a bit baby" Rafe reminds you.

You're clenching your thighs together,moaning at the small friction you get "needy girl,sucking daddy's dick makes you horny?" he chuckles before giving you another small push "c'mon,I'll make you feel good later. Need you to focus on me"

Breathing through your nose you focus back on your work,pressing your tongue against one prominent vein that runs on the side of his dick before sucking on his tip,making him groan out loud. "fuck,yeah...'m so close sweetheart,so close" you look up at him,squeezing at his base with one hand while the other resume the work on his balls. Rafe grunts one more time before he's filling your mouth with sweet and sticky cum,making you close your eyes to enjoy the moment before pulling off him and smiling. "god...are you happy now?can't believe you just did that" He mumbles,tucking himself back in his pants with a low hiss from oversensitivity "yeah!I am,thank you rayray!" pressing your lips to his cheek you leave a sticky stain behind before settling into your seat like nothing ever happened "jeez,'m dating a freak."

#🎀princess #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #outer banks imagine #outer banks blurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe cameron blurb

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giuliettagaltieri · 3 months

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Obsessive Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: A jerk, a bitch, and the sidekicks

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 1598

1 of 4

You can clearly remember the day you first started liking Rafe Cameron.

It was midsummer five years ago. He was older than you and he only hung out with boys. You were on the sidelines, afraid to talk to other girls like the popular Sarah Cameron and not interested in the conversation that the adults are having.

There was nothing interesting happening until Rafe Cameron decided to talk to you. Well, it was just pleasantries being passed between you as you were standing by the cocktail table, sipping on your nonalcoholic juice as your mother insisted, and he was just needing a drink for himself. One thing led to another and he was keeping you company the entire night, you did see how his stepmother was exchanging glances with him. Whatever kindness Rafe Cameron showed you, it was not voluntary.

But you are grateful for it.

You started slotting yourself in his life, little by little, and he let you.

It was summer again and you had nothing else to do but bother him.

Dressed up in your polo shirt tucked in a light figure hugging shorts, your tennis shoes crunch over the pebbles of your driveway as you make your way to your car to head to the country club.

In the mornings, you know that he likes to hit the gym with Topper and Kelce, you’d join them but they all stink of sweat and you’d rather pass. Around this time, you know they will be at the Country Club, drinking or playing golf.

Smiling widely, you check your compact for anything out of place and smile even wider when you are content with how you look, sending a wink to your own reflection.

Rafe begrudgingly taught you how to drive a couple of years ago and you feel giddy with the memory. You park carefully once you arrive at the Country Club and you spritz your favorite perfume behind your ears. Rafe mentioned it smelled nice before and you have been using it ever since. All the other perfume bottles that you are gifted on your birthdays and Christmas were left to collect dust in your closet.

You pinch your high socks to make sure that they fit snuggly, you can’t appear unkempt in front of Rafe and his friends. With a practiced smile, you hop out of your car and saunter over to Rafe’s usual table, and just as you expected, he’s right there, having beer with Topper and Kelce.

“Hi!” You greet them enthusiastically. Topper and Kelce smile upon seeing you. Rafe glances behind his shoulder to look at you before he turns back to his beer.

“Hi, Rafe.” You say as you reach him, you place a hand on his arm to further get his attention and he squints up at you, making you giggle. You sit down next to him, with a smile still on your face. “I said…Hi, Rafe.”

He glances at Topper and Kelce, smiling briefly before it drops and he leans closer to you, his hard eyes staring deep into yours. “Hi, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warm upon the soft gravel of his voice and you try to hide your proud smirk. You like it when he actually acknowledges you, despite how rude he might act, you know he’s nice deep down. Rafe has quite a temper and you have seen his outburst multiple times but he is always gentle with you.

Mindless conversation rolls over you until a soft chime in your bag has you pulling out your phone. “Ugh, sorry.” You smile sheepishly as you put your phone on silent mode. “My mom has been trying to convince me to shift to business management courses.”

“Oh yeah, you took up fashion design, right?” Kelce nods as he sip his beer and you beam at him.

“I did, Kelce. Would you like to see my recent designs?” You ask excitedly as you open your gallery and place your phone so Topper and Kelce can look at your sketch.

But Rafe chuckles humorlessly. “Sweetheart, I don’t think Kelce came here to look at your drawings.”

“Oh.” Your smile drops, your shoulders sagging just a bit. “I’m sorry.” You press home and Kelce and Topper both see how Rafe was your screensaver. You don’t look embarrassed by it though.

“That’s fine.” Kelce smiled at you. “They’re uhm, they’re good. Right, Top?” He slaps Topper’s chest who quickly nods at you, even sending a frown to Rafe.

“They’re really nice, Y/N. Perhaps you can make a suit for me for midsummer next year?” He smiles and you gasp.

“Really, Top?” You stand from your chair to grab his hand and he chuckles at your excitement.

“Yeah.” Topper nods, grinning widely at your enthusiasm.

You sit back down and glance at Rafe triumphantly. “See? They’re not just drawings.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and grabs his beer. “Sure.”

You drink your cherry cola, which was put under Rafe’s tab, swinging your feet as you sit closer to him, your smile not leaving your face.

“Do you need sunglasses?” You ask Rafe quietly as he squints under the sunlight. “I have one in my car.” He ignores you to listen to Topper talk. “Or do you wanna switch seats with me, at least you won’t be facing the sun directly.” You giggle lightly as you lean even closer to him.

Rafe shakes his head, eyeing you briefly. “I’m good.”

You sigh but then you get a brilliant idea. “At least wear sunscreen.” You fish out a bottle of sunscreen from your pouch. Rafe clicks his tongue when you spread the cream evenly on your palm and just as your hands were about to touch his face, his hands caught your wrist to stop you.

The sudden movement caught the server passing by off guard and the cocktail she was carrying came spilling onto Rafe’s polo.

“Oh no!” You gasp, quickly wiping your hand on your thighs and dabbing a napkin on Rafe’s stained top.

The server apologizes profusely, she was even pressing her own napkin on Rafe’s clothes, but your eyes immediately lock on how her hands are pressed up on Rafe’s chest.

Before you can stop yourself, you are prying her hands off of Rafe, his shirt crumpled by your hands as you pull him close, your eyes glaring daggers at her.

“Don’t touch him!” You scream angrily at her. Her chest is heaving as her short hair is in disarray. You glance at her nametag. “Sofia.” You say bitterly. “Watch where you’re going next time! If you can’t even serve drinks properly without pouring them all over your patrons, perhaps you shouldn’t be working here!” You yell at her but before she can respond, Rafe’s arms wrap around your midriff and he lifts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down, now!” You scream as you kick your feet but Rafe enclosed your thighs in a secure hold.

“Not until you calm down!” He bellows, making you swallow the insult you were about to throw at Sofia.

You gulp. You pissed him off.

You bite your lip as you let Rafe carry you to your car. He puts you down roughly on your hood, you immediately squirm at the impact and at the heat of the metal under your thighs.

“Put me down!” You squeal in pain but Rafe holds your thighs in each hand, you stop all movement when you see his tendons popping out, his eyes glaring at you. “Rafe, I’m sor-”

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” He angrily spits through gritted teeth. His grip on your thighs tightening with every word he spoke, making you flinch and shrink back, your eyes glossy with tears. “You just embarrassed me!”

You blanch at his tone. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.” You hiccup as you touch his jaw but he turns his head to the opposite direction, away from your touch. His nose flared as his anger nearly boiled over. His face was turning red and you see a vein bulge in his temple.

“She only spilled the drink on me because you were being insufferable. That girl didn’t deserve to be yelled at. You were a fucking bitch!” He drilled a finger on your chest, making tears stream down your cheeks. “God! I can’t stand you.” He shakes his head as he glares at you before storming off.

You called his name but he was already marching back inside the Country Club. You watch him march away, his shoulders squared as he runs a hand down his mouth. Your entire body was shaking as you looked at him desperately.

Kelce comes and helps you down the hood. You were clinging to his arms as you looked in the direction where Rafe disappeared. “I said I was sorry.” You look at Kelce with tears pouring out of your desperate eyes. “Kelce, I said I was sorry.”

Topper shakes his head as he snatches a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you. Your stuff already in his other hand

“Come on, Y/N.” Topper calls. “I’ll drive you home.”

Reluctantly, you step away from Kelce. You glance at the Country Club one last time to see if Rafe came back and you wish you hadn’t, there he was with that server, Sofia. Rafe was smiling down at her, she had a hand on her chest as she too smiled at him. They are clearly talking about you.

Topper gently puts an arm on your shoulders to get you to tear your eyes away from them.

Lovesick Little Thing

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe angst #rafe obx #obx #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #lovesick little thing

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eyesxxyou · 1 year

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*ೃ˚ :💾 professor!miguel x reader

❝ warnings ❞ oral (m receiving), desk fucking, making press, anal fingering, finger fucking, Miguel with glasses, cockwarming, exhibitionism, edging

Professor!Miguel makes you his TA because he wanted you to spend more time with it without it raising suspicion as to why you're always in his office.

Professor!Miguel who can't help but give you a little extra credit on your assignments when you get on your knees and open that pretty mouth of yours to him to slide his cock into and take the edge off of all his hard work. He deals with so much in a day and you want to be there for him, with open arms, open legs, and and open mouth.

Professor!Miguel who has you keep his cock warm with your mouth under his desk while he grades papers. You'll wait until your jaw aches before you begin to nod your head and stroke your tongue along the underside of his thick length. You'll suck his cock, leave him stuttering with his glasses falling lopsided on his face, "Hermosa, my love, please. I have work to do." It makes you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue against his sensitive tip until he gives you what you desire. You let him cum down your throat, each swallow making him sigh in pleasure and relax further into his seat, his head lulled back and his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. You purr in pleasure, your own hand in your pants, teasing your own clit this whole time. His cum coating your tongue and lips making you rock with the beginnings of your own orgasm.

Professor!Miguel who will wait until his last lecture is done and the lights are dimmed before he bends you over his desk and fucks you silly. He'll have you squealing his name, echoing off the walls your eyes looking at the seats you and your classmates once sat in. "Fuck, fuck, fuck– M- Migueeel!" He'll fuck you so hard he moves the desk forward with loud screeches and leaves you with tears pricking your eyes. He strokes his cock inside you so good and deep that it makes you believe that heaven was real and this was it.

Professor!Miguel who loves to tease your ass while fucking you, never fully going there but always testing the waters. He'll spit on your ass and ease his thumb into the tight rim of your hole. You'll moan, your head resting on the papers you were meant to grade, papers you were crumbling in your hands. You'll have to reprint those later. He'll finger you there, ask you if you like it and you'll moan as he pushes further in.

Professor!Miguel who likes to tease you about someone coming in while he's fucking you. The spotlight was on the two of you. If any one came in, their attention would immediately be drawn to you getting railed so hard tears were beginning to prick your eyes. You shivered at the thought, in both fear and pleasure, every shadow making you want to stop but Miguel forced you to keep going, pinning your neck down to the desk with his large hand and rolling his hips against your ass. "Not so fast, cariño."

Professor!Miguel who likes it when you take his reading glasses off when he's fucking you in a mating press and put it on yourself. He'll tuck your legs further against your chest, bending you in half, pressing his body on top of yours to kiss you. "Muñeca, you look like a slut with my glasses on." His tongue will draw across your bottom lip as he looks into your eyes, his glasses barely staying on with the power of his thrusts. He fucks you stupid, drooling, brain-dead. Your fingers claw at his hairy forearms as you look at him. His hair tossed, his shirt open just enough to reveal his chest hair and the golf chain he wears all the time beneath his clothes. The happy trail leading down to the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock drilling inside you. If either two of you looked like the slut, it was him.

Professor!Miguel who, as a punishment, with put you in his lap force you to spread your legs, and finger fuck you in his empty lecture hall. He'll force you to look at those doors that you feared would open at any moment. He'll finger you with his thumb stroking and teasing your clit until you reach the edge of completion, labored breathing, grasping hands, needy whimpers, then he'll stop. You'll whine and cry and beg for him to let you cum but he'd wait despite your beautiful pleas for your orgasm to pass, then continue again, your body so grateful that it would relax into him, forgiving his betrayal, your hands reaching back and stroking the back of his head like he's a good boy. Then he'd do it again. And again. Until you were crying in his arms, begging to cum. And when you finally did, it wrecked you, took you in a way that made you thrash in his arms and toss your hand over your mouth to stifle your moan that bordered on a scream.

Professor!Miguel who knew you were easily jealous and would often call in a student to talk to alone without you as a participant. The anxiety killed you and the moment you could get alone with him, whether in a broom closet or in the staff bathroom, you'd pull him in and fuck him like he's never known before, have him shivering with the brutality of an orgasm within minutes.

Professor!Miguel who knows that a relationship of this nature with a student would get him fired but you were so addicting he found himself not caring. He had every reason in the world to cut ties of this nature with you, for you would inevitably lead to his downfall, but everytime you'd kiss him Everytime you'd trace his jaw and snatch his glasses. He could never get rid of you.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #professor!miguel #professor!au #miguel smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

A special sort of craving 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.

Part of the Backwood AU

Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.

He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.

“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.

“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”

He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.

“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”

“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.

“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”

His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.

“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.

“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”

“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”

You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.

“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”

“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.

“Sir,” you nod.

“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.

“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”

“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”

“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.

You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.

“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.

He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.

“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”

“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”

He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.

“You know it?”

“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”

“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”

“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”

“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”

“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.

“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”

“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”

“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”

You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”

“Melinda?” he prompts.

“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”

“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.

You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.

City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #the gray man #a special sort of craving

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solarisstyles · 1 year

Text

AT THE COUNTRY CLUB

Pairing: Golfer!Harry Styles x BarCart!F!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: fluff, teasing, public sex, protected sex(wrap it before you tap it!), smut, mentions of drinking and alcohol, 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: Harry likes to golf and you. A/N: none!

Out of all the jobs you’ve had, working as a bar cart girl at a high class country club was probably your favorite. All you did was drive around the course all day and sell old men alcohol. The tips were amazing despite the occasional creep you’d run into. Smoothing out your golf skirt and shirt in the locker room, you made your way out to the cart house to get the golf cart you’d use for the day. Checking over everything to make sure you were well stocked up, you began your rounds on the course.

“Good morning Mr.Anderson!” you called out to one of your weekly regulars. “You’re my first stop today. Can I get you anything?” you asked.

Looking up from his golf clubs, he beamed at you, “Ah, good morning dear! I’ll take some water for now. Catch me in a few holes and I might be ready for some liquor.”.

“Coming right up.” you said, stepping out of your seat and going to your cooler to grab a bottle of water. “Would you like it in a cup with ice or just a bottle?”

“A cup with ice please.” he politely said, approaching you and handing you some cash “There’s a tip in there as well.”. He was always looking out for you on the course so you genuinely appreciated his kindness,

“You know you don’t have to tip me for water.” you playfully scolded him, taking the money and tucking it away in the fanny pack you wore around your waist.

“I know. But you’re my favorite cart girl so I’m gonna take care of you.”, taking the cup from your hand, he held it up to you and smiled, “See you in a little while kid.”. Shaking your head with a smile of your own you got back in the cart and continued your way around the course. It was early so you didn’t get a lot of hits the first time around. The second time you made your rounds however, it was after lunch time and a lot busier.

Pulling up to some carts, you recognized the club bag as another regular of yours. You noticed he had a guest with him today which was always a nice surprise. “Hey Carter!” you called to him as he was picking out his club, giving him a flirty wave.

Looking up to see who called him, his eyes found you and smirked, “Hey yourself.” he replied, walking over to you.

“Can I get you and your friend anything?” you asked.

“I’ll have my usual.”, “Hey Harry! Do you want anything from the bar cart?” he called to his friend who’d just teed off.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he walked over to the two of you. You were thankful for your sunglasses or it would be painfully obvious that you were undressing him with your eyes. His tall, lean, but muscular build was exactly your type.

Harry was drinking in the sight of you just the same. Thankful for his own pair of sunglasses, he just hoped his attraction was obvious….elsewhere. “What does the lady suggest?” he asked you, a soft smirk on his face.

“Our vodka sodas are the most popular drink I sell.” you informed him, standing from your seat to start making Carter’s drink for him while Harry decides on his own.

Harry nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion, “What flavors do you have?” he asked.

“Pineapple, Grapefruit, Black Cherry, and Watermelon.”

“Which one is your favorite?” he then asked, catching you off guard.

You didn’t typically have men so invested in their drink orders. “Pineapple or Watermelon.” you replied, handing Carter his drink.

“I’ll try the Watermelon then.” he decided.

Reaching for the drink in your cooler, you popped open the can for him and handed it to him. “Anything else gentlemen?” you asked, looking between the two of them. Carter and Harry looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I think we’re good for now.” Carter said, pulling out his wallet and handing you his card, “Start a tab for me and put Harry’s drink on it.”. Taking his card and swiping it though your mobile card reader, you set up his tab, adding on the two drinks by his request.

“All set up.” you said, handing his card back to him with a smile. “Enjoy your time out here. Maybe I’ll catch you guys again later.”.

“I sure hope so.” Harry said, smirking at your now flushed cheeks.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “It was lovely meeting you Harry. Have Carter bring you around more.” you teased, getting back into your cart.

“Only if you let me try the Pineapple flavor next time.” he teased you.

“I’ll make sure to have some just for you.” you teased back, blowing him a kiss as you drove away.

You sadly didn’t get to see Carter and Harry again that day. But as you walked through the bar room of the club house, the house bartender called out to you, “This was left here for you.” he said with a smirk on his face. Taking the wad of twenties from him, you opened it to see a small piece of paper with a phone number on it, and Harry’s name scribbled beneath it. Rolling your eyes, you thanked the bartender and went to clock out for the evening. You thought about the phone number the whole way home, wondering if you should actually text him. You’ve never reciprocated anyone’s advancements towards you at the club house. But damn, was he fine. Collecting yourself you decided to play the long haul and not think with your imaginary dick. If he comes back again, you’ll consider giving it a try. You had to make him work for it somehow.

A week later, you were working inside at the actual bar instead of running the cart like normal. When you saw Carter walk in, you were excited, hoping to see Harry in tow. Your disappointment must have been evident on your face though when you realized he was there on his own.

“Damn don’t look too excited.” he said, sitting in front of you on a bar stool, crossing his arms.

You looked down bashfully, “Sorry Carter. I am excited to see you, I promise.” you apologized, looking up at him and batting your lashes.

He laughed, “You’re full of shit.” he called out, making you laugh with him, a soft blush dusting your cheeks.

“Your usual?” you assumed, already moving to make his drink.

“You know it.” he said, leaning against the bar. He watched as you made his drink, your body working on autopilot as you mixed the liquors together with the mixer and set it in front of him,

“Running a tab today?” you asked.

“No, I actually stopped by to play matchmaker.” he said, sliding some cash over to you and taking a sip of his drink.

Taking the cash over to the drawer, you looked back at him and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “With who?” you asked curiously, as you brought back his change.

“Keep it.” he waved your hand away. “And to answer your question, it’s you and Harry.” he smugly said, making you stop in your tracks and stare him down.

“What?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh come on! A blind man could see the chemistry between the two of you last week.” he exclaimed, gesturing his hands outward in an ‘it’s so obvious’ motion.

“Yeah? Then where is he today?” you countered, putting your hand on your hip.

“With his bandmates in the studio.” he informed you, raising an eyebrow at you as if daring you to challenge him.

“Oh…” you mumbled, unsure what to say next.

“Listen, I know you get plenty of offers from men here but Harry is a genuinely good guy. Give him a chance.” he pleaded.

“Did he put you up to this?” you questioned, feeling suspicious.

“Not at all. He doesn’t even know I came to talk to you.” Carter assured you.

“He did leave me his number at the bar last week. I guess if you’re so sure about this I’ll text him.” you caved, feeling weak under the peer pressure of what you were fighting so hard to avoid.

“Really?” he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful looking.

“Yes, and ONLY because I’ve known you for years now and I trust your judgment.” you clarified.

Staying true to your word, you sent Harry a text later that night after your shift. You were glad he took it so well that you waited a week to text him. Texts quickly turned into facetime calls and daily good morning texts. It truly floored you how easy Harry was to talk to. It was truly effortless on both sides. The more you both talked and the more comfortable you got with one another, the more you both would start to flirt with each other.

“So, when am I going to see you again?” you asked one night as you facetimed each other.

“You miss me or something?” he playfully asked, smirking at you through the phone screen.

You bit your lip, admiring his exposed biceps, the tank top he wore leaving little to the imagination and it drove you wild. “Maybe.” you answered, making him smirk.

“I was planning on coming with Carter this weekend to the club house. Are you working then?” he asked.

You felt your excitement peak some at the prospect of seeing him again, “Yes, I am actually. I’ll be running the cart like normal.” you said with a bright smile.

He smiled back at you, flicking off the light to his bedroom and flopping down onto this bed, “Good, I expect the best of the best service then.” he playfully said.

You giggled softly, “I’ll drive right past you don’t tempt me.” The challenging but teasing undertone of your voice had him laughing too.

“I’ll leave a Yelp review,” he decided to challenge you back.

You gasped, holding your hand over your chest dramatically, “Not the yelp review! What do I have to do to make it up to you?”

“A kiss would make up for it.” he boldly suggested.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “I think I could manage that.” you both smile bashfully at each other. So far the conversation has been kept innocent between the two of you. Now it was turned up to another level and it made your heart race with anticipation.

The following days leading up to you seeing Harry again, the sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife. Your replies to his innocent good morning texts were now photos of you posed suggestively in front of your mirror in your work outfit. The day he was meant to come to the course, you wore his favorite outfit, it was blue and the top was a little extra tight on you. It was guaranteed to drive him crazy and the thought of teasing him excited you.

Harry had texted you and let you know that he wouldn’t be there till later in the afternoon, so the morning felt like it was dragging.

You were on your fourth round around the course when you finally saw Harry and Carter. “About time y’all showed up!” you called out to them.

Harry beamed a bright smile at you, jogging up to you to pick you up and spin you around, making you squeal out a laugh.

Once he steadied you on your feet you smiled up at him, “What can I get you to drink?” you asked.

“Are you on the menu?” Harry flirted, his hands rubbing your sides softly. Your outfit choice was clearly having the desired effect on him, making you mentally high five yourself.

“Not while I’m on the clock.” you winked, swatting at his chest playfully.

He smirked, “I’ll try that Pineapple Vodka Soda then.” letting you go to get his drink.

Carter stood back and watched the two of you fondly, “I’m right here you know.” he said.

“I’m aware.” you teased, handing Harry his opened drink. “Would you like anything dear?” you teased, batting your lashes playfully.

Carter rolled his eyes, handing you some cash, “Get me my usual you twat.”.

You laughed, taking the money and putting it in your pouch before making his drink. “You guys gonna hang out for a while? I get off at five and I can join you at the bar.”

“I won’t, but Mr.Styles here will.” Carter teased, punching Harry in the arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah I’ll hang out.” he smiled at you.

“Cool, see you then.” you said, giving them a small wave before continuing your drive around the course.

There were more golfers than normal out on the course this afternoon, and any other day you would be thankful since you were getting great tips. The burning desire to be back with Harry was making you antsy though. When you finally made it back to the clubhouse, you parked your cart and sighed, resting your head on the steering wheel for a moment. You loved your job but it could really be draining sometimes.

Taking a deep breath, you got up and started to break down the cart, taking the extra drinks and liquor into the walk-in fridge behind the bar. Looking up at the clock in the back area, you were thrilled to see you only had five minutes left before you clocked out for the day.

Making your way over to the locker rooms, you gathered your stuff and clocked out on the computer. Heading over to the bar where you would find Harry. He was exactly where you thought he would be, in one of the lounge chairs by the giant fireplace. Biting back the giddy smile you wanted to show, you admired how handsome he looked sitting there with a glass of whiskey in his left hand. Making your way over to him, your eyes admired the sharp outline of his jaw, the shape of his nose, his long lashes fanning against his cheeks as he blinked. He looked like a Greek God. “This seat taken?” you teasingly asked him, in reference to his lap.

He chuckled, uncrossing his legs as a silent invite, “I reserved it just for you.” he said back, matching your flirty energy.

A soft blush dusted your cheeks, sitting gently on his lap, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

“So, did you like the drink earlier?” you asked him.

He nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey, “I thought it was delicious. It’s perfect for being out on the course.” His praise made your heart flutter. Knowing he was pleased with your suggestion made you want to please him even more.

His fingers slowly dragged up and down your side, “Did you wear this just for me today? I remember telling you it was one of my favorites.” His eyes raked up and down your body, admiring the way your skirt rose up to reveal more of your thighs when you sat down, your tits pressed together more in your sitting position causing more of your cleavage to show thanks to the low cut of the top.

“Maybe.” you suggested, winking at him.

“You’re a tease. You know that?” he called you out, looking back up into your eyes.

You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning closer to him, “I don’t think you mind though.” you whispered, wiggling your hips down into his crotch, which was slowly stiffening beneath you. “In fact I think you like it.” you in turn called him out. Looking back into his eyes, you watched in satisfaction as his eyes flickered from your lips back to your eyes. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” you teased, his silence loudly telling you the effect you had on him.

Setting down his drink on a side table, his hand found its place on your thigh, rubbing it softly. He smirked at your remark, shaking his head a little. “Just thinking about how the bar tender over there would love to have me bend your over this chair and fuck you in front of him.” he softly spoke, making your breathing stop for a second.

You could suddenly feel the burning stare of another set of eyes, so caught up in Harry that you didn’t even notice.

“Lucky for you, I don’t like to share. So, why don’t we go somewhere more private.” he suggested.

You were all too eager to oblige, giving him a small nod and standing from his lap, offering your hand out to him. Taking your hand in his own, he stood up and let you lead him out of the bar, much to the disappointment of your co-worker.

You walked to the far side of the clubhouse you knew people were less likely to be at this time of the day, pushing open the door to one of the family restrooms, you pulled Harry inside with you, closing and locking the door quickly.

Just as fast, Harry spun you around and pressed you back against the door, holding your waist tightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, bumping his nose against your own. You could feel the warm breath from his lips against your own, driving you crazy.

“Kiss me.” you said with a desperate feel behind the request, almost whining into his mouth.

It was the green light he needed to go forward. Pressing his lips softly to your own at first, the kisses that followed growing more heated and desperate. His hands slid down your waist, around to your ass, groping you through your skirt. Your jaw went slack, moaning softly. Taking that as his opportunity to lick into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to lick into his own. You were enjoying this silent battle for dominance but you could slowly feel yourself losing. Your body becoming putty in his strong hands.

He bent down slightly, grasping your thighs and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist on instinct, he carried you over to the sink, sitting you down on the counter. Pulling away from your lips briefly, he had to ask, “How far do you want this to go?” praying you were both on the same page.

Smirking, you reached within your shirt and pulled out a square foil packet. He couldn’t contain his laughter, pressing his lips to yours once more and taking the condom from you.

Clothes were quickly discarded, both of you far too worked up to bother with any more foreplay. Both of you knew this would have to be quicker than you’d really like it to be out of fear of somebody catching you. The thought of being caught made it much more exciting though.

Tearing open the condom with his teeth, Harry was a man on a mission, rolling the rubber onto his hard cock. Pulling your hips to the edge of the counter, he positioned himself, gliding the tip of his cock between your wet folds. “Who got you this wet baby girl?” he teased, admiring the way his cock was lubricated even more with your arousal.

“Fuck, you Harry.” you whimpered, your eyes fluttering at the sensation.

Satisfied with your reply, he gently thrusted into you, making you gasp out and groan softly. His face fell into the crook of your neck, setting a gentle pace thrusting in and out of you, “Fuck you feel so good wrapped around my cock.” he breathed out, kissing your neck, up to your jaw till he eventually found your lips against his own again.

Moaning softly into the kiss, along with softly whimpering for him, his pace quickened. Reaching between your bodies, your fingers rubbed quickly against your clit, pushing you closer to your peak. “Don’t stop Harry please!” you begged in a hushed whisper against his lips.

“Mmm I won’t baby. Gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me if it’s the last. Thing. I. Do.” he thrusted deep into you to enunciate the last four words he spoke.

You gasped, throwing your head back and biting your lip to desperately try and stay quiet.

His lips once again kissed at your neck, trailing wet kisses down to your chest and sucking on your tits. Taking your nipple into his warm wet mouth, his tongue dancing in circles around your hardened nub.

Your chest was heaving, dangerously close to cumming. He could feel it with the way your pussy contracted round him, squeezing his cock tightly each time he thrusted deep into you. His hips slapping against your own each time he bottomed out inside of you. He grunted against your hot skin, “I’m so close baby.” he panted, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. “Cum on my cock. Please baby girl.” he begged, wanting so bad to watch you come undone under his touch.

“Oh, fuck Harry!” you gasped, a particularly sharp thrust into your g-spot sent you spiraling. You fought hard to control the volume of your moans as he fucked you through your orgasm. Finding it hard to not scream out his name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he grunted, the pulsing of your pussy as you orgasmed coaxed him to his own. Spilling into the condom, letting you milk him dry as you contracted around him.

Your hand rested on the back of his head as he laid it against your neck. The both of you had love sick smiles on your faces as you battled to catch your breaths, coming down from the high you both were feeling. “Round two at my place?” you offered, making him laugh,

“I like the sound of that.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #golfrry #sunny writes

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d0youc0py · 1 year

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Prompt: no way… you’re actually jealous?

He was a man of many emotions. Yet he was also a man of self restraint- only letting himself fly off the handle when he felt it was necessary.

All of that flew out of the window with you.

Was this a necessary time? Absolutely not. In fact it was admittedly childish and embarrassing that he felt such angst rising in his chest.

It was time for the weekly Price family dinner. His older siblings Phoebe and Frank, his younger brother Ralph and of course his parents- Mr. and Mrs. Price all drove an exhausting ten minutes to your house for dinner. Normally he didn’t mind having his family close by especially while he was away, but right now he was one more wine pour away from kicking all of them to the curb.

He had just gotten back this morning from a month long mission and he still hadn’t gotten his you fix. The two of you should be curled up, you mumbling about all the things you did while he was away against his skin. God he could practically smell your shampoo. He wanted your cold hands to crawl up under his shirt searching for the warmth you’ve been denied for far too long.

Instead he was pressed against the firm wood of the dining room chair watching as your attention was constantly being caught by different stories. Something about Phoebe’s car, Frank’s kid is doing shite in school, and Ralph discovered he quite likes golf. He didn’t have the mental power to keep up, his ears only perking up when he heard you speak.

His arm was draped over the back of your chair and it took every ounce of strength to not tug you closer. He couldn’t stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing your cheek though. He almost purred when your soft skin tickled his fingers. Your eyes flickered up sending him a soft sleepy smile.

That’s all it took.

“Goodnight everyone.” John nearly demanded standing up abruptly. The conversation halted everyone looking at you for confirmation that they were really getting kicked out of your house. You looked up at your husband with wide eyes before sending a sheepish smile to your family.

“Johnathan?” His mother questioned. You always giggled when she used his full name.

“I’m tired, alright? I’ll buy us all dinner next week, yeah? For cutting this one short.” That seemed to satisfy them enough. Each of them gave you a kiss goodbye- sending him a glare in the process. “I’ll clean up, love.” He insisted taking the dishware out of your hands.

“It’ll go faster if we both do it.” You yawned pecking his cheek. “You alright? You were quiet all night. Still have some battle skits?” You hummed, causing a small chuckle to escape him. He was always skittish a few days after a mission- understandably- so you had affectionately named it battle skits.

“I missed you.” He whispered. You didn’t know if you wanted to giggle like a child or cry.

“Oh, John.” You sighed, waving him off. You tucked yourself under his arm and he reciprocated by holding you tight against him.

“Everyone was hogging you.” He grunted, inhaling your scent. “Didn’t get enough time with you before the circus rolled in.”

“Someone’s jealous.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. The Captain never got jealous. He was fiercely protective, but he loved to show you off- always being so proud of you.

“Yeah.” He agreed, making your mouth to fall open. His brows furrowed at your reaction. “What?”

“No way! You’re actually jealous?” You sputtered. A cheeky grin spread across his face and he quickly captured you in a kiss.

“Don’t get cocky on me now sweetheart.”

Prompt: do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it’s because- Y’know what, nevermind

You hadn’t meant for things to escalate to this level. You had noticed he was a little jealous after your office party, a few of your coworkers getting a little mouthy from the drinks. You thought it was funny. Your devastatingly attractive boyfriend flushed in the face at the thought of someone like your dim witted coworkers having a shot with you.

“Si, you’re powering down again.” You sighed, tracing over his knuckles. He looked around the almost empty tram, his body pointed away from you. “You still upset?” You hummed, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know they were just being aholes.”

“But they felt comfortable enough around you to do it.” He snarled. The warmth left your body and you pulled yourself away from his shaky form.

“What do you mean by that? You’re blaming me for the way they were acting?” You moved to the edge of your seat so you could face him.

“Have you ever asked yourself why I get this way? Maybe it’s because”- he cut himself off when he heard your breath hitch. He knew that if he caught sight of those teary eyes he would never say what he wanted to say. You sniffled. “Nevermind.” He grumbled, rubbing his jaw.

“No.” You pressed. “You obviously have something on your mind so say it.”

“Y/N-”

“Simon.”

Using your formal names made both of you sick. You were always sweetheart and he was always Si.

“You have a habit of being overly friendly.” He stated finally. His eyes were trained on the aisle.

“Overly friendly?” You emphasized. He shut his eyes tightly, but slowly nodded his head, agreeing. A light chuckle left you. It wasn’t one of humor, but one of utter shock. Shock that this was even a conversation. “Well not everyone finds a smile as offensive as you do, Simon.” You growled slouching back in your seat.

He didn’t say anything.

Without warning you stood up at the next stop, brushing past him.

“Y/N.” He huffed. His heart pinched at the way you so coldly moved away from him. “Y/N.” He repeated, following you down the aisle.

“I want to be alone.” You didn’t mean for your voice to hit the level it did. People on the tram peered up at you from their phones. Without waiting for a response you hopped off the tram.

He followed.

“I want to be alone.” You affirmed. He slowed his footsteps, but kept you in reach. His towering frame lurked over you like a rain cloud. You turned abruptly on your heels.

“Not lettin’ you walk home by yourself.” He explained.

“I want to be alone.” You growled.

“Well I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He growled back. Only Simon could pull off aggressive affection. “You can be alone a few paces ahead of me.” He nodded his head forward.

“Fuck you, Simon.” You hissed. The way his face fell made you freeze. “I’m sorry.” You said quickly. He waved you off.

“I deserve that.”

“No you don’t.” You insisted. “You hurt my feelings but I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Fuck off Y/N.” He teased airily. “I don’t know why I snap like that.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

“You don’t trust me.” You stated. He disagreed with you.

“I think it’s other people I don’t trust. I mean what if I wasn’t there tonight, yeah?” He questioned, his face curling. You hadn’t thought about that. Your co workers were so free with their flirting even with Simon there.

“I understand that.” You sighed, bringing a hand up to rub your headache away. His hand reached up wrapping around your wrist, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I shouldn’t have blamed you sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He molten eyes were nothing but sincere. Your bottom lip jutted out slightly at his apology, and you moved forward wrapping your arms around his middle. Usually public affection embarrassed him, but the way his body craved you outweighed any embarrassment he felt. Plus he obviously needed to do a better job at showing people who you belong to.

Prompt: What is your problem?

He had no right to feel this way. Yet his stomach was burning so hot the steam was clouding his judgement.

He thought he had made it clear. His silent claim on you since the very moment you had stepped foot on base. He knew it was a horrible and outdated way of thinking, yet the way your eyes sparkled when you met him for the first time- or the way your hand fit so perfectly in his when you introduced yourself was all the proof he needed to justify his feelings.

Obviously the new recruits didn’t get the memo. Being the nicest person on the Task Force caused everyone to flock to you if they needed something making you build relationships fast.

Too fast.

They didn’t know you well enough to wrap an arm around your shoulder, or put a hand on your waist to move past you. They definitely didn’t know you well enough to make you laugh so hard. The huff and grumbles that escaped him gave the rest of the team so much free entertainment, their eyes darting between you and the nearly seething man like it was some kind of soap opera.

“Think we should get the hose ready?” Soap snickered, taking in Gaz’s flushed appearance. Ghost hushed him, something inside him telling him Gaz was about to snap- and he wasn’t going to miss it.

The bomb finally went off when someone’s hand extended towards you in a fit of laughter, their palms spreading wide across your arm. “That’s not fucking happening.” He spat. Gaz’s chair flung back and if it wasn’t for Price it would’ve screeched against the floor.

“What is your problem?” They gasped, his broad strides quickly catching everyones attention.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to keep your bloody hands to yourself?” Kyle snarled. Going against his own words he wrapped an arm around you, practically dragging you back to the teams table. “Kindergarten drop outs.” He huffed, holding out a chair for you to sit in, pushing it in for you. Even in his anger he always managed to be a gentleman.

Prompt: woah, where are we going?

He had sucked down three shots trying his hardest not to loose his cool. He knew he was reactive and the last thing he wanted to do was say something to hurt or embarrass you. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t push down those feelings. The feeling of jealousy that he couldn’t be the man you obviously wanted. He watched as your pretty eyes sparkled at the other guests of the dinner party he had begged to come to. He should’ve stayed home. He remembers the look on your face when he basically invited himself.

“Jo, I don’t think you’ll like these people.” You winced, giving his hand a squeeze.

You were right.

He didn’t like these people in the slightest. They absorbed all your attention and made him feel like a brute. He had lost track of the conversation when it turned over to politics, even though he probably knew more about what goes on in the world than anyone sitting at that table.

Once dinner was finally over everyone was invited into the living area for tea- how formal. You had turned to him in that moment ready to tease him about what type of tea he was going to choke down, but his hardened face stopped you. He had never been the best at hiding his feelings and you resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him so hard he would have no choice but to smile.

“Actually Johnny and I have plans after this.” You offered a polite smile. His ears perked up, looking at you like a savior.

“That’s too bad.” Your friend sighed giving you a quick hug goodbye. You repressed a giggle when you heard Johnny growl after someone had kissed you on the cheek as a farewell.

“Dinner was lovely.” You smiled over your shoulder, heading out the door. Johnny grabbed your coats sending a quiet thank you their way.

“Thank you.” You whispered, as Johnny wrapped your coat around you.

“No, thank you.” He huffed, tugging you against his side. You wrapped an arm around his waist your other hand tangling itself with his as you walked down the dim streets.

“Woah.” He gasped, when you began pulling him past the car. “Where are we going?”

“I could tell you were upset.” You hummed, your footsteps naturally syncing with his. His nose scrunched.

“Sorry”-

“You don’t need to apologize Jo.” You assured, pressing yourself closer. He gave your hand a squeeze.

“I didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. Felt like I was a wee one listening to my parents talk about shite I couldn’t understand.” He sighed. “I’m not daft.”

“I know.” You said quickly. “They’re all just repeating things they’ve seen on TikTok anyways. Doubt any of it was original.”

“You enjoyed it though?” He half asked. You looked up at him with curious eyes.

“I had a good time tonight if that’s what you’re asking.” You said. His baby blue eyes searched around your face like you had the words he was looking for written on it.

“No. I mean you wish you had someone to talk like that with more?” He said slowly. Your face fell in realization.

“You mean, do I wish you talked like that? No Tavish.” You smiled at him. “Plus you’re talking like we haven’t had deep conversations. You know more about me than anyone- and I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone. That’s worth more than anything.”

He pepped up, his shoulders broadening once again.

“You don’t mind that I can’t quote poems off the top of my head?” He questioned, raising a playful brow at you.

You rolled your eyes, nodding your head in a agreement.

“You never told me where we’re going.” He reminded.

“I know you Jo and I also know a salad is not going to keep you full.” You snickered patting at his stomach.

“It was hell tryin to choke that things down.”

Check out katz-chows page right: here

If anyone else wants to join in this little collab or you just need some writing ideas here’s the prompt list:

#d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod #cod men #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwf2 #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #captain John price #Kyle Gaz Garrick #ghost x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #gn reader #collab

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emeraldenha · 1 year

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TAKE A SWING!

pairing: sporty bf!jaehyun x gn!reader | genre: established relationship, fluff | wc: +1.3k words | warnings: just jaehyun being cheesy

“Soccer?”

“No.”

“Basketball?”

“Nope.”

“Football?”

“Haven’t played it a day in my life.”

“What about golf?” Jaehyun attempts once again, turning his head to look your way as the two of you take an afternoon stroll through his neighborhood park.

Unable to return home for the holidays this year, your lovely boyfriend, Jaehyun, was ecstatic to use it as an opportunity to invite you to his hometown over break. And besides the stressful meet-the-parents dinner that awaited you the first night of your arrival, it’s all been smooth sailing from there as Jaehyun avidly showed you all his favorite places from his childhood. It’s a rush of both old and new memories overlapping simultaneously that you’re somehow able to sense despite not experiencing the former, but Jaehyun knows just how to paint the perfect picture for your mind to envision his little stories from photo album to reality.

Earlier during your walk to the park, you passed by some kids playing a seemingly competitive game of basketball on the basketball court and it washed Jaehyun with a wave of nostalgia, prompting him to reminisce on his flourishing sports life growing up.

Now, he was trying to get you to play a sport with him. Any sport. He was desperate for you to know how to play anything, badgering you with a list from off the top of his head.

“Yes, if mini golfing counts,” you answer with a chuckle, mindlessly swaying your intertwined hands back and forth. “I’ve only gone once though.”

It’s almost as if Jaehyun perfectly times stepping out into the sunlight after having walked through the shade casted by a line of towering trees, the glow on his face you can feel from him internally as much as externally.

“Perfect! Then we should go mini golfing for our next date,” he cutely declares, letting go of your hand for a second to bring you into a suffocating bear hug. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re so dramatic!” you whine, but secretly, you love this side of him. When he loosens his grip on your waist, you’re greeted with his giddy, contagious smile. “You’re acting like I don’t already go out with you to games and stuff.”

His lips transform his blinding smile into a playful pout. “But you always make me explain what’s going on. Every. Single. Time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it when I do that. You always have this sort of golden flex in your eyes when you get to talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

He then goes from a pout to a smirk.

“What was that you said? A golden flex in my eyes?”

The next day, he talks your ear off about how excited he is all morning from the moment he wakes you up to get ready up until you’re in the passenger seat of his car. He’s definitely dressed in his golf attire for the occasion too—collared pollo shirt tucked into khaki pants in all their glory.

“Are you sure you want to drive?” you ask while buckling your seatbelt, frankly a little concerned.

You were the more comfortable one with driving in the relationship and that was a well-known fact. His car was practically your car. You even drove the entire road trip to his parent’s house, no prior discussion or agreement required.

“I can do it!” Jaehyun insists, starting the engine and carefully pulling out into the street. Not too long after, he almost swerves out of the lane he was in while trying to avoid a bird flying across the windshield. You don’t understand why he was so taken aback when it’s not like the car was going fast enough to hit the bird anyways.

“It still baffles me you have a license. Was the examiner watching you while half asleep? We’re going the speed of a turtle right now,” you tease, leaning your head back against the headrest as the music from Jaehyun’s playlist only adds to the rather calm atmosphere.

Suddenly, the car speeds up causing your body to lunge forward.

“Jae, you can’t just do that either! You have to ease into it!”

You would have smacked his arm if you weren’t so petrified that it’d cause the both of you to crash.

Amused by your reaction, his laugher rings through the air as you keep your eyes peeled on the road for the remainder of the drive.

When you get to the mini golf course and start playing, you learn that you feel like a loser standing next to Jaehyun for two reasons. One, your previous mini golfing experience was essentially good for nothing. Two, because of reason number one, Jaehyun was going easy on you and was still winning by a mile.

“I suck,” you complain like a child, as much as you hate to admit.

“Come on, you’re not half bad,” he attempts to convince you, but you don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.

He had to say that. He’s your boyfriend, and he’s too kind. You could wack the golf ball all the way into the parking lot somehow and he’d still try to say you weren’t ‘half bad.’

“Says the guy who’s barely even trying. How do you make it look so easy?”

Grabbing your wrist to drag you to the next course without a word, he meticulously adjusts your stance, making you feel like your limbs were being possessed by a mannequin.

“Myung Jaehyun,” you warn, though it can only be followed by empty threats. You can already sense what he’s about to do, your heartbeat picking up its pace, because even though close proximity is an obviously familiar concept between the two of you, it still gets you each and every time.

Circling him arms around you from behind and drawing you into his back, his hands rest over yours on the golf club as he swings, nearly achieving a hole-in-one. You’re secretly glad that’s not the case though so he can hold onto you a little longer, but unfortunately, the ball makes it in by the next shot. You still cheer as if you had done all the heavy lifting, feigning an unaffectedness for his touch and choosing to tease him instead.

“Pulling that move? You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“But you like my cheesiness!” he retorts, cheekily stealing a kiss on your forehead.

A flurry of laughs erupt from both your throats as you feel a buzz through your jean pocket. You take a step away from Jaehyun for a moment to check your messages while he’s filling out the scorecard for you.

“What are you on your phone for?” He asks once he notices, and while a normal and innocent question, you notice the slump in his shoulders and his big puppy dog eyes all in a quick glance.

He wants your attention.

“Nothing. It’s Sungho. He’s just asking me how to do something,” you say and promise it won’t take long in order to console him, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth as you draft a response to your mutual friend.

You only make it halfway through what you’re trying to say before you feel a weight on your shoulder. Jaehyun’s head has found its way there as the tip of his nose tickles the side of your neck.

“I love Sungho and everything, but can we worry about him later?” he mumbles into your skin, face probably flushed red if you were to guess. He continues, “I wanted to come here to spend time with you. No interruptions. Just for today, please.”

‘I can’t say no to him, can I?’ you think, the temptation to cave in hitting you quickly.

Rushing to finish whatever sentence you were on, you press send and write a quick follow up text to Sungho that you’ll get back to him later before shutting your phone off.

“I’m all yours,” you say, craning your head until your noses are touching. You press a lingering kiss to his lips and the blissful feeling is enough to erase the world around you. “For today, tomorrow, and every day after that, I’ll be yours.”

“My cheesiness is starting to rub off on you.”

You only shrug. “I don’t know, I think you were right. I do kind of like it after all.”

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boltupbitches · 5 months

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Team Photographer - Justin Herbert

It was the first OTA of the off-season and Justin was excited to start. The idea of seeing his teammates and working with the new staff in the building was something he looked forward to. Change was needed, and he was optimistic about the future for the Chargers.

He wouldn’t lie though - he was also hoping to see the rookie team photographer hired last season. Since the day they met, he couldn’t stop his eyes from always looking for her during practice and games. A few times, he would try to approach her on the sidelines, discrete as he could be, but he never seemed to have an opportunity to talk to her.

The few times at the facility he tried to find her and engage in conversation, but something was always getting in the way of his efforts. More often than not, he was stuck watching her back disappear around corners and down halls as whoever stopped him from talking was chatting away without realizing what Justin was trying to do.

When he walked into the building and said a brief hello, he had to duck his head from the social media team to avoid showing his disappointment. He had hoped Caroline, the photographer, would be there, but she wasn’t.

He sat for a few team meetings, his mind still wondering about Caroline, as he tried to remain as engaged as possible, yet again, his eyes would wander to the door or even the windows outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite photographer, but no such luck.

Justin just wanted to talk to her alone, without the social media team, staff, and other players around them. He wanted to hear her laugh at one of his lame dad jokes, or ask her about her favorite kind of photography to shoot. He wanted to ask her where she was from, what she liked to do on days off, what her favorite ice cream flavor was, and if she liked going to the movies.

It wouldn’t be until lunchtime, when he was eating in the cafeteria with his teammates, that he finally saw Caroline.

His heart skipped a beat and he was frozen in place as he stared at her.

She had cut her hair, something he noticed right away. Her locks, once down to the middle of her back, were now shoulder-length. She was wearing a team polo shirt, athletic pants, and sneakers. Her camera bag was tucked to her side like one would with a purse, and she was grabbing a tray in the line.

Most importantly, she was alone.

As Derwin continued telling a joke that made everyone at the table laugh, Caroline looked over at the noise and smiled when she made eye contact with Justin.

He smiled shyly back, his heart pounding in his ears as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He was on cloud nine from a simple smile. What was wrong with him?

His eyes watched as she got her food and took a seat by herself, a few tables away.

He wanted so badly to go over there and eat with her.

Seconds ticked by before Justin finally stood suddenly, causing his teammates to turn to him in confusion. “I.. um… I need to go talk to someone. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” He nervously scooped his tray up and walked quickly over to Caroline’s table, not even caring to see his teammates’ reactions.

“I see you, Herbo!” Derwin called out.

He could have died on the spot when Caroline turned to see the commotion.

“Hi, um… can I sit with you?” He asked quietly.

“Oh? Uh, yeah. Sure!” Caroline smiled brightly.

Justin sat his tray down and tried to will the blush on his face to calm down. He was for sure red all over. He just knew it.

What he didn’t realize was that Caroline was smiling at him, endeared by his shyness. “So, how has your off-season, been?”

“Good. Played some golf, visited family and friends in Eugene, and did a little traveling.” Justin gulped his water before asking, “What about you?”

“I went on a trip with my mom to Yellowstone and spent some time photographing landscapes,” Caroline answered with a smile.

“Do you enjoy the outdoors?” Justin asked curiously.

“I do! Especially the national parks. I’ve been to Yosemite, Yellowstone, Biscayne, the Grand Canyon, and next on my list is to see Crater Lake.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Crater Lake,” Justin admitted. “Maybe someday.”

They spoke for a while about travel and where they would love to visit someday. Justin mostly listened, enraptured by her words.

“There’s so much of the world and its beauty we don’t get to see when living in the city,” Caroline pondered as she looked outside the window, “I love my job and I’m thankful for what I can do with it, but I am envious of those who can see the world.”

“I know what you mean,” Justin agreed as he stared at her, unable to look away as the light from the sun made her eyes brighter, “There’s so much beauty out there. So much to see.” ‘Like you,’ he thought dreamily.

“Right?” She turned and smiled at him, “So what brought you over to my table today, Mr. Herbert?”

“I um…” He was getting red again, he could feel it, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get dinner with me sometime?”

Caroline stared at him in surprise as she blinked a few times while processing what he said, “D-dinner? With me?”

“Yeah, I mean if you’d like to of course. You’re decision.” He couldn’t help but cringe at his word choice. ‘Of course it’s her decision, idiot. Who else is going to decide but her?’

It was Caroline’s turn to be flustered. “Yeah.. Yeah let’s do dinner. I’d like that a lot.” She smiled shyly.

“Ok. Yeah, um, would tomorrow night be too short of a notice?”

“No, that’ll be fine. 7pm?” She suggested.

“Yeah that’s perfect. I’ll pick you up.” He reached for his phone and handed it to her after unlocking it, “Can you put your phone number in for me please?”

“Sure!” Caroline took it and entered her number in. She pressed call and hung up, making sure to save his number in her own phone.

Justin was relieved and excited. She said yes. He couldn’t believe she said yes to a date with him. Was this a dream?

“Maybe you could show me some of your landscape photography?” Justin suggested as he began to get up from his seat. His lunch break was almost over afterall. “I’d love to see them.”

“I’ll bring my camera,” Caroline promised, “See you later, Justin.” She winked.

He nodded and couldn’t hide the cheesy grin on his face as he went to dump his tray.

He couldn’t hide that same grin on his face as he walked into the fitness center, ignoring the good-natured jabs of his teammates who saw him flirting at the table with the team’s newer photographer. He didn’t care though.

He did it. He asked her out. Holy shit.

Justin couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

#justin herbert fanfiction #justin herbert fanfic #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert one shot

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instantezra · 8 days

Text

Highlights

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader (gender neutral reader and only like, one use of y/n!)

Summary: danny lets you do his hair that's it that's the plot

Content Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but there is consumption of alcohol and marijuana (don't do drugs or w/e!), adult language, danny being suggestive so i will say this is 18+ minors do not interact!!, use of pet names, mentions of golf (lmao)

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note: this is my first fic for gvf!! and my first fic i've written in uhhhh 4 years! disclaimer that this is a work of fiction i do not personally know anyone in GVF i just write my thoughts. this is my offering to tumblr for more greta pals/moots 🙇 also sorry idk if i ever learned how to end a fic so

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It was a good thing Danny trusted you. Maybe too much, considering his current position. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt from his early high school days – slightly raggedy, faded, and giving you a glimpse at his shoulders through some of the holes that had formed over the years. He sat on a chair from the kitchen that had been dragged into the living room and tried to find something mindless to put on in the background on TV. You stood behind him and surveyed the supplies laid out beside the snacks and wine on the coffee table.

Danny had finally agreed to let you put highlights back in his hair. You felt confident in your abilities, but he had a different outlook on this whole operation.

“You know I’m only letting you do this because I couldn’t get an appointment soon, right?” he stated as he landed on a channel replaying highlights from the last U.S. Open.

“You’re letting me do this because you love and trust me and know I would never steer you wrong!” You leaned in, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “Besides, if I fuck up, I can just shave your head.”

“NOOOO!” Danny dramatically grabbed at his curls, tucking his chin in and leaning forward, almost out of the seat. Both of you burst into a fit of giggles. “What if my head is shaped weird?”

“I’m sure I could find a way to love bald Danny. But we won’t be finding that out! Because I’m a professional. Now watch your golf and shush, I need to read this wikiHow article…” He whipped his head back to look at you incredulously. Giving him a quick wink, you scrolled through the article. Danny had made sure to not wash his hair for a few days, the two of you had spent too long in the beauty supply store finding said supplies, and he was wearing a throwaway shirt in case any dye had spilled. Now all that was left was to get started.

He sat still in front of you, sipping his glass of wine as you sectioned his hair off into different parts. He looked a bit goofy with the various clips and mini buns dotting his head. Sneakily, you took a picture and shared it on your Close Friends story on Instagram, captioned with a few stupid and cryptic emojis. You knew he’d give you shit for it later, but it was still cute. The rattail comb caught into one of his curls, and you almost got to work.

Danny leaned forward, shaking his head to knock your hands away. You popped up an eyebrow inquisitively. He put his glass of wine down and got up to crack open one of your windows. Early autumn air came blowing through, the smell fresh and a slight chill permeating the room. You couldn't help but close your eyes to relish in the crisp air. The next smell you caught was that of the joint Danny had lit. You chuckled lightly as you put on the latex gloves from the highlighting kit.

“You want any? Thought now would be easier than during.” He blew smoke towards the open window and leaned back in his seat, extending an offer.

“I don't think being crossed is a great idea. I will have literal bleach near your head, Dan.”

“What happened to ‘I’m a professional’ and I ‘trust you’, hm?” he asked, teasingly doing air quotes with his hands. You sighed and reached for the joint. He was hard to say no to.

“It's your hair,” you stated and took a small hit. A little wouldn't hurt, right? If anything, it would probably just mean Dan was going to get a great head massage out of it. You loved running your fingers through his locks, but when you were high it was a way to self-soothe. Plenty of nights the two of you could be found lounging in the couch after a few hits, Danny's head in your lap as your fingers mindlessly played in his curls.

Well, usually you did that. If you ended up fucking up his highlights, that would be a bit harder. No curls to run your fingers through after you'd have to shave him.

You poured the remainder of your wine into Danny’s glass and declined any more weed. Your head was already feeling a bit fuzzier. With newfound focus on the task at hand and gloves on, you mixed in the developer and stared down at the wikiHow article opened on your phone.

Between your fingers you held a strand of curls and laid it on a strip of foil. Danny’s hair was getting long, so he probably should have seen an actual hair stylist. The boys had a very brief break in their tour, and the break was scheduled in such a way that he wasn’t able to make any actual appointments. Danny wasn’t complaining; he wanted to spend as much time as he could with your in your place. You insisted your apartment wasn’t as nice as his place, but he said it felt more “homey.” A place of solace from his life that had changed so much in the past five years. It was a constant, just like you were for him.

You began brushing what Dan had dubbed “the potion” onto his hair, making sure to keep undyed portions separate. Wrapping foil around each wet strand, you got into a rhythm. The only sound in the room was his occasional commentary on the golf on TV and soft crinkling of tin foil. For some reason you weren’t nervous about doing Danny’s hair. Sure, you had only ever dyed your roommate’s hair in college, and that was usually just an all over single color. Those nights consisted of the two of you splitting a bottle of wine, watching the same historical romance movie for the umpteenth time, and chatting about anything and everything. Now you got to share those moments with Danny. Everything with him was just easy.

Occasionally, he’d reach his arm back, offering you the joint (which you refused) or a Twizzler (which you happily accepted). He’d start going off on a tangent about a certain golfer, giving unsolicited opinions that made you giggle. Sometimes he’d get so heated about it, he’d move his head and you had to hold it still with your gloved hands. He’d try to crack a joke and make you giggle, briefly breaking your concentration.

Moments like these were when you realized truly how much you cared for this boy. Not necessarily when he was a rock god, performing for thousands of adoring fans. Not when he travelled the globe, sending you pictures of otherworldly sights and making you yearn for him to return. It was always the quieter moments. It was the comfortable silence of not having to talk, just enjoying each others company. It was the delicate tug of each strand you were going to highlight, him trusting that you wouldn’t hurt him (or worse, make him be bald). When he was home from tour or rehearsal, he always wanted to spend time with you, in your place. He always mentioned it felt like a second home. Even if it was something as mundane as vegetating on the couch together. It was domestic, and it made your heart flutter.

—

Most of “the potion” had run out, but you had just enough to do the front curls that framed his beautiful face. You tried to set the last few strips of foil into his lap as you circled around to the front of the chair. Apparently whatever had been on the television now wasn’t as enticing to him, because he set the foils on the table and pulled you into his lap. His eyelids were heavy, covering his bloodshot eyes as he shot you a smirk. You playfully rolled your eyes and continued brushing product onto a few stray curls near his forehead.

“That does it, I think,” you exclaimed and reached towards the coffee table. The brush clattered slightly in the bowl when you set it down. You snatched the unlit joint from its ashtray and flicked the lighter. “Now we just have to check on the color every 5 minutes and then rinse!”

“I can think of a couple things we could do for 5 minutes,” he said and leaned forward to kiss your neck. You giggled into the joint as you struggled to lean away, blowing smoke through your nose and accidentally into Dan’s hair.

“Okay, well, I was going to help you rinse this out but maybe you do need a cold shower by yourself.” Your hips shifted to try to get up and out of his grasp, but his strong hands pulled you back down.

“What!? I was just gonna say we could list our favorite golfers from the last 5 years and why.” He feigned hurt by putting a hand to his chest and pouting. You leaned forward to kiss his pout, which in turn made it a smile. “But actually though… will you help me rinse it? I don’t want to fuck it up.” There was a sincerity to his statement. No matter how silly he had been before - he really did trust you.

It was always the quieter moments. Pinching the end of the filter to his lips so Danny could take the last few hits. Feeling the haze of smoking hit your head. Comfortably sitting in his lap like it was made just for you. Peaking under the foils to see how the color was developing. His dopey smile as he squeezed your hips. Just being together, those were the moments you lived for.

Both of you were shot out of your dazed states by the alarm on your phone. Next thing you knew you were floating down the hall, following him into your tiny bathroom and sitting him down on the closed seat. A fit of giggles erupted from both of you as he tried to lay his large frame against the toilet lid with his hair dangling into the tub. Danny was used to getting this done in a salon, but your shitty apartment bathroom would have to do.

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear it over the rushing water coming from the faucet. He seemed to be talking about some dumb idea Sam had, but that quickly turned to a yelp once you redirected some of the water onto his head.

“Shit, why is it so cooooooold?” His whines made your chest clench. The position he was in looked incredibly uncomfortable and the icy cold water probably didn’t help. But you couldn’t help but notice the scrunch of his nose, the freckles sprinkled across the bridge and his cheeks, the redness in his face from laying with his head nearly upside down. He looked so adorable, even with a tangle of curls flopped into the tub.

“Sorry, hon, but it’s gotta be cold,” you reassured him by massaging his scalp gently. The pressure applied from your fingertips mixed with the acclimation to the temperature had Danny closing his eyes. A hum came from his chest, and he relaxed into your touch. You took this as a good sign and leaned over him to make sure all the product was rinsed out.

“I d’know if it’s cuz I’m stoned or if you’re just magic, but this feels really really good,” he mumbled, leaning up to trail kisses down your jaw and neck.

“I think it’s a bit of both, bub. Keep that up though and you’ll be doing shampoo and conditioner yourself, Mr. Wagner.” You tugged his hair gently, not necessarily to rile him up but moreso as a warning. This elicited a chuckle, and he leaned his head back once more.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” You smiled down at him, continuing your ministrations. There was another comfortable silence between the two of you. Danny carefully folded his hands across his chest while you carefully shampooed and conditioned his hair. He didn’t even complain when you poured a cup of water over his curls, gently working the products out of his freshly highlighted hair. You used an old plush towel to catch the drips from his waterlogged locks and helped him sit up on the toilet seat. He beamed up at you lazily as you softly scrunched his curls a bit drier. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered.

“Of course, lovey,” you softly replied. “Now, you do that mysterious curl routine of yours and tell me how it looks. I’m gonna go start us some dinner.” You left him alone in the bathroom, knowing he had some products in the medicine cabinet that he’d left at your place just in case. The dye job had honestly come out not too shabby. It probably wasn’t as great as his professional stylist’s job, but it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. You wouldn’t know until you returned to the bathroom, though.

You went to check on him after prepping some food and pouring two more glasses of wine. The sound of the hair dryer stopped, so you knew he must be close to done. Turning into the doorway, you stood behind him. His gaze in the mirror went from his hair to your eyes, giving you a soft smile. You snaked your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“So… not too bad, right?”

“It looks great, y/n. Really, it does. Thank you,” he said gently.

“You’re so pretty, Danny.”

A blush rose to his cheeks. That shy smile of his appeared on his face, and you got that funny feeling in your chest again. The amount of poetry you could write just on the features of his face would make Keats and Byron blush in embarrassment. Danny had to know he was handsome, but he still hadn’t gotten used to you calling him pretty. Or beautiful. Really, any time you complimented him he felt on top of the world. There was a slight tension in the air, though, and you hoped you hadn’t made him uncomfortable. So you cut the tension.

“So… you don’t want me to shave it?” You poked at his side and he let out a bellowing laugh.

“No, no, no. No bald Danny,” he said, twisting around to face you. “I like being your pretty Danny.”

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uwu if you got this far yippee also thank u to my bestie for beta reading this (they don't use tumblr but i love them) and to @godly-sinsx for helping me brainstorm <3

also idk if i need to do pic credit it's literally from daniel's insta tho

#maddy writes #gvf #greta van fic #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet fluff #danny gvf #gvf fluff

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missmielyhoran · 2 years

Note

dad's best friend!! Sorry it wasn't supposed to be so confusing 😭😭😭😭

It wasn't! I'm just an indecisive person in general😭. Thanks for requesting♡

First of all can we talk about this suit? Why haven't I seen this? He looks so fucking good😩

(dbf!harry or gangleader!harry and plussize!reader)

Harry- 40, Y/N- 22

[Warning- Smut, mentions of Mafia and gangs, 18 years age gap, dad's best friend, mirror sex, teasing, choking, fingering, edging, orgasm denials, fluff in the end and angst if you squint enough to close your eyes]

You knew teasing Harry was like poking sleeping bear with stick but you couldn't help it.

It was one of the monthly dinner party hosted by your parents. All of your dad's colleagues and friends were at his house dressed to nine. The hall was filled with people in designer suits and dresses.

It was a colour theme party so most of them were in shades of red and black. You were in a short dark coloured off shoulder dress with statement sleeves matching with the long dark red satin dress of your mom and the red shirt of your dad.

Harry hugged his best friend, your dad first thing when he arrived then your mom and then he stood in front of you. He was wearing a dark red suit which fitted him nicely and you already thought of taking pics together later.

"Hello Mr. Styles" You said teasingly being the minx you were. He laughed and hugged you, your face tucked into his chest while his hands subtly slid down to pull you closer to him discreetly so, no one can see.

"Hello princess" He greeted back and pulled from hug. His signature smirk adorning his lips and you were surely red in face, flustered by his deep voice.

"Styles c'mon lets get some drinks" Your dad called Harry. He gave him a nod and shot you a subtle look.

Your parents didn't knew, no one did about you and Harry cause you couldn't even think of what would happen if they got to know that their only daughter was in a relationship with their good friend.

Harry and you met at golf club. It was one of the rare days you decided to join your dad to his golf game and you praise yourself everyday for doing that cause that's how you met him.

You still remember the yellow polo he was wearing. It snugged around his biceps and broad shoulder, the blue pants showing off his fine ass. You felt guilty for thinking he was hot and feeling yourself being turned on. If he was your dad's friend it meant he was closer to his age. He might have a partner or be married.

So, you subtly brought him up in conversation on your way back home and your dad told everything about him. He was your dad's boss some kind. He never goes into details about who or what he works for and you never asked.

Harry was 39 then much younger than your dad who was in his late 40s and drumrolls please....he was single!

Although for a while it didn't change anything but it made you feel less guilty when you touched yourself thinking about him.

Harry was same on the other hand. He shouldn't have been thinking about one of his main hand and best friend's daughter that way but fuck you were something else. The crop white sleeveless polo tshirt you were wearing that day made your boobs bounce everytime you walked and especially when you hugged him and he felt them rub against his chest. Jesus Christ!

He had to excuse himself so he could run to washroom and collect himself (by that he means wank).

Time went by, you stayed in Harry's mind and he in yours. It was your apartment move in party that you met him again. Your dad bought apartment for you cause you were itching to move out and he couldn't let you live in some small, cheap and filthy apartment. You were always daddy's girl considering you were the only child, he spoiled you a lot.

He invited everyone including Harry. Whole time during party both of you made eyes for each other and when party ended Harry stayed after to "clean up" and he sure did clean up.

At first everything from his side was strictly sexual but you were already falling for him after sleeping for second time. You confessing led to a big argument but it went fine as now, a year later you both have been in relationship for 8 months after hooking up for 4 months.

*****

A hour later you were wine tipsy enough to have your cheeks flushed but also be aware of your surroundings. You were searching for Harry not seen him for quite some time.

You walked out in backyard seeing people mingling together. You politely smiled at some of your dad's coworkers your eyes frantically searching for a mop of curly hair.

When you did find him, he was with Sharon. Her manicured hand on his bicep as she laughed way too loudly on something he said. You rolled your eyes feeling jealous, even a blind person could see she had eyes for Harry. Your dad joked about it a lot to Harry in front of you not his fault, he didn't know his daughter was digging nails in her palm so, she wouldn't cry or get angry.

Harry always told your dad he wasn't interested in her and to Sharon also but to everyone he was single. So, your dad kept teasing him about settling down constantly telling him about possible dates. It made you sad but Harry always comforted you telling he doesn't want anyone but you.

You believed him and trust him with your everything but that doesn't stop you from wanting to pluck those flirty eyes out of Sharon's head any less.

Few people walked past them making them shift from their position. Now, Sharon's back was to you and Harry in front of her. You smiked brewing plan in your head. You walked towards them sipping your wine, Harry eyes found yours and he knew something was going on in your brain. He straightened up seeing you walk towards him.

"Mr. Sty-" You cut yourself off and pretended to trip over the stone in front of you. The wine splashed on Harry's black shirt and some on his pants and you "accidentally" collided with Sharon making her fall into the pool. Harry caught you in his arms even though he knew you were safe, it was like a reflex for him.

Sharon screamed sounded followed by splash of water. You bit your lips trying not to laugh as she came above he surface of water looking like a wet dog.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked for confirmation, your eyes softened looking up at his. You gave him nod and then a cheeky smile.

He shook his head and moved towards Sharon to help her get out but before she could touch him you called the guards and made them help her out.

"I'm soo sorry Ms. Sharon. Are you hurt?" You asked her faking innocence. Harry rolled his eyes internally and wanted to laugh at your jealous antics but refrained himself.

Her hardened eyes snapped at yours but she couldn't say anything cause you were her boss's daughter and one wrong word she would have been fired.

She gave you the best fake smile, "No ma'am it's fine mistakes happen"

"I know next time don't stand beside dangerous places. I'm a bit clumsy you know, who knows where you might end up falling" You pouted and passed her towel brought by one of servants. Her smile faltered and she excused herself.

"You want you clean that up Mr. Styles?" You asked him pointing towards his shirt and pants. You looked up at him with doe eyes batting your eyelashes as if you didn't just pulled a stunt.

"You're a brat you know that?" He whispered darkly, his voice getting deep. You kept your eyes on his, "Your brat though" You pouted making him laugh.

"C'mon princess help me get this stain off" He said walking inside. The music was playing loudly now as dinner was served and people were drunk dancing their asses off. You saw your dad chatting with few men so, he didn't see you. Just as you were to slide inside the guest bathroom with him your mom saw you.

"What happened?" She asked looking in between you two. You panicked thinking she caught you but Harry saved your ass.

"Oh nothing Mrs. Y/L/N, little miss here accidentally spilled wine on my shirt. I told her I could get it off myself but she said she felt guilty." He said waving off and pretending to walk inside the bathroom.

"No no. She will help you. ¡Cuántas veces te he dicho que no bebas tanto!" (how many times I have told you not to drink so much!) she said her spanish accent thinking as she got mad.

"Sorry ma I will help him" You said and you really felt like a child getting scolded. You mom hummed and walked back towards the party.

You quickly pulled Harry inside and locked the door. His back was against the door as you started to kiss him. You were a starved woman not being able to kiss your boyfriend for so long.

Harry smiled at your eagerness, his hands sliding down to your ass groping it, pulling them apart then letting them go. He started walking and pushed your back towards the sink pulling you up and sitting down.

He pulled apart to breathe. Both of your lips red, glistening and swollen, your red lipstick smudged around your lips making his heart skip.

"You look so good baby" Harry cooed at his girlfriend. Your cheeks heated up but you kept the eye contact playing with his curls at the nap of his neck.

"You don't look bad yourself Mr. Styles" You teased giggling. He shook his head at your childishness but that's the thing he loved about you most. You were serious, a strong headed woman but also playful, brat and full of life.

Harry leaned down just inches away from your face, "Is that how we're going today? Mr. Styles?" He asked running his nose along your jaw. You closed your eyes and tilted you head to the side as his breath tickled your skin.

"We don't have much time-" You got cut off by a whimper as he started to leave wet kissed down your neck, "People might get suspicious" You said fully losing control of your body to him.

"Mhm I will be quick" He said as his fingers slid down your silky dress to your lace thong barely covering anything. "You're in for it when I get my hands on you later" he groans moving down to your cleavage biting and sucking on them.

"Harry please" You moaned desperately wanting for him to relieve the pain. He stopped moving his fingers but before you could whine in disapproval you earned a sharp slap to your clit. Even though it was covered his rings were enough to have you doubling over.

"Try again sweetheart" he said resuming the slow assault on your clit. Your head was tucked into his chest and only thing you could do was whimper.

"Please Mr. Styles" You begged making him hum in appreciation. He started rubbing your clit faster the thin fabric getting soaked in your arousal. You let out a loud moan getting closer to your climax. Your noises were getting louder and if anyone to pass by the door would know what's going on.

"Shh sweetheart don't want anyone to know you're in here making a mess do you?" He tsked tilting his head. You shook your head not being able to say anything or comprehend. Even if someone did heard you both you couldn't care.

"But I think you would also love for someone to hear you getting of just by me rubbing my fingers on you" He chuckled, "Such a pathetic baby"

You pouted at his words even though his words were making you more wet.

"Don't pout. How would your dad react when he gets to know you pushed that poor woman in pool cause you were jealous" He taunted his fingers still making tight and slow circle on your clothed clit making your hips buck up from time to time.

"Please! Please! Please!" You whined for more. You were incredibly wet and it was aching, you just wanted your release but it never came.

Harry removed his fingers from your clothes pussy making your eyes snap open. You looked up at him frustated and confused while he just smirked.

"You think I would let you cum after you've been a brat" He asked bringing his hands near your shoulders. In one go he flips you around, your back to his chest and his hands over your stomach keeping you against him firmly.

"What you're soo mad I pushed your side chick in pool?" You mocked rolling your eyes at him, starting to get frustrated. So what if you pushed her in pool she had it coming.

"Don't give me that attitude princess" He spanked your ass hard making you moan loudly in return, "It's my duty to remind you of manners you have seem to forget" He pinched your butt then leaving another slap.

Then he pushes him away from you all together, the sudden loss of contact had your body in shivers from cold air.

"Now how this will go princess is I will go is I will fuck this tight warm pussy of yours, get my orgasm" He said his hands roaming all over your body as if he was memorizing every curve.

"What about me?" Your voice faltered as his hands found your boobs. Harry loved your boobs although you told him many times you felt insecure about them he was obsessed. Always holding them, sucking on them like his personal stress ball.

"What about you hm? All you're to me right now is a fuck toy baby" He said his lips sucking on the spot near your neck which can be hidden by hair.

His words should have hurt you but only thing hurting was your cunt for his dick.

He pushed you down your forehead resting on cold mirror as he fumbled with his belt and pants. Once his pants were down his knees he pushed your dress up. Both of your holes were in full display in front of him and he wanted to ruin you right there but they didn't have time.

he pushed your panties to the side and slid inside you without a waning. You moaned loudly from the intrusion, he was so big stretching you out filling you up.

Harry brought his hand to your mouth and covered it. "As much as I would love to hear your maons babygirl, I don't think your father will appreciate it" he spoke in your ears his breath tickling your skin, "What would he think if he finds out his daughter fucking his best friend huh?" He taunted you.

Your brain felt like mush and all you could do was nod. "Such a dumb baby" He spoke and then started pounding in you. Your hips were constantly hitting the sink and you knew you will have bruises there.

You were so close to getting off when you heard the knock on the door. Harry stopped for a second confirming someone was indeed knocking and it wasn't something his brain made up.

"Mr. Styles? Y/N? Who's inside and why is it locked?" You mom asked trying to open the door. Your whole body was rigid and for a second you thought you might get caught. You looked up and found Harry's eyes in mirror and he gave you a shrug and started moving again slower but deeper.

"Go on reply to her" he whispered in her ear.

"Helloo" You mom called out again. You whimpered slightly but got yoursf together.

"It's me mom" You said and bit down on your lip as Harry hit the right spot inside you.

"Y/N? What happened are you okay?" She asked concerned from hearing your weak voice.

"Yeah Yeah just threw up a bit. You know me and-" fuck "wine" You said stumbling over your words.

"Where is Mr. Styles?" She asked. "uh I think he went outside I don't know" You said that in one go amd brought your up so you could moan.

You don't know if she brought it or not but she left after telling you to call her if you need anything. Harry pulled you up by your hair your head falling back on his shoulder.

His pace was flattering but still firm, his hand either groaping your ass or your boobs.

"I'm close Harry can I come please" You begged but he didn't listen.

"No. On knees now" he said and pulled out. You fell on your knees in second, you hand holding his thighs for support. He brought his cock near you lips smearing the precum and your juices on your lips and then pushed inside.

You sucked like your life depends on it. You were a pleaser with no doubt and Harry loved it.

"Yes fuck keep going baby" He said, one hand gripping the sink and other your hair. He was fucking your mouth with same intensity as yiur cunt. You swirled your tongue around him and brought your hands up to massage his balls. He let out another moan and a curse.

"Such a good girl" he moaned out andgripped your head more tightly. "I'm going to cum" he announced and soon you felt him shooting warm thick ropes down your throat. You sucked and cleaned him off until he went soft inside you.

Harry brought you back up and sat on the counter. His lips back on yours tasting himself.

"I'm going to leave and you will leave behind me. 20 minutes I want you in my bed" Ge said and pecked all over your face making you giggle.

"Did so good going to reward my baby" With a wink he opened the window and jumped out landing in front of shed. He fixed his suit and went like nothing happened.

*****

I'm thinking of making this a trope. Gang leader dbf, sounds fun lol.

You can request more here♡

Like, Comment and Reblog please!

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empty-movement · 1 year

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sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.

#utena #revolutionary girl utena #utena meta #akio ohtori #akio's couches #do I really need to point out the functional utility of plastic covered couches for this particular character though

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papasbaseball · 6 months

Text

Raphael x Tav (Clubs and Spades: Chapter 1)

Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol

Summary: Tav finds herself on the bad side of the President of the Fae Run Country Club. She agreed to work there as a favor, but he's determined to make her life a living hell. Will they both make it out of the summer without catching feelings?

Word Count: 2,187

Notes: I changed some of the names to help blend in the characters better with the AU setting. Here is a translation if you would like to know:

Tav - '' "Tav" Baldur

Karlach - Karlie Ackerman

Raphael - Raphael Hope

Mizora - Ms. Zora

Wyll - Will

AO3 Link

If all the stories were true, the president of the Fae Run Country Club was the Devil himself. I’d had the fortune of not running into him all summer, enjoying the close proximity to what otherwise might be considered ‘good people’, as I served drinks, folded towels, and did whatever else my manager had sent me to do. That particular day, I limped after my coworker Karlie — the cooler filled with ice and Evian between us making us as useful as a horse with a lame leg — as we brought the beverages out to the 8th hole of the golf course. The community carts had been forbidden from use, much to the dismay of my shoulder.

A quarrelsome two stood beside the green, too rich to stop their argument for us. The one’s shoulders were cast back, face tilted up as if God was also privy to the conversation he was having with the pink-faced man. I’d seen a dozen of his type infesting the green lawns of Fae Run. What set him apart was how quickly he cut down the man with words I’ll never know, courtesy of the lawnmowers. Weak arms were quickly uncrossed and the WASP wannabe buzzed back to the safety of the clubhouse hive.

“Ha!” Karlie scoffed, setting her end of the cooler down with a hard rustle of ice. “Bob had that one coming for a while.”

There were a half dozen members named Bob, but she came to know every one of them over the 8 years that she’d been working there. I’d barely met any of them and I’d been there for 2 months.

“Is Bob a problem?” I asked, setting my end of the cooler down. The ache of carrying it almost a mile thrummed in my arm, thrilled to have been released.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be his server at dinner,” Karlie said. Her face fell and quickly she was tucking her polo back into her khaki pants, slicking back the wild fly-aways the walk had earned her.

“Ladies.” The remaining man approached us, his shirt unbuttoned past regulation to show off the tan earned from hours spent by the poolside. “Less chatting more working, yes? I would hate to have to speak to your manager about disciplinary action. I want this golf course as immaculate as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Karlie replied.

“You’re breaking the dress code,” I offered, nodding to the undone button and soft curls of chest hair it guarded. If he wanted everything to be perfect he could start with himself.

He whipped off his sunglasses, mouth disgusted as he gave me a once over. “What is your name, girl?”

“Tav,” I said.

“I doubt that.” He hooked the glasses into his illegal shirt and turned to Karlie. “Ms. Ackerman, does Tav have somewhere to be?”

She stumbled over her words, unable to make eye contact with him.

“I know you are short-staffed,” he cut in, “but I could make much better use of her as my personal caddy for the day.”

“That’s not the job that I applied for,” I said. I had no interest in following some dumbass who only got to his position in life because his daddy foot all his bills and covered up all his mistakes. It was bad enough that I was working here — I owed my friend Will a favor — but I refused to sequester myself to such agonizing mediocrity.

“All employees of the Fae Run Country Club are required to know how to perform any duty they may be called upon at the drop of a hat,” he said. “Clearly you’ve missed training in more than one area.”

I opened my mouth to shoot back a retort when I heard Karlie’s voice tremble.

“Mr. Hope, please.”

She could have poured the chest full of ice over me and it would have been less bone-chilling than those three words. My eyes dart over him, trying to place those features to the portraits of board members that hung in the hallway leading to the main office. Maybe the sunglasses and casual attire had fooled me, but the disappointed frown was unmistakable: I was standing before the Devil.

“Tell your boss to make the necessary shifts,” he said. “I will take care of our darling Tav, here.”

Karlie tucked tail and turned back to the clubhouse. The sun baked a degree hotter with each step of hers, pushing me further into the custody of the Devil of Fae Run. The urge to run after her pressed itself, but I held it back. I couldn’t get myself fired: I still owed Will for lying for me, getting the charges dropped, and scrubbing my record. I just needed to get through this summer free and clean.

“Don’t worry, I will take good care of you,” he said. The words reeked of lies, but I tailed after him anyway. His cologne whipped back with the breeze as I followed him to the golf cart. The sweetness and warmth sent a shiver through me. It must have come from abroad, the undernotes speaking of warm sands and late-night dinners, and probably costing twice my seasonal salary.

I hesitated as I slid into the fine leather seat next to him, not any further than I had to, and watched as he turned the key.

“You really think I am going to bite you?” he said. He pressed the pedal and the cart jerked forward.

I slid further into the seat as I saw the sharp grass zipping by the floorboard more quickly than I would like it to. His chuckle at this was quiet under the whine of the cart. It was going to take more than the threat of turfburn for me to take his treatment lying down. I couldn’t refuse his orders, but I didn’t have to like it.

“You were threatening to fire me and Karlie a few minutes ago.”

“Was I?” he asked. “You’re not very good at listening, Tav.” The corners of his lips pulled back in disgust. “What is your real name? Tav sounds like something you’d call a dog. Although, you would make a pretty picture fetching my golf clubs.” He paused at the thought.

“My friends call me Tav,” I said. Mr. Hope steered the golf cart back onto the path and I almost gripped his leg to steady myself as the cart wobbled back onto its steady charge forward. I tucked my hand quickly under my black golf skort, taking comfort in the weight of my thigh.

“I’m not your friend: I’m your employer.”

“If you want to know it so bad, why don’t you just look it up when we get back to the clubhouse?” I should have bit my tongue, but Mr. Hope was not going to be calling me by my government name if I had anything to say about it.

The cart coasted to a stop, the clubhouse within sight. “If you want me to call you like a dog then you can get out and run after the cart like one.” He nodded for me to step out. “Go on, Tav.”

My legs were still twitching from the hike out to the 8th hole and I was maybe enjoying the custom fans on the cart a little too much. But between that or telling him my full name, I stepped out, cringing as the sun baked my skin once more. It didn’t take long until he was pressing the cart forward. He drove it just fast enough that I was always on his heels, no matter how hard I ran.

As my sneakers thumped the white pavement I imagined they were stomping that stupid handsome face of his. It looked all-natural – there was a small scar on his forehead and plenty of wrinkles that cut from his amber eyes – but the soft curl to his hair and all-linen outfit told the world that he could afford plastic surgery if he wanted to. He could probably afford to buy the plastic surgeon too if the rumors were true.

Mr. Hope parked the golf cart with the herd of others after what felt like a day of running. I heaved heavy breaths in and out, hands on my knees as I considered a nap on the blinding concrete.

“I’m surprised that you made it, Tav. Such a good girl.” Mockery highlighted his voice, but the words caught me off guard. I turned them over in my mind, wondering what other sweet praises the Devil liked to stab with.

“It was a piece of cake,” I lied.

He turned and headed towards the clubhouse, tossing a come-here whistle over his shoulder. I scrunched my face up, swallowing the nasty names I was already starting to come up with for him. I’d share those later with Karlie and Will.

The clubhouse wrapped its welcoming chill around us. I didn’t even mind the goosebumps on my arms, rubbing them only once as I followed him back to the foyer. He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text before stopping a server carrying a saran-wrapped tray full of chicken salad croissants to the meeting room.

“Have you seen Ms. Zora?” he asked.

“I’m right here.”

Ms. Zora’s white polo and black skort could have gotten her mistaken for club staff if it wasn’t for the glowing pearls that encircled her swan-like neck. She was the secretary for the board and seemed to have a habit, I noticed, of showing up when you least wanted her to.

Raphael waved off the server, not even watching as she scurried away, head down muttering a prayer of thankfulness. He gestured to the walls and ceilings of the foyer.

“Where are all the banners that we ordered?” he asked.

Ms. Zora rolled her eyes, huffing a sigh of exasperation. “Supply chain issues. Don’t worry: I got us a full refund and have contacted that little print shop down the road.” She laughed, “You should have seen how grateful they were that I wanted everything ASAP and at a discount too.”

“I do not care about a discount. I want this foyer decorated now,” he said.

“I’ll give them a call,” Ms. Zora smiled. Her cunning gaze soon fell on me, her smile dropping with it. “Is there a reason why you are here Ms. Baldur?”

“Oh, so she does have a name?” Raphael laughed. “Ms. Baldur is my caddy for the day. I do have to say, I have grown quite accustomed to calling her Tav, though. It has a certain peasant charm to it.”

My clean-cut nails bit into my palms as I balled my fists up. Just get through the day, that’s it. If he used my name any more times I might have to start going by my full name just to get the stink of him off of it.

“I need to go make that call,” Ms. Zora excused herself. He didn’t watch her leave, instead smirking and staring hungrily down at me as if I were the chicken salad sandwiches.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Ms. Baldur,” he said, rolling the r with a flourish. “Such a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll call you that if you do a good enough job today. Please me and I’ll please you.”

“I-“ He knew he had turned my nickname into an annoyance. I expected him to sprout horns any minute now. “What makes you think that I want you to please me? Can’t I just do my job?”

He turned, heading back out to the golf course. A group of men had managed to gather in the few minutes we’d been inside, chattering and guzzling Bud Lights as if they were college frat boys born again in the heat of the summer.

“Raph!” one of them exclaimed. “What took you so long?”

“I was just making sure everything was ready and attending to a few stray animals.” He looked at me with that remark, before continuing, “Nothing exciting.” He popped his sunglasses back on as the cloud cover retreated. My eyes were drawn once more to the unbuttoned violation. I stared a bit too long as I found his eyes peeking out the peripheral of the shades, waiting for mine to see them. He gave a smile and I went off to his golf cart to sulk in my rosy cheeks.

They chatted and chatted until one of them finally clapped his hands together in anticipation. Beer can after empty beer can clunked into the trash can, and one by one the carts started.

“Out,” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Do you have cotton in your ears? Out. You want to be named like a dog, you’ll run like a dog.”

I got out, folding my arms as I watched him get in. “I thought we were done with all this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but I’m not done with your lesson, Tav. If you keep up, I’ll drive you back after the 18th hole.” And with that, he backed the cart out and zipped off after the pack.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #raphael the cambion

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