#and we can’t do almost anything to help her!

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

[ticktockheartstop]

DBDA catch/theory time, are you ready?

First, let me remind you of the fact that Tragic Mick gave Niko the bear charm-thing because she listened to his story and tried to help. And then he tells her, “You never know when the good you do may come back around.”

*Big skip through much of the episode*

So. The Night Nurse’s supervisor showing up at the agency in the final episode kinda makes sense, right? The Night Nurse has clearly had a lot of trouble with Edwin and Charles and could use some back up. And the supervisor acts whole lot like the Night Nurse, telling the boys when they protest that she can’t just take them to the afterlife: “I can do anything I like!”

But then: She turns to their case file. And as she’s telling them some technical jargon about forms, she’s looking over the case file. Near the end of her sentence, she squints at something. But then she turns back to the boys and asks them if they have the form she’s talking about.

AND THEN she puts her glasses on, turns back to the case file, and asks about it. And as Charles is explaining, we switch to the supervisor’s POV as she is scanning over all the cases. Her gaze stops at the top and lingers on the file labeled “Niko Sasaki.” And then the camera switches back to show her face, and we see her begin to point at the Niko’s file. Her facial expression changes so that she’s frowning, almost looking sad, and she reaches a hand up to her neck/shirt collar.

That’s weird, right? But it gets weirder.

The supervisor behind listing all the people the boys have helped, and though she doesn’t say Niko’s name, her eyes linger on that file:

After this, she makes the decision that the boys will stay on Earth to keep doing what they’re doing, much to the surprise and horror of the Night Nurse. This isn’t what she asked for help for!

The supervisor turns to Edwin and Charles and says, “You never know how the souls you help, the marks you make — you never know when the good you do may come back around.”

And then she pauses and just looks at them like this:

Idk about you, but she seems emotional to me. So here’s my question: does she know Niko!?!? Because why would she change her mind when she saw Niko’s case file if she didn’t know her or wasn’t connected to her somehow?? And why would she give the boys the hint of using the exact same wording as Tragic Mick used with Niko if she wasn’t trying to tell them something!? She knows they’re detectives! So she’s giving them a clue to figure something out, is she not??

My brain hurts.

[taurasiluv]

Could you do DT x reader where the reader is always court side at DT games

in the crowd.

summary  :  you've  been  going  to  dianas  games  since  your  college  days  to  support  your  friend,  but  now  its  a  wnba  championship  and  you're  on  the  courtside  cheering  her  on.  only  this  time,  you  two  are  a  little  more  than  friends

content  : fluffy  asf,  its  only  angsty  if  you  squint.

wc  :  1.8k

YOU HAD BEEN going to Diana’s games since you were in college. You two met in a sociology course and she invited you to a game of hers. You had heard the rumors that she was a cocky asshole through and through, but that didn’t stop your curiosity and you went.

You knew little to nothing about basketball but you still showed up, and in Diana’s free time she always would answer any questions you had about the game. She was always just a little extra patient with you, something you appreciated heavily. She would take you out to parties and when the night was done she would hold you close as you walked back to her dorm. That cocky asshole persona was always set aside for you and beneath there was a really sweet girl who would’ve done anything for you.

There were always lingering touches and stares when she thought you weren’t looking, but you two were just friends, right? That’s what you told yourself at least.

But then life happened. Diana got drafted to Phoenix and you were so proud of her, but life for you called elsewhere. You settled down in Connecticut, text conversation had slowly come to a stop and after a while, you almost completely forgot about your UConn days with Dee. You had seen her on TV once or twice, she was always breaking records or just being an absolute baller, but no word from her.

Not that you minded, surely she wasn’t still yearning for you years later like you were? She must have surely settled down with someone in Arizona, you were a background thought for her, she had much more important things to worry about.

As you came home from work one day you did your usual routine. Come home, change, get something to eat, check your emails, etc. When you opened the mail app on your phone you were surprised to see something from Diana. The tagline shocked you,

Let me fly you to town?

From: dtaurasi3@gmail.com

But you opened it nonetheless, reading through it carefully,

“Hey, I know we haven’t talked in years. Don’t know if you use the same number so I’m emailing you, but I’ve been thinking about you and wanted to know If I could fly you into Phoenix to come watch us play in the championship, like the old times? It’s in a week. I got you a court side seat reserved and everything. Just let me know, hope to see you there.

Love, Dee.”

You couldn’t believe what you just read. She was still thinking about you? It never ended? You had been yearning for her for years, since she left, but she was doing the same all this time? You stared at your phone, completely dumbfounded, unaware of what to say in response.

On one hand, you wanted to go so badly. You hadn’t been to a basketball game in god knows how long and you missed Dee. On the other, maybe this was a bad idea. You had managed to forget about Diana and whatever crush you had on her, would it even be a good idea to dig those feelings back up?

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard of your phone for a few moments, contemplating on what to reply with. You took a deep breath before finally typing out a reply,

“I’ll have to talk to my boss, but I’d love to come :) I’ve missed you Dee, can’t wait to see you play.”

You hit send before you could even think about it. Maybe it’ll all be worth it in the end.

You shot your boss a quick text saying you’ll need to take some time off next week and spent the rest of your night trying to not over think this.

When you woke up the next morning you had a notification from the mail app on your phone with plane ticket details. No hotel details though, strange. A smile couldn’t help but spread across your face when it was officially confirmed you were going. You were gonna see Dee again after all these years.

—

The rest of the week when by quickly, before you knew it you were sat in an airport terminal, on the track to Phoenix.

Your mind was racing the entire flight. You had given Dee your number during the week and she texted you saying she would pick you up from the airport when you landed. It was only hours til you were gonna see her again after years.

Your nerves were at an all time high when the plane had finally landed, you were chewing the inside of your cheek the entire way to where Dee was suppose to meet you.

You had stepped into the lobby and there she was, holding flowers and a smile plastered across her face. She still had that stupid slick back bun you always made fun of, but this time around she had significantly more bulk on her arms, you just about melted at the sight of that.

When you made your way over to her she took your backpack and suitcase from you and gave you a tight hug.

“I missed you.” She said into your ear, not letting up on the hug.

“I missed you too, Dee.” You said as she finally pushed away.

She held out the flowers with a smile on her face. “I got these for you, hope it isn’t too much.”

Her averted eyes and flushed face brought you straight back to college, she was always such a softie for you. "Not at all, thank you Dee." You smiled.

You two walked out of the airport, making small talk here and there, but otherwise comfortable in the silence. She loaded your stuff into her car and opened the door for you.

"So... You never sent me anything about a hotel..."

"Well... I was hoping you'd stay with me?" She asked with a grin on her face.

You laughed and rolled her eyes, she really hasn't changed. "Sly fox... Yeah, I'd be delighted to stay with you Taurasi."

She pumped her fist up in victory, proud of her own accomplishment. When you two arrived back at her house, you walked around, taking it in. It was decorated much better than the shit show that was her college dorm, a lot less frat house-y. Sports magazines littered her table and little basketball trinkets were on shelves.

Diana had disappeared into another part of the house for a bit, you weren't sure what she was up to but it gave you more time to look around.

As you were thumbing through pages of a sports magazine she came back out into the living room. "I got the guest bedroom all set up for you." She grinned, ushering you to follow her. You followed her into the guest bedroom and you were met with the flowers she had gotten you neatly trimmed and put into a vase on the bedside table and the bed made up nicely. Your suitcase was placed into the corner of the room and she even had a little snack basket sitting on the bed.

My god was she whipped for you.

"Didn't know if you still liked this stuff but, thought I'd play it safe." She murmured as she pointed at the snack basket.

"Its perfect Dee, you really didn't have to do any of this." You giggled.

She feigned offense and grabbed at her chest. "You willingly came to see me play basketball even though we haven't talked in years! Of course I had to do all this!"

"You really haven't changed." You rolled your eyes, still laughing with her.

The rest of the night went smoothly, you two drank wine and talked for hours, catching up on missed time. She made you dinner and you two ended the night on the couch, watching some old 90s movie that you weren't really paying attention to, too busy staring at the woman next to you.

Once the movie ended she got up, kissing you on the forehead. "I'm checking in for the night, I probably won't be here when you wake up, but there's breakfast in the fridge."

"G'night Dee" You mumbled, on the verge of sleep yourself.

When you woke up the next morning there was no trace of Diana, she was off getting ready for the final game tonight. She made coffee for you, leaving it to be warmed in the pot and a smile was brought to your face.

Meanwhile, Diana and Brittney sat in the Mercury office, chatting before they had to go to the shootaround. Diana had mildly explained you coming to her, but not in full detail.

"So what you're telling me, is that you flew your ex from college in to watch you play? Damn DT, didn't know you were that whipped." Brittney laughed.

Diana's face immediately flushed. "Okay first off, we never dated, she's not my ex! And it's totally normal!"

Brittney tilted her head and raised her eyebrow. "Yeah, but you're still whipped. What other gay shit did you do for her?"

Diana sighed before telling her, "I bought her flowers, and her favorite snacks, and I bought her courtside tickets out of pocket."

The taller woman next to her practically doubled over laughing.

Diana quickly smacked her on the arm. "Shut up!"

They bantered for a bit longer before being called out for shootaround.

—

You spent the rest of your day exploring Diana’s house, looking through her shelves and seeing what she got up to these days.

Once the evening time had came, you took the money Diana had left on the counter for an uber and called one. You made it to the arena and was greeting with security who walked you to your court side seat. Wow, she really did pull out all the stops for tonight.

You cheered from the sidelines as Diana ran out onto the court, she saw you cheering and broke out into smiles. Brittney shot a knowing look at her.

The game was tight, both teams trading points and it was going to be a close one. By the fourth quarter, Phoenix was down 2 points and they only had seconds left on the timer.

Diana got tunnel vision in times like these, only focusing on making that basket and taking home the win. The seconds were counting down and there she went, jumping into the air and confidently shooting from the 3 point line. It felt like the whole world had slowed as the crowd waited to see if it was going to make it in or not.

And it went in cleanly. An audible swish heard in the arena before it broke out into cheers. The entire team jumped from the bench and ran towards the middle, Diana however, ran straight towards you.

“You did it!” You grinned.

There was silence from her however, she just gave you this look of pure love before kissing you.

Her lips were soft and it’s been everything you were dreaming of since college, it was perfect.

“I fuckin’ love you.” She murmured against your lips. Her strong arms held you and tears ran from her eyes.

She had waited her whole life for this moment.

[calicoheartz]

kate martin smut!!! Reader is stressed about school so kate takes it off her mind 😉😉

only if you want ofc🩷🩷

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ; 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍

꣑୧ — summary | kate x fem!reader where you’re stressed about school but kate shows you how good it feels to relax !

wc ; 821

— warnings | nsfw under the cut , suggestive content , fingering , head , etc r!recieving

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : im back from my little hiatus 😊 hope u guys enjoy this one , tysm for the requests & enjoy besties !

The library was almost empty, save for a few diligent students scattered across the tables. I was one of them, hunched over my laptop with a stack of textbooks surrounding me. Finals were approaching, and the pressure was unbearable. Every page I turned seemed to mock my inability to absorb the information.

“Hey, you okay?” a familiar voice broke through my haze of stress.

I looked up to see Kate Martin standing there, her eyes filled with concern. Kate had always been a source of comfort and strength for me. Her presence alone made the world feel a little less chaotic.

“Just trying to get through this mountain of work,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I don’t think I can take much more.”

Kate’s expression softened, and she took the seat next to me. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. How about we take a break?”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I have too much to do.”

Kate placed a hand on my arm, her touch warm and reassuring. “You need to relax. Trust me, it’ll help you in the long run.”

I hesitated, then nodded, knowing deep down that she was right. “Okay, just for a little while.”

We left the library and walked to Kate’s dorm, the cool evening air helping to clear my mind. Once inside, Kate put on some soft music and dimmed the lights, creating a calming atmosphere.

“Sit down,” she instructed gently, guiding me to the edge of her bed. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a bottle of massage oil. My heart started to race, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness swirling inside me.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Kate said, her voice soothing.

I obeyed, feeling the tension in my body start to melt away as I settled onto the bed. Kate straddled my hips, her hands working the oil into my shoulders and back. Her touch was firm yet gentle, each stroke easing the knots of stress that had built up over the past weeks.

“Just relax,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss the back of my neck. “Let me take care of you.”

Her lips trailed down my spine, sending shivers through my entire body. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation. Kate’s hands continued their magic, and I could feel the last remnants of tension slipping away.

Kate’s hands roamed lower, her fingers brushing the hem of my shirt. She lifted it slowly, her touch igniting a fire within me. I arched my back slightly, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

“Yes,” I breathed, my body yearning for her touch.

Kate’s hands moved with purpose, sliding under my shirt and caressing my bare skin. She leaned down, her breath hot against my ear. “I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her words sending a thrill through me.

She kissed her way down my back, her hands skillfully removing my shirt. I turned over, meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes was one of pure adoration and desire. She leaned in, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.

Our clothes soon lay forgotten on the floor, and Kate’s hands and lips explored every inch of my body. Her touch was electrifying, each movement driving me closer to the edge.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her lips grazing my collarbone.

I reached up, tangling my fingers in her hair and pulling her closer. “Kate, please,” I begged, needing her more than I had ever needed anything.

She moved between my legs, her mouth and hands working in perfect harmony. The pleasure built slowly, each wave more intense than the last. Kate’s name fell from my lips in a desperate whisper as she brought me to the brink.

When I finally reached my climax, it was like a dam breaking. The release was overwhelming, washing away all the stress and worry that had plagued me. I lay there, breathless and content, as Kate held me close.

We lay entwined on her bed, the room filled with the scent of massage oil and the sound of our slowing breaths. Kate stroked my hair, her touch tender and loving.

“Feel better?” she asked softly.

“Much better,” I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. “Thank you, Kate. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She kissed my forehead. “You’ll never have to find out.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in weeks. Kate’s presence was a balm to my weary soul, and I knew that with her by my side, I could face anything.

As I drifted off to sleep in her arms, I felt a renewed sense of hope and strength. The stress of school was still there, but with Kate’s love and support, I knew I could conquer it.

a/n : yk I had to come back from my hiatus w some juicy smut !! tysm for reading :’)

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Six

okie so I might have lied about getting this done today. But here it is! I honestly loved writing this chapter, cause it's fun to write the dynamic between Wooyoung and y/n

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Y/n meets the omegas of Skz, and then has dance practice with Yunho and San! wc: 1.4k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  Nets: @newworldnet warnings: yelling, lots of yelling, Woo being dramatic, lots of cursing because yes, derogatory language (whore), angst, and I think that's it?? lemme know if I need to add any other warnings! masterlist

“Where are we going, Wooyoung-ssi?” Y/n asked the idol as she was dragged out of the company.

“I already told you! We’re going to meet up with Han and Felix!” Wooyoung told her, like it was common sense.

The slightly taller man, by like maybe an inch, pulled her behind him as they walked, or were dragged in y/n’s case, down the road to the next block, where a quiet cafe sat. The two omegas entered, finding it almost void of people, except for two people sitting in the back. Wooyoung lit up once he saw the two, almost sprinting towards the two of them, y/n along for the ride once again.

“You’re here!” He shouted, gaining their attention. 

“Wooyoung-hyung!” One of the two called out to him, pulling his mask off to reveal a smile on his face.

The older omega pulled y/n down with him into the empty chairs, before introducing her to the idols in front of her. “Han, Felix, this is y/n. She’s one of the auditionees for the ninth member of Ateez. I may have stolen her from practice.”

Felix ignored Wooyoung’s words for the most part. “ Hi y/n, I’m Felix. Though I have a feeling you already knew that. It’s really nice to meet you regardless.” He smiled at y/n, and she couldn’t help but smile in return, it was contagious.

“Yah! Felix, don't go stealing my omega! She’s mine. Not yours.” Wooyoung intervened as he watched the two of them. He was not letting the Stray Kids steal her from him, even if he loved the two younger omegas. Y/n was his, and if he had his way, she’d be their ninth member. He didn’t want anyone else, despite not having seen any of her skills. But Hongjoong looked pleased with her, so that means something good. And unless she had no rhythm and two left feet, they could teach her to dance.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you y/n.” Han said, a bit shyer than either Wooyoung or Felix. Which was fine with the sole female omega in the group of four, as she didn’t mind another quieter person. She had enough loud people with just the man next to her. 

“How are you both?” She asked them, knowing they have a comeback coming up, she’s a Stay too, there was no way not to be a StayTiny with the friendship between the two groups.

“I’m good! Busy, but good.” Felix replied, smiling at her still. Han nodded along, focused on his phone. He seemed to be reading something on his phone. She didn’t mind, it was probably Stray Kids related, which is totally fair, she may not understand it like Wooyoung probably did, but she could understand being busy because of an upcoming event.

“You guys have a comeback coming up, right? How’s the preparation for that going?” She asked them, “And no pressure if you can’t say anything, I get it.”

“Ah yeah, we’re not really supposed to say much about it. Sorry.” Felix said, apologizing.

“No apologies needed, I figured as much, but still wanted to ask. I know comebacks are secretive and such. Well outside of what is shared with fans in the lead up to release day.” She replied, nodding her head.

Suddenly, fingers were squeezing her cheek. “You’re so cute, I just wanna eat you.” Wooyoung said from right next to her.

“Please don’t eat me, I don’t think we need a news article about you secretly being some sort of cannibal.” 

“I- yah! I am not a cannibal!” Wooyoung cried.

“Then why do you want to eat me? Besides, it could be worse, you could be a kidnapping cannibal. Oh wait, you are.” Y/n jokes, suddenly having a burst of confidence.

That sparked laughter from Felix and Han, causing y/n to laugh as well, as Wooyoung looked at all of them and pouted.

“I thought we were friends.” The eldest man whined, crossing his arms as the three omegas continued giggling.

“You’re so fucking mean. This isn’t fair. How dare you corrupt my baby!” He continued to whine.

“They met me thirty minutes ago, how did they corrupt me? And when did I become your baby?” Y/n questioned, looking at the omega next to her in confusion.

“They just did! And when I met you, duh.” Wooyoung said, like it was common knowledge.

“Wooyoung, you’re an idiot.” Felix said, in a very deadpan way.

“Felix, we gotta go. Chan needs us back at the company.” Han interrupted, looking back and forth between Felix and his phone.

There were many awws, but Felix and Han rose up out of their seats.

“Next time, we’ll make sure to have free time so we can chat? And we’ll get your number off of Wooyoung!” Felix promised y/n as they left the cafe.

“Awwww, I thought we’d get longer with the two of them.” Wooyoung pouted once again.

“Well, they are prepping for a comeback next month, I don’t expect them to not be busy.” She said, knowing that these times would be busy, and was surprised they managed to get any free time at all, being weeks away from a comeback.

“I don’t wanna go back yet.” Wooyoung just wouldn’t stop whining, though he was interrupted by his phone ringing.

“What Hongjoong-hyung?” The omega said.

“I don’t wanna come back. And why does she have to practice?”

“Fine. But you owe me a coffee.” Wooyoung said as he hung up the phone. “I’m supposed to bring you back now. They’re all finished for the day, but you still have to practice, so Sannie and Yunho are staying late to watch you. I’m not allowed to stay because I’ll just kidnap you again apparently.” He told her.

He got up out of the chair he was in, sulking as the female omega got up as well, and continued to sulk as they left the cafe, heading back to KQ. He grumbled about how unfair it was that he wasn’t allowed to stay and watch her dance, that he wasn’t allowed to stay at the company while she was practicing.

This grumbling continued all the way to the door of the practice room. She rolled her eyes at Wooyoung’s grumbling, and pushed open the door herself, brushing past the elder omega. She bowed once she was in the room, apologizing for her lateness, “I’m sorry I didn’t show up on time.” 

“Don’t worry about it, once Hongjoong-hyung told us it was Wooyoung, we knew we wouldn’t get you back on time.” San waved off her apology, “You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

“What Sannie-ah said.” Yunho agreed, before continuing, “Now, are you ready to practice? Other than warming up?” He asked her, to which she nodded.

“Okay, then let’s warm up.” The tall alpha smiled at her, as they both started warming up with her, helping her through the stretches they did in order to prepare for their rigorous choreography.

Yunho then led her through the entirety of Guerilla, before moving onto Halazia, having her fill in Yeosang’s parts, as he thought she fit them best, besides Hongjoong’s as well. Once he deemed her Halazia run throughs perfect, he let her take a break, and y/n collapsed onto the hardwood floor.

“How the fuck do you do all of these songs back to back at concerts holy fucking hell.” She said through many breaths and attempts, as she was still trying to catch her breath.

“Lots of training and stamina. You have to get some more.” San said as he sat on the ground next to her head.

“San’s correct. That’s the thing you have to work on, it seems. Plus some more practice on the footwork for dance breaks. You fall behind in them, compared to San when you two danced together.” Yunho told her, letting her know what she needed to work on. She took all of the comments in, knowing she wasn’t perfect, and wanting to work to get better. Plus, Yunho was kind as he told her what needed work versus what was almost perfect.

Unbeknownst to them, someone was watching the three of them sit and chat after this, and security really should have done a better job at ensuring the rules were followed, as they snapped photos of the three’s closeness.

“The fucking whore, fucking omega thinking she’s better than everyone else because of her subgender. Let’s see how the public feels about how close you are to them, when you haven't even been picked yet.” They whispered to themselves, before walking away with a ticking time bomb in their hand.

Prev | Next

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia @ja3hwa @scarfac3 @smally97 @iyeeeverydee 

@lxsunshine @ismelllikechlorine247 @fr34k4c1dr41n @ateez-atiny380 @sapphirewaves  

@davinashifts333 @cookiesandcreammy @not-straight-kait @hoeforalbedo @calisnewworld 

@smilefordongil @fantasy2wonderland @forever-atiny @khjcoo @hhoneylix

@ayoo-bangtan @11glitch11 @lynnsqueendom @fireseo @cara-rey

@therealcuppicake @lyracarvahall @anxiousskylar @dinossaurz @madilinetheb3st

@h3arteyes4mingi @sweetmoonlight9 @strayteezsimp @yukichan67 @insanityxofxfanfiction

@genderfluidthatwannabealone

Taglist is: open!

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen

TW: NSFW, angst, possessive language, verbal violence, BDSM mention

In nothing but a towel, Ludlow strides to answer the door. You, still naked, shriek and run for the bedroom, certain there’s about to be a bit of a fucking disturbance.

“Morning, Dr. Bitch! Didn’t know you made housecalls?” Tom’s pseudo-jovial tone is nothing less than gloating. 

You stumble back out of the bedroom, at least covered by your threadbare blue paisley robe, to find Dr. Julian Mercer on your threshold bearing a massive bouquet of deep red lilies. The tension between the two men is palpable as an electrical storm, and a lump of dread lodges in your throat. The last thing you want is these two getting into a fight.

When Julian turns his sharp gaze to you, you can’t help but feel guilty, even though you’ve done nothing wrong. Gone is the sweet, caring doctor, something entirely more primal in his place. This is a man who perceives an interloper has touched what’s his.

“I see I’ve come at a bad time,” he says, a flash of his bottom teeth visible as he clenches his jaw.

“Nah. We were just having some breakfast. Want to join us?”

Julian takes in the remnants of the pancakes on the table, as though he can almost see exactly what you two had been up to. Well…your disheveled, half-dressed state probably said enough on its own. 

Instead of answering Tom, Julian’s eyes roll up from the messy table and lock onto your own. “Did you fuck him?” 

You are completely taken aback by the invasive, growled question, suddenly nervous and shifting on your feet. For a moment, with Julian’s intense gaze trained on you, you forget that Tom is between the two of you and that you’re safe. But, if Tom wasn’t here…you shiver at the prospect. 

Julian looks like he’s going to go full Jason Vorhees on your ass. You open your mouth to speak, but Tom cuts you off. “Don’t think that’s any of your business, Dr. Bitch, but if you must know..” 

“Tom,” you say quietly, encouraging him to shut the fuck up and stay out of this. 

Instead of pouncing across the room and sinking his teeth into your carotid, Julian sighs, his face drooping just like the sad flowers at his side, and shakes his head. “I understand.” 

Why do you always end up feeling like an asshole at the end of these debacles? Maybe it’s because you are the asshole. By the way Julian looks right now, it certainly seems like it. 

“Oh, poor thing.” Tom rubs salt in the wound. “Cry me a river.” He turns to you. “Are you really gonna fall for this crap?” 

“Tom…” You try again, but it falls on deaf ears.

“There, there, Dr. Bitch Boy, you’ll surely find someone else who is dumb enough to let you tie them up and hurt them. Consensually! Mustn’t forget the fine fucking print…” 

“You know,” Julian says, twirling the bouquet stem in his long fingers, dripping dew on the doorstep. “It’s a safe, rewarding practice between two mature adults. But, I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, Officer Ludlow.” 

Tom chuckles. “Oh, wouldn’t I? Some of us can tie a woman up and make her scream without inflicting pain.” 

Julian looks, immediately, to your wrists, where sure enough there are still discolored leather marks marring your skin. He stares at you like you just kicked his puppy except the puppy is actually him. You wish you could be a bitch for once and not care, but you’re just a softy like always, staring back with what you hope reads as an apology written on your face. 

Julian looks back at Tom, expression changing drastically into something dark. “There are marks on her pretty skin.” 

“Uh huh,” Tom agrees. 

Julian, the fucking idiot, steps up to Tom, and you instinctually nudge yourself between them. You know how this ends, although you’ve never been on the receiving end of a testosterone tug of war; you’ve seen plenty of friends and relatives go through it. You put a spread palm on Julian’s chest, and look up at him. “Julian..” 

You can feel Tom’s wayward grin behind you. 

“You should be careful, y/n. This ogre is going to hurt you. You should stick with someone who actually knows what he’s doing.”

“I think we did just fine,” snipes Tom. “And we’re going to do it again too! Thanks for stopping by!” That is when Tom bodily lifts you out of the way to slam the door in Julian’s face.

A second later you hear your poor neighbor peeking out. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s just fine, ma’am, so sorry,” you hear Julian answer. “Here. I want you to have these.”

In your mind’s eye, you can just see Julian, chivalrous and well mannered, handing Mrs. Thompson the beautiful bouquet.

“Oh! What a nice young man you are!”

If only Mrs. Thompson knew. 

“Tom, I’d rather not have Julian know about this…” you gesture between the two of you. 

He leans on the doorframe, probably to shut off your rational brain again because that’s what happens, and cocks his eyebrow. “You’re just planning on keeping me a dirty little secret?” 

“What? No. That’s not what I mean. I just don’t want him to know the details.” You cross your arms over your chest without really meaning to, and you know he picks up on the hostility. “Jesus, you just like, shouted everything right down the hall.”

You look at your wrists, the faint red marks. You can’t help but think on what Tom said with such taunting venom. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, head tilting. “No.” 

“You said..” you take a minute to collect yourself. “You said that he would have to find someone else dumb enough to let him tie them up.” 

Tom skips right past your point, eyes narrowing. “You let him tie you up?” 

“Once? Sort of? But he freaked me out, so I asked him to stop. And he did.”

The look on Tom’s face is pure fury. “That little fucker could have done anything to you!”

The fact that Tom seems to think you are incapable of taking care of yourself only adds gas to your own burner.

“Look. I know you don’t like him, but he’s not a criminal because of what he likes, ok? Something…happened to him. He can’t fucking help it.”

“Yeah, I bet. Baby, I see this all the time in my job. These assholes are master manipulators, and they always have a fucking excuse. Oh my nanny touched me so I do terrible things. Bad shit happens to all of us. It doesn’t give anyone a fucking pass to hurt other people. You are so sweet and pretty and good…God. You are just the sort of soft little treat these guys live to gobble up.”

“I’m not a child, Tom. I obviously know there are bad men.” You’d certainly met your fair share of them. “You’re treating me like I’m an idiot. Julian stopped when I asked him too.” 

“And what if he doesn’t the next time? What if he keeps going? What if he hurts you?” He sounds like all those things would affect him more than they would you. 

Your knee jerk response spills from your lips before you can even think about it. “I don’t need you to protect me.” Even if this is exactly what you want, what you’ve always wanted, deep down. 

“Well that’s too bad, sweetheart, because I’m gonna. I’m not going to let anyone ever hurt you.” It’s not fair, the flood of warmth this inspires. From your head to your toes, and it feels so good you know you can’t trust it. Because when he inevitably breaks this promise, like all men do–it will destroy you. 

The moment shatters slightly when he can’t help but add, “Especially not Doctor Dumbass. What do you even see in him?” 

A part of you is so annoyed you’re even having this conversation, you can’t help but needle him. “Tall, handsome, single doctor who actually has manners. Silly me.” 

By the way Tom’s eyes narrow, you know the arrow hit home–and you kind of hate yourself for it. “It’s all a mask, honey. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. It’s a mistake to trust that guy.”

For a moment it jars you, that Tom is basically implying you’re going to sleep with him and Julian at the same time and potentially hurt them both, which means he thinks that lowly of you—he’s also saying, again, that you are too dumb to see through Julian’s “mask”. It makes anger flare inside of you, hot and bright. “Then I guess that's my mistake to live with.”  

You don’t really notice he’s inching toward you until you have to crane your neck a little bit to look up at him. The message in his dark eyes reads consuming, angry, possessive. A thrill perks every hair on your body. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you not to make mistakes.” 

“And how are you going to do that?” You ask, rolling your eyes, more than a little annoyed at this overt sideshow of the ol masculine who’s dick is bigger. 

He tucks a loc of hair behind your ear. “By fucking you so often you forget Dr. Bitch exists.” 

You don’t absolutely hate the sound of that, too-empty cunt giving a painful throb, toes scrunching up as that wickedly warm sensation travels from face, clavicle, chest, and then down your entire body, soaking you in lust. In this moment, you remember why you can’t fucking stand Tom Ludlow: because he is everything you need, everything you want, all wrapped up in a tall, laviscious package delivered right at your doorstep. 

A part of you wants to tell him that you don’t want anyone else but him–and a part of you would literally rather die than hand him your heart on a platter like that.

Worse yet, you’re afraid he can practically see the conflict warring in you. He sees too much, with those hawk-sharp obsidian orbs, cutting into you without mercy. He moves closer still, caging you against the wall with his corded arms on either side of you, his muscled torso that may as well be a brick wall, for all the luck you would have pushing past it. “How many times I gotta tell you, baby?” he says, his voice low, steel cased in velvet. “That I want you to be mine?”

He should be menacing, but this beast of a man leaning over you just fills you with need. You don’t know where you get the courage or the cheek to answer, except maybe it’s your lady parts finally getting their say, “You like to talk a lot, Tom Ludlow. Maybe you’d better show me?”  

He drops to his knees in front of you, kneeling at your feet, looking up almost reverently like you’re some sort of diamond encrusted statue of his chosen faith. He listens so well, silent as a mime, pressing his face into the thin robe over your rib cage, nuzzling and inhaling. Taking you in as if he means to memorize the smell of you. 

Deft fingers unwrap the tie at your waist, and he presses the lapels of your robe open with flat palms, guiding his warm skin along your own—the tender, soft stretch of your stomach. You shiver pleasantly when his grip lands to cup the curve of your waist and he kisses your bare skin, soft and wet and sigh worthy. 

Suddenly all you want in the world, is to lay this man out in your bed, and maybe never leave it. Why did Julian have to pop your perfect little bubble you’d so happily been in together? You try to move, wanting to take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, but he pins you against the wall with one of those big hands over your belly. 

“Tom…”

You kind of hate this, in the light of day, how he can still turn you into a needy, whiny bundle of nerves and weakened flesh, with zero self-respect. Every inch of your treacherous skin sings out that you do belong to him.  

“I know, sweetheart,” he says against the dip of your hip, and somehow this does soothe you. “But I’m about to get to the best part…” He tickles the curls of your mound with the tip of his nose, before nuzzling in to lick your aching slit. Your knees nearly buckle; if not for his strong hands on you, you absolutely would have melted into a puddle on the floor. 

“Fuck. Wait…”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles against you, tasting you again. “Take it like a good girl, y/n. I didn’t get to finish my breakfast.” 

He savors your taste for only a moment before becoming the man starved, pressing his face into the valley of your cunt and drinking from you like you’re the last spring of water in a dry desert. He pins you to the wall with bruising force as you and your pussy sob on his mouth, holding your lower half steady, lifting you almost off your toes, while your upper half claws and thrashes and pulls and probably leaves ugly marks in his tawny skin.

You try to say something, but it comes out as gibberish, a jumble of yesyesnonopleasejesusfuck. Too quickly, you near that release of clenched muscle, the symphony of your undoing, and he needs to slow down or—

He latches onto your clit with his mouth and sucks, tearing something more than an orgasm out of you. Something that makes you see crackling black stars, makes drool run down your face, makes a scream that will remind your neighbor of night terrors. 

Your legs do give out, but it doesn’t matter, because he lifts you in his arms and impales you against the wall, just in time to catch the last fluttering spasms of your release. He gives you no chance to recover, thrusting into you with his mouth latched to yours, devouring you with furious kisses and ruining you with his unrelenting cock. He does not stop until you cum again, almost against your will, or at least, in spite of yourself. It is as though he knows things about your body that you never fathomed possible on your own, knows just how to angle his hips to hit your gspot every single time. You’ve never been able to cum with just penetration alone, but his girth and curve and wicked skill combined make his cock a forceful weapon built for your cunt’s destruction. 

You cling to his broad shoulders like a limpet as he carries you into your bohemian nest of a bedroom, falling down amongst the colorful pillows, still inside you. Here on the soft mattress he takes you slowly, looking into your eyes and every time you try to close them, desperate for some reprieve from the intensity of it all, he demands your full attention again with his big hand on the side of your face. “I want you to know exactly who’s fucking you so good,” he tells you without a shred of humility, hooking your leg over his hip with a hand on your thigh, so that he can go even deeper. 

“As if I could forget,” you pant, the first real sentence you’ve managed since the start of this maelstrom. 

This makes him smile down at you, though there is a sharp edge to it. “Good. Because you’re mine now, baby girl. Don’t you ever forget it.” He does not even think about pursuing his own release until you’ve given it up one more time, with his filthy mouth working magic on your nipples and his hand between your legs plucking at you clit while he fills you. Only once you cum on his cock again does he let himself go right with you, and you see how close to the edge the entire time he’d been. 

Breathless in the afterglow, you lay in his arms as he traces the curve of your shoulder with his fingertips, lifting the fine hairs all over your body. It makes you shudder against him for the umpteenth time, burying your face deeper into his shoulder. The divot in his shoulder, that feels like it was made just for you. He smiles down at you, smug, yet somehow also soft, his lips on your forehead making a slow warmth lick through you from head to toe. 

“You’re tickling me,” you teasingly complain as he makes the gooseflesh rise again. 

“Just you wait.”

JesusfuckingchristIcannoteven…

Maybe you say it aloud, because he rolls over you with a wolfish smile, sweeping your hair out of your face as he sits up over you on his elbows. “Tom…” you pant, worried that he, in fact, is going to rock your world all over again. You don’t think you’ll survive it.

“I wear you out, sweet girl?”

You giggle underneath him, hooking your leg over his. “For now.”

“Good.” Again, that warm smile that makes you feel like you have fireworks lighting off through your veins. “You gonna think about me tonight?”

You wonder if he’s worried about you going to work–with Julian.

“Every time I try to sit down.” He loves this answer, his smile widening to an all out toothsome grin. Men. 

You don’t even know how you’re going to make it through your shift, because you’re fairly sure you’re never going to walk right again. 

He kisses you in one of those sloppy, wet, noisy, toe cramping kisses that he loves to give, and then lays his sweaty head on your chest. “What was Kansas like?” 

You giggle, running your fingers through his short, damp hair, loving the little shiver that you get from the feel of his strands on your sensitive fingertips. “Lots of farm fields and more cows than people.” 

He shakes you with his laugh. “And? Anything you liked about it?”  

You think back for a moment, to all the painful bruised memories of your childhood. “Our neighbor had a sunflower field. They were beautiful. We loved to climb her fence and run through it in the evening, get lost in the wonderful earthy smell.” You close your eyes, remember your sister's rare happy faces, remember falling in a giggling heap when you’d crash into each other, blinded by the tall maze of thick stems. 

He smooths a thumb over your cheekbone. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, y/n.”

“Ah, that’s not true,” you tease. “There are a million other me’s.” 

His fingers dig into your side momentarily without warning, making you squeal and writhe. “Are they ticklish, though?” He muses.

“Stop it.” You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss his palm. “I have to take a shower.” 

“What a coincidence, me too.”

“Are you going to behave yourself?” You ask him, grinning at the faux innocence in his eyes. 

“Scout’s honor.” 

You’re very right about the whole ‘not walking the same’ thing. Tom insists he has to carry you into the bathroom for your safety because of how wobbly you are when you stand. It fills you with rejuvenated heat, the way he lifts you like you’re a small, precious thing and lays a juicy kiss on your forehead. 

“Bath or shower?” He asks, turning on your tap while you lean on the sink. “Probably shower, right? Fucking like rabbits on top of a bath is a recipe for disaster.” 

“Are you trying to impress me?” You ask him, unashamed of your eyes being consistently glued to the bare, lean muscles of his back and ass. You are only half talking about his knowledge of female hygiene. 

“A little.” 

“It’s working.” 

“Goody.” He grins at you over his shoulder, testing the water on his wrist as if he’s about to bathe a skittish cat. “I think I have it at a temp you’ll like.” 

He leads you into the shower with a steady arm around your waist, making sure that you step in and out without faltering, tugging you firmly against him while the warm water heats your conjoined bodies. He’s half hard again, pressed against your back, and it makes you giggle. “Jesus Christ, I don’t even think my teenage boyfriend had this much stamina.”

“Your teenage boyfriend ain’t got nothin on me,” he teases, kissing your temple. 

“No, Sam certainly doesn’t hold a candle to you, Tom.” 

He insists on washing your hair for you, and his big fingers are absolute heaven for the scalp. You even groan a few times in pleasure as he massages and lathers. “That is cosmic,” you tell him, resting your weight on his chest. Once again, you wonder what would inspire any woman to cheat on this delectable man behind you. 

“Want me to do the rest?” He asks while he smooths the soapy water out of your ends. 

“You first,” you tell him, maneuvering around so that you can wash him. 

“How can I refuse?” He asks, leaning down to kiss you. 

You grab a couple pumps of your sensitive skin body wash, not wanting him to break out in case of allergies, and start on his chest. You haven’t really gotten a chance to feel his body, yet. Sure, you’ve seen enough to last you many nights and then some, but touching is a different story; he’s planes of mahogany, slick, rocky lake floor, one long sensory buffet for your fingers to touch and squeeze and rub. 

His hands on each side of your waist tighten as you get lower, and once you’re at his hips his cock is standing hard and proud. You can’t help but grip the length in your fist and get him nice and lathered, tease him with soft touches that make his breath hitch and heighten. “Does that feel good?” You ask him, staring up through your eyelashes at his heady expression. 

“Amazing,” he grits, cock pumping into your hand a little bit of its own accord. “Think it’s my turn, though.” 

Terrorize Tom Ludlow, expect to get it back times ten. That’s what you’re starting to learn as he runs frictionless fingers over your nipples, makes you twitch and squirm and whine. The soapy lather adds an extra sensation to his touch, something that has you needy and wanting again in no time at all. You arch against him when he follows the path of running water down your stomach, over the mound of your cunt. “Does that feel good?” He mimics, grinning against your soaked hairline. 

“Fuuuck,” is all you can answer at the moment, your every nerve ending a slave to his hands. This man is going to be the death of you.  

“Your filthy fucking mouth,” he teases, and you can feel him grinning against you, the imp of satan that he is. It’s completely not fair, and you reach for him again, pumping him in time to his magical fingers sliding against your slit. 

“Oh,” he groans, bracing himself against the wall, caging you in, and you feel some satisfaction that at least you are not the only one going to pieces again. He catches your mouth in a sultry wet kiss, his thick fingers circling your clit. He’s slowing down, and you make a sound like an angry kitten against his lips. 

“What’s wrong baby?”

“You…are an evil man.”

“Me?” He is still grinning, but it's strained at the edges now. 

“Diabolical.”

“Mmm.”

“A menace.” 

He laughs, a grating sound that ends in another moan as you stroke his impressive length from root to tip, his girth utterly filling your hand, circling the contours of his glans with your thumb. You’re not sure if it’s really ten inches–all you know that he is your perfect fit. However, a part of you is grateful you’re not doing that right now–even just hands is almost more than you can stand. 

He lets out a shaky sigh, his forehead pressed to the top of your head as you touch each other in rhythm. He’s sped up to meet you again, almost as though he can’t help but move in time with you, the way you both seem to have a knack for finding the right timing together. There is something special in that, you know. Something cosmic, something terrifying if you think about it too much. So you’re not going to think about it now. You’re just going to feel, and let this man have his way with you for the umpteenth time in the past twenty four hours. You really have lost track. 

“I need you to cum for me, beautiful,” he says—not want, but need. Needs you to cum for him. Like he needs to breathe air and eat food and wear sunscreen. 

Both of you falter a little, teetering on the edge of orgasm, but it doesn’t matter because even the simplest touch, stroke, rub has you both spasming in the other’s hand. He spills over your belly, and the water washes it off your skin in pearly rills. You collapse against him, smiling, chafed and sore and aching but never happier. “Wait,” you say quietly. “Thought you said you’d behave? Scouts honor?”

He laughs. “I wasn’t in the Boy Scouts.” 

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.12. MEN ARE STUPID

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . uncomfortable by eyedress

she feels stupid waiting for him in the kitchen. if he's upset with her she doesn’t want to be the first thing he sees in the morning. but she wants to fix what she did wrong or at least talk to him about it. she wants to show him that she cares.

so she keeps waiting. her head almost gets the best of her and she’s about to take refuge back in her own room when his door creaks open. 

she’s silent as she watches him navigate through the kitchen. she hates this. she’s never had to feel uncomfortable around him, as if she was walking on thin ice and one wrong move could ruin everything.

she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s watching him, and he doesn’t look at her. she looks down at her fingers, splayed on the kitchen counter, and begins to pick at them to try and calm her nerves. “...i don’t mean to bother you, but i just wanted to check in on how you’re doing,” she finally speaks up.

“i’m good,” he responds, placing down a mug he’s grabbed from a cabinet above.

“are you?” she answers quickly and then immediately tries to soften the blow, “i mean, i’m just worried. you won’t look at me. i feel like i did something wrong.”

he pauses for a moment before resuming what he’s doing. “you didn’t,” he replies quietly. it’s clear he wants her to leave it, but she can’t bring herself to. she wants to talk to him. she likes to talk to him. she likes him.

“then why won't you look at me?” when she says it out loud, it sounds pathetic. “i feel like there is something. i don’t want to assume, but i can’t help but overthink this. is it because i was out with atsumu yesterday?”

he finally looks at her but she immediately regrets asking him to do so in the first place. he looks nothing like how he acted and spoke with her when they were texting yesterday. “why would i be mad about that?” he asks. “we’re not actually dating or anything, i don’t care who you're with.”

everything seems to freeze for a moment. the world goes silent. even her pulse she could hear so loudly only seconds ago has paused, and she keeps looking forward. no longer at him, just on the wall past him. she doesn’t blink, she doesn’t breathe, she doesn’t move because it’s all she can do to keep herself from falling apart. she’d been the one to read everything wrong. she had let her feelings get the best of her. they'd agreed to pretend to date and she had selfishly pushed further past those boundaries; he had just played along. “yeah. you’re right,” she almost gives up trying to hold herself together when her voice cracks, “sorry i asked. see you later.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

nothing fun about this chapter??

special shoutout to the runnerup songs almost picked for this chapter bc there were many options

after you cry (the anxiety & willow), we had to end it (cuco), pain (pinkpantheress), weirdly enough the mortal boy king (the paper kites) and needs (verzache)

shoutout to my grandma who called my music taste depressing and lonely which is apparently true?? bc there were so many songs that went with this chapter

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything @glitch-karma @spicana

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.6

My mother taught me that sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours, and you’re soaked through and miserable and it feels like it may never stop. But no matter how heavily the rain falls, no matter how drenched you get, you are not the rain.

Some day you will be dry again.

Things have been easier since I blocked Paul, the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, barely noticeable as long as I don’t dig too deep. I try to keep myself distracted, reading Lucky Girl for what must be the fifth time. It’s my comfort read, Evie reminds me a little of myself. I think we could have been friends, hanging out and agreeing that being in love is the absolute worst, actually, while we yearn for our respective idiots.

The memory of Paul is not the only thing I’m trying to escape. With all my channels inactive, even the haters have gone quiet and my views are dropping every week. I’ve toyed with the idea of simply abandoning everything and starting a new brand, but I don’t want to rebuild my follower count from scratch. I don’t have time for it. My bills are starting to pile up, and while I can still pay them for now, it won’t be long before I have to either crawl back to mom and dad and ask for help, or get one of those real jobs people keep talking about. I’m not even sure which option I would hate the most, so I hide in my book for now.

A sharp knock on the door jerks me away from Evie admiring Jude in an art gallery and back to reality.

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea who it could be, and I don’t want to see anyone, especially not some smarmy salesperson – or worse, my landlord. With a sigh, I put my book face down on the armrest and shuffle to the door.

Miranda is leaning casually against the doorway, her high heels making her look almost as tall as Samara. At their feet, a couple of large shopping bags are threatening to fall over and spill their contents on my doormat.

“See, Samara? I told you she was still alive.”

“So you did. Then I sure hope she has a very good excuse for refusing to see her best friends for almost two months!“

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ve just had a rough time since, you know. But I promise to call you, maybe we can make plans soon?”

“No need, we’re here now, so you won’t have to worry about that.” Samara’s smile is cheerful, but her tone is resolute. Even so, I try to object.

“Seriously, it’s not a good time, I haven’t even showered for like three days, and the place is a mess.”

“Girl, since when do we care about mess? We’re here because we love you – stinky or not.” She wrinkles her nose, making the freckles on her face dance.

“What is this, some sort of intervention?”

Miranda smirks. “Pretty much. Sorry, but someone’s gotta save you from yourself, and we’re not letting you waste any more time moping over a man who didn’t deserve you. We’ve got snacks and a box of rosé with your name on it, so you might as well get out of the way.”

“Fiiine, but no judging the absolute state of the place.” I roll my eyes and invite them in with a dramatic flourish of my arm, but I can’t help but smile. Samara bounces through the door despite the heavy shopping bags, and Miranda goes straight for my laptop.

“What’s your login?”

“It’s just my birthday, and before you come for me, yes, I know that’s bad.”

Miranda shakes her head as the laptop plays a jaunty tune and lets her in.

“You’ll get the full security lecture another day, right now it’s time to declare inbox bankruptcy. We’re getting rid of all this bullshit so you can get back to business.”

“Miranda, there are literally thousands of messages. It’ll take days to go through, maybe weeks.”

She doesn’t even look up, her perfectly manicured fingers a blur over the keyboard.

“Give me an hour. I’m going to delete anything that contains profanity, and then I’ll sort the rest into folders, so don’t worry, you won’t be losing anything permanently. But I’m going to mark everything as read and archive it so you can get a fresh start. If anyone wants something important from you, they’ll reach out again, trust me.”

I stop myself from protesting further. Miranda knows what she’s doing, and it really would be a relief not to worry about everything.

Behind me, Samara has stopped unpacking the groceries.

“Just let Miranda work her magic and get your smelly butt into a bath. And make it a nice one, soak for a bit and pretend you’re a mermaid or something. We’ll get everything set up in here while you scrub off the sadness.”

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment as I walk into the bathroom. The sunlight is creating little islands of warmth on the black tiles, but it also mercilessly illuminates the limescale in the shower and a couple of cotton swabs that missed the bin. The sink is decorated with a few dried clumps of toothpaste, each of them outlined in red from last time I dyed my hair.

How did I let it get this bad?

I turn on the taps and leave them running while I undress. Then, I lower myself awkwardly into the tub and let the water cascade through my fingers. It would be nice if it was this easy, washing away the sadness and frustration, the longing and the hurt.

The gentle sound of flowing water is mesmerising, and before I know it, the tub is full. I add a small handful of bath salts and swirl it around. A soothing scent of lavender rises with the steam.

When I lie down, the hot water envelops me like a hug. It feels like it’s thawing something in me that I didn’t even know was frozen. I close my eyes and listen to Samara and Miranda laughing about something. It’s almost like being home and hearing my parents talk softly in the other room. It always made me feel safe. Less alone.

As the water begins to cool, I scrub down, slowly, methodically, running soapy hands along every inch of my body. It feels good, like I’m massaging life back into my limbs. Tonight will be fun, I decide. We’re going to stuff our faces with junk food, get absolutely smashed on cheap wine, and pretend that my heart was never broken by some has-been actor from Tartosa.

I watch as the tub empties, imagining that all my sadness is flowing down the drain with the water and the tiny undissolved purple specks from the bath salt. Finally, I move to the shower to wash my hair and rinse off.

When I get out, I stop and examine myself in the mirror. I look a little tired and worn, like I’ve been sick. In a way, I guess I have. But the black tiles are radiating warmth under my feet and there are birds singing outside my window and I’m beginning to feel like everything is going to be fine.

Samara’s blue face glitters in the candlelight. The packaging from the masks we’ve applied is littered with adjectives like “rejuvenating” and “revitalising”, bold statements, but they do actually feel pretty good.

“Sorry, Julia, I know you love this crap, but I just can’t get over the cake tongue. Who decided cake would be the best bait for people? Are we really that obsessed with desserts?”

I look over my nails one last time and put down the file. “I’m actually more disturbed by the whole chin udder situation. I mean, who came up with that?”

Samara makes a disgusted face, but she’s not ready to change the subject. “Seriously though, even if you were absolutely starving and cake was your favourite thing in the whole world, would you really approach a plant shaped like a giant cow head with huge teeth? Really? And then try to grab what is obviously its tongue?”

Miranda giggles tipsily. “No, but can we talk about how Ned’s relationship with the cow plant is super toxic, though? I mean, it always starts out slow, right? Oh, so it eats meat, little bit of a red flag there, but it’s probably fine. And before you know it, you find yourself luring your neighbours to their deaths just to keep it happy.”

“Yeah, it’s classic, the way he keeps making excuses for her? She didn’t mean it, she’s just misunderstood! She only bites me because she loves me! I’m like, Ned, your girlfriend is eating people, you need professional help.”

Samara laughs. “I guess some men would literally rather feed their neighbours to a plant than go to therapy.”

My phone vibrates on the armrest behind me.

“Sorry, it’s Marten again, I better let him know I’ve got company. He’s been super busy with his exams so we haven’t had much time to play lately.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow.

“And he’s still fine just being your friend, is he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was fine being my friend even though I was dating Paul. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in person since GeekCon, it’s been almost a year…”

I stop. Almost a year since I met Paul. It feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what would have happened if I’d cosplayed as someone else, or if Paul hadn’t been there that day. Maybe I could have been dating Marten instead of having my heart trampled by some fickle celebrity. Nice, normal Marten with his mousy hair and his robot facts. I smile.

“Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Marten. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Miranda sends me a mischievous grin. “That reminds me, you know that hot bartender from The Rooftop? Super flirty, cheekbones that could cut glass?”

“The one who gave us free refills on Samara’s birthday? Shane or something?”

“Yeah, him! He asked about you last time, wondered why you hadn’t come with us for like three weeks in a row.”

“How does he even know my name?”

“He didn’t, he just asked about our red-haired friend but you’ve clearly made an impression.” Miranda winks. “Maybe he’d be willing to help you get over Paul.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m pretty sure he’s slept with like half the regulars. And I’m not looking for hook-ups, not now. I need to get my so-called career back on track, but I want to do something… different.”

I think of Paul, of late nights in hotel rooms, laughing at the most ridiculous b-movies before having amazing sex and falling asleep with his arms around me. “I don’t want to do cosplay again, absolutely nothing with movies or comics or superheroes.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “What about just fashion stuff? I started out with just my shoe reviews and now it’s more general style advice and outfits to match your heels, but you have an eye for it and you know a lot about cuts and materials and design.”

“I guess? I don’t really know a lot about classic fashion, though, like couture and such. And it’s a really tough business to get into, plus I’d kinda like to keep the expenses down for now.”

“You could always just jump on one of the big trends. I bet you’d make bank as one of those clean girl aesthetic influencers or something.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I mean, I can probably get pretty far with just the makeup and clothes I already have. And I could move my sewing machine and rearrange the room, set up my camera and the lights…”

Miranda laughs. “We can start right now as long as it means we don’t have to watch any more terrible movies tonight.”

I reach for the remote. “Not a chance.”

beginning / previous / next

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (12)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (11)

“That’s delicious,” Dean tries to break the awkward silence during dinner. He compliments the dessert you ordered but doesn’t look very happy. “Now that I tried British food, I must say it ain’t as bad as I thought.”

You watch Dean poke the pie you ordered. He makes a face before taking another bite. Dean almost chokes. He scrunches up his nose when sniffing at the

“I can see that,” you grin. If not for all the chaos Dean caused over the last hours, you’d laugh because he looks adorable while forcing the unloved food down his throat. “It’s mince pie.”

“Mince pie,” Dean retches. He can’t get the awful taste out of his mouth. Not even after he drank his beer and a glass of water. “It’s…”

“We eat it for Christmas,” Michael grins. “Mommy thought it would be nice to order it for you. She said you love pie.” You pat your son’s head. He enjoys the struggle on Dean’s face as much as you do.

“Your mother is very,” Dean narrows his eyes at you, “nice. How very kind of her to order the most delicious pie I ever ate.”

“You can have another slice,” you point at the pie to tease Dean. “We have more than enough. I’m not much a fan of pie.”

“No, thanks,” Dean rubs his grumbling stomach. “I’m full. I can’t eat more.”

“You barely at anything,” Sam points out. “Don’t wake me in the middle of the night because you want to sneak into the kitchen to get more food. I know your stomach.”

“Shut up…” Dean grumbles and whispers ‘bitch’ under his breath. “I’m not very hungry today.”

“Dean Winchester is not hungry?” You cock a brow, pretending to not know about his aversion to the pie you bought. “I see, wonders do happen.”

Dean pouts and looks away. He won’t fall for your trap. “I do not eat all the time, sweetheart. Sometimes a man gotta work or clean his car.”

You wince at the pet name you tried to forget about. Dean does the same. It was a slip of the tongue, not meant to hurt you. “Cleaning your car is not work for you, Winchester. You love that car more than anything.”

“Not more than you—” Dean’s eyes widen at his words. He suddenly gets up and leaves the room, cursing himself once again. How could he just say something like that? After all, he’s done within the last hours.

“That was…” Sam clears his throat. He awkwardly looks at you, wondering if you are ever madder at his brother now. “Sometimes Dean speaks before he thinks. You must excuse him. It was a rough week. From mother revealing her role in your breakup to meeting his son.”

“Sam,” your features soften. You know Sam tries to help his brother out. Of course, he does. Sam loves his brother and would do anything to make Dean happy. The problem is things aren’t so easy.

“I know,” he says and glances at Michael. “Maybe you should…” Sam shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’d love to help you, though.”

“Mommy, can I meet my cousins? I wanna talk about cars with them,” Michael pouts. “Please. They sound so cool.”

“Michael, we will talk about this another time. It’s bedtime, okay,” you try to avoid thinking about meeting Sam’s children. If you get involved with Dean’s family, things will get even more complicated.

“Your mom is right, Michael. We can talk about this another time. You should get ready for bed, bud.”

Sam’s dad skills are showing when he tries to distract your son from the chaos his brother caused by coming here.

“Okay,” Michael yawns. “I’m going to brush my teeth. Can you check on my pillow before I sleep, Mommy?”

“I’ll fluff your pillow, baby boy,” you smile at your son. He had a lot to stomach too. From the Winchesters invading your home, over Dean’s fight with Ketch and the revelation that Dean is his father.

You step inside the living room, taking a deep breath. While putting your son to sleep you had the time to think about a few things and came up with an idea.

“I had time to think about a few things,” you say. “Michael wants to get to know his cousins.” You lick your lips. “I need to talk to Bobby about a job offer he made some months ago. I need a new job so…”

“You want to go to the States?” Dean questions. “Do you want to move back for the job or…just visit?”

“Dean, I hate it when someone interrupts my speech,” you snap at Dean. “After I talked to Bobby, and Michael had the chance to meet his cousins, I have to take care of a few more things.”

“What else do you want to take care of?” Dean swallows thickly when you sit next to him. You look at your hands, sighing deeply. “Y/N?”

“We could’ve been happy, don’t you think?” You suddenly ask. Dean is taken aback and doesn’t know what to say. “At least that’s what I told myself years ago.”

“I think so,” he murmurs. “I mean…you know me. I’m a mess and fuck things up sometimes.”

You snort. “Sometimes, Winchester?”

“Hey, I had my moments too,” he grunts. “For a while, I made you happy.”

“You did,” you pat his thigh. “I’ll book a flight for me and Michael tomorrow. Before we go back to Kansas I need you to know that I’ll confront your mother. She manipulated our relationship.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t think for one moment that you are forgiven. It was still your decision to not look for me but,” you squeeze his thigh this time, “if your mother didn’t intervene, we could’ve talked things out.”

Tags in reblog.

[aajjks]

The Conqueror (m)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader (FT. Cha Eunwoo From ASTRO.)

warnings: yàndèrè thèmès, blóód, únhèálthy pôsèssïvènèss, öbsëssïön.

note. I guess I will meet you in my inbox. ;)

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @namjooncrabs @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie

series masterlist.

Jungkook loves getting his hands all bloody, killing is like a serotonin boost for him, especially when he kills to get rid of any obstacles in his way of getting you.

It’s been a year since you arrived in the Palace.

Yet, the improvement you two have made in a year is, rather embarrassingly close to none currently.

Jungkook walks with heavy steps to see who is it this time, he’s going to get his hands all bloody once more, before your wedding which is soon. “PREPARE FOR ATTACK ON HIM IMMEDIATELY.”

The King along with his guardsmen make their way to the palaces gate, Jungkook feels rage course through his veins. “What is his name?!” He spits, voice full of anger as his steps echo on the ground.

The palace is so big, but they’re almost at the gate.

“Y-Your majesty we don’t know- but- he’s young, brown hair.” The guard replies, only fueling jungkooks jealousy.

Soon they’re all the gate and Jungkooks grip on his sword tightens, he wields his sword and walks straight through the gate.

People around the palace’s boundary are confused but they immediately lower their heads in respect, it’s dark outside, Jungkook looks for the man.

“BRING HIM TO ME!” He orders, eyes frantically moving all around the roads, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of the man.

“YOU FUCKER.” Jungkook runs to him and growls.

Jaehyun is definitely caught by surprise, his eyes wide like a ball, Jungkook begins to attack on him and Jaehyun tries to save himself, but the king manages to give the brown haired male a big cut on his arm.

Jaehyun can’t help but scream in agony as he sees the blood pour out of the cut, it hurts so much that his eyes are now full of tears, Jungkook smirks, the drops of blood quenching his burning thirst.

“Y-YOUR MAJESTY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME! I’M NOT HERE TO TAKE HER!” Jaehyun tries to clarify. Jungkook rolls his eyes, “shut up boy. Do you think that you can fool me?” He grits his teeth.

Jaehyun grunts in pain, holding onto his bloody arm as he tries to make the bleeding stop. “Y-Your majesty please! I-I’m here for someone else.” He pants.

Jungkook raises his eyebrow, the guards grab Jaehyuns body as they hold him. “Who?” Jungkook questions.

The whole place fills with silence, occasional grunts from Jaehyun and his heavy breathing are the only sounds that can be heard.

He’s gathering his breath, Jungkook bites his inner cheek in annoyance.

“HURRY UP.”

“L/n Doyun.” He whispers and Jungkooks heart stops.

“TAKE HIM INTO THE DUNGEONS!” Jungkook roars in anger, his veins popping out as he screams.

Jaehyun looks into Jungkooks eyes.

“YN WILL FIND OUT EVENTUALLY! PLEASE FREE HIM!” His screams get quieter and quieter as the guards drag him away.

Jungkook lets out a growl in return.

No, you cannot find out. Not until you’re married to him and that’s when he will truly have his revenge and he will have you with him forever..

This needs to pass by really fast.

And he’s not worried about about the man finding Doyun because he’s being held captive right below this palace. And no one knows except for Jungkook and Dongmin.

Who is at the verge of death due to starvation.

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh and makes his way back into the palace.

Looks like he will have to pay L/N Doyun a little visit tonight.

You have no choice.

Your fate was already decided the day you caught Jungkooks eye.

 the whole palace looks regal to say the least, you have no words to describe the beauty of the palace, everyone is preparing for the grand wedding of the king.

It’s all so bright and magnificent.

You are being pampered against your will.

Right now, they are taking your measurements for your dress and undergarments for your wedding night like the older woman keeps telling you.

“M-Mrs Lee.. please.” You whimper, the measuring tape taking the size of your breasts, two court ladies hold you in please so your measurements can be perfect

She ignores your pleas.

“Perfect, my lady.”, the seamstress exclaims, her helpers follow her every lead.

“now we need my lady’s wedding dress in less than a week.”

The court ladies, maids, ladies in waiting- every single person in the palace are gossiping.

They are gossiping about your upcoming coronation. You don’t know what’s worse. You are Hoping that this wedding will not happen, but that seems to be impossible because the celebrations have reportedly already started in the whole kingdom.

It all makes you feel suffocated, you don’t want to marry that monster. He killed your father. He made you an orphan. How can you ever love your husband to be?

“leave me alone!” Na-yeon is by your side, making sure to keep an eye on you so she can report to Jungkook about every single move.

Everyone takes their leave, including Mrs. Lee and the seamstress with her workers

You don’t know the truth about her identity yet.

She’s gonna have to be careful.

“Yn.. my lady.. please calm down this is supposed to be the most greatest time in your life.” She sighs, helping you fix your clothes.

“greatest time in my life? This is the worst time in my life I want to die.”

You terribly miss your father you wish that he was still alive so he would come and save you from this monster.

It’s the midnight, the weather is getting colder. The winds are wild.

Jungkook is wearing his dark cloak, the cloak covering his whole figure as he walks with a flambeau in his hand as he makes his way to the secret staircase to the older dungeon hall.

It’s dusty, awfully dark.

Jungkook patiently walks towards the cell where his favourite captive is.

He smirks unlocking the cell and making his way into the dark small cell, Jungkook keeps the keys to himself personally, making sure that there is no way of escape

“Hello L/N Doyun… or should I say now.. my dearest father in law.”

[miss-daisy04]

heyyy. before i say my request i just wanna say how much i enjoy your writing. i’m obsessed with your works <3.

request: idk why but ive been thinking about best friends older brother!jisung for the longest time. and i can’t stop😭. i was wondering if you could make a fic about that. (bonus if you make han have a spit kink🤭)

thanks youuu. 🤍🤍

crave — jisung

➤ pairing: jisung x fem!reader

➤ genre: smut. (nsfw & mdni)

➤ warnings: sex, VERY blunt dialogue (i need to work on it), mentions of spit, friends older brother!jisung, degrading, unprotected sex, etc.

➤ wordcount: 1.2k

➤ authors note: thank you so much for the compliments bby! the way i RAN to write this was so insane. tbh idk if this counts as a spit kink but i tried my best. also, the blunt dialogue is making me crazy.

I had been pining over my best friend's brother, Jisung, for the longest time. Secretly, of course. He's good-looking and exudes charm, and he has always been nice to me from the moment we first met. When I was younger, he would take me along on family vacations and make sure I always felt included. There wasn't anything he truly had to change about himself as I got older. And I couldn't help but conceive what it would be like being with him, how his strong arms would hold me, and then the taste of his lips on mine.

I knew that my best friend, Jae, would never approve of this, but I couldn't help it. My heart would thud madly and I would find myself blushing, every time Jisung was in my close company. But, one day I decided to ask a few questions.

"So, Jisung," I asked in an off-handed tone, “Have you ever had sex before?" Of course, the second it left my lips, I knew it was all wrong. All of a sudden the question seemed big and bold. I couldn't take it back now.

Jisung raised an eyebrow at me, doubt dripping from his tone. "Um, yeah," he said, laughing. "I mean, who hasn’t?" He looked over his shoulder to see if he was being overheard. "I guess it's just not something you talk about with your sister's best friend."

"Oh, c'mon," I said, feeling embarrassment flooding my cheeks. "We are both adults. And I always thought you were hot." My words hung there in the air, which quickly turned quiet. Jisung then broke into a grin, and I felt my heart race as a lump formed in my throat.

"I've always thought you were cute, too, Y/n," he said. "But you know Jae would kill me if I ever made a move on you." He winked, and I felt a shiver trickle down my spine.

Over the next few days, Jisung kept finding reasons to speak to me alone, even if they were rather odd. He'd come into my room while Jae was in the bathroom, or he'd sit with me on the couch. It seemed pretty obvious that he was into me, but I also knew that Jae would never approve. So I was surprised when, late one night, after everyone had retired for the night, Jisung knocked on my door.

"Y/n?" he whispered. "Can I come in?"

My heart was beating in my chest, so I just nodded and opened the door for him. He walked inside and closed the door behind him. "Listen," he murmured, taking one more step forward. "I realize this is probably crazy, but I have been thinking about what you said. And I've wanted to do…it…with you for a very long time.

I could hardly breathe as I stared up at him. His eyes were intense, and I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. "Really?" I managed to whisper.

He nodded, moving closer until our bodies were just inches apart. "Really," he said, huskily. "But you have to promise me that you won't tell Jae. It would kill her if she found out."

I nodded, my heart racing. "Of course I won't," I said.

Jisung smiled, and before I knew it, he leaned down and kissed me. His soft, warm lips on mine stirred up the desire within me. As we kissed, his hands found their way under my shirt, where they stroked my skin, making me shiver with pleasure.

It felt almost like time stopped as we made our way to my bed. Jisung peeled off his clothes, revealing the perfectly sculpted toned, and muscular body underneath them, and I could feel my heart picking up pace as I removed my clothes as well. When we were finally done with that, he crawled over to me, trembling with anticipation, and before I could even react, he had my top pushed up and my bra unsnapped. My breasts were free, and I felt the warmth of his breath on my nipples as he circled them with his tongue. All our muscles were taut and tensed, his arms holding me firm in his body. He kissed me again, deeper, more passionate, and I could feel myself melting into the mattress.

He started rocking across my hips, grinding in slow circles, and I arched my back into his, meeting his ministrations. I could feel the heat between us, building up, and when he started to thrust harder, I threw my head back, moaning his name. The pleasure throbbed through my body, and I knew that this was exactly what I had been waiting for.

Shame floods through me as I lie on the bed, heavy breaths leaving my lungs as my heart races and my body aches in ways both pleasurable and painful. Jisung has just taken me in ways I've never dreamt possible. His rough hands grope at me, clawing at my body and leaving bruises in their wake. He spits on my face, and his saliva is sticky, touching my skin as though I am nothing but an object for him to use and dispose of.

Somehow, in this twisted and depraved world he's created, I feel a thrill coursing through my veins. Through words that held so much viciousness and actions that were degrading, it was such a far cry from the sweet boy I'd always known Jisung to be, and it was that alone that made me respond in a way that shocked me. I arched my back into him, wanting more of his brutal domination.

He growls, his voice so thick with lust and anger, and I can feel him building up inside of me, his hips slamming against my own with ever-increasing force. I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle my cries of pleasure, but they escaped anyway. When he neared his climax, he leaned down to me and whispered in my ear, "Open your mouth."

Startled, I nervously opened my mouth. He grinned once again and spit into my mouth, filling it with a salty, bitter taste. I gagged slightly, but he didn't seem to care. I could feel his spit running down my chin.

He groaned again, his fingers on my skin and the rush of his release filling me up and claiming me as his.

Everything goes eerily still for a moment, and I am left panting as the sweat beads on my skin. He is somewhat heavy, exerting his weight upon me, while his hard muscles are trembling with exertion. Then he rolled off me, leaving me once again cold and alone. 

In the end, I know I should be disgusted with myself and that this is wrong on so many levels. But to be honest, I don't want it to stop. As much as he belittles me, as much as he treats me like dirt beneath his feet, I can't help but crave more.

i hope you enjoyed it! if you did, please show admiration of my work by liking/reblogging/sharing/commenting! it really shows me how i am doing as a writer ♡

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

wow I hate everything abt the world

[greyhavensking]

do I think bleach is a good manga, narratively speaking? no

did I enjoy reading it anyway? absolutely

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

So like technically I’m not dating her but yeah I think I do in fact have a girlfriend

[chososlilprincess]

last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won���t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

[erwinsvow]

GOT WHAT YOU WANTED

summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.

now spinning: too many nights by metro & future

word count: 11.5k

warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)

truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry. 

it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs. 

those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.

to jj that is. 

you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.

jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you. 

“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this. 

“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire. 

jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.

“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.

“other.. boy?”

“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.

“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”

“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”

“no. it didn’t come up.”

“ah. got it.”

“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.

“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.

you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.

“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”

“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”

“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.” “no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-” “just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve. 

and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.

but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it. 

you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”

“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you. 

“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.

“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.

“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it. 

it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.

“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”

“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.

“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”

“guys-”

“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”

“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”

“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.

“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj. 

whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.

“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”

“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”

“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.

“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”

“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.

“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.” 

“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.

“no, she’s not.” 

“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-” “m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”

“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”

“no you fuckin’ don’t.”

“who are you to tell me-”

“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”

you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.

“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”

“what else do you want me to say, huh?”

“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”

“m’not ignoring anything-”

“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”

“shut up.”

“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”

“what? what do you want?”

“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”

“don’t talk like that.”

“rafe.” 

exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you. 

that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet. 

you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with. 

the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.

rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.

“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out. 

you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.

“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.

“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.

“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”

“is that your way of apologizing?”

“it’s not an apology.”

“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“i didn’t.”

“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”

rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.

“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.

“thanks rafe.”

“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window. 

“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.

“kid.” 

“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.

“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.

“but you get to do it?” 

“that’s different-”

“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.

“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”

“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”

“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”

“rafe. shut up.”

“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea  you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”

“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”

“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”

“rafe?” “yeah?”

“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.

“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”

“goodbye, rafe.” 

you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.

sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality. 

then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you. 

key word: maybe.

the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement. 

maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.

you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.

.☘︎ ݁˖

rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him. 

“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”

“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.

“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.

“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”

“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.

“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.

“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”

“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”

“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”

“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”

“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”

“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.

“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”

“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.

“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.” 

“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.

he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped. 

when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning. 

you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.

if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you. 

kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.

“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.

“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.

“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water. 

“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”

“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.

“then shut up ‘bout it.”

“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.

when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.

“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you. 

the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.

“yeah. i guess i am.”

you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.

“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.

“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”

“you need a ride?”

“no, i drove here, remember?” 

“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”

“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.” “yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.

“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.

“talk about it? talk about what?”

“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”

“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.

“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.

“oh my god-”

“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.

“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”

“what? your mom let me in.”

“you didn’t even text-”

“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”

“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”

“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.

“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.

“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”

“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.

“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”

“oh.”

“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.

“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.

“what about that girl?”

“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”

“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”

“oh. okay. promise?”

“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.

“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.

“alright. get on the bed.”

“rafe-”

“what? i just said-”

“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”

“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”

“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”

“ha-ha. get on the bed.”

“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”

“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”

you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe. 

you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head. 

the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.

rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.

“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.

“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.

he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.

“you wearin’ anything under this?” 

he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no. 

“good girl.” 

your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties. 

you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.

“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”

before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.

“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!” 

“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”

you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.

you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you. 

rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers. 

“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand. 

limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.

“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?

“nothin’.” 

“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”

“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now. “well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.

“what?” 

“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea. 

he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to. 

“god, you’re such a boy.”

“shut up.” 

“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.

“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.

“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.

“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.

“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”

“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away. 

you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.

you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.

he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder. 

your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.

with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours. 

you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.

he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy. 

rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.

“you didn’t last very long.” 

“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”

“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”

“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.

“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay. 

you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry. 

“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest. 

“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”

“your parents are downstairs, remember?”

“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.

“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”

“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”

“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.

“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes. 

“why? got nowhere else to be.”

“oh. okay.”

“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”

“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.

“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.

and the part where you slept with your best friend.

a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.

top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere

kelce: maybe princess finally killed him

top: stop hanging out without us

kelce: top lets just pull up next time

you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.

“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.” 

“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”

“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”

rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.

“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”

you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.

“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”

rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.

“you wanna say that again?”

“uhh-”

“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”

“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”

“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.

“get out!”

“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”

“okay! wait, stay.”

“s’what i thought.”

“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.

“you woke me up.” 

“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”

“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.

“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.

“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone. 

about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.

you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.

but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it. 

with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not. 

after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead. 

the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.

“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.

“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”

“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.

“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”

“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”

“you too. tell them i say hi.”

the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.

you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you. 

you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.

“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.

“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.

“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”

“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.

“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”

“thanks top.” 

you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top. 

walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.

it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on. 

“hey.”

“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”

“yeah.”

“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”

“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.

“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”

“yeah, i did.”

“i just hope they’re sweet.”

“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”

“it’s a great day. good weather.” 

“you already said that.”

“oh.”

“would you stop and look at me?”

“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.

“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.

“i’m fine.. are you okay?”

“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”

“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”

“you were on board-”

“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”

“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.

“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”

“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.

“why are you being so nice about it?”

“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”

“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”

“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”

“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”

“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”

“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.

“you’re starin’.”

“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”

“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”

turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.

from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.

“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.

“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”

you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear. 

he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.

“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.

“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?” “shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”

“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck. 

“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away

“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.

“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.

your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.

you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.

“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.

“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.

“fun. what time?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.

“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.

“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat. 

you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.

topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now). 

you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.

inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks. 

the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.

“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.

“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.

“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.

he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands. 

if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.

“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.

he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.

“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.

“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot. 

he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.

“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.

“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”

“but i made the last one!”

“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”

“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.

for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.

“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.

“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”

“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you. 

“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.

“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer. 

“alright, you’re cut off.”

the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him. 

you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”

“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.

“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.

“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.

“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch. 

you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.

this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are. 

rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.

“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”

“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.

“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”

“man, why am i always on top watch-”

in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.

“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.

kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now. 

“enough. why?”

“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.

“you saw me?”

“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.

“what, you jealous, kid?”

“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.

“no, m’not.” 

you bite your cheek and stare out the window. 

“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.

tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.

you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.

you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?

grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.

“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.

“the couch.”

“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”

“i’m starting something new.”

“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.

you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.

“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.

rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.

“what the hell was that?”

“this whole thing was a mistake.”

“it’s been two days.”

“well i’m an emotional fuck!”

“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.

“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?” 

“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”

“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”

“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”

“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?” 

in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.

or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.

the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you. 

you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.

and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.

“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”

“you should have just confessed.”

“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“it’s been two days,” you mock.

“yeah, well, we tried it.”

“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.

“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”

“so if we break up-”

“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”

“shut up.”

“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”

“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets. “learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”

“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”

“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”