#ultimate laugh challenge

[9yardsmedia]

🍋 Sour Stakes: Ultimate Try Not to Laugh Challenge - Can You Resist Laughing? 🤣

Welcome back to KashCodeTV. Today, we're diving into the Extreme Try Not to Laugh Challenge, but with a sour twist—every time I laugh, chuckle, or even show teeth, I have to take a shot of pure lemon juice.

This is my first try-not-to-laugh challenge on the channel, and I went all-in with some of the funniest, wildest, and most unexpected clips from around the internet. From crazy pranks and hilarious fails to animal antics and meme-worthy moments, this challenge tested my ability to keep a straight face. Spoiler alert… it wasn’t easy! 😂

Let me know if you want to see more Try Not to Laugh challenges or if I should switch up the punishment next time—maybe spicy food or ice baths? 🥵❄️ Let’s get creative with it!

🔥 If you love a good laugh, you're in the right place. Join me for the "Try Not to Laugh Challenge", where laughter comes with a zesty consequence - a shot of sharp lemon juice! 🎯 👉 What's Inside:

A hilarious compilation of clips guaranteed to test your composure. 😂

Watch me attempt to keep a straight face. Will I succeed? 🤐

Each giggle equals a shot of lemon juice. Are you ready for the sourness? 🍋

🌟 How to Play?

Challenge your friends and see who laughs last!

Drop a comment with your laugh score and if you'd dare the lemon twist!

👍 Hit Like, Share, and Subscribe for more laughter-filled challenges. Your support is vital for the channel's growth, and I appreciate every bit of it! ✅ Stay connected! Follow us on our socials for more fun and updates: 👉YouTube:    / @thekashcode   👉Instagram:   / thekashcode   👉Facebook:   / thekashcode   👉TikTok:   / thekashcode   ❤️ Huge shoutout to subscribers for your incredible support. New here? 👇 SUBSCRIBE TO THE KASH CODE TV YOUTUBE CHANNEL NOW 👇    / @thekashcode  

[ytmarketing001]

Welcome back to KashCodeTV. Today, we're diving into the Extreme Try Not to Laugh Challenge, but with a sour twist—every time I laugh, chuckle, or even show teeth, I have to take a shot of pure lemon juice. 👉Subscribe to my channel to stay tuned:    / @thekashcode  

This is my first try-not-to-laugh challenge on the channel, and I went all-in with some of the funniest, wildest, and most unexpected clips from around the internet. From crazy pranks and hilarious fails to animal antics and meme-worthy moments, this challenge tested my ability to keep a straight face. Spoiler alert… it wasn’t easy! 😂

Let me know if you want to see more Try Not to Laugh challenges or if I should switch up the punishment next time—maybe spicy food or ice baths? 🥵❄️ Let’s get creative with it!

[reallytoosublime]

Welcome back to KashCodeTV. Today, we're diving into the Extreme Try Not to Laugh Challenge, but with a sour twist—every time I laugh, chuckle, or even show teeth, I have to take a shot of pure lemon juice. 👉Subscribe to my channel to stay tuned:    / @thekashcode  

This is my first try-not-to-laugh challenge on the channel, and I went all-in with some of the funniest, wildest, and most unexpected clips from around the internet. From crazy pranks and hilarious fails to animal antics and meme-worthy moments, this challenge tested my ability to keep a straight face. Spoiler alert… it wasn’t easy! 😂

Let me know if you want to see more Try Not to Laugh challenges or if I should switch up the punishment next time—maybe spicy food or ice baths? 🥵❄️ Let’s get creative with it!

🔥 If you love a good laugh, you're in the right place. Join me for the "Try Not to Laugh Challenge", where laughter comes with a zesty consequence - a shot of sharp lemon juice! 🎯

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant - Throwing his Head Back with Laughter - Part Three

[ Part One ] [ Part Two ]

[aq2003]

--> your eat his heart on the marketplace note. Totally, it's so good and poignant in the Josie Rourke production and with DT's CT's acting choices! And to think that majority of the reviews for it, which I googled before watching for the first time, gave this production its due for entertainment factor but called it too slight and frothy

trulyyyyy. i think my favorite version of the "eat his heart in the marketplace" scene as a whole is actually the 2019 version w/ danielle brooks (it's more tonally consistent and serious and danielle's line delivery is so everything), but catherine's was the first version of it i watched and i was SO blown away by it like i rly fell in love w catherine as an actress right there <333 and god i could go on and on and on about how well the 2011 version portrays benedick in that scene too, like i really love how it's made crystal clear that he recognizes what's wrong and is willing to stand up for hero even without beatrice's urging - he already knows to defend her, but she needs to push him to actively stand up to don pedro and claudio (not my observation, but benedick starts to move to interrupt claudio's outburst at the wedding multiple times and is stopped by don pedro and UGHHH. it makes his challenge to claudio and resignation from don pedro's service hit so fucking hardddd) . like this is why i love the 2011 much ado so much it's not just that it's so accessible and easy to understand and funny, it's that there is so much thought being put into the details and the characterization and you will notice small things like that upon multiple rewatches

[oddyseye]

Can we get something straight here about Penelope and this whole “Spartan” thing?

Sure, we all know Penelope was from Sparta (well, technically), and we’ve all seen enough 300-inspired pop culture nonsense to think that every Spartan woman must be some spear-wielding, leather-clad, muscle-bound badass. So let’s clear that up once and for all: Penelope was absolutely not that type of Spartan. In fact, that vision of Spartan women is more of a modern fantasy than an actual reflection of Spartan society, and Penelope herself would probably laugh in your face if you tried to pin her down to that archetype.

First off, let’s talk about what it actually meant to be Spartan. Yes, Spartan women had a reputation for being strong, but we need to understand that strength wasn’t defined by throwing a spear or taking down enemies with a shield. Spartan women were celebrated for their physical health and were tasked with producing strong offspring to build the next generation of warriors. They were also responsible for the running of the household when their husbands were off fighting in wars, which meant managing estates, controlling property, and overseeing the everyday operations of Spartan life. So, while Spartan women were not helpless, they weren’t exactly wandering around with weapons, challenging every person who crossed them, either. Penelope’s version of Spartan strength was a little more intellectual, shall we say. For twenty years, while Odysseus was “getting lost” (as one does), Penelope faced down a horde of suitors who were camped out in her house, constantly pressuring her to choose a new husband. Did she pull out a spear and kill them all? No. That’s not what spartan women did. Did she start a war? Absolutely not. Instead, she employed the ultimate weapon: patience. She weaved and un-wove a shroud for years as a stalling tactic, keeping the suitors at bay. Sure, there’s no sword involved, but let’s be real: that takes more cunning than any weapon ever could. Spartan women are not known for fighting, but for surviving.

Penelope’s Spartan roots may have given her the ability to endure, to manage her household, and to outsmart the suitors who had overrun Ithaca, but we’re missing the point if we think that means she was out there battling it out like a heroine from some action flick. Her version of strength was mental, not physical. Instead of wielding a spear, Penelope wielded her intellect, her wit, and her ability to play the long game. If you’re expecting Penelope to start slaying suitors left and right, or charging into battle with a sword in hand, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.

Pop culture would love to turn Penelope into a spear-wielding warrior queen, but the actual historical context is far more subtle and far more impressive. She was Spartan in the most meaningful sense of the word: resilient, strategic, and damn clever. Penelope did not need muscles at all. She had the power of endurance — something a spear can’t give you.

[norrissm]

❀ WE LISTEN AND WE DON'T JUDGE — LN4

Lando Norris x Reader / est. relationship / library

Syn. Doing the TikTok challenge with your boyfriend. We listen and we don’t judge . . . except we do ;)

So Lando and I decided to hop on the TikTok trend, filming ourselves all cosy in bed — him in a hoodie, arm around me, and me holding the phone while trying not to crack up.

I hit play and turn to look at Lando. He was examining me while biting down on his laugh a devilish glint in his eyes.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” We say in unison.

“Okay I’ll go first,” I began.

“I once tried on your race suit when you weren’t home.”

“Wait what?” he huffed. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” He hollered, half laughing. He was mad but the dusky pink in his cheeks gave it away.

I held on to his shoulder while trying not to choke on my breath with the way I was giggling at his comical expression.

“Did it fit though?” He asked giggling at the thought of it. “No Lan, your arms are too big,” I replied. I cupped his jaw unable to keep myself from chuckling. “Uh huh, fair.”

“Okay my turn,” Lando said.

“We listen and we don’t judge.”

“I keep screenshots of your texts when you say nice things about me.”

I was rendered speechless. My jaw hung open, warmth gushing to my cheeks with the biggest smile on my face. Lando was already out of frame as he hid his head, quivering down in my lap holding my knees for dear life. His neck was entirely a shade of red.

“Lando…”

“No shut up, don’t make a big deal.”

“But baby that’s so CUTE!” I called out now rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s so sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He murmured now sitting up. “Okay okay next question!”

“We listen and we don’t judge.”

“I keep one of your hoodies in my cars when I miss you during race weeks.”

Now it was Lando’s turn to be speechless. He was thawing into a puddle. Immediately switches to a soft tone.

You do?” eyes crinkling into crescents at the idea of me nuzzling into his hoodie during his absence.

Instantly bombards me with a hug mumbling I love you into my neck — now both of us entirely out of frame.

After prying him off, now Lando entirely clinging to me and a love-struck smile on his face, we proceeded with the challenge.

“I once fake slept so you’d keep playing with my hair.”

He said spinning to me with a proud smile. I huffed at his confession although it made my heart skip a thousand beats.

“YOU LIAR!”

“What?? You were doing it so nicely. Scratching my scalp and shit.”

“So you mean I was sitting there for 20 min—”

“Yes and it felt great.”

I heave a pillow toward him which he successfully swerves with goofy grins on our faces.

“Okay last one,” I said. “We listen and we don’t judge.”

I hang back a bit, shyness overshadowing my demeanour. I clear my throat and barely veer away from Lando.

“Um, I kinda love when you’re all sweaty after a race. It’s disgusting, but it’s also unfairly attractive.”

My voice came out quieter than I aimed at as I looked at Lando. His mouth was barely open as he poked his tongue into his cheek. A cunning snicker appeared on his face.

“Uh-huh,” he plodded closer. “You’re down bad.”

I rolled my eyes at his teasing. Pressing him back by his chest. His body was warm under my fingers.

“Whatever, your turn”

“Alright then, we listen and we don’t judge.”

His demeanour switched to a more assured one this time around. He leaned nearer to me practically only whispering to me.

“I purposely wear gray sweatpants around you because I know you stare.”

My breath clamped in my throat under the gaze he ensnared me in. Before I could say anything he went on.

“I like it when you wake me up like THAT in the morning.”

“Lando STOP,” I whimper into my palms blanketing my face.

“Yeah? Then why are you hiding?” He picked on me. I could hear him sneering at this point.

“I’d give up a podium just to see you smile when you need it.” He declared ultimately.

My groans were hushed as I peeked at him from before my fingers. “You can’t say that.”

He simply chortled and whispered, “Come here, love.” Arms lurking around my waist as the video cut off.

[COMMENTS]

ln4fwdc: ‘I like when you wake me up like that in the morning’ SIR THIS IS A WENDY’S DRIVE-THRU.

user17371818: THE WAY HE LEANS IN AND LOWERS HIS VOICE. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION???

op81girlie: McLaren admin seeing this: ‘we don’t get paid enough for this job.’

maxriss: THE WAY HE SAID THE LAST ONE I JUST KNOW HE MEANS IT.

landoscar481: I just know this man is a PROBLEM behind closed doors.

reblog and follow <3 all rights reserved ©norrissm please do not copy, save, or translate my stories.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Phantom Fashion

It all started with a stupid bet. Tucker had dared Danny to do the “Ultimate Strut Challenge” for his livestream—walking down the halls of Casper High like he was on a Parisian runway. Danny, never one to back down from a challenge (and honestly a little bored), played along. He channeled his inner supermodel, flipping his imaginary hair and sauntering down the hall like he owned it. Tucker, feeling competitive, did his own exaggerated version, adjusting his glasses with a smolder and flashing a dazzling smile at the camera.

The video was supposed to be a joke. A quick laugh for Tucker’s followers. But within hours, it exploded online.

By the next morning, “#FentonFoleyFierce” was trending on every social media platform. People weren’t laughing at them—they were thirsting over them. The internet was losing its mind over how unexpectedly hot Danny and Tucker looked when they actually tried. Fan edits, slow-motion compilations, even dramatic art pieces started flooding the web. One particularly detailed oil painting of Tucker was titled “The Seduction of Glasses.”

And then, the email came.

Subject: Modeling Opportunity – S.T.Y.L.E. Agency

Danny read the message about five times before he turned to Tucker. “Dude. This is a joke, right?”

Tucker snatched Danny’s phone and skimmed through the email. “Nah, man. This is legit! S.T.Y.L.E. is huge. They rep actual models. Like, real models. Not just two dudes who were goofing off in the hallway.”

Danny groaned, flopping onto his bed. “I’m not a model! I fight ghosts! I do homework—badly! I don’t walk down runways!”

“Correction: You do walk down runways. And apparently, you do it well enough for a major agency to want you.” Tucker grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Dude, this is fate. We’re gonna be famous! Plus, imagine the free snacks at photoshoots.”

And somehow, against all logic, they were.

A week later, they found themselves in a sleek, modern studio in downtown Amity Park, being prepped for a test photoshoot. Danny, in a fitted black suit with his messy hair styled just right, was told to give a “mysterious bad boy” look. He tried but mostly ended up looking constipated. Tucker, rocking a high-fashion streetwear ensemble with his signature hat slightly tilted, was encouraged to play up his confident charm—which he interpreted as “finger guns at the camera.”

The camera flashed. They posed. Danny tripped over a light stand. And the moment their pictures hit the agency’s social media, the world really lost it.

Fashion brands wanted them. Magazines asked for interviews. Someone even made a fan calendar. The modeling world had spoken: Tucker Foley and Danny Fenton were the next big thing.

The only problem? Danny’s ghost-hunting schedule didn’t exactly mesh with high-end fashion shoots.

Cue the chaos. And an accidental ghost fight in the middle of a fashion gala.

Then came the second email.

Subject: Exclusive Inquiry – Phantom Partnership

Danny’s stomach dropped as he read the email. S.T.Y.L.E. wasn’t just interested in Danny Fenton. They wanted Danny Phantom too. The ghostly glow, the white hair, the piercing green eyes���apparently, his spectral form had an untapped aesthetic that designers were desperate to capitalize on.

Tucker nearly choked on his soda. “Dude. They want you to model as a ghost. This is next-level ridiculous.”

Danny buried his face in his hands. “I can’t just go ghost in front of cameras! What if someone figures it out?”

“They’re offering bank, bro. Like, stupid money. Enough that you could buy actual good snacks for once.”

Before Danny could protest further, another email pinged. This time from a luxury cologne brand. They wanted to market a new fragrance—Phantom Essence—with Danny Phantom as the face of the campaign. The tagline? Mystery. Power. Otherworldly Allure.

Tucker was in hysterics. “You’re literally becoming the undead equivalent of a fashion icon. What’s next, a ghost-themed runway show?”

Danny groaned. “At this rate? Probably.”

And sure enough, two days later, an invitation arrived for a high-end haunted fashion event—where Danny Phantom was expected to make a dramatic entrance. What could possibly go wrong?

Danny refused to be the only ghost haunting the runway, so he convinced Ember McLain to join him. It took some negotiating—mostly promising she could debut her newest song at the afterparty—but Ember, ever the dramatic performer, finally agreed.

“This better be worth my time, dipstick,” she said, adjusting her flaming blue hair as she examined the wardrobe options. “I don’t do low budget.”

Tucker’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, trust me. This is gonna be legendary.”

And just like that, the fashion world wasn’t ready for the supernatural duo of Phantom and Ember.

The moment their first joint photoshoot dropped, fans went wild. Phantom and Ember weren’t just modeling—they were smoldering. The chemistry between them was undeniable, even to those who had no idea about their history. Hashtags like #GhostlyGlamour, #PhantomAndEmber, and #HauntinglyHot dominated social media.

Tucker, scrolling through the comments, cackled. “Dude, people are shipping you two so hard right now.”

Danny, face burning red, tried to act nonchalant. “It’s just… photos. We were posing.”

Ember, leaning against him in a striking black and blue ensemble, smirked. “Oh please, Phantom. You were totally into it.”

Danny opened his mouth to argue but promptly shut it when she flicked a ghostly spark at his nose. He was not going to give Tucker more material for his teasing.

Meanwhile, Ember was enjoying the attention. “I gotta admit, this is kinda fun. The cameras love me, the fans love me… and you, Phantom? You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Danny groaned, hiding his face in his hands. This whole modeling thing was getting out of control. But if the growing feelings he was desperately trying to ignore were any indication… maybe it wasn’t all bad.

[jesuistrestriste]

♡ Nice Guys Finish Last; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: soft dom!art donaldson, sub!reader, afab/fem reader, porn w/ a little plot, penetrative sex, unsafe sex/pullout method, slight edging (reader!receiving), equal desperation, praise, general filth, art is a softie until he's not

wc: 4.2 k

*does not include challengers spoilers!*

prev. art donaldson fic : <3 here <3

It was currently 11 PM in the state of New York, and Art Donaldson was in your hotel room.

-

Earlier today, you had competed in a long singles tennis tournament for a cash prize, and had beat every other girl in the bracket. You walked away from it with five-hundred more dollars in your pocket than you had walked in with, and a smug grin on your glossy lips.

Art Donaldson had competed in a similar tournament at the same venue, except it involved doubles teams playing against one another. He had played with his typical partner, Patrick Zweig, and they, too, had beat everyone in their bracket.

Tomorrow, they would be playing against one another to determine the ultimate winner.

You had watched them play, and they had watched you play too.

After the venue had shut down for the night, you had begun to wander back to your hotel a few blocks away and coincidentally bumped into the two boys heading back to the same building.

You three talked—or rather, they had buttered you up with compliments as you all went up the elevator, and suddenly you were in their hotel room drinking cheap beer from cold metal cans.

They both flirted relentlessly with you for about an hour or two, before Patrick had called it a night (and had given up on trying to woo you) and told you and Art that he was going to sleep.

Art had given you a look and nodded towards their room's door with a small smile, silently suggesting something. Thirty seconds later the both of you were standing alone in the hotel hallway. He chatted you up and praised your tennis-playing for about ten more minutes, his blue eyes staring into yours with an earnest desire to hold your attention. You had laughed and flushed with a nervous heat while he sang your praises, and then a bout of silence came over the two of you. He looked down to his shoes, letting out a soft chuckle, and then back up to your eyes.. and then down to your lips. The buzz of the fluorescent lights above made the silence seem more tense than it already was.

After tossing the reality of this interaction around in your head, you had realized that his kind, sensitive, charming persona was effectively rendering you weak in the knees..

"You're really pretty, by the way.. i don't know if i've said that yet, but you are," he had spoken in the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the wall as a lock of his strawberry-blonde curls hung in the center of his forehead.

And that was it.

Five minutes later he was in your hotel room.

-

The both of you kicked your shoes off in the doorway, and then moved to sit on the edge of your hotel room bed. Your chest and hands felt strangely hot as the young, talented tennis player sat there next to you. After a few moments of shared bashful glances, you started to notice things about him that you hadn't before.

Sometimes when he smiled, only one corner of his lips would lift up. When that happened, it looked more like he was smirking than he was smiling, which made him seem either disingenuous or disinterested -- even though it seemed that neither of those things were true.

He smelled like generic aftershave, faint sweat, and warm skin, which was a pleasant contrast to the smell of the hotel room. While the hotel was clean, it was also old, which made the permeating scent of the carpet akin to something like the stale basement of a childhood home.

He fidgeted subtly with his hands, staring into your eyes before averting them to look around at your luggage and tennis bag on the floor.

"So.. you said you're going to Stanford this fall, right?" you say, leaning back on your palms.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods, turning his head to look back to you again with a sheepish smile, “and you’re going to Harvard?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling back at him, “is Patrick going with you?”

He laughs a little, his brows furrowing, “Patrick? Hell no.”

You shake your head, “why not?”

“Patrick isn’t the college type. He wants to go pro immediately.”

“Ohh.. right, I forgot he mentioned that.”

“Yeah,” Art shrugs, still giving you a soft look as he shifts a little in his spot on the end of the mattress.

“I think you’re better off at Stanford without him,” you tease slightly, a playful smirk on your face.

He smiles wider, “Why?”

“I think he’d just get you into trouble,” you chuckle.

Art laughs again, a tiny bit harder than he did before, and you’re not sure if it’s because he genuinely likes your playfulness or if it’s because he’s a little nervous.

"You don't think I can cause trouble?" he asks with a small smile.

You shake your head after letting a soft giggle bubble up and out of your chest in response.

"Nah, not really."

"Why's that?"

"You're just so.. so nice."

He scoffs lightly and gently rolls his eyes, reaching up to tuck some of his messy hair behind one of his ears. He chews a little on the inside of his cheek.

"What?" you laugh.

"Everyone me and Patrick meet thinks he's this cool 'bad-boy' and I'm just this.. meek little 'nice guy'," he chuckles, matching your body language now by also leaning back on his palms.

Your smile falters slightly when he does this, but only because now the sleeve of his gray tee shirt was brushing against your bare shoulder, and your faces were a short distance apart. If you tried, you could probably just lean in and kiss him..

"It's not a bad thing to be a nice guy," you smirk, continuing your guys' little back-and-forth.

"Yeah, but there's, like, connotations behind that idea of a guy."

"What 'connotations'?"

He lets out a stiff chuckle, averting his eyes down to his legs before he returns your eye contact once again as he speaks, "I don't know.. that I'm 'shy', or that i 'cant be assertive'.."

You smile, feeling another wave of warmth creep over your stomach just from the way he was looking at you. His eyes were soft but steadily looking into yours, and each second felt like three years.

"So you're saying that those assumptions aren't true?" you tease gently, subtly moving to lean your shoulder against his. He noticed this immediately.

"God!" he laughs, slightly offended but still playing along, "do they seem true?"

"No," you say a bit softer with a smile, your eyes unintentionally drifting down to his pink lips. He noticed this too.

"Okay, good," he leans in a little more, your lips only a handful of inches apart now ".. 'cause they're definitely not."

"Really?" you chuckle, still teasing him.

He nods, "Really, really."

You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your ribcage, and then you started to wonder if he could hear it. Your lips part, little breaths being let out as you lean in an extra two inches. He smirks, and then you feel him move his right hand off of the bed and over your thigh. Its gentle and almost hesitant; giving you the opportunity to say 'no' if you wanted to.. but you didn't. you definitely didn't want to say no.

Your breathing hitches a little and your thighs shift slightly to capture his fingers between your limbs, and he looks steadily into your eyes as his digits squeeze your flesh softly.

"I'm not that shy," he murmurs lowly.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and hungry and eager to please. Your brows furrow as you kiss him back with equal ferocity, and his other hand moves to gently cup your cheek.

His tongue lathes over your bottom lip, and you open your mouth wider so that he can slide it in and taste you better. He groans softly against your smooth, parted lips, his hand between your thighs sliding up to press his palm against your clothed heat. A shaky, barely audible moan escapes your lips as this happens, and he swallows it down as he kisses you harder.

Art's hands then move to slide under your athletic tank top, and he pulls away with lidded eyes to mumble lowly and warmly against your jaw, "can I take this off?"

You nod feverishly, breathing heavily, as you lift your arms above your head while he pulls your shirt up and over. He tosses it aside once it's off like it's trash to him, and then he's diving back in to kiss and suck and nip at your neck. You're sure that he'll leave marks, but you can't find the strength or willpower to deny how hot it would be to look in the mirror later and see all of the little red blotches that his pretty mouth left behind. A few soft "ahh"s and "oh"s slip from your parted lips as his tongue flicks over your pulse point like it’s a clit, and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. Without further warning, both of his hands slide up to grope your breasts over your sports bra, and your back arches instantly.

"I want to see more of you," Art whispers against your neck, one of his hands moving back to gently grope your thigh right under the hem of your shorts, while his other starts to hook one of his fingers under the elastic band of your bra.

"Yeah, yes," you mumble and nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel his silky tongue lap gently over the sensitive spot on your lower neck again.

He pulls back, his lips shiny with his own saliva, and he lets out a small huff of air as he stands up from the bed and shifts to stand in front of where you're trembling on the edge of it.

Your eyes meet his, and you now fully realize that his whole "nice guy" thing was a facade.. maybe it was just a protective cloak he put on until he got comfortable..

Regardless, he looked different now as he stood in front of you, breathing heavily as his gaze drank in the sight of your body. He takes a step closer, his knees touching the end of the bed as his legs stood steadily between yours. He looks down, shifting his left knee to push your legs farther apart, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a whine.

Not a moment later, he's reaching down to pull your tight sports bra over your head. It drops from his grasp onto the floor, his breathing hitches as he looks down at your exposed chest, and then his hands are moving to roughly knead and squeeze at your soft flesh underneath his palms. You shudder and bite your lip. He thumbs your nipples.

His eyes move back up to return your gaze, and he leans down and starts to crawl on top of you, his body gently coaxing yours to lay back flat over the patterned comforter. You don't need a verbal cue from him to know what he wants and what his goal is; his body did all the talking -- just like it did when he played tennis.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his erection straining against the inside of his boxers as it presses against your bare abdomen. A lift of your hips is all the indication he needs from you to tell him that you're as desperate for this as he is right now, and so he gingerly begins to slide one of his hands down the front of your shorts. His touch dips under the waistband, and then before you can process the sensation, you realize that he's moving down into your panties too. One thing that you are painfully aware of, though, is the fact that he never tries to break eye contact while he does all this..

"Ahh.." you moan, your brows pinching up as you feel his warm fingertips brush over your throbbing, sensitive nub. He was hardly touching you, but it was enough to get the fire roaring in your guts. It was more than enough. He knew all the right ways to touch you.. and all the right spots to squeeze and caress.. which seemed crazy considering you two had never spoken to one another until about three or so hours ago.

He smiles gently, his eyes now moving to gaze down at your lips. The pads of Art's fingers begin to play with your clit, rubbing soft and incessant circles over the ball of nerves as you start to squirm on the bed. His head leans back down to kiss your neck and your hands shakily grab onto his shoulders. A laugh escapes him, coating your flesh in a bath of warm air, while he feels your nails dig into him. Even over the fabric of his cotton tee shirt he can feel this, and he winces slightly before the sting of your grip dissolves into pleasure and he starts to moan along with you.

A few more minutes of this go on, and the band in your stomach is stretched more and more until it feels like it's about to snap, and then-

"I really want to fuck you right now," Art murmurs against your skin, his fingers coming to a pause as he pulls his face from the crook of your neck to look down into your dazed eyes.

You blink a few times, feeling the numbing pressure in your pussy start to fade as he unintentionally edges you.

"yes, please.. I want you to.." you softly whimper, your hands reaching up to needily tug at his shirt.

"I don't have a condom," he whispers breathlessly, shaking his head softly as his gaze falls onto your lips now.

"I.." you pause, taking a second to breathe as you attempt to think over the predicament you're now in, "uhm.. I- well, I don't really care.. as long as you pull out.."

It's almost as if just the idea of him being able to be inside of you—skin to skin; raw—sets him off, because the moment the words leave your mouth, he's letting out soft breathy moans and grinding his clothed pelvis against your thigh. You can feel him throbbing through the fabric, and now you're certain you can't wait much longer. Neither can he.

Your hands pull on his shirt again, forcing his face back down close to yours, "I want you inside of me.."

A groan and a grunt later, he's scrambling to pull his shirt off, and then his shorts, and then his strong calloused hands are gently tugging yours down as well. Art doesn't want to waste time on the act of undressing. Sure, he liked being tender and going slow most times, but this occasion was different. The more that he felt himself leaking into his underwear, the more he needed to feel your silky cunt grip around his cock. Maybe if he got your number after all this, he could go slow next time, but not now. Not when he's like this and you're like that.

When your panties are pulled down with your shorts, Art lets out a groan as he sees the fabric connecting with your delicate flesh via a glistening string of arousal from your heat.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs, his tongue moving to dip out over his bottom lip involuntarily. He pushes your shorts and panties down the rest of the way, and you urgently kick them off onto the room's carpet.

After he moves back up, one of his hands reaches down once again to your cunt. His fingers gently brush over your slicked-up folds, causing your body to jolt and shudder as you struggle to remain quiet. In the next instant, you feel his touch leave your body and you watch in awe as he brings his digits up to his lips and sucks your juices off of them. He rolls your wetness around over his tongue and his eyes roll back a little. He can't help it—you just taste so fuckin' good.

"Art," you whisper, your voice dissolving into a soft whine, "c'mon.. just- I want you to-"

You're cut off when the man hovering over your form moves his fingers from his mouth and down to yours, effectively shutting you up.

"Suck," he whispers.

You do as you're told instantly, parting your lips to engulf his middle and ring finger in wet heat; your drool pools over his fingertips as your tongue swirls around them and tastes the mix of his saliva and the remnants of your arousal.

He watches with bated breath as you do this, his eyes never leaving your face, and he can’t stop himself from pushing his hard, clothed dick against your bare cunt. Your eyes flutter. A string of whimpers echo out into the room from your chest, and you can feel more of your wetness slide down from your entrance.

Art keeps his fingers in your mouth as he uses his other hand to pull his hard-on out of his black boxer briefs, groaning as he taps your clit with the tip of it a few times. Each time his leaking cockhead touches your sensitive parts, your hips buck up. He didn't think it was physically possible to get as turned on as he was right then.

He shifts his pelvis back so that he can slide his dick over your sticky body, not pushing in quite yet, but just teasing your greedy hole. The feeling of your heady moans around his fingers cause them to vibrate, and he leans down close to your face on instinct.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes blink open and you whimper as he uses his digits to gently force your lips to part so that he can shove his tongue past them. Art licks at the inside of your mouth, groaning while he subtly removes his fingers and brings them down to your clit once more. He slots your bundle of nerves between his index and middle finger, sliding them up and down to effectively stroke over your most sensitive area as you feel his cock prodding at your hole.

While his tongue laps over yours, his mouth eagerly swallowing the obscenely loud moans you're letting out as your climax approaches once again, he begins to slide his tip into you. Your eyes instantly open wide before your face scrunches up in pleasure and your hands desperately paw at his shoulders.

He slides in another inch.

And another.

And then two more.

And then he bottoms out completely, filling you wholly with his twitching length as he pulls his face back from your lips to gasp softly.

You look up at him as his brows furrow, and you wriggle underneath him as he lets out a soft growl.

"You're so tight.. shit, you feel so good," he murmurs lowly, his eyes on yours as he starts to slide himself slowly back out before thrusting back in. You can feel him hit your cervix. You'd let him bruise it if he wanted to.

And he wants to.

"Fuck me harder," you moan softly.

"Yeah?" he smirks, breathing heavily.

"Yeah."

He leans up so that his back is straight, and he gazes down at you while he slides his hands under your form to gingerly cup your lower back.. and then he's pounding into you without further warning.

Your back arches up from his hold, and every thrust of his thick cock into your cunt is sending explosions of numbing heat throughout your lower half.

Each movement of his hips results in a lewd squelch as his pelvis slaps into the underside of your ass, and every movement sends you closer and closer to the edge. He's groaning and moaning above you, watching your every move as you squirm around and take him properly. You want to be good for him; he can tell.

Whimpers and needy whines are forced out of you as he fucks you with abandon into the mattress, and your mind is forced back into reality once you feel his hands move from your back to your sensitive tits.

"Are you gonna cum? You're squeezing down on me," he breathes out, a loud groan cutting his words off as he tips his head back. His thrusts grow sloppier, "oh god, oh fff-u-uck.."

"Ye— Uhh- Ahh-!" you hoarsely and brokenly moan out, unable to fully give him an answer. Your hands fist the cool sheets under you as your legs start to involuntarily squeeze together with the onslaught of your impending orgasm.

Art brings his head back up to look down at you, and he shakes his head, sliding his hands down from your breasts to your legs to lift them up and spread them apart gently but forcefully.

"Keep them spread.. I know you're close," he says softly to you, "I promise I'll let you come.. just keep being good for me.. I'm almost there.."

Once his words fill your fuzzy head, you can't help but let out an obscenely loud—borderline-pornographic—moan as your thighs shake in his hold. His cock slams into you faster, but with less and less precision. He bites his lip before his jaw slacks and he lets out an equally loud moan to accompany your filthy noises.

"You're so fucking pretty... you're so— you feel so damn good," he babbles gruffly, his touch digging into your legs as his hips rashly thrust his throbbing length in and out of your sopping pussy.

You nod, unsure of what to say or how to even respond in the state that your body is in. You're somehow limp and tense at the same time, your body shivering as your back arches up again.

"I— I'm gonna—!" you gasp out in a shaky whimper.

He moans at your words, fucking you deeper and messier, before he leans down over you and you can feel his broad toned chest press against yours.

"Say it.." he breathes out against your ear in a soft groan.

You moan, shuddering under him as your cunt starts to rhythmically tighten around him.

"I'm gonna cum," you whine, nearly sobbing.

"Fuck," he groans, "yeah? Say it again for me."

"I'm gonna cummm-!"

"You wanna cum on my cock?"

You nod helplessly, your arms wrapped around his flushed upper back as his cock slides in and out of you; his tip constantly brushing up against that special spot in your velvety walls hidden just a couple inches inside.

"Yess-s-!" you moan, your body absolutely writhing on the bed under his heavy form.

"Okay.. alright," he breathes out hotly into your neck, "go on and cum for me."

Before you can process what's going on, your body is overwhelmed with an overpowering heat as the last thing you distinctly feel is one of Art's hands moving down your lower abdomen to then rub circles over your swollen bud with his thumb. And that's all it takes — you’re thrown over the edge.

"Fuck! OH MY GOD, OH—!" you cry out, your nails digging into his back as he fucks you through your climax.

He groans harshly and loudly against your warm skin before his hips stutter with the feeling of your hole pulsing around him. He keeps his digit rubbing incessant, soft circles over your clit to prolong your orgasm as he forces himself to pull out with a gasp.

His balls draw up and he reaches down quickly with his other hand to stroke over his length just as he feels his release start to rise up.

As you moan tremblingly and bask in your afterglow, you try to catch your breath as you shakily push yourself up onto your elbows just in time to watch Art squirt out a thick load over your torso. Rope after rope of sticky white fluid drips and gushes from his cock and between his fingers as he jerks himself off; shuddering deeply over you and letting out little "fuck"s and "oh my god"s and "yes"s.

After a few more shaky moments tick by, his thumb comes to a halt over your clit as he watches the last drops of his cum fall onto your stomach.

He breathes heavily, biting his lip as he watches your body shake. He loves the way his cum looks on your beautiful body.. it's like liquid pearl splattered all over you. He takes several mental pictures of the scene in front of him before he collapses on top of you with a soft grin.

You chuckle breathily, wrapping your arms around him as your warm bodies stick together in the aftermath, and he presses two soft kisses to your neck. One of your hands slides up from between his shoulder blades to run some of your fingers through his messy curls. He shivers and sighs, sliding his hands under your body to hold you closer to him.

A small period of comfortable silence is held between you two as you both work to catch your breaths, before Art is the one to break the quiet with a soft murmur into your shoulder.

"So.. can I get your number?"

"After round two," you whisper with a smile.

"Deal."

note; this is for everyone who voted for soft dom!art donaldson in that poll + the anons in my inbox asking for this sort of dynamic w/ art <3 much much much love !

divider credit: @benkeibear <3

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When.." | [SKZ] OT8| [SEUNGMIN]

Hyunjin makes a bet that Seungmin can't satisfy his girl with just his hands - so he decides to prove him wrong. And with an audience.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Seungmin x Fem!Reader Warnings: orgasm denial, edging, lots of teasing, meandom!seungmin (kind of), fingering, spit (f receiving), masturbation (m)

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- And thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this while I went through my writers block rut, hahaha.

Word Count: 1.2K

Bangchan | Lino | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N

"I... guess I was wrong." Hyunjin murmurs out more to himself than anyone else.

He'd been dumb enough to make a bet against the one, the only, Kim Seungmin. And the decision was dumb because he should've known better that Seungmin wouldn't back down from a challenge - especially when it had to do with you. Hyunjin wouldn't make any more bets against him in the future, that's for sure. Not after seeing the way you squirmed on your boyfriend's fingers like he was sucking the life out of you; The way you writhed against the sheets, back arching up off of the mattress and hips wriggling in a way that showed him - and everyone else in the room - that you only wanted more.

Though Hyunjin wasn't the only one so openly ogling your reactions. Some of the members had taken to glancing away either because they were too shy to stare or were too busy getting themselves off. But then there were the members who just loved to watch - those two being Jisung and Minho. While the younger of the two was watching in a more curious, excited manner with his hand down his pants tugging on his cock while it made a leaky mess in his boxers - Minho's gaze was far more... heavy. His eyes were dark, filled with lust as his head tipped down and he watched the scene play out in front of him through thick lashes. He'd restrained from touching himself at all, just a tad more resilient than his younger counterpart, but had been kind enough to himself to let his thighs fall apart. So he sat, manspreading in the chair in the corner of the room with a gaze as heavy as lead, just watching you fall apart for one of the youngest in the group.

"Gonna come?" Seungmin's tone is nothing short of teasing. His voice lilts with interest at the way you nod up to him, hair ruffling against the sheets as if the way your body reacted to his thumb pressing against your clit wasn't enough to tell him you were close. Your boyfriend chuckles, breathing out a laugh as he carefully slows his pace. Your body thrashes for a moment in annoyance before settling back down on the sheets, letting him do as he pleased because ultimately - he was in control here. "Hey," Seungmin bites, using his free hand to slap your pussy just as his movements stop. "None of that tantrum shit. Don't you want to behave in front of the others?"

"Don't think I'm ever gonna forget this," Felix's words don't fall on deaf ears. Seungmin looks up from where he sat between your thighs, fingers continuing to pump into your pussy so quickly it had you beginning to squirm and lift your hips off of the sheets. Felix sits up near the headboard, one hand laying on the pillow under his weight while the other rubs over his groin overtop his jeans. The feeling of the denim rubbing against his hard cock was something close to Heaven on Earth for him right now. Seungmin watches, letting his eyes wander over his Hyung for just a moment, before glancing beside him to the maknae - who was falling apart way faster than the Aussie.

Jeongin was in shambles. He'd been tugging on his cock since the moment you'd stripped naked in front of them, letting your boyfriend prove himself to his closest friends, and now he was just melting into the sheets. Slumped against the headboard and audibly whimpering just loud enough to be heard if one listened in closely - Jeongin let his eyes drag over your body where you lay in front of him. "You're being kind of - mean, don't you think, Hyung? Teasing her.." His hand slowed just for a moment as you moved to tip your head to the side, grateful the youngest had spoke up for you, moaning out and whimpering against his skin. He was close enough that when your head turned, your lips made contact with the bare skin of his thigh - his pants long discarded on the floor nearby. And the feeling of your breath fanning over his skin made him visibly tremble, cum leaking from the tip of his cock before he could even comprehend what was happening.

"I don't think I've ever seen him this determined," Changbin murmurs to someone to his left. His arms are crossed over his chest and he stands leaning against the wall - refusing to give in as easily as most of the others. He was one of the one who wouldn't look directly at you - at your tits swaying each time Seungmin got a little more rough with you, or the way you body arched and crooned into every move your boyfriend made. Not because he didn't want to, but because the sight of you looking so... desperate in front of all of them because Changbin a bit .. shy, with his ears painted a warm, bubbling crimson - and the color draining down to swatch his neck as well. But how was he supposed to ignore the sounds of your pussy clenching around your boyfriend's fingers - and the way he could see you practically drooling out of his peripheral vision...

Beside him, Chan was.. more than willing to look. He liked to touch, even, letting his fingertips brush over your cheek and watching your mouth open like you wanted to welcome him in. The eldest leaned down and for a moment, your breathing hitched, thinking he looked awfully big hovering over you in such a way - broad and thick and heavy, just like the cock that strained against his boxers begging to be freed. Your eyes dart up from between his legs and you stare as his tongue pushes along the inside of his lips. He gathers the spit on his tongue before giving it to you inside - spitting right onto your own and watching as you close your mouth to swallow it down. And you can't just ignore the soft "Good girl," that escapes his lips shortly after.

And Seungmin can't ignore the way you react. The way your body jolts up off of the sheets as your gut turns into knots, aching for release. He knows the signs - knows you'll squirt all over the sheets if he doesn't stop now - so he all but rips his hand away and watches as your body writhes in, once again, frustration. The warmth between your legs slowly begins to fade away as your boyfriend sits back, laughing at the way your nose crinkles and your eyes squeeze shut in hope that it's just a dream. "It's okay, baby," He soothes, both hands slowly running up the expanse of your inner thighs until his thumbs could spread you open for him all over again. Seungmin sits forward and leans down to spit right on your clit, your hips jutting at the sudden feeling.

"One more time, yeah? You've already done such a good job putting on a show for them. You can handle one more."

- Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

Lazy, exhausted, almost two in the morning, running on fumes kisses with Toji. You're tangled up in each other, pressing kisses all over each other's faces and necks, avoiding connecting your lips because when you do, you both forget to pause to breathe due to how tired you are.

"Go to sleeep," he drawls into your softly marked neck, biting the delicate skin after.

You let out a hushed giggle. "No, I think you should go to sleep," you push back, running your fingers through the soft hair that meets the nape of his neck.

"You're delirious from how tired you are, doll. How 'bout you go to sleep?"

This can go back and forth for as long as necessary because neither of you has anything to do later in the day, so you can sleep in as long as you want.

"I'm delirious?" You ask, displaying a playful expression of disbelief.

"Mhm, that's right. You're delirious," Toji responds, smugly.

"Not you? The one who just bit me, like you're starting to see me as food, from how tired you are?"

"Mmm... you're a whole meal, mama. I eat you all the time." He chuckles, a free flowing, deep sound against your neck.

"And now you're a delirious perv. Great."

His lips go to your ear. "You make me this way, doll. You make so many nasty thoughts of you run through my head, all the time."

"Shuuuut up. Shut. Up."

Toji grins like a fiend at your flustered, blurted words, but ultimately decides to stop teasing you, so you both can get to sleep.

"Alright, alright, let's both shut up," he says, pulling you into him. He envelops you and smushes your face into his chest, allowing the room to finally still entirely. The silence doesn't last longer than ten seconds, because of you. A loud snicker cuts the quietness and you squirm out of Toji's hold.

"What now?" He asks, eyeing you with a small grin. You're really something.

"Sorry, I-" you pause to laugh. "I don't know. The silence cracked me up."

"See, if anyone's delirious, it's you. Over here laughing over nothing, like a crazy person." You quiet down again, and try your hardest not to laugh at Toji's playful chiding. "There you go, baby. Shh..."

"Shh..." you mimic, a laugh following.

Out of nowhere, you're scooped up in Toji's arms and laid down flat on his body, your abdomen pressed to the upper part of his.

"Do that again. I dare you."

You've never been one to back down from his challenges, so you do exactly as told.

"Shh..." you hush again, your finger going to his lips, this time.

"Uh-uh. Try again." He nips at your finger, earning a bubbly giggle from you when you quickly pull it away before he can bite it.

"Shh...?" You repeat, with a questioning tone, a hand cupped over his mouth, this time.

Toji shakes his head, not missing out on the chance to run his tongue over your palm. You gasp, and pull your hand off his mouth and he tugs on the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You giggle at the close proximity, receiving a smirk from him in return.

"Shh..." he hushes you once more, as he pulls you in for a kiss. He releases the now somewhat loosened collar of your shirt, and slides his hands up the back of your shirt, allowing them to roam your warm skin. He expects to feel the hooks of your bra any second now, but they're never felt, so his hands are able to smoothly continue up towards your shoulder blades and press your body closer to his.

You both clearly haven't learned that you'll be gasping for air when you separate, because there you are, brushing lips continuously like you're racing to see who can start the next kiss first. Like your lips being connected is what keeps you breathing and not the opposite.

The sounds of mutual short, rapid breaths fill your ears, still, neither of you makes any effort to pull away. Your lungs are starting to burn, but it's nothing compared to the heat you feel from Toji's kisses. His fingertips are gentle on your skin, gliding over your upper back and prodding at the length of your spine.

"Fuck, Toji-"

"Mm-mm, come here," he says, against your lips, not wanting to separate from you just to get those measly words out. You can only handle a few more seconds, before you finally have to be the one to break the kiss.

"Okay, o-," you say, pulling back with a final smack of your lips and a breathy laugh. "You win."

"Yeah?" Toji asks, his voice breathy, but not as breathy as yours. "Well, I choose your lips as my prize, so get back here."

You giggle when he pulls his hands out of your shirt and manually brings you close again. Your lips connect and you repeat the long process of kissing each other senseless. You're both so kiss drunk, practically trying to inhale each other with every lengthy lip lock. It's a fire sale of affection, going on until one of you is rendered too tired to kiss the other back. Toji is taking all he can get because he knows your lung capacity isn't as strong as his, so when he hears those shuddered breaths coming from you, he knows he has to be faster and take more, before things wrap up.

You can barely keep up, still fighting to regain your breath from the last round of kisses. Once you realize that it's futile to try and match his pace, you stop and choke out another laugh. Toji's arms are tightly wrapped around you, his kisses now being pressed to the rest of your face, while you giggle at the overload of affection. You put your index and middle fingers up to his lips, snickering as you try to hold it together.

"Sh-Shh..." you hush, the sound cut off multiple times by bursts of your laughter. Toji smirks and kisses your fingertips once.

"You're unbearable," he teases, loving the glimmer that remains in your eyes when you look at him.

You retract your fingers from his lips, your smile lingering from your fit of giggles. "You're barely tolerable," you bite back.

"You're sleep deprived," he adds.

"You're sleep deprived," you respond, using his own words against him.

"You're addicting." His reason for being awake this late with you.

"I love you." Your reason for being awake this late with him.

There's a twinkle in those dark, green eyes of his, similar to the brilliance that appears in them when he comes home to you after being away on a mission for days. "What? You know this, already." Your stomach swarms with butterflies when you become all too aware of how he's looking at you with stars in his eyes, as if you've withheld these words from him for too long.

"Yeah," Toji says, like he's entranced by the sound of your voice. It's soft, as if anyone else could hear you and him outside of the room. "I like the way you say it." Your words disperse warmth throughout his entire body. They give him a feeling similar to that of when you hold him close, lovingly and protectively. "Come on. Say it, again."

You're nervous. This has never been an issue, since you tell Toji you love him all the time. You feel like you're being put on the spot, like you're being asked to perform for him. He's under you, watching you so intently, patiently waiting for you to cave into his need to hear you repeat those words.

"Say it, again. For me?"

Some believe that the significance of the phrase 'I love you' loses its value if repeated too often, and if that truly is the case, the meaning has long faded between you and Toji. They are now just three simple words that you say every day, between morning and nighttime. Three words that you say to each other before leaving for work and after a good or bad day. Three words that you say to each other before concluding a call when either of you is at the grocery store alone or when you make up after an argument. Three words that stir feelings ranging from playful to genuine doubt, if not reciprocated in seconds.

"I love you."

"Hm?" He heard you.

"I love you."

"What?" He heard you that time as well.

"I love you."

"Huh?" He heard you just as clearly as the times before.

"Toji."

"Good. Now, put it all together."

You sigh, with false irritation, and roll your eyes. "I love you, Toji." A smile curls onto your lips. "There. Happy?"

"I could kiss you," he says, with his own devilish, little grin.

"Stop," you groan. "You're insatiable and you know I won't say no," you say, positioning yourself comfortably on him for some much needed sleep.

"You can't blame me for loving your kisses." Toji brings the blanket over your bodies, letting it come up to the middle of your back. His arms rest above the thick cover, on your upper back. "It's hard to stop. You're just so soft and sweet, mama."

"We can kiss for soooo long, later today, but in order to do that we need to sleep now or we'll be sleeping all day, instead."

"Fine, then," Toji grumbles, tightening his arms around you. "Go to sleep, but if I wake up before you, i'm gonna do a wake up attack on you, and you can't be all grumpy about it."

"Wait, wha-"

You lift your head to see if he's joking, only for his hand to guide it back down to his chest.

"Shh... Love you. Goodnight."

[141wh0re]

Just Imagine

gif by @bastardcompany

So, you're the new recruit for 141, the only girl, right. Right.

The guys all give you shit for your size in comparison to them, have a little laugh if you struggle through some training but ultimately will always help you with extra practice, and they always give you good natured teasing with sexist jokes. It never bothers you, you know they respect you and they find you to be a valuable asset to the team, and they trust in your skills.

But if a cocksure little fuckhead thinks they can spout off the same jokes at you, and any of the 141 guys hear about it? Oh, all bets off. They're stringin the bastard halfway up the flagpole, Ghost glaring daggers into them, making damn sure he knows he fucked up. Price is immediately filing the paperwork in preparation for what will, ultimately, end with the bastard being buried 6ft deep - after Ghost makes him dig his own grave - or, he's pissed himself from the promise of his undoing from the stares your brothers in arms give him.

"Get back in the kitchen. You don't belong in the army, slag." the bastard sneers at you as you're coming out of the weaponry.

You don't even have a chance to fire back at him and stand your ground, because here comes Ghost, shovel in hand, promise of death glimmering in his eyes with Soap and Gaz in tow.

The men crowd behind you, Ghost looming at your back, burning holes into the bastard's face, Gaz and Soap flanking either side of you.

"You wanna run that by us again, mate?" Gaz challenges.

It's as if the bastard suddenly has the fear of God instilled in him as his eyes widen, his mouth fumbling over incoherent syllables, and his hands raise in a placating manner.

"Go on. Ye had the balls tae say it tae 'er. Say it tae us." Soap chimes in, taking a menacing step towards the poor bastard trembling in his boots.

Poor bastard turns into a blubbering mess, desperately trying to backtrack over his previous statement.

You stand there with a smug smirk plastered on your lips, arms crossed over the front of your tac vest.

As soon as the guys send him on his merry way, Ghost turns to you, skull mask obstructing everything but those beautiful brown eyes.

"No one gets to bully you, unless it's us." He says sternly.

[takes1]

Hi theree!! If you dont mind, can you write iwa, kuroo, akaashi having a major crush on cool reader who is very good in hiding her feeling

kuroo x hard to get!reader p. 1

hey!! thanks for the request! this was originally meant to be all one part, but had to split it because of word count/pacing. nsfw to follow, reply to be tagged in next part pls!

warnings. lite!nsfw, minors DNI

details. kuroo crushing on reader / player!kuroo / hard to get!reader / kinda fuckboy!kuroo / kuroo pining / cool!reader / karasuno manager!reader / flirty!kuroo / future smut / a dash of whiny kuroo / vague feelings / noncommunicative!reader / failed?courtship / 2.2k words - reply to be tagged in next part

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part two here. part three here. requests OPEN.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a training camp?"

That was yet another version of a weak line you heard often. Emphasis on weak. The Nekoma captain lost your attention before he could even begin; made plain as day in a quiet sigh and the way you squeezed your clipboard closer to you.

All Kuroo noticed was how it pressed your chest up, real pretty in that tank top. It was the first time in days he felt an ounce of gratitude for the still heat of this summer, the lack of circulation in the gymnasium.

"What's the matter?" He chuckled, puffing his collar to get some air on his warm skin, "You shy?"

Guys that drooled over you, obsessive but ultimately bitter, made it so hard for themselves. There was nothing more attractive to you than a guy who just told you straight up what he wanted, what he liked about you, how it made him feel. But they always found it necessary to add extra steps.

You didn't have the time.

He followed your eyeline for a second, towards your team warming up, and threw a glance at his own. When he first saw you, he thought this would be quicker. The game would start soon and he needed your number, fast.

"That's alright if you are," Kuroo kept at this line of reasoning -surely the only reason you wouldn't look or speak to him- and leaned closer, "I'm into that."

The assumption was a little ridiculous.

You turned your chin away from him as if he wasn't there, then took a step forward, closer to the court, with a resigned hum.

A surprised, breathy laugh at the action. His brow furrowed a moment, not at all used to navigating around this kind of reaction, and finally understood that something was off. Yet, it still didn't occur to him that it was disinterest that motivated your avoidance.

A squeakity-squeak of shoes approaching, quick but heavy, didn't help at thawing your icy demeanor. He did notice that you at least looked at the captain of Karasuno.

Kuroo straightened up to his full height, shoulders squared at his mirrored rival.

"Kuroo."

"Sawamura."

"Is there a problem over here?" The subtle squint in his eyes let Kuroo know that he was suspicious of this bullshit right away.

They were a step away from whipping the measuring tape out. You rolled your eyes but it went vastly ignored.

"Don't know- you should go ask your team." Kuroo tilted his head, eyes low- threatening.

He didn't have the patience here to keep up appearances. Rival school was enough. Now he was cockblocking? There was simply no time to waste when he could already tell you wouldn't be so easy to crack. He liked your challenge, not Daichi's.

"Oh, okay-," Daichi's fake smile fell away to reveal a chilling scowl, "It's like that?"

Kuroo didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, it's like that."

You cleared your throat, a successful interruption and deterrent: "He was trying to ask for my number."

His jaw almost hit the floor. He couldn't believe how blunt you were.

Daichi, delighted, laughed at Kuroo's shitty, rushed cover-up to hide how surprised he was.

He couldn't stay to keep throwing digs; there was a game to get to and he only had a minute to spare in the first place.

After you waved him goodbye, you turned around and walked towards the side wall for Karasuno's gear, all strewn about and disorganized. You began tidying up before the game.

Kuroo remained.

He stood still, dumbfounded that you walked away from him, at how easily you could speak, and shook his head full of growing doubts. He couldn't believe you didn't want him just yet.

Eyes locked on your pretty figure from behind, bent over while you gathered Karasuno's half-full bottles into the hefty carrier, he ran his fingers through his hair and prepared himself.

He was next to you, squatted down to help you collect every bottle.

For a minute he said nothing. He simply helped you clean up. You appreciated it only to an extent, because you knew it came with conditions.

One of the last bottles sported a message, scribbled in capital letters across some tape, 'DO NOT TOUCH' signed, 'TSUKIshima.'

The corners of your mouth tugged up at how quick he found the means to designate his own bottle. He really did hate it when the other guys drank from 'his' bottle. You sympathized with him, backing him up when he got uppity about the germs.

While they were supposed to share, part of that understanding was that they also shouldn't touch the mouth of the bottle with their lips (and most of them did, anyway).

As you placed it into the upper left corner of the carrier, where he often liked to put it, you smirked again at how the name scrunched up where he couldn't fit all the letters onto the tape.

"So you can smile."

You frowned. He was nothing if not persistent.

Sure, that alone was a turn-on, but it was obvious that he was ill-intentioned and misguided in his thought processes.

You didn't want him to feel like he won you over. You wanted a guy like him to beg a little. Step off the high-horse, get his hands dirty, work for something.

He clearly wasn't used to having to use his brain when it came to women. Guys like him pride themselves on how easy it is; they walk with a certain confidence, a coolness because there's no pressure to make accommodations in their behavior for girls they like. They can spend all their time playing shirtless sand volleyball and wait for girls to get in line.

When you stood, you slid the box of extra rags towards the water case with marked effort. He didn't help you with something so difficult- he was still reeling in the fact that you ignored him again, after he helped you.

If he chose not to chase after you, you could at least be the first time he got turned down so harshly. Both outcomes served in your favor.

He came to his senses a bit late. You both stood, and you had to dodge his unnecessary grab for your team's equipment.

"Let me help you with that, babe--,"

A scoff made him freeze again.

You shouldered the box of rags and balanced the heavy water case on your hip without so much as a word. You made your way outside to go fill the water case and dry out the rags in the sun.

His chest felt... tight.

Why did that hurt so bad? Fuck, what was he doing? Frustrated, he shook his head and walked back towards his team, at the end of their warm-up. He never had to work this hard for some chick's number, or even a laugh. In fact, since he never got turned down, he felt a sense of entitlement to -at the very least- your attention.

The fact that you wouldn't look at him was a unfamiliar mixture of sexy and cruel.

"Having some trouble?" Yaku's suggestive tone grated his nerves like nails on glass.

"Fuck off," Was a defeated sigh rolling off his tongue.

He sounded so gloomy that Yaku found the explicit discourtesy funny.

In your absence, he was able to focus on getting himself and his team ready-- he needed to worry about winning this game. He got the impression you didn't settle for losers.

They were all in position at the start. He took a breath to center himself.

"Let's go!" You shouted. Innocent, encouraging, with two thumbs up towards your team.

It was hardly audible over the constant noise level of the other games going on, but a sharp look still shot over to you.

He was able to dial back that momentary weakness by forcing himself to watch Suga instead, up to serve- literally anything, anyone else, but discovered his own unfortunate reality was that he could not tear his eyes off of you.

It made for a tough time. He had to balance his mind's bias (checking out just how soaked your little white tank top got from filling up the bottles outside) and the objectively greater value of keeping his head in the game.

Yet, his failure to stay focused didn't hinder his team's performance. He was able to translate his desire to an easier task; giving you a good performance.

You didn't have any distraction from it, the way he did.

So, the distance that the game called for made your heart grow fonder of him.

He couldn't keep digging his grave from so far away by opening his mouth, to put it simply. And more importantly, you could recognize how gorgeous he actually was.

Tall, tan, handsome- yeah sure, whatever. That tall, straight nose bridge? His high cheekbones? That dark, messy hair that just kept getting fucked up because he ran his hands through it when he was nervous? The way his jaw flexed, more defined, when the ball went back over the net? How the veins in his forearms grew plumper the longer the time ran? Anytime he touched the ball, really, and the sounds that left his mouth with each impact?

It got hot, pretty fast.

As you scribbled notes for your team's plays, the observations about how an opponent like Nekoma operated became increasingly more impressive. Kuroo wasn't the peacock-superstar you had assumed him to be.

He made room for his little blond friend, and facilitated his team with a kind of responsibility and restraint that you found yourself getting absorbed in. Your clipboard was the only presence grounding you for the last round, usually pulled towards your chest or covering half of your face.

Pearls of hot, dripping sweat made little wet spots on his shirt as he waited for the ball to come to him, completely immersed in the game. God, was he good.

It wasn't the most groundbreaking realization of all time, but it helped your opinion of him shift favorably. Your vendetta against his sly confidence began to chip and crack with every save, every slam, every hasty wipe of perspiration from his face.

The ball once seemed to find its way to you close to the end of the match, in a sneaky curve around the antennae.

You stutter-stepped back as three Nekoma players chased after it. Kuroo dove for it, slamming onto his side-- right where you were standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground with a loud and labored groan.

You watched the ball as it soared through the air, still in play thanks to his sacrifice. He scampered back up and joined the court again all too fast- it made you wish the ball had hit you so he would've stayed for longer.

The final score wasn't even close. Karasuno lost the second round 15 to 25. They were too scattered, trying out too many new things at once.

It didn't even feel like a real win to Kuroo, until he spared his thousandth passing glance to the sidelines.

And there you were. Finally looking at him.

A big grin overtook his face and he had to displace his excitement by running both of his hands through his sweaty hair. It's not like you were obvious, shit you still looked at him like he was the dirt beneath your shoe, but at least you noticed him.

It was brief, but it was enough.

You understood your slip-up just as much and broke away, growing warm at how one tiny moment could be so telling. You moved towards your team.

It took your knowledge of where Karasuno came from to understand that it wasn't a genuine loss, it was only an investment; getting the chance to work out these kinks with real competitors would serve them in the future. That's why you weren't upset with any of your guys when they jogged off-court. You held out their bottles and spoke only to the seniors when they looked like they wanted your commentary.

"You're all getting better. Hang in there," You patted Asahi on the back, who needed the extra reassurance, and nodded to Suga, who barely needed it at all.

Daichi clapped and rounded up the rest of the guys with a motivational shout, the third-years leading the way for their drills, but he made a brief stop to skim your notes.

"Keep your head up," You muttered, focused on the trouble you found in his expression.

He quickly grinned and thanked you- as he faced the exit, the concern was back almost right away. It didn't help having to move past Nekoma's huddle on the way out.

"Oooh, shocker!" Kuroo snickered, still giddy with pride, as Daichi walked by.

He wiggled his fingers at him with a jovial smile. They were almost nose-to-nose for a moment.

Your keen eyes caught Kuroo mouth a sweet and saccharine 'Bye-bye.'

Evil, silly sounding giggles under a bitten lip amused you, but you didn't make it known.

He was funny, quick-witted, and so pretty. You wanted to see how long you could drag this out. Ideally you'd string a guy like him along for the whole camp, if possible. Or break him. Whatever came first- all you knew at the moment was that you were down to entertain this.

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco

please send: requests!

*i'm bout to crash out if i don't get something new in my inbox (aka; pack up and move to my ao3)

*reply to be added for next part

my masterlist

[speed-world]

Hey, I got this idea from watching some Dark Souls lore videos, so can I request a HC of beast cookies being beaten by a chosen Undead reader.

Plot: when the Beast cookies went on a rampage The Witches knew they had to stop them but the cookie were too powerful to do so so they decided to work together to bake a new cookie, a cookie that can weaken them to a point that they can be in prison, a cookie that can come back from the dead as much as possible until the deed is done, they call them the Chosen Undead Cookie

Sworn Purpose

The Five Beasts. The primordial Cookies created by the Witches as emissaries of the Godly Creators; that fell from grace due to their Absolute power corrupting them completely. The Witches couldn’t bear to see their creations promised as saviors turned apostles of evil, and so they punished the Beasts by sealing them away in Beast-Yeast. At least…that was what should have happened.

The Beasts rebelled, refusing to go quiet into the night. They broke free from their shackles and dominated the lands of Beast-Yeast without challenge. The Witches refused to give up however, and would go deeply into a period of heavy trials and error in baking something …greater. They combined their magic to create a Cookie that could complete the task they failed too. A Cookie that would never rest until they sealed these Beasts, even if the Cookie was crumbled. A Cookie that will rise and rise again, as if freshly baked out of the oven, to complete their assigned life purpose. As the Witches spent numerous days and nights creating this Cookie, they’d mix so many flavors into to them that the Cookie was ultimately nameless to the Witches. When finally completed, passerby Cookies knew them only by a couple of names: Y/N Cookie, or their more known, and more appropriate moniker…Chosen Undead Cookie.

It was never easy completing your task, but you never once questioned it or the Witches. They told you all the features and names of the Beasts, that you must do whatever it takes to seal them away, and you followed as such.

During your first attempt, you could barely make a move against a jester before being crumbled in a mess of crumbs and jam. The last thing you heard was the jester laughing before you reawakened in a different location.

One of the many blessings you had received from the Witches was that you could communicate with and hear them. You could hear some the Witches applaud you for your efforts, and others express their apologies for what you must suffer through. It didn’t faze you though, you had a God-given purpose, and you’d curse at yourself if you never finished it. Maybe one day…you could live a fairly normal life, but it won’t happen until your job is done.

“Oh~? Pfffttt AHAHAHAHAHA~~!! Oh this is priceless, you’re still kicking huh? I mean, what attempt is this, number….59? 100? Isn’t this tiring to you buddy~?”

“Silence, jester. I am not tired, not one bit. I have been assigned this duty by the Witches, and I refuse to stop until you Beasts are sealed away…”

You stared at him with the same neutral yet angry expression that you almost always have. He upsets you, just as the other Beasts. And, like him, they will be sealed by your hand sooner or later.

“Really now…? How many times have you said that? And yet the result is still the same! I’ll give you credit though, you’re getting closer each time!! But all that means is that I’m improving myself to make sure you continue to be the failure you are!!”

“Am I the failure, Shadow Milk Cookie? You were meant to be a savior, a hero to all Cookiekind until the end of days, but you failed at your duty. Don’t tell me, are you jealous that I’m favored and know how to follow simple instruction? Does it upset you that I’m succeeding in the role you failed to fulfill?”

“Tch…didja learn to talk all smart while you were in between the states of dying and living? Those Witches can BURN IN THE OVEN, AND YOU’LL JOIN THEM YOU MISERABLE PUPPET!!!”

“….I’m assuming you’re done wasting your breath away now? I’m glad you’ll be the first I seal, your voice annoys me…”

You readied yourself again for the umpteenth time, and stared holes into Shadow Milk Cookie. “You are the miserable one here, jester…” You muttered to yourself, before clashing with the jester once more.

————————————————————————

The cold steps of the Ivory Pagoda are all too familiar for you now. The aroma of the incense, the reflective gold of the tiles, all of it was practically burned in your memory as you approached the Master of the Ivory Pagoda yet again. Of course, you couldn’t meet the Master without seeing the guardian of Ivory Pagoda as well.

“Oh, Master, look who’s back again~! You must really enjoy witnessing the truth that my Master has to show the world! At this point, you’re the most frequent visitor here to the pagoda, maybe you’d want to stay here for the rest of your life~? It’s not like your immortality is doing you any favors being the Witches’s pawn~…”

You ignored the mocking comments of Cloud Haetae Cookie. They’re not what you’re here for anyways, so they can berate you all they want, it won’t take your attention away from your mission. You walked past the haetae and stared up at the Beast, who didn’t even open her eyes to you.

“One day, you will come to see how pointless your mission truly is. Again and again, you challenge my truth and power, and again and again, you fail to understand that you’ll never succeed…”

“That is where your arrogance has mislead you, Mystic Flour Cookie. You insist on yourself so much that you fail to grasp the reality around you. More and more, I grow resistant to your power, and I keep parts of my flavor in spite of being turned to flour. One day, you will come to realize that the madness you speak of will never be heard as you’ll spend your days sealed away as you deserve.”

Mystic Flour Cookie doesn’t bother responding to you. She only waves her hand, uttering the phrase you’ve heard numerous times now: “Return to Flour…”. Your words were true: you were still maintaining your flavor and everything else about you, and only small crumbs were being taken away, albeit incredibly slowly. Then you lounged at her, slashing at her with your blade….and you cut her. Jam leaked out of her thigh from the gash you made. Although your magic and control over the chains and Witch’s fork specialized for sealing the Beasts weren’t strong enough yet, you were making fast progress.

Cloud Haetae Cookie was shocked, but Mystic Flour appeared unfazed as usual. But one thing was abundantly clear, you were improving. Even if you didn’t seal her during this time, you would overcome her powers and seal her away, even if you were crumbled to flour in the process. Mystic Flour will be sealed, just like the other Beasts, and you’ll rise and rise again until your deed is done and all of the Beasts are sealed away.

————————————————————————

Hellish blazing embers and the ruins of forests are the most recognizable sight you know. Whenever you hear the fires crackling, you know that you’re close to Burning Spice Cookie. Burning Spice stares daggers into you just as you stare a hole back.

“You again, eh? How many times are we going to do the same song and dance until you’ve crumbled for good? Those damned Witches must have spent days, perhaps weeks trying to perfect a herald to defeat us, and your failure of an existence is all they have to show for their efforts. It would be funny, if it weren’t so sad and true…”

“I’ll keep coming back as many times as needed until you—“

“Yeah yeah, until us Beasts are sealed away. You’re a broken record at this point, and it’s really beginning to annoy the Hell out of me…. Then again, you do have your uses for being a toy, free for me to play with and break whenever I feel like it. So c’mon, let’s not waste words and entertain me, Chosen fool~…”

You smirked at Burning Spice; at least you two could agree on something, that being words are useless at this point. You steeled yourself and gripped your sword tightly, and Burning Spice did the same with that giant axe in hand. All you need to do is seal away Burning Spice, and even if you crumbled in the process, it will be done.

————————————————————————

The skies were an incredibly dark shade of pink, and you’ve slowly grown to hate it when the skies were like this. Mainly because you knew who it was that was around, and Witches did Eternal Sugar Cookie, wielding the power of Sloth, utterly piss you off.

All Eternal Sugar did was yawn on top of the cloud she rested on, and looked at you haphazardly with her hand resting on her cheek*

*Yaaaaaaawwwwnn* “Ahh, who’re you again? You always come here for ah…some mission from the Witch’s I think? Can’t you bother anyone else with your nonsense, I have a lot of better things to do than waste my precious energy on you agaaaaiinn…”

The tone in Eternal Sugar’s voice and manner is what really bothered you the most. Although it was fitting of the Sloth power she held, she just couldn’t care less about you or whatever inhumane actions she did to others. Granted, you weren’t much for words yourself, the most you talk is when dealing with the annoyance is Shadow Milk Cookie, so at least with Eternal Sugar you can get right to the point without any hesitation.

“At least you know what I’m here for, Beast…I’ll gladly make sure you’ve suffered in the last moments of your recreation…”

“Mhmmm, sure thing. Just hurry up and crumble already so you can bother someone else when you resurrect, please~….

Without waiting anymore, you charged at the lackadaisical Beast. Thankfully, the more you do this the more stronger and better you’re getting. Because the sooner you seal away Eternal Sugar, the better. Not just for the Witch’s and Cookiekind, but for the sake of your own mind.

————————————————————————

The eerie silence of the area you stepped into would be enough to scare any being beyond belief. It was dark, quiet, perfectly becoming the scene any scared children would have when fearing the dark. Only this was no dream, is was the brutal reality of a vicious Beast that you could never seem to get an upper hand against.

Silent Salt Cookie was just standing there, sword in hand as always. Out of all the Beasts, Silent Salt doesn’t do anything else now except wait for you. Silent Salt knows of your ability to keep coming back to life after dying and knew sooner or later you’d be back.

The quietness from you and Silent Salt was loud and easy to understand. You weren’t much for words yourself, no need to start now with a quiet Cookie. You both knew each other well enough, understanding the other’s goal in mind as you both nodded and readied your swords yet again. The area soon became loud with the sounds of clashing swords in a struggle of life and death.

Until your mission is fulfilled, until the Beasts are sealed away and no longer a threat to Cookiekind, then you will be raised from the dead. Retaining your mixture of flavors, knowledge and power, and using all of them against the foul Beasts that defiled their roles as promised saviors. Until the deed is done…

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to having a younger s/o

Requested by @whrryuu : helloooo can u make ot13 reactions to a younger s/o with tooth rooting fluff plsplspls u r one of my fav authors and i loveee all ur works <33 thank yeww

A/N: Hiiiii angel!! Thank you SO much for the sweet words, I’m smiling so hard!!

Also, I wrote this while waiting for my call to the doctor's office, and the amount of time I giggled... in public 😭 I'm pretty sure the assistant there wanted to write my name to see the psychiatrist 💔 I really enjoyed writing this one!!

Seungcheol: He calls you baby so much, it’s comical atp. Wraps you in his big strong arms, shielding you from the entire world. He high-key spoils you: buys you snacks, jewelleries, designer bags, tucks your hair behind your ear, even ties your shoes sometimes. If anyone teases you for being younger, he’s like, “And? She’s mine.”

Jeonghan: tease. level. expert. He’s constantly poking fun at your age. “Aww, are you even old enough to be out this late?” “Are you even old enough to use your pretty mouth like this?” “Is my baby old enough?” But then he’s doting lol. Pulls you into his lap during movie nights or when he's feeling freaky, strokes your hair when you're sleepy, gives you forehead kisses and says, “You’re too cute. What do I do with you?”

Joshua: Such a gentleman it’s unreal. Always checking on you, opening doors, holding your hand when crossing the street. Calls you sweetheart or baby with the softest smile. “Did you eat? Want me to walk you home?” He loves listening to you talk about little things like your classes or shows, eyes full of admiration, which makes him even more eager to protect you from the outside cruel world.

Jun: Younger? He’s taking that as a challenge to be the ultimate younger boyfriend. I mean he's old but, in your relationship, he's the kid. But don't forget, he's Jun: he’s playful and flirty but super doting whenever he feels like it. “You’re so smol, it’s adorable,” he coos, pinching your cheeks. He buys you keychains, kisses your lips when you pout, and tucks your hand into his pocket when it’s cold.

Hoshi: Calls you my baby with a proud grin. Carries candies in his bag just for you. Sends you selfies like “miss you~~” even if he saw you ½ an hour ago. He shows off a bit in front of the other members. “Look at my cutie! Isn’t she the cutest??” Will not shut up about you. Ever.

Wonwoo: His affection actually runs quite deep. Always watches you with fond eyes when you ramble about your day animatedly. Reads books with you on his chest, lets you doodle on his arm with pen. Will buy you random gifts throughout the week. He doesn't really see you as a kid but definitely thinks it's cute that you're younger. His favorite thing is seeing you in oversized hoodies aka his hoodies.

Woozi: Pretends he’s unaffected and acts superrrrrr nonchalant but yk Jihoon lol. He’s so shy about PDA, but his ears turn pink when you kiss his cheek or nose or forehead or lips or... anywhere actually. But he sneaks cuddles when no one’s looking. Writes you little melodies on his guitar, gives you USBs like, “I made this… it’s for you.” Deadly soft. D.E.A.D.L.Y. S.O.F.T. I'm telling you, the nonchalance bullshit doesn't go too far with him around you.

Dokyeom: Literal sunshine™ boyfriend. He thinks your every reaction is the most adorable thing ever. “Look at you getting shy! You’re so cute I could cry!” Will deadpan compare you to toddlers and say you are cuter... infront of the kid's parents 💀 Makes silly faces to make you laugh [he loves making you laugh], sends voice notes of him singing songs before bed. Never stops telling you how much he loves you.

Mingyu: Always holds your bag, opens your drink, wraps his arms around you in public like a warm wall. “You good, baby?” Loves it when you act bratty—it makes him grin like crazy and turns him on. Carries you over puddles, cooks for you everyday, and looks like a proud boyfriend when you compliment his food. He'll definitely marry you one day, that's how smittenly in love he is with you.

Minghao: So gentle, holds your face when he kisses you. Buys you art supplies and writes little notes in the margins of your sketchbook. If you’re overwhelmed, he’s like, “Come here,” and pulls you into his arms in total silence. You’re his soft spot, no matter how calm he seems. He really loves that he can be your protective figure, not that he thinks you're any less capable to protect or defend yourself but he loves it that in general sense, he's the one. Note: he coos you all the time

Seungkwan: Panics over every little thing because you're his baby [in a romantic sense]. “Are you cold? Are you hungry? Do you need water?” Cups a hand on your cheeks , “You’re too cute, I can’t take it.” and have cuteness aggression every five minutes. Will 100% hide his face when you kiss his nose. Loves showing you off—“This is my girlfriend, the cutest woman in the whole world!” Yeah, he still calls you a woman, because you are!

Vernon: Our Vernon can be so so so so so so soft. Tugs you into his hoodie with him, lets you nap on his chest. Blushes when you hold his hand first, but won’t let go the whole day. He thinks you being younger is the cutest thing ever. Just wants to sit next to you forever, playing with your fingers. If he could, he'd keep you inside his pocket.

Dino: He tries so hard to be ‘the man’ but ends up being an adorable mess because of you. “I’m older, I’ll take care of you,” then trips over nothing after you smile at him. You make him flustered constantly 24/7, but he’s serious when it counts—“You can count on me, always.” and you can. Will dance with you in the kitchen because he's romantic.

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst.

Rafe Cameron holds grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that. 

Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he really liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team.

Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back. So yes, the humiliation was killing him. 

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he needed it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really.

He wanted to prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help from him, of course.

That's when you came into the picture. Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a solid choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like a superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party, no uttering a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Shit, he didn’t know you were a cheerleader until that night. Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica. 

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background. 

You were perfect. If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new "queen" of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought. 

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. I'm doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin at the corner of his mouth.

Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, it made the challenge even sweeter.

 “You think so?” he mused. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, “No way, Cameron. You think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t a bad rom-com movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. I can do the same with her.”

A silly school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were. 

Kelce took a swig of his drink, enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a looooong way to go."

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months."

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I say, a grand says you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand."

The two idiots were already shaking hands over it, acting like it was a twisted fantasy football bet.

“Y’all are gonna feel real fucking stupid when she’s walking into parties on my arm and every guy on campus is trying to figure out where the hell she came from.”

“And what’s the plan, exactly? Gonna Cinderella her ass into popularity?”

Rafe cocked an eyebrow, swirling the last bit of his beer in his red cup.

“Something like that,” he drawled. “Little wardrobe upgrade. Introduce her to the right people. Coach her on how to not sound like she’s afraid of her own voice.”

Kelce laughed, too loud. “Jesus. You’re gonna Pygmalion her.”

Rafe was going to make you untouchable. He’d improve every dull corner of you until you gleamed under the lights she used to think were reserved for her. And when Jessica saw you on his arm, in her place, with every pair of eyes following you instead of her, that’s when the knife would twist..

He finished his drink and slamming the glass down on the table. “I’m upgrading.”

Topper whistled low. “You’re a sick fuck, man.”

Rafe smiled, tongue in his cheek. “Takes one to know one.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless. 

It was so good that even in his drunken stupor, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. With Jessica, it had been easy, she’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal. 

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice.

At first, he didn’t approach you, only observed. 

He had to figure out how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took an entire week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf.

“Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up startled, but nodded, moving your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Get you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He was acutely aware that one wrong move could cost him, it could send you running.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. Your hand wavered as you turned the page, and Rafe leaned in—not intruding, but making sure you knew he was there.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there.

“I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were caught off guard. You didn't think he knew you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you.

“You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push or try too hard.

He wanted you to feel comfortable around him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

You blurted it out, and he knew instantly it hadn’t been meant for him to hear.

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen. He felt the familiar anger bubbling up, but he kept it down, his expression void of any resentment. This was what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name, spoken by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that. 

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was a painful memory he was trying to move past.

“Oh,” he said, voice even. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, regretting bringing it up.

“Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, faking gratitude for your concern. He sighed, putting on a relived act.

“It’s okay,” he lied. “I guess it’s one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page. 

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he disguised it as a rueful chuckle.

“Yeah, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Your body instantly relaxed, relieved that he wasn’t angry. Rafe needed to pull the conversation away from his ex, and back to you, where it should be.

“But hey,” he added, as if genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You bit your lip at the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward, “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away, a shy smile on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

He held your gaze, letting the silence settle to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

 “Anytime."

It was a perfect first interaction. It made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal and from the look on your face, it worked. Except, inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, indirectly, a reminder of why he was doing this shit in the first place. 

“So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating.

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

You both turned your attention back to your notes. Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction.

He was winning that bet on way or another. 

Over the next few weeks, he made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he slipped his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and you were warming up to him more and more. He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention.

The change was gradual, but it was happening.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you start to believe you could belong in a world that had always seemed so out of reach. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, feeling out of place just imagining yourself surrounded by strangers.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful shine in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

He seemed so earnest that you found yourself nodding without a fight.

“Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

It was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that was worlds away from where you belonged. 

But Rafe stayed close. 

It overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, which he noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided. He was different tonight—more assertive. 

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to avoid. People were noticing. Whispering.

It was exactly what Rafe planned.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe greeted them, his hand never leaving your body.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, smirk growing.

"Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, not a fan of extra attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

“Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper's eyes followed you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. That's the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica."

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—he shoved it down and buried it as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand. Nah.

You came back, walkin’ over all pretty and yeah—fuck. Couldn’t help it. His relaxed on its own, his brain forgetting he was supposed to be playing it charming.

“Got somethin’ good?” He asked, nodding at your drink, knowing damn well he just gawked at your mouth the whole walk back.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

Rafe snorted, nodding approvingly.

“Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

He meant to just say his piece and move on—but then you smiled again and that giggle stuck around in his head longer than it should’ve. You were bright-eyed and sweet, not trying hard at all, not even knowin’ how pretty you sounded when you laughed like that.

The night went on like that. Rafe played the part well—always right there with you. Hand on your shoulder when the crowd got thick, fingers brushing yours when he leaned in to tell you who was who. He introduced you to people with that easy grin, acting like he’d been doing this with you forever.

And every time you stepped away—whether it was for another drink or to fix your lip gloss—he’d glance over at his boys. A fleeting look, something silent, keeping score.

You didn’t catch that, though.

All you saw was him. This guy who stuck by your side all night, who made you feel like you belonged. Between the drinks and the way his hand kept finding yours, you started to let your guard down. You laughed more. Talked more. Stopped second-guessing every word that came out of your mouth.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, tonight was just the beginning.

He was getting what he wanted.

Or, at least, he thought he was. Then you laughed at something Kelce said—head tilted back, unfiltered—something in him pulled up short. It wasn’t big or dramatic. A thought. Something about the way you looked right then made his chest go quiet.

He didn’t dwell on it, knowing better.

Especially with his ex still lurking.

Sure enough, she cornered him before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort.

"What's up?"

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He tilted his head, barely reacting. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, not in the mood for his mind games.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

“You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Rafe hummed. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes. “You don’t get to apologize now, or tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened.

“I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

Rafe snorted, "Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw. He wanted to lash out, tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he gritted out, “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention dropped from her.

This was about revenge, proving his point.

You were just a means to an end. But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game half the time.

When you smiled at him or thanked him for something small, it nailed the hatred he had built up inside. It was part of the plan, getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. Except, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself. 

That was bad.

He didn't have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned.

Funnily enough, instead of feeling satisfied, there guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, you were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than some popular dude who was doing you a favor. You were beginning to care, and that terrified him.

Why did it terrify him? That's what he wished for.

One night, after another party where you had danced closer, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had.

The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, ignoring the way his heart twisted at your words. 

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

That's when he saw you.

Not as a means to an end, but someone he grew to genuinely care about. Shit.

“It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone wanted to be around. But that was all you. Rafe had given you that, but your personality made people like you the moment they met you.

He was taking something from you—your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence gone as you turned to face him. There was something different about you tonight.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began hesitantly.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? Was it because you felt s-sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the words that wouldn’t hurt you. He needed to lie, like he’d been doing all along.

You continued, “I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, eyes glossing with gratitud. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

But if he pulled away now—after all the nights walking you home, learning how you liked your coffee and the exact songs that made you smile—it would only raise questions he didn’t have answers for.

Instead, he kissed you.

You didn’t pull away, kissing him back without hesitation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, not pulling. You made a soft sound in the back of your throat, barely audible, but it hit him all the same.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he pulled back when it flooded his insides. The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, and it made him want to break something, anything, to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. But the way you were looking at him...he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go inside, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by you.

Rafe’s resolve had been torn for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing it.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you greeted as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him a grin that always made his brain turn mushy. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago.

“If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar squeeze in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it."

The drive to campus was easy. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? He quickly forced a nod.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

This was the moment he’d been dreading, when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not? I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest.

You nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I...I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just...new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more. 

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others.

Guys glanced your way, noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

You two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her.

He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that irked him.

She complimented you on something you’d done at practice the other day, you blushed at the praise. He could see how much you were changing, starting to come into your own. i

It was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

“She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now."

You looked at him, your giddy expression fading.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Just thinking."

“About what?”

“About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

After dropping you off at your dorm by the end of the day, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car.

“I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice.

“What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Genuinely nice.”

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good, remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe sighed in frustration. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add.

“Dude, you're in too deep to back out now. Keep your eye on the prize, okay?"

He nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him.

“Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce gloated. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy flashed you a charming smirk, trying to flirt. Rafe never wanted to pummel a guy's face to the wall so fucking bad.

He watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

It made ugly rise in him. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched. You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not reaching your eyes. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, it burned hotter than the guilt.

He wanted to go over there, tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething. Scaring you was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, only after begging for your number, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving.

He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, heart pounding in every single corner of his body. You spotted him coming, waving but dropping your arm when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish.

His hand cupped your face as he all but yanked you toward him.

And then he kissed you, again.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. It came out fierce, almost desperate. He needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You were caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him. Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a content sigh that only made him kiss you harder.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead against yours, breathing heavy.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him, dazed, pretty lips swollen from the intensity he had poured into you.

“What... what was that?” your voice shaky, searching his face for answers.

Rafe knew he should've explained himself, but all he wanted was to kiss you stupid. He shook his head, lips tilting at how adorable you looked.

“Couldn’t help myself."

You blinked up at him, trying to process what had just happened, there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him. 

He stepped back, keeping his hand on your waist as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words.

She’s mine.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, all he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe murmured. “We’ve got class.”

You stupidly nodded and let him guide you out of the cafeteria.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, “Okay?”

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes glossy and trusting.

Rafe was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he stole one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you muttered against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming.

His traced the curve of your jawline.

“I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

Just like that, he got what he wanted. 

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t happy; you were radiant. 

Every smile he gave you, every touch or whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day.

At the same time, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside. He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was a childish stupid game, so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now.

He forgot about it, it didn’t matter anymore. After all, what you two had is real, right?

Until it wasn't.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is filled with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere.

You're zipping up your bag when you hear voices nearby, right around the corner.

Leila and Jessica, their conversation hushed but unmistakable.

You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs.

"Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

Your breath gets losts somewhere between your lungs and your throat, you can’t move or think. The room spins around you, the ground shaking beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, unaware of the devastation she’s causing.

"It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You're suffocating, your chest squeezing as panic floods your system all at once.

You’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words.

Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, an easy escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, rage and heartbreak settling inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears.

The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills.

All of it fades into nothing as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that dedicated focus you’ve always admired. You hesitate, the familiar warmth of seeing him nearly enough to make you stop.

But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you, and the anger surges back, pushing you to act accordingly.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring.

The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!"

Rafe turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players continue.

You always call him by his name, that's the first thing he realizes.

All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his forehead creasing.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to horror. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief seems to have stunned him into silence. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding.

Deep down, you already know the truth.

You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that guilt, that peek of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control.

You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him. His eyes are pleading, searching yours for anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing.

No words, no excuses, can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice hardly above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, features pulled together, but you can’t stop. All the anger, heartbreak, the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent.

You can see the desperation rising in him. He takes another step toward you, reaching out, but you jerk away, 

“Don't touch me. We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, "You gotta—"

“No.”

With that, you leave. 

Rafe’s voice echoes as you walk away, refusing to look back.

The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway. The locker room is empty when you push open the door.

You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. Before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you hiss.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Not like this.”

You spin around.

“You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

Rafe's hands raise as if to placate you, “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “You let me believe that you cared about me, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, eyes red. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

"Bullshit." You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”  

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

It's hard not to see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

“Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie.

You know that if you stay, let him talk, you'll tempted to forgive him.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads.

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow Rafe takes in the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he says it over and over again, voice going hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you leave, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. A small voice inside you screams at you, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction, Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense.

You can't do that to yourself, for a man.

Meanwhile, when the door slams shut behind him, Rafe leans against it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious.

There's a deep hollowness and this time, he doesn’t follow you.