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lovieku · 2 months ago

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MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: based on this ask, small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

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Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

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tinythebunni · 3 months ago

Text

rafe had his eyes on you for a while. you were new to the island and everyone wanted to be by you. you seemed to have this energy that attracted everyone, like a fucking magnet.

rafe couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. you were everything he could want in a girl. tall, slim, curvy, shiny skin, beautiful hair, and most of all you were so feminine. he loved a girl he could take care of, provide for even.

he first saw you at the country club. you were clad in skimpy pink bikini with white polka dots, a white bow in the side of your hair, and white flats on. you read some magazine he couldn’t be bothered to even pay attention to. for right now, you were his main object of his attention. you could feel his eyes on you, you usually did.

you’d been here only two weeks and you knew all about the infamous rafe cameron. there were rumors he killed some cop and he had a drug problem.

people said he was one of the most fun people in the world but he would blow up in the quarter of a second. no girl could hold him down and he always got what he wanted. everyone wanted to be him or fuck him.

he’d made slight advances in the short amount of time you’ve been in the outer banks. holding a door open for you, paying for your drink, offering to apply your sunscreen while you tanned at the beach, the whole shabang.

you didn’t give him the slightest ounce of your attention. you wanted him to work for it. obviously you wanted him but you can’t let him know that! if rafe always got what he wanted then he wouldn’t mind a challenge.

you liked this game of cat and mouse you guys played. you didn’t know how much longer you could take it though. your friend daphne had invited you to some kook party at her stupid chad bfs house.

you went of course because rafe would be there. and you wanted him to see you, especially in this outfit. a lacy pink halter neck and pink mini skirt with ties on the sides. it showed just enough of skin to make him crazy. you wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

who knows? maybe tonight you’ll let him have a taste.

after a while of being at the party you started to get a bit bored. there were people making out in the corners, the alcohol tasted shit, and rafe still wasn’t here.

you were slightly buzzed and contemplating walking out when you saw him. he wore only a white wife beater and some denim jeans. what really caught your attention was the way his eyes were immediately on you when he came in.

he looked you over, greeting a few people, but not once did his eyes stray off you.

“top, i gotta go handle something. i’ll catch ya later.” and with that he strides over to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a room upstairs.

you had butterflies in your stomach. after a month he couldn’t take it anymore. you were excited to see what he would do now.

he swiftly locked the door and turned towards you with an almost primal look in his eyes. you giggle as he rubs the back of his neck and glares.

“do you think this shit is fuckin funny? been wanting you for months and you think it’s game. do you know how hard you make me? those skimpy fucking skirts and that coy smile.“

you were positive you looked like a fish out of water right now. you could feel a heat rising in your belly and a blush flushing your checks and neck.

“i didn’t know i affected you that much” you whispered.

“bullshit. i see you close your thighs each time i fucking look at you. can barely focus on anything when you’re near by.”

rafe is stalking towards you now, and you back up more and more until your knees finally hit the bed. he pushes you back until your lying on your back, with only your elbows and forearms holding you up.

he pulls your skirt over your tummy, glancing up at you as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“tell me this is okay. i needa know what you taste like. i can’t fucking stand it. so close to your pussy i can practically feel you on my tongue already.”

you give a shaky nod but that’s not enough.

he pinches the inside of your thigh and shakes his head with disapproval.

“no. baby i need words. use your voice, ain’t even touched you yet so i know you’re not fucked out already.”

“yes, yes rafe this is okay! please i need it” you whine while your lips pout slightly.

he was being so mean right now! is this what it felt like for him all this time?

he places a kiss on your clit over your panties and thumbs at your entrance. he smoothes your arousal over your lips and curses under his breath.

rafe takes his time making you whimper and whine. you push your hips up for some kind of friction, something more than he’s giving you. he uses his left hand to hold you down while his right pushes down on your clit, the pressure making your eyes roll back.

“calm down sweet thing. s’okay. m jus getting you ready. been dreaming bout this and i wanna take my time”

the cameron boy takes off your underwear and pauses. you can’t tell if he’s in awe or disgusted.

“so fucking pretty baby. is this all for me?” he questions as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“rafe of course it is, do you see anybody else in this fucking room?” you’re mad now, you’re so fucking horny and he’s being a tease!

“alright alright” he laughs, placing a kiss to your thigh and looking up at you one last time.

“not letting you go after this is done. you’re mine.”

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pleasureable · 14 days ago

Text

Love Potions

Summary - Thanos was used to having girls throw themselves at him. As he got older, the feeling of simply using somebody for self-gratification became exhilarating for him. He never thought a girl could have him in a chokehold until he met you, pink haired and all.

Warnings - Mentions of weed, reader has pink hair again because yes, high school au, kinda short (2k word count, was too exhausted to make it any longer please forgive me), ooc thanos once again? please excuse any grammatical errors, not really proofread

A/N - Might be my last long piece on here for a little, I'll probably write some drabbles or head cannons here and there, though! Once again, thank you so much for all the love on Pink Goes Well with Purple, it warms my heart so much every time I see all the engagement on it.

Thanos never took anything, or anyone, seriously. Girls had always found him attractive, and halfway through his 7th-grade year, he realized he liked female attention. He had never genuinely liked someone, though. Every girl he decided to "pursue" was either too clingy or as he would put it, "too much of a cock-drunk bitch".

Knowing exactly how to play the game, he approached all his intended targets with feigned interest and used their obvious attraction to him to his advantage. He would stick around for a few days pretending to care about their likes and interests, then dump them like toxic waste once he got them into his bed. He loved how these girls would completely submit themselves to him, he loved how he could openly toy with them yet still have them begging for his love and affection.

Thanos loved the power.

He had woken up to his phone buzzing from its lying position on his nightstand. "20+ unread messages from Lindsey", the notification read. "Hop off my fuckin' dick, bitch" he mumbled in his groggy, half-awake state. He had gone to some random house party with his buddies the night before, all in hopes of getting totally shit-faced and finding some bimbo who would be willing to help him get his dick wet.

To his annoyance, friends of Lindsey's had taken candid photos of him swapping spit with some chick in a corner. He didn't care about Lindsey's feelings; he just didn't want to deal with her inevitable tantrum once she was informed of his actions. He was getting ready to dump her anyway as she was probably the clingiest of the girls Thanos had been with. Always going off on jealousy-fueled tangents regarding his flirty attitude toward other girls, always begging for him to "change his ways for her". Ha, in your fucking dreams.

Arriving at school, he was immediately greeted with the sight of her tear-stained face, "What the fuck were you doing last night, Thanos?! I saw you kissing some fucking bitch at that party last night!" She wept, though it clearly wasn't phasing him. Thanos wore a stone-cold expression as he walked through the halls of the high school with Lindsey hot on his trail. He spotted his history class and walked in, leaving her behind, the door closing firmly in her face.

The first few minutes of class went by in a blur, usual rambling from his teacher and stupid antics from his friends give a monotonous tone to his already shitty day.

Without warning, the classroom door swings open.

You walk in, clad in your black Aeropostale tracksuit, pink hair lightly curled with slightly red-rimmed glassy eyes. Students turn to look at you, some wearing an expression reminiscent of admiration. "Oh! You must be Y/N", the teacher said. "Have a seat wherever, we were just getting ready to start class."

He couldn't help but check you out. To him, you were quite possibly the most beautiful, angel-like thing he had ever laid eyes upon. His eyes scanned you up and down, staring at the way your tits looked squeezed into your jacket, a small diamond-studded necklace with your initial resting perfectly between them. Miraculously, you opted to sit in the empty seat right in front of him. The smell of sweet perfume and hint of weed that clung to you was intoxicating, filling his nostrils and leaving him entranced.

You shattered Thanos' cocky facade in an instant, leaving his mind a complete blank. The fact that he felt a way no other person had ever made him feel before didn't go unnoticed by him, and he wasn't so sure he hated it. The chance to talk to you presented itself, and he immediately began racking his brain to figure out what to say; in the end, he settled on asking for something simple: a pencil.

"Hey señorita, you got a pencil I could borrow?" He asked. You turned your head and began to look at him over your shoulder, his breath hitched. Your eyes were breathtaking, everything about you was perfect. You pulled a pencil from the pocket of your sweatpants and handed it to him, your pretty manicured nails catching his eye. "You can keep it." You spoke, voice as soft as silk. The pink, glitter-ridden Hello Kitty pencil you handed him made him crack a smile, you were adorable.

You had just met him but even so, Thanos was already feigning for you. He wanted you, wanted to know what those pretty pink lips of yours taste like.

Class went by in a flash, the only thing Thanos recalled from the past hour was him admiring your curves through the openings on the back of the school chair. Once the bell rang, everyone began to exit the room. You left the classroom so swiftly that it was almost ghost-like, Thanos scrambled to leave as quickly as you did, not wanting to let you out of his sight. Just as he was about to follow you through the halls, his buddy caught up to him and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Yo T, that new girl? Fuckin' hot shit." His friend Nam-Gyu spoke. "Back off dude, I call dibs." Thanos said, jealousy apparent in his voice.

“What? Since when do we call dibs on girls?” Nam-gyu responded, his face twisting in confusion. Thanos never cared about girls enough to publicly claim them as his, but you were different. He could feel it.”Since now, man. She’s fuckin’ perfect, I don’t know what it is about her.” Thanos said, just the thought of you was already clouding up his thoughts in the best way possible. Nam-Gyu realized his friend was serious, he’d never seen Thanos act this way over anyone. As surprised as he was at his friend’s sudden new attitude, Nam-Gyu was still a tad bit annoyed he couldn’t have a piece of you. You were hot shit, after all. “Whatever, man.” Nam-Gyu huffed.

The last thing Thanos really remembered from today was going into the boys bathroom to hide from Lindsey (and to smoke some weed), as she was still currently hunting him down like some deranged serial killer. He hadn’t seen much of you since history class, though he could probably blame that on the blunt he had hit. He remembered seeing slight flashes of pink throughout the day, but that’s about it. He kept a mental image of the way you looked at him when he asked for that pencil, your pretty, doe eyes were unforgettable.

The next morning, for the first time in a very long time, Thanos felt like he had something to look forward to that day. Knowing he got to see you again was enough for him to get out of bed with the energy mimicking that of a little kid on an intense sugar-high.

Once at school, he made b-lined for his history class. He was the very first student there but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to see that certain pink-haired angel walk in once again. As students began to pile into the class, he finally caught a glimpse of you. Your white lace camisole gave you an ethereal glow, complemented by the delicate, gold heart-shaped locket around your neck. Your fitted jeans accentuate your curves, and the subtle shine of your belly piercing added a touch of allure. Just as Thanos felt like you couldn’t get any better.

Though, for obvious reasons, Thanos wasn’t the only boy who had his eye on you. Once you had sat down, his jaw began to tighten when he noticed Myung-Gi practically having a staring contest with your body. His pre-existing hatred for him only grew the longer Myung-Gi’s eyes lingered on you, a little green monster marking its territory inside of him.

Thanos reached out his hand to tap your shoulder. “Hey, you got another pencil I could borrow?” he asked, a sheep-ish grin making its way onto his face. He realized the stupidity of his question but deep down, he just wanted to get a one-up on Myung-Gi. His breath hitched once more as you turned around to look at him. “What happened to the one I gave you yesterday? Lost it already?” You asked, “Lost? Nah, it’s just playing hard to get.” His dumb joke made you laugh a little, and to him, it was like pure music to his ears.

“Well if I give you another one will you lose it?” The flirty undertones of the conversation had begun making themselves apparent. While Thanos was pretty appealing, it was clear he was the kind of guy you wouldn’t necessarily want to be romantically involved with. Just because you wouldn’t date him didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun with him, though. “If losing it means I get to talk to you again, then no promises, beautiful.” Thanos playfully replied, topping his sentence off with a wink. Cute, you thought. “Well then in that case, here you go, handsome.” You handed him another pencil, My Melody themed this time.

You two had spent the rest of the class period chatting, with the occasional scolding from your teacher for laughing just a little too loud. Once the bell had rang, Thanos stopped you in your tracks before you could exit the classroom, “Why don’t you give me your number so that we can hangout sometime, beautiful?” He asked. For maybe the first time in his life, Thanos The Great feared rejection. He had always thought of himself quite highly, but you were greater than every god or goddess that had ever lived. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You smiled. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a pink gel pen and swiftly wrote your digits down on the soft skin of his hand, to his relief. “Send me a text soon, grape jelly.” You shot him a playful glance before turning around and vanishing into the sea of people flooding the hallway. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the neatly written numbers on his hand, his heart full.

Upon his arrival home, Thanos immediately ran up to his room. Throwing himself onto his bed, his mind began to ponder on what to text you. His desperate need to have you was becoming unbearable for him, he needed more than just a conversation to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart. Just as his mind felt as if it was continuously falling into a seemingly endless hole of contemplation, his phone buzzed, signifying the arrival of a text. “You down to get high, grape jelly?” The text read, the stupid (but cute) nickname confirming your identity to him. It was as if his fingers had a mind of their own because in an instant, they began typing up a reply.

“Of course, sweet thing. Where are we meeting?”

“Meet me at the park near school in an hour.” You replied.

Excitement was all that was running through Thanos’s head at the thought of spending alone time with you. You were completely and utterly heaven sent.

He began to blast music while laying on his bed, just staring at the ceiling in an attempt to pass time. He continued to fantasize about you, everything about you. Your angelic facial features, your body, your voice. The way you looked at him for the first time. He hadn’t known you for even a week, yet already you were making him feel things that girls he’d known for years had never even come close to making him feel.

Laying there, in his current state of rumination, Thanos realized this was the closest he had ever come to feeling peace in a very long time.

When enough time had passed, he snapped out of his thought-induced daze and began to make his way downstairs. Being careful not to wake his parents up, he unlocked the backdoor to his house and shut it behind him, starting to make his way to the designated meet up spot. As soon as he started approaching the park, he noticed a silhouette sitting down at a dimly-lit bench. Getting closer, he recognized the unusually colored hair.

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out. You looked up from your phone screen to see that now-familiar purple headed man. “Hi.” You responded, a gentle smile taking its place on your face. You passed Thanos the already lit joint in your hand once he took a seat on the bench next to you. He took a hit, paused briefly as the smoke lingered in his lungs, then exhaled, letting the thick cloud roll from his mouth. Taking turns passing the joint amongst yourselves, a peaceful ambience fell upon you both. A sense of calm wrapped around your mind, pushing away the slight nerves you were previously feeling caused by the idea of being alone with Thanos. “I like you, Thanos.” You spoke, the marijuana giving you the courage to speak your mind freely.

“I’ve had my eye on you ever since you got here, beautiful. You’re breathtaking.” He responded. You turned to look at him, tilting your head slightly. “So that’s what the flirty attitude was about?” Giggling, it was all starting to make sense to you. “Of course. Just look at you.” He began to scoot closer, maintaining eye contact. Your pretty, red-rimmed eyes looking up at him made him smile. The sense of euphoria was almost palpable, as if the air itself buzzed with an electric warmth, wrapping you both in a blanket of bliss and exuding a feeling of weightlessness.

Thanos had gotten so close to the point where the tips of your noses were touching. Your current situation felt like a dream, a dream which you didn’t want to wake up from. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, heart racing as the air between you seemed to grow thicker, filled with an unspoken sexual tension. “K-kiss me, please.” You whispered, the need to feel his mouth on yours becoming hard to endure. He pressed his lips to yours, his breath warm against your skin. The kiss deepened, his lips parting slightly to explore yours slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer, the intensity building with every second that passed.

As you pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your lips tingling and a bit swollen from the intensity of the kiss, cheeks flushed. “You’re good at kissing,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy from the lip-locking. “I could say the same thing about you, pretty girl.”

You ignited a fire within Thanos, and its cause was inexplicable. Maybe it was your friendly and gentle nature that drew him to you, but whatever the case was, you made him want to be better. You had him under a love potion, and he wasn’t planning on breaking the spell anytime soon.

#thanos x reader #thanos #t.o.p #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #choi su bong x reader #choi seunghyun #choi su bong #squid game #choi seunghyun x reader

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pretty-circa006 · 8 months ago

Text

Sneaking Out

Stepdad! Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan catches you sneaking out to go to a party and punishes you accordingly

tags age gap (reader is 19, Negan is pushing 40), spanking, unprotected p in v, making out, slight dacryphilia, stepcest, nudity, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, vaguely implied underaged drinking, hair pulling, use of pet names, cumshot

this is my first time posting my writing on here, kinda nervy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

wc: 2.65k

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She sat on her bed, crying. Knees tucked to her chest and head held in her hands as small sniffles and whimpers escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to stay silent. She resented her mom for being so strict and not letting her go out to parties like others her age. She was sure her mom would have let up once she graduated high school, especially since she was legally an adult now, but it only seemed like she doubled down even more. Things got even worse once her mom married her stepdad, Negan. Per her mother's request, he installed security cameras in the front of house and the backyard to ensure she couldn't sneak out. And the few times she tried, she failed, because Negan would be up late, playing video games in the living room or smoking a cigarette in the backyard by the poolside, making it impossible for her to sneak out. She was so miserable, watching everyone have fun over the summer before college while she wasted away in her room with her only entertainment being behind a screen or imbedded in the pages of a book.

It was so unfair. Especially because she knew tonight was gonna be the party of the year. One of the rich girls in her graduating class was throwing a pool party at her mansion, her mansion which housed one of the best pools she'd ever seen. And somehow, she was lucky enough to be invited. This was an opportunity of a lifetime and if it meant being grounded for an eternity, so be it.

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She had one foot out her bedroom window when she heard a knock on her door.

"Hey kid, can I come in?" her stepdad, Negan's, voice called from the other side of the door.

"One sec, I'm not decent!" she fibbed as she stumbled back inside her room. She shut the window as silently it would go before she slipped under the covers of her bed, hiding the fact she had on nothing but a tropical, triangle bikini.

"Okay, you can come in now," she called out. Negan let himself in, glancing around her room suspiciously. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, tattoos peeking out from beneath his white t-shirt, and obvious outline of his dick through his gray sweatpants that hung low on his waist. Despite being hidden beneath her sheets and comforter, she felt vulnerable and naked beneath his skeptical gaze.

"You're not plannin' on sneakin' out, are ya?" he asked, tongue seductively swiping across his bottom lip. She nervously swallowed, heat blossoming across her cheeks.

"N-no, why?" came her shaky reply.

"You are a shit liar, kid," he laughed, a handsome smirk on his face.

"Why would I sneak out? There's nothing for me to out there anyway," she doubled down, not feeding into his bait. He stalked closer to her bed before sitting down at the foot of it, hazel eyes boring into her soul.

"So you're not going to that pool party happening right now?" The tone of his voice was sarcastic, hinting that he didn't believe a word coming from her mouth.

"Pool party? What pool party?" She punctuated her question with a fake yawn to try and convince Negan that she really was tired and ready to go to bed for the night.

"If you say so, kid. Just know that if I catch your lying ass sneaking out tonight, you'll be in for a world of hell when I punish you." Her thighs involuntarily squeezed together at his words and the action didn't go unnoticed by Negan. She nodded her head while silently praying he'd hurry up and leave so she can sneak out.

His eyes narrowed at her as he stood up. "Night, kiddo," he said, patting her knee through the comforter for good measure.

"Night, Negan!"

She continued laying in her bed, petrified, for another ten minutes until she heard the door to her mom's bedroom shut. Negan's words did manage to strike some fear into her, but not enough to deter her from her original plan. She was sure he was in bed now and falling asleep for the night. After silently sliding out of her bed, she tucked a few decorative pillows in her previous place in hope they'd fool Negan or her mom if they peek in to check on her.

Her hands were shaky when she re-opened her bedroom window. Nerves were finally getting to her. She could hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears as she began having second thoughts about doing this. Negan was nowhere near as strict as her mom, so his punishment couldn't actually that bad. Not that she'd actually have to worry about his punishment, because she wasn't gonna get caught.

She crept out of her window and stepped onto the roof. She closed her window, only leaving it slightly ajar so she could get back inside later. Careful not to slip on the roof's slippery shingles, she tiptoed to the edge and looked over at the space from here to the grassy ground. Too late to go back now. She sat on the ledge and turned herself around so she could hang from the ledge before dropping into the soft grass.

She looked back at the house, elated she was finally out and what fun was about to come

.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

The dark morning sky was slowly beginning to turn into a lighter blue as she clumsily climbed the trellis back onto the second story's roof. Her slightly intoxicated brain made it so her movements weren't as agile and quiet like before. She lifted her window open and unceremoniously fell inside, smacking the carpeted flooring with her face.

The first thing she noticed was the potent smell of tobacco followed by his signature whistling.

"Aw, fuck," she groaned to herself. She heard the springs of her mattress release as Negan got up and soon his socked feet came into her view. He reached out a hand and helped her up after she gratefully accepted it.

He looked pissed. His thick eyebrows settled into a frown and his hazel-green eyes were devoid of any kindness. She nervously crossed her arms over her body, feeling naked under his gaze.

"How was the pool party?" he asked.

"I wasn't a-at a pool party!" she lied.

His look only darkened, making her weak in the knees. From fear or arousal, she couldn't tell.

"What kinda goddamn fuckin' idiot do you take me for? You are literally dripping wet and wearin' a damn bikini!" he pointed out the obvious.

"I was swimming in our own pool in the backyard!" she lied with such little conviction that she couldn't even fool herself

He stepped closer to her and if she wasn't already so close to the wall she'd have stepped back. She averted her gaze and chose to look at the chipped, bubblegum pink nail polish that adorned her toes. Negan wasn't having any of it, though, and forced her to look up at him by grabbing a fistful of her wet hair and tilting her head up. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"What did I tell you would happen if I caught you sneaking out?" he asked between clenched teeth.

"That...that you're gonna p-punish me..." The tears were streaming down her face now as she sniveled pathetically.

"Attagirl," he darkly praised, a sinister smirk spreading across his face. The slight praise caused her stomach to do backflips and her core to clench over nothing. Her face felt hot and her breathing shallowed as her only thoughts were what Negan would do next.

His grip on her hair stayed firm as he walked her over to her bed. He released his hold before taking a seat onto the plush mattress. She stood before him, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot and nibbling the skin around her thumbnail, awaiting what was to come. His large, warm hands gripped her hips, pulling her to stand between his legs. She glanced down at him as he looked up at her, but her eyes drifted past his face and down to the bulge growing in his sweatpants. She was embarrassed to admit it, but her mouth watered at the sight.

"Now, I want you to know that this shit could have been avoided had your stubborn ass just listened to me," he stated, his grip on her hips growing firmer. She nodded her head, not knowing what to say and not wanting to anger her stepdad even further.

He pulled the ties on either side of her bikini bottoms and let the damp garment fall to the floor between her feet. She nervously bit her bottom lip and looked down at him, but he was too busy eyeing her cunt and soft thighs, which glimmered with the slick of her arousal. He looked up at her as he licked his bottom lip. He patted his thighs.

"Bend over my fuckin' knee, doll," he ordered. She warily obeyed, despite the humiliation of having him see her bare, wet pussy. His roughish hands caressed the soft flesh of her ass, admiring the mounds. Without warning, his hand came down harshly on her right cheek, earning a yelp from her.

"Keep it down," he hissed before landing an even harsher slap to her other cheek. She only whimpered this time, pursing her lips to fight the noises that yearned to escape. He continued his assailment on her ass, leaving it stinging with numbness. Her whimpers turned into a mixture of sobs and wanton moans which only tightened his pants. By the looks of it, he wasn't the only one getting off to this punishment. Her cunt sparkled with her arousal, arousal which was leaking down her thighs.

"Negan, please!" she begged. Her thighs were clenched together as she tried to rub her aching clit on his thigh.

"What is it that you want, baby?" he questioned. His big hands kneaded at her squishy flesh. He knew damn well what she wanted, but he wanted to hear her beg. Her weeping pussy was practically begging to be stuffed with his big cock.

"Need you! Need to feel you inside me," she begged between sniffles and sobs. She stood up from being bent over his lap and sat on it, straddling him instead. His arms snaked around her waist and hers around his neck before she leaned down almost close enough to connect her lips to his.

"Please, Negan?" she whispered against his lips. His eyes flitted from hers down to her lips which were so close to his. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gently pressed her soft lips to his, his facial hair pricking at her skin. Negan could name a plethora of reasons why this would be wrong, but the one reason it felt right overpowered them all, so he grabbed the back of her head and crashed his lips against hers. The desperate moan she let out gave Negan the perfect opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like some fruity cocktail that was really just a bunch of things mixed together by some inexperienced kid. He'd have to take her out for a real drink one day. His tongue traversed her mouth, consuming her. She desperately ground her bare pussy on his clothed bulge, eliciting pleasured groans from him. His hands felt up her body before untying her bikini top from the back and the neck, leaving her completely bare on his lap.

"Please, Negan, I need to feel you," she begged after pulling away from the kiss. His eyes were glued to her tits, watching them as her chest rose and fell while she caught her breath. He cupped them in his hands before giving them a squeeze. Her head fell back as she let out a wanton moan. The rough skin of his fingertips gave her hardened nipples some much needed friction as he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger.

"You got some nice fuckin' tits, babydoll," he complimented, only making her wetter.

Her hands slid down his chest, then torso, then stopped at the waistband of his pants.

"Neeegaaan," she impatiently whined.

"Well, baby, if you want it, go ahead and fuckin' take it." His dimpled smile almost brought her to her release right then and there. He lifted his hips so she could pull his cock free. His length audibly smacked his abdomen, the tip an angry, flaming red and leaking with precum. If her core wasn't aching so badly, she'd have gladly taken him down her throat. She took him in her hand. He was so big that her fingers didn't even touch. She stroked him a few times as he sucked bruising marks onto her neck and collarbones. He held onto her hips as she lined him up with her sopping center, stroking him along her slick folds before sinking all the way down on him. The stretch was there, but not painful because she was so wet and ready for him.

"Negan, you feel so good!" she moaned once he bottomed out inside of her. Her nails dug little crescent moons into his skin through his shirt as she began bouncing on his cock. He admired her tits bouncing as she rode him before pulling her closer and taking one in his mouth, kneading the other with his free hand.

The squelching sounds of her wet pussy and the smell off sex permeating her bedroom only made things more erotic. Negan was hitting every spot perfectly, but he wanted more. He freed her tit from his mouth before flipping their position. Her back was now laying against the bed and Negan stood over her, his cock still inside. Now that he had more control, his thrusts came harder and faster, his tip almost kissing her cervix.

"Goddammit, doll, you were made for my cock!" he praised. More profanities and moans fell from his mouth as her wet, spongy walls squeezed his cock. Her moans were growing louder and louder, making Negan worry that they might wake up her mom...who was his wife.

"I know that my dick is the best damn dick you've had and ever will have in your entire goddamn life, but you need to keep it down," he lectured. She rolled her eyes but pursed her lips in a feeble attempt to keep quiet.

They were both close to reaching their peaks and it was obvious by the way his thrusts grew rushed and sloppy and how her cunt was squeezing him.

"I'm gonna-" her sentence was cut off by a scream of ecstasy which caused Negan to cover her loud mouth with his palm. Her cunt squeezed him as her back arched off the bed and eyes rolled to the back of her head while she came. If he was thinking straight, he'd have left her high and dry as punishment, but his own orgasm was close and he'd be damned if he didn't cum. She removed his hand from covering her mouth and took two of his long, thick fingers into her mouth.

"Ho-ly fuckin' shit!" He swore, marveling at the sight. She hollowed her cheeks as she sucked on the digits.

"That's. My. Girl!" he praised with each thrust.He pulled out of her just as his orgasm came over him and shot his load onto her tits and stomach. He flopped onto the bed beside her and she rolled into his strong arms.

"Y'know I can't stay, gotta get back to your mom before she wakes up."

"Just ten more minutes?" she begged, looking up at Negan with those doe eyes of hers.

He sighed and lightheartedly rolled his eyes.

"Anything for my babydoll."

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback on how i can improve, i'd love to hear it!

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clare-875 · 2 months ago

Note

OMG, Hey, I'm new to this blog. I just read the "New Names" fic you recently wrote. Since Shanks is my favorite character, can you do one of him with the reader?

New Names pt.2 (Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile)

_____ Pairings: Shanks x Reader; Sabo x Reader; Crocodile x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him buddy, pal, etc. Warnings: Mostly fluff, Slightly suggestive, Female Reader A/N: I decided to add some characters! I hope you like it! <3 [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] [Part 4: Kid, Katakuri, Smoker] _____

- Shanks -

(A/N: Slightly longer fic than the others <3)

You sigh as your crewmates look at you with shit-eating grins on their faces. "A deal's a deal [y/n]," Yassop tells you, leaning back smugly as you regrettably accept defeat. You had been playing a game of cards, but this time the only thing on the line was the loser having had to do one thing that the winner pleads. Yassop had (unfortunately for you) won, and he wanted to mess with his Captain through you. "Come on, is it the worst thing I could've asked you to do?" You roll your eyes.

"Fine, I'll do it."

You instantly hear the uproar of cheers from around you and smile despite yourself. The crew must really be bored to find such keen interest in such a little prank. But you would be lying to say you also weren't intrigued about your boyfriend's reaction. You get up from your chair and the crew looks on, amusement lingering in their gazes. Luckily for you, as soon as you stand, Shanks makes his way onto the deck. His eyes shine as soon as he sees you approach.

"Hey, love." He grins wide, beckoning you over.

You teasingly smile, but instead of running into him as you usually do, you pat him on the shoulder and walk past him.

"Hey dude, I'll see you in a minute. I've just got to talk to Benn about something."

You walk off, going to find the second-in-charge whilst trying to stifle your laughter. It's as though instantly you broke the man.

"Wait what-"

Shanks reaches for you but you are already gone. His grin fades and his form goes rigid, it's as though the renowned empower was reduced to something like a child just by your mere words. He looks as though he's seen a ghost.

"What did I do?"

He turns to his crewmates who look on, trying to stifle the laughs that threaten to break free. But ultimately they are able to play dumb.

"Don't ask us, Captain."

The rest of the day, Shanks is at your heels following you, talking to you, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. But it is either you were truly indifferent or you were great at acting because, despite the name you call him, you hadn't changed. You still looked at him lovingly and happily returned conversation, but that only made the red-haired captain more frustrated.

"It's okay dude, I've got it."

"I'm doing great dude, how are you doing?"

"Hey, dude, mind passing me that?"

It drives your Captain insane.

You only break when night falls, and finally, Yassop's word means nothing as the day has passed. You were lying in bed next to your boyfriend and you could feel his burning stare on you. You turn, and sure enough, your Captain looks at you intently, a crease between his brow.

"What is it?" You say, an amused tone lingering beneath your words. Shanks looks as though he is almost pouting and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the childish display of sadness placed right in front of you.

"Love, did I do something wrong today?"

You tilt your head to the side as the red-haired man in front of you finally spills the words he has been holding onto all day.

"You kept calling me dude."

You try to hold your facade, but light laughter falls from your lips, and it only causes the crease between Shank's eyebrows to deepen. A frown lingered on his face.

"Love," you say, and you instantly see the way his irises enlighten even in the darkness of the room. "It was a prank. I lost a bet with Yassop, I'm sorry." You smile sheepishly and your Captain looks dumbfounded as he stares at you blankly. But you yelp as he suddenly pulls you into his side. When you look up he is staring at you with a burning intensity.

"So you're saying I suffered all day, because of a stupid bet?"

You nervously look to your Captain and mutter a small yes. You swear you capture a glimpse of a relieved smile, but he takes you aback as soon, his lips capture yours.

"You'll pay for that princess."

He murmurs to you teasingly and you laugh before he kisses you once more, warmth igniting within you. His hands are in your hair as your lips move against his more fervently, your touch travels among his bare skin.

"Sure, dude." You mutter.

You can hear Shanks growl lowly in your ear at your response.

- Sabo -

It was a normal day at the Revolutionary Army's base and Sabo hadn't a care in the world. Or at least that's what he thought. Unbeknownst to him, however, were you and Koala planning to make the most of a rare, quiet day. And by making the most of it, you meant ruining Sabo's peace. You were sick of him hanging up on you prematurely and ignoring you when he got too engrossed in a mission.

You both wanted to get him back.

"Come on, [y/n], here he comes!" Koala all but pushes you in the direction of your boyfriend, as she holds a hand to her mouth to stop her giggles. You roll your eyes but wink in her direction, hiding your own grin as you approach. It was just a small prank, after all, nothing to worry about. As you get closer, Sabo looks up from a map he was observing and he smiles at you.

"Love! Take a look, it's for the next mission Dragon-san set us."

You smile softly at his devotion but continue on your secret task at hand; you know Koala is somewhere still watching.

"Looks cool, man. Have you gotten far with the planning yet?"

Sabo is about to reply, but he suddenly freezes when the words you say click in his mind. You stifle a grin, as you watch his eyebrows furrow together and his lips downturn. He gazes at you, but instead of the loving stare you had just seen, all you see is confusion and slight worry.

"Love, is something wrong?"

You smile softly trying not to let it turn into a grin.

"No, of course not... man."

Sabo freezes once more in disdain at the choice of your words. His keen eyes seem to travel yours looking for answers, and you can see his increasing frustration when he finds none. However, he seems to stop when he sees something behind you.

"What-,"

You hear a squeak and you know that it is a Koala, most likely spotted by your boyfriend. You see his lips quirk upwards slightly. Trying to keep up a facade you try to save it by interrupting him.

"Anyway, we should really be getting back to the-"

But your boyfriend seems to have caught onto the game you both were playing and he leans into you teasingly.

"Really, love? Why is Koala hiding behind the wall over there?"

"I don't see anyone." You say as you try to play dumb, but the grin on Sabo's face only widens. Your smile on the other hand wavers and it slowly turns to a pout as you realise he has caught on so quickly.

You turn your face away from your boyfriend defiantly but Sabo is quick to reach out and keep you facing him. You look so pretty to him, even when you're upset. Sabo lets out a low chuckle, but when you meet his eyes you are surprised to see the adoration and relief etched within.

"You know, love. If you wanted attention, you could've just asked."

He leans forward and kisses your pouting lips until he feels them upturn against his once more.

- Crocodile -

As you wait in your shared chambers after lord knows how long, your bored mind starts to wander. You come up with an idea that may not be a good idea in the face of a former warlord of the sea, but you already find yourself convinced. Crocodile had been busy the past weeks and you had barely seen him. You missed him but it also made you petty.

You find yourself hiding a grin when your stoic boyfriend makes his way into the room. He seems tired and smoke still blows from the cigar in his mouth. You stand instantly, giving him a kind smile and you momentarily see his eyes soften at the sight of you. You gently pry the jacket from his broad shoulders and hang it up on the wall.

"Evening, love."

His words are murmured lowly in your ear as he walks past. Your heart thrums faster in your chest, but you decide to go through with your little game anyway.

"Evening, pal. How was your day?"

Your words are softly spoken and soothe Crocodile's raging mind after a strenuous day. However, as soon as he picks up the change in the name you call him, irritation brims, causing his eyes to sharpen when he turns to you.

"What was that?"

Your boyfriend's voice is anything but even. It takes on a deadly edge but you know that despite his tenacious nature, he wouldn't exactly do anything to you for a small prank. Or at least that's what you thought, and so you continued.

"What was what, pal?"

You have to fight a grin at the decomposition of your boyfriend's usually sure facade. But soon, the smile on your face fades and in its place anticipation thrums through you. Your boyfriend is suddenly hovering in front of you, a hand placed surprisingly gently under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"Don't start now, love." He growls lowly into your ear, and your heart picks up pace from the sudden proximity. You feel yourself falter, but you are determined to see your little plan through.

"What are you talking about, pal?"

If it weren't for the intensity in his stare, you would've laughed at the almost comical name you called such a serious individual. However, Crocodile seems to have had a long day, and now as his beloved seems to want to play games, the day seems scarcely over; punishment is in order.

"I think it's time you remember, exactly who you're calling pal."

You let out a gasp as he hoists you over his shoulder, and you struggle only for a minute before giving in.

You should've known that messing with Crocodile would come with consequences.

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twisted-broth · 2 months ago

Text

A Human's Touch

Mr Gap x Reader

(Anything in bold is other world language)

It had been a while now since you had returned to the other world. It was hard to tell time here, but at least you knew that this was where you belonged. It was almost laughable to think that you once tried to leave this place.

You would never admit it, but you really owed a lot to the shit eating grin that always manages to pop up whenever you need him. Even now, with you life no longer in constant peril, he pops up somewhere nearby quite often. It could be from the crack of your closet, inside your bag, or a random hole in the wall that you swear wasn't there before. As annoying as Mr Gap was, he was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He would even bring you things from the human world if you asked. For a price, of course.

You sigh as your "friend" holds one of your favorite books from the human world just out of reach. He was playing his favorite game again.

"Give leg." He demanded.

"Give foot." Was your counter offer. Most of your body parts would grow back, but it takes longer for bigger parts and more complex organs. Luckily there didn't seem to be a word in their language for liver or spinal column.

His expression twists for a moment, but the smile quickly returns. "Yes." He agrees.

The pain that radiates from your ankle would have made you pass out a few months ago, but now it only elicits a stifled grunt. You snatch the book from Mr. Gap's hand as he smiles at the newfound treasure that appears in his grasp. You sigh once more and put the book to the side before pressing an already bloodied towel to your ankle.

With the bleeding successfully stopped, there was nothing else for you to do but lie in bed while you waited for it to grow back. You spared a glance towards your new book, but couldn't muster the energy to read it. The isolation of this world had been wearing on you. You had been spending time with Mr Silvair and Mr Chopped lately, but there was another recent earthquake that blocked off your path to them. You had yet to find the time to search for a new one.

With an arm draped over your eyes, you fell back against your threadbare pillow. The covers rustled around you, giving away the presence of another with you.

"Why sad?" You opened one eye to look down at your covers. The face of Mr Gap blended in with the darkness above your legs. If he had a body, he would be nearly lying on top of you. The part of your brain that was still human couldn't help but think that some actual physical touch would be nice.

"I one. Sad. Friend not here." Elaborating on the concept of loneliness using a lexicon of 100 words wasn't really a task you wanted to undertake at the moment.

You had thought Mr Gap would either leave or laugh at you, but to your surprise he looked confused. "I here." He responded.

Now it was your turn to be confused. If you weren't mistaken, he seemed almost offended that you hadn't called him a friend.

"You friend?"

"Yes." If this language had some equivalent of 'duh', you imagined that would be what he would say instead.

All you can do in response is blink at him. You really never imagined that Mr Gap would hang around you because he considered you a friend. If anything, you thought he just saw you as a an endless stream of various body parts. "Thank you. I like friend."

Hesitantly, you lifted a hand to reach up and stroke his head. He looked mildly disgusted (which was often his expression anyway), but didn't react otherwise. His hair wasn't exactly pleasant to touch- it was greasy and weirdly damp in places- but at least it was something of what you had been missing. He continued to humor you, but you decided not to push your luck on how long he would allow you to continue touching him.

"Why touch?" He asked when you were done.

"Human like touch. Make sad go away." It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you figured it would get the point across.

Hesitantly, one of his arms reaches out from beneath your covers. Your current working theory was that his arms just appeared whenever he needed them, but you haven't gotten around to asking him yet. Your positioning is a bit awkward, so he can't reach your head to return your pats. Instead, he pats you on the shoulder for a few seconds. His hands are cold and clammy, but those few seconds of touch are something you've been missing for a while.

You smile. Mr Gap could be annoying at best and cruel at worst, but it would seem that he does have a sweet side to him after all. You distantly wonder if some semblance of a normal relationship would be possible here. Unlikely, but it may not be as out of reach as you once thought.

"Thank you. You good friend." You said after a beat of silence. For a moment it appears like he isn't quite sure how to feel about your declaration. You don't imagine it's something people tell him often. After a second of thought, he returns your smile.

"Me good friend. You give heart?"

Well, you can work on that.

#x reader #homicipher x reader #homicipher #mr gap #mr gap x reader #homicipher mr gap #mr gap x you #Homicipher one shot #mr scarletta #mr crawling #mr hood

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haikyu-mp4 · 4 months ago

Text

You're not actors

Fluffy workplace romance as a streamer with your secret husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @dira333. word count; 837 – f!reader

Kenma loves his wedding ring. It’s just a piece of metal, but the matching one on your finger makes him giddy whenever he sees it, even if he doesn’t usually tell you that.

Unfortunately, he has to take it off for work. Your relationship wasn’t public, so he would rather not awaken any suspicions by showing his ring on camera. He’s a private person, preferring not to have everyone asking questions about his personal life.

You have separate streaming rooms on either end of the house so no noise would overlap, and so far everything ran smoothly. Sometimes, you would have to remind him about the ring as he kisses you before heading to his streaming room, and sometimes he remembers it himself.

And sometimes you both forget.

This time, Kenma started the stream with his ring sitting snug on his finger and as time passed, he simply couldn’t move past this one level. It frustrated him to the point of running his hands through his hair and groaning at the seemingly impossible task. As the light from the screen hit metal, it glinted in the camera.

That’s how the speculations started. Is Kodzuken married? He never answers questions about his relationship status…

You’re a streamer too, often seen doing collabs with Kenma but never in person. You worried either of you might forget to act not in love while the viewers are literally observing your every move.

This time, you streamed alone. You recently started a Stardew Valley series where the viewers got to follow the progress with your fun commentary. It was very entertaining and gained you many more followers.

And Kenma knew you were streaming, so it was difficult to hide your surprise when a shattering sound ran through the house and someone hissed “Shit!”

Pausing the stream, you ran into the living room to find your husband surrounded by broken glass and spilt soda with a sheepish look. After sweeping some of it away and making sure he was okay, you hurried back to the stream and started it again to keep playing.

You pursed your lips, trying to act as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, you’re a YouTuber, not an actor.

That’s how the speculations started. Who does she live with? Is she in a secret relationship?

Following these two unfortunate events, you had no choice but to do the collab you had planned, as skipping it would seem suspicious. So just like normal, you both opened the shooter game and acted like you usually would while playing together, as if the comments weren’t bombarding you with these different rumours and some suggested your rumours were related to each other.

While you swore like a sailor at anything disadvantageous during the game, Kenma fell into the bad habit of watching your stream instead of his game, heart eyes evident to anyone who had eyes themselves. He would eventually sober up, getting revenge on anyone who went against you and then killing you so he could win alone.

His soft voice in your headphones made a shiver run down your spine and you wished the watchers were lying when they said Kodzuken is the only one you don’t curse at.

There were several heart eyes during this stream, and it was not just in the comments.

You both stood in the kitchen a couple of days (read nights) later. Kenma had accidentally woken you up by stubbing his toe on the bed and you demanded snacks so he pulled you along to the kitchen. The two of you talked about your latest work adventures or friend gossip while tapping your feet on the cold floors, a plate of apple pie in each of your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kenma said, holding his hand up when he knew you were about to say something like I’m happy you told me or else I’d miss it. “Maybe we should just tell everyone.”

When you looked confused, he flipped his hand around, wiggling his fingers to show off the wedding ring as emphasis. Your eyes widened. “That’s a pretty big thought, buddy, good job.”

He snorted, scooping up another piece of cake and feeding it to you. “I’m serious.”

“But I kinda like watching you try to keep it a secret,” you teased again before stepping closer and pressing light kisses along his jaw. Kenma sighed, pusring his lips and looking away with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I might have just said I have a wife on livestream.”

Flashback to a couple of hours before, when some, probably thirteen-year-old, boy commented on Kenma’s apparent lack of rizz. A gen-Z concept Kenma had no interest in taking part in, but felt weirdly offended by.

“Bet you dont even pull, all the marridge rumors are so stupd.”

He would never admit out loud that it hit a nerve, but you wouldn’t need him to. It was evident. “You should see my wife, noob. She’s fucking gorgeous and plays better than whatever you pull.”

masterlist

/thank you @cottonlemonade for brainstorming with me<3

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4ngels0uls · 6 months ago

Text

god forbit i should live right? - C.B

don’t like? don’t read.

summary: carrington and y/n fuck hate each other so much that they would end up slitting each other’s throats, till carrington gets fed up and fucks the rudeness out of her.

paring: fem!reader + rude!carrington

warnings: SMUT, random tension, enemy’s to fuck buddies, unprotected sex, oral (fem!receiving), little pet names ( slut?, pretty girl ), strong language, kinda porn without a plot, etc.

a/n: i’m going to go rot in a hole🤗 also guess who found out carringtons last name😣

————————————————————

y/ns pov

“carrington you asshole!” you scream from across the house. you yelled this because he took your charger, your only good charger. your yelling because he had broken your other charger, and also he took your fan. you and carrington fucking hate each other, and jake and johnnie are fed up with it. “what the fuck are you yelling about now y/n?!?” jake also yells.

“carrington! not you!” you yell back. you and carrington used to be best friends when you both just had moved in, but now…. you want to fucking slit each other’s throats. “what the fuck do you want now y/n!?” carrington yells. you guys only hate each other so much is because he begin to become a total bitch to you after he hooked up with this one girl, till he got his heart broken. after that he started to become a bit more nicer than usual

“did you take my charger and fan?!” you yell at carrington. “yeah!?” he yells and you scoff. you go down the stairs to his room and go in there. “stop taking my shit bro.” you scold him as you grab your fan and charger. “i only borrowed it for a bit, jeez.” he mumbles. “bro you took it for a full day, i was literally at a meeting!” you scold once again. “yeah ok whatever.” he mumbles as you walk out of his room. ‘fucking asshole.” is all you can really think.

————————————————————

you sit in johnnie’s room with him has you watch him stream. carrington walks into the room. “John joh-. oh.” he says as he sees you. you look back at him and realize it’s him, then you look back to johnnie screen. “yeah ?” johnnie says as he doesn’t look over from his screen. “whatchu doing?” carrington asks, completely ignoring you. “i’m playing a game.” johnnie says quietly.

“oh okayy.” carrington says. “i’m about to go out for a bit then stream when i get back.” carrington continues. “where ya going?” johnnie asks. “just to a restaurant with a few friends.” carrington answers. jesus carrington sounds so much more relaxed when he’s talking to johnnie.. it’s actually not as annoying. you stare at carrington as he’s not wearing a shirt, because of how hot it is.

you suck your teeth and finally look away as carrington goes to look at you. he smirks and leaves the room. “alright johnnie i’m goin to go now.” you say as you stand up. “okay, see you.” he says softly. you walk out of johnnie’s room and start to walk to yours, till carrington spins you around. “i saw you staring at me.” he says quietly. “god forbit i should live, right?” you tell him. “i saw the way you stared at me y/n. you can’t play it off.” he says. you begin to feel your cheeks flush.

“and that’s exactly why your blushing y/n.” he says softly. you stare into his blue, piercing eyes, as he stares into your shit brown eyes. he lifts your chin and you swallow. he takes a fast glance at your lips then to your eyes. he smash his lips into yours like nothing. his tongue completely explores your mouth. he lifts you up and take you to your room as he shuts and lock your door and places you on your bed.

he continues to kiss you crazy. he pulls away to breath as he locks eyes with you. someone knocks on your door. “hey y/n?” jake yells from the other side of the door. “y-yeah?!” you yell back. “have you seen carrington. “no and i don’t care.” you say while lying. “oh okay.” jake says as he walks away. “no i don’t care.” carrington mimics you. “shut up!” you laugh as he chuckles. he kisses you again, he begins to kiss down your neck and jawline.

he goes back down to your neck and leaves a dark, purple hickey. “you like being rude huh?” he says in a whisper. you let a slight pathetic moan out. “pathetic.” is all he says and slides your pants down. “carrington.” you moan slightly. he groans at your noises. “slutty.” carrington says as he starts at the red lacy thong you have on. he hooks his middle and pointer finger in the strap of your thong.

he pulls the thong down to your ankles before tugging them off. he makes you put your knees up and you do what he wants. he places his face between your thighs. he places sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. you whine at his teasing and he chuckles. you buck your hips and he moves his mouth to your clit. you gasp at the waves of pleasure though out your body. “f-fuck carrington.” you groan as he fastens his pace with his tongue.

“fuck you taste good.” he mumbles against your pussy. he moves his mouth down and sticks his tongue in your hole. “fuck carrington!” you moan. you wrap your fingers around his brown locks. you close your thighs around his head and he holds the back of both of your thighs. you begin to grind your hips into his face, chasing your release. “fuckkkk!” you moan quite loudly as you feel the knot snap inside of your stomach making you cum all on carringtons face.

he licks your pussy clean, in which making you squirm like crazy. he stops and chuckles. he leans up and kisses you, making you taste your own release. he pulls away and smiles at you while you smile back. “fuck your hot.” he smiles. “other way around” you mumble and he smiles. he takes his pants off, along with his boxers. he lines himself up with your pussy and slams into you like nothing. you gasp when he just slams into you.

he chuckles as he begins to thrust his hips in the same place over and over. he finds your g spot and you moan loudly. he smiles “found it.” he mumbles before hitting the same spot again and again. “oh fuck me!” you moan loudly. “trust me, i am.” he says, while being cocky. you moan repeatedly as he slams into you. “such a pretty girl hm?” he says as the only thing you can think about is him fucking you like crazy.

you dig your nails into his back and he grunts from the stinging your causing. “fuck y/n..” he groans as he fucks you. “oh fuckkkk! i’m close!” you moan. “oh are you now?” he says. “y-yes!” you surprisingly say. “hold it.” he says with dominance. “what?” you grunt. “i said fucking hold it.” he grunts as his pace quickens. you try to hold release as much as you can. “please carrington!” you moan.

“please what?” he teases. “l-let me cum!” you scream. jake and johnnie have definitely heard you now. “shh pretty girl.” carrington says as he covers your mouth with his hand. “go ahead now, i’m right behind you.” he mumbles, trying to keep his act together. you scream into carringtons hand as you release your cum onto his dick, soaking his dick from your release. “fuck me carrington!” you scream into carringtons hand. “fuckkk!” he groans as he releases inside of you.

he collapses beside you. “fuck you feel good.” he chuckles as he talks. you get up on carringtons lap. “one more?” you ask. he smirks and nods. you line him up against your core and sink down on him. you gasp. “fuck.” you says, breathlessly. you put your hands on the headboard of the bed for support.

you continue to ride carrington as he holds onto your hips and groans, and moans under you. “mmm fuck carrington.” you moan softly. your pace is slow but fast. carrington grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. you gasp as he thrusts up into you, your tits bouncing with you as he pumps up into you. “fuck carrington!” you moan. “you feel so good y/n.” he groans. “so fucking tight around me.” he groans again.

“such a perfect body, hm?” he mumbles. at this point.. his words are turning you on even more. “oh fuck dadd- carrington!” you accidentally spit out ‘daddy’. he smirks and fastens his pace. you gasp. “fuck!fuck!fuck!” you scream. “you close?” carrington groans. “yes!” you yell. “fuck fuck! yesyesyesyes!” you say repeatedly. “in cumming!” you scream.

you cum all on carrington and the bed. carrington throws his head back and cums inside of you once again. you slowly pull off of him. you whimper before flopping right on the bed. “shit! i have to go!” carrington rushes up. “bye. i have to go i’ll see you soon.” he says carefully.

he rushes up and puts all his clothes on before rushing out the door and house. you sit there speechless. “fucking asshole.” you mumble before getting up and putting your clothes on. you walk into your bathroom and fix up your hair before going downstairs.

you walk into the kitchen and grab a drink before johnnie appears randomly. “how was your fuck with carrington?” he asks calmly before grabbing something out of the cabinet. “it was goo- stfu.” you say before johnnie chuckles. “good dick huh? i know from experience.” johnnie says jokingly before walking off. “what the fuck..” you whisper under your breath.

holy fuck. god forbit i should live right?.

————————————————————

A/N

HAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

anyways sorry for the post from when i was high😓

i was being a bit freaky.

#johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert #jake webber #carringtonsmut #carrington x reader #carrington

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nadvs · 10 months ago

Text

watch and learn (part four)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe is relieved that you don’t linger in the morning. He’s not one for pillow talk.

All you did was sleep next to each other, but waking up next to a girl to talk and cuddle is just too much for him. It borders on boyfriend shit, and he doesn’t do boyfriend shit.

He woke up with you pressed tightly against him, legs tangled, his nose buried in your hair. And maybe he did like it for a second, but that was just from the daze of part-consciousness.

Rafe lends you a pair of sweatpants on top of the boxers and t-shirt you’ve already wearing so you can deal with your door’s lock issue.

You leave his room without many words exchanged, thankfully able to sort the problem out soon after putting an emergency request in with maintenance.

Rafe spends most of his Sunday at the frat house, playing video games with his buddies. When Blake settles onto the couch, he pats Rafe’s shoulder. Rafe is focusing on the screen, but he glances at his friend for a second.

“I dm’d her,” he says with a grin. Rafe immediately clues in that he’s talking about you.

“I put in a good word for you,” Rafe replies, glad he has the game to pay attention to. He feels awkward talking about this. About you.

“Appreciate it, man,” he laughs.

“You thinking of, uh, dating her or…?” Rafe asks, tense but desperate to know if he might lose the best fuck buddy he’s ever had.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Blake says. Rafe sees him typing from his peripheral vision, surely working on a message to you.

Rafe gave you the heads up, so when you’re sitting in your room reading an article for school, you’re not surprised when Blake follows and messages you on Instagram. You follow back and respond, open to getting to know him.

After dinner that night, Rafe texts you: cowgirl time?

You laugh. It’s a stark difference from the g-rated messages you’ve been getting from Blake all day.

You reply: i’ll be over soon

You’re holding Rafe’s folded clothes when you knock. He opens his door and takes them from you as you walk into his room.

“They fixed my lock,” you say. “One question for you, though.”

Rafe shuts the door and drops the clothes onto his desk, then picks up the wrapped condom he has ready and tosses it on the bed.

“What?” he asks as you sit on his mattress.

“How come you were cuddling me this morning if you hate it so much?” you say.

Rafe feels the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment.

“I wasn’t,” he says. It’s funny seeing him shy for once. It’s even a little cute.

He was embracing you pretty sweetly this morning. You woke up with his warm, heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders, his head nuzzled into the nape of your neck, his snores sporadic and low.

You know it was just a sleep-induced reflex in his tiny bed, but you can’t pass up a chance to mess with him.

“It’s okay to like it,” you joke. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Rafe can’t have this conversation. He leans over, his hands on your cheeks as he kisses you. He’s not wasting any more time.

You let him push you onto your back, lying in the middle of his bed, your head resting on his pillow. Rafe hovers over you and grinds against you, his hard bulge pushing against your middle.

You’re already throbbing for him as his lips roam over your neck. You angle yourself so that he can have full access to you, and he accepts the invitation immediately, his hot mouth on your throat.

He’s slow and tender. This is a far cry from the man who immediately went to groping you just a few nights ago.

Your hands find his hair, raking through his soft locks as he kisses and sucks at your neck. He lets out a soft, nearly silent moan as gently graze his scalp. The sensation gives him goosebumps.

“That feel nice?” you whisper with a smile. Rafe can only nod. He didn’t even have to tell you to do it. He didn’t even know he liked it until you did it.

You continue to play with his hair while he kisses your neck. Rafe feels you writhing beneath him, as if your body is begging for his.

You take turns taking off each other’s clothes with earnest movements, your pulse growing even faster once his boxers are off, his cock raised and swollen. He lingers over you, eyes sweeping over your face, before he puts his mouth on your neck again.

He kisses and sucks, making you gently buck your hips against him.

“You gonna ride me, baby?” Rafe asks against your skin. Your yes comes out with a raw exhale.

His hand cups your waist, pushing to encourage you to roll to your side and switch positions. He settles on his back as you straddle him, feeling the underside of his firm length pressing against your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” Rafe says. You look down at him with a hungry look in your eyes and nod. It’s exhilarating to see you hanging on his words; outside of sex, you gibe and pester each other, but here, right now, you’re in perfect harmony.

You pick up the shiny condom wrapper he left on the bed and he smirks in satisfaction.

“Put it on me,” he instructs. “It shows how bad you want it.”

You open the wrapper and settle on your knees to set the condom on his tip, rolling the lubed latex down his thick cock.

The sight of you holding him with one hand and rolling the condom down with the other makes Rafe’s brain foggy.

You thought you’d feel graceless turning to mount him in reverse cowgirl, but it feels natural and familiar now that you’re getting more comfortable with him, remembering this is all to help each other improve. You sink down onto him, body tensing at the feeling of him stretching you out.

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut, remembering how he encouraged you talk through it last night in the car.

“You’re so big,” you praise, voice breathy.

“Yeah?” he groans behind you. “You take my dick so fucking good.”

Your silky walls hug him perfectly, your body starting to rock. He watches your pussy swallow his girth, wishing you would go faster, but letting you take your time and adjust.

Rafe always went fast before, right to what he wanted most, but you’re teaching him that there’s pleasure in the lead-up, too. Coming up with the proposal to do this with you was the best idea he’s ever had.

You arch your back, trembling as you start to quicken your pace, sliding up and down his slick cock and gasping at the pleasure of him hitting so deep inside of you.

Rafe’s breaths are ragged as he watches your ass bounce with every slam. His hands are on your hips, but his touch is feather-light, letting you do it all.

Between your thrusts, you pause when he’s bottomed out to writhe and roll on him, enjoying every angle as he massages inside of you.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans as you squeeze around him.

“Should I…” you begin. You look over your shoulder to see the dazzling sight of his quirked up lips, lids heavy, bare chest glistening with sweat. You remind yourself to stop being so nervous. “I’m gonna touch myself.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Good girl.” He desperately wants to watch, but he’s here to get better in bed, and putting your pleasure first sometimes is clearly something he needs to work on.

Rafe hears you moan, knowing you’re rubbing yourself. He looks up at the ceiling to keep himself from cumming from hearing your groans mixed with the sound of your wetness.

“Shit, I…” you say, your thighs starting to weaken. “Okay, you can help a little.”

He immediately bucks his hips against you, positioning himself so he can fuck you while underneath you. The pressure from him jolting up against you is like a drug.

“How am I doing?” he rasps. Your moans are telling him everything he needs to know.

“You’re… fuck…” you breathe, your body shaking with every thrust. “Perfect.”

The pleasure from your words quells him. He feels you clenching around him and he knows with certainty now when you’re about to reach your peak.

His hands are on the small of your back, fingers splayed over your skin, as you ride him into a mind-blowing orgasm. Every inch of your skin tingles as you cum, looking down at your hands on his sheets.

You eventually lift off of him, breathless, turning to look at him. Rafe loves that expression on your face, pure elation and fatigue.

“However you want me,” you tell him tiredly, eager to give him the same feeling you gave him.

“On your knees,” Rafe says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. You twist into position for him, cheek pressed against his bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Rafe’s hand is on his cock as he guides himself into you, revelling over how pretty your cunt looks, so swollen and wet.

His hands are tight against your hips as he slams into you, making your body rock. He looks down to your face, taking in your profile as you accept all of him, your lips parted.

“However I want?” he mutters, panting as he pushes in and out of you. “That’s how much you love this dick, yeah?”

“However you want,” you echo, your voice raspy from tiredness. “Whatever will make you cum inside me.”

He slaps your ass, the lust taking over him, and immediately worries it was too much.

The low moan you let out tells him it was a good move. He smirks to himself, thrashing harder, balls slapping against you, bed squeaking beneath you.

You feel him harden and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he cums, letting out a tangled string of fuck’s.

He pulls out and you drop to your side, laughing out of bliss. You knew sex was good, but never that it was this good.

As Rafe cleans up, you sit up to find your clothes, utterly fucked out. While you’re sliding your top on, he sits on the edge of his bed close to you, boxers back on and blue eyes travelling over your face.

“So, how… was your day?” he stiffly asks.

You laugh. Hard. He’s so awkward about it, but he’s trying. It’s endearing.

“Aftercare,” you say. “Look at you go.”

Your laugh is contagious, making him chuckle, too.

“It was good. My readings are kind of killing me, but good. How was your day?”

You stand to put your pants on as Rafe watches you, his dirty blond hair tousled.

“Just played video games with the guys,” he replies.

“You know we’re here for school, right, frat boy?” you tease.

“What’s that?” Rafe plays along. You chuckle and nudge his shoulder.

“I need a shower,” you say. “Promise I won’t show up in a towel this time. Well done.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. You smile and roll your eyes at him before leaving his room.

Between gruellingly long classes and hanging out with friends in his free time, the week seems to get away from Rafe. Before he knows it, it’s Thursday night and he’s hanging out with his brothers at the frat house.

Someone mentions ordering food, and as a show of camaraderie, Rafe picks up the tab. As he sits at the dining table amongst large group of guys, Sam gets to talking.

“Rafe, you think we could go with your car tomorrow, too?” Sam asks. “You could fit four of us, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Rafe figures that all the new pledges are going to get stuck with the jobs nobody else wants, like driving to certain outings. It’s only an hour drive, though, so he won’t complain.

The frat has plans to go south to Sam’s family’s lakehouse for the weekend. He’s only been part of the frat for almost half a month now, but Rafe is thoroughly enjoying having such a full social calendar.

“It was supposed to be just us brothers…” He shoots a look at Blake.

“What? You said it was cool,” Blake laughs.

“Who else is coming?” Rafe asks.

“Blake invited your hot neighbor,” Sam says. Rafe almost wants to say that you have a name, the reflex to defend you surprising him.

“She said yes?” Rafe asks, his tone hastily snide.

“She’s bringing friends, too,” Blake says, not catching onto Rafe’s irritation. “It’ll be more fun having girls around. Trust me.”

“Can I invite some girls, too?” another frat brother asks.

Rafe glances down at his paper plate, his jaw tight. If you start something real with Blake, this is over. He regrets not seeing you since Sunday. He should have taken advantage of the potentially limited time with you.

When he heads back to his dorm room later that night, Rafe texts you: soo ur coming this weekend?

You respond: what kind of coming?

You’re at Liv’s, talking about what to pack for the upcoming getaway. You’re only staying for a night and half a day, but you don’t want to risk forgetting anything.

“This one? Or this one?” Liv asks, holding up two bikinis.

“The red one,” you answer. Blake only mentioned that there’s a hot tub at the lakehouse about ten times.

You didn’t think you’d say yes when he first asked about this weekend, but when Liv and three other friends said they’d be up for it, you figured a getaway would be fun. Even if it involved a group of rowdy frat boys.

Blake mentioned it was supposed to be a bonding trip, whatever that means, but said that he wants you to come. You’re still not sure how you feel about him, but you’re willing to pursue it.

Your phone buzzes.

Rafe: lol shut up

You smile at the message.

“What’d he say?” Liv asks, a smile on her face. She knows you’ve been casually texting Blake back and forth.

“It’s Rafe this time,” you tell her. “Probably a booty call.”

You reply to him: yeah I’m coming. does that make me a frat bro too

Rafe: u wish

You: i do :( i really do wish

You see the bubbles on your screen telling you that he’s typing.

Rafe: come over?

You just got to Liv’s and don’t want to bail on her for a guy. So you reply to Rafe: can’t tonight.

Rafe’s stomach drops at the notification. Maybe you’re done. Maybe all he got was three nights with you, before another guy swept in to take away the best no-strings-attached sex he could ask for.

He feels better when you reply: but i’ll see you tomorrow :). Good. At least you’re not tied down to anybody yet.

When you pull into the driveway of the lakehouse the next evening, you realize the word house doesn’t cut it. Maybe manor would be a better fit. Or palace. The place is gigantic.

You and your friends pile out of the car and enter the storm of loud men enjoying uncurbed fun and excessive beer. Sigma Chi brothers are scattered around the first story of the house, but the majority of them are surrounding the kitchen island, bottles and solo cups littering the granite counter-top.

Rafe has to look away when Blake greets you with a hug. He hasn’t mentioned to anybody that you’re technically still hooking up, but now, being in the same room with both of you, he feels a competitive urge catch fire in his gut.

He thought he liked Blake. He doesn’t right now.

Thankfully, your friend groups seem to naturally merge together. The endless amount of liquor probably helps.

During a rambunctious game of flip cup that you decide to sit out, in the haze of your tipsiness, you’re not sure if Rafe finds you or you find him or you find each other at the same time, but you’re soon standing by the fridge together, tension thick between you as you watch the drinking game unfold.

Rafe can’t help himself. He has to ask.

“What were you so busy with last night?”

“I was with my friend,” you say. “What were you so eager to practice?”

Rafe cracks a smile, ducking his head so you and only you can hear his low, smooth voice.

“I wanna see how fast I can make you cum.” Arousal coils in your stomach instantly. “I bet I could do it in a minute now.”

He pulls back, his smile coy.

“We’ve had sex like two times-”

“Three.”

“Three,” you laugh. “And you’re that sure of your skills?”

Rafe simply nods, taking a slow drag of his drink.

“I don’t know where you get that confidence from,” you say, looking at him with feigned disapproval.

“You called me perfect,” he says.

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

The group playing flip cup erupts in a loud applause. You can tell which group lost the game immediately by looking at Blake, who’s laughing and excitedly shaking his friend by the shoulders.

You watch him, realizing okay, you definitely have a crush. He’s cute and charismatic and if the messages you’ve exchanged this week are any indication of his character, he’s kind, too.

Rafe is looking at you the entire time, at the smile on your face.

“And you like this?” you tease, looking back at Rafe and gesturing to the group of boisterous frat boys.

“You mean fun?” Rafe replies. You laugh. You can admit you’re having fun, too. But this is what you and Rafe do. You mess with each other.

“I couldn’t be around this 24/7,” you say.

“I’m gonna be when I move in to the house next semester.” Rafe realizes he’s waiting on your reaction with bated breath, to see how you feel about not sharing a wall anymore.

But he’s interrupted by Blake, who approaches you with a drunken smile.

“Why didn’t you play?” he asks softly, tapping your shoulder.

“For my own safety,” you reply. “You guys are insane.”

“She’s so rude,” Blake says to Rafe, who can only nod and take another sip of his drink to swallow down the confusing lump of anger he feels growing in his chest.

“You mentioned a hot tub?” you say to Blake, the promise of a warm soak sounding amazing. Rafe wonders what else Blake mentioned to you.

Blake’s smile widens and when he offers his hand, you take it and let him lead you out of the kitchen. Rafe’s fist tightens around his cup.

Liv and two other frat boys join you and Blake in the hot tub. You have fun talking and joking with them as your beer wears off. You notice Blake moving closer to you as the night goes on.

Things slow down close to 2 a.m. People start to retire to the guest rooms. Some don’t even make it and pass out on the couch.

Rafe is still awake when you come through the back porch doors in your bikini, your hardly covered body wet. The sight makes his groin tighten.

He’s standing in the dining room snacking on pretzels and you meet his gaze. He has something about him that strikes you every time you see him. He’s just so handsome.

He seems entirely aware and alert.

“You’re sober, too?” you say with a surprised laugh, pacing to the other side of the dining table.

“I am,” he replies. You lean over to take a pretzel, giving him a good glance at your cleavage.

Truthfully, Rafe cut himself off when he started feeling buzzed. He stayed awake and sober for you.

The moment he watched Blake lead you away, he knew he had to have you at least one more time before you’re spoken for. Nobody’s going to take you away from him any longer, at least not tonight.

So before Sam went to bed, he convinced him to give him the keys to his family’s boat that’s sitting in the water down by the lakeside dock.

“You ever fucked on a boat?” Rafe asks, his eyes glinting, his dimples deep. He holds up a key.

You put a hand on your hip, excitement flooding your every sense.

“First a car, now a boat?” you say, a smirk growing on your face. Is he seriously about to take you out this late at night? He’s insatiable. And adventurous. It’s thrilling.

“Come on,” Rafe rasps with a bit of a whine to his voice, stepping closer to you, towering over you as his hand drags over your arm.

You couldn’t say no if you tried.

(part five)

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe fanfic #rafe x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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good-griief · 5 months ago

Text

losing game pt. 3

as promised here's your happy ending (yall would be enraged if i told u how this was originally going to go😸)

part one part two

read me click me

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But when you woke up the next morning, she was gone. You had her hoodie and a pair of underwear on, but everything else — her clothes, the warmth of her body beneath you, even her scent on your pillow — was gone.

And her set of keys were left on your nightstand.

──────────✿───────────

Ellie woke up in your arms, you lying on her back and her draped over you as you slept soundly. The night before replayed in her head, images of you and your body flooding her mind; from you hugging her as you cried, to hugging her as you moaned, doing the most intimate thing you’d ever done. From kissing up your arm to you kissing up her thighs — feeling you against her, it all came flooding back along with the sound of her music still playing from your dying laptop. Songs she wrote about you, that she hadn’t even registered you were having sex to, songs that held feelings so private that she couldn’t believe she’d shared with the world when the memories of why she wrote them invaded her mind.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying when all the feelings of the past year came back to her, running her hands over her face and wiping her eyes to force them away. She wanted, more than anything, for you to be the one to comfort her at that moment, but she didn’t want to wake you. You’d cried so much the night before, and she didn’t want to make you watch her cry. You’d feel awful. She couldn’t do that to you.

She quietly got up, going into your drawer and pulling on one of your sweaters and a pair of underwear. She looked back at you, clinging to the blanket now that her warmth had left you, and grabbed her sweater from the edge of the bed. She grabbed another pair of underwear and went over to you, carefully pulling on the underwear and sweater before pulling your blanket over you.

She left to the living room, only intending to sit and calm herself down so you weren’t burdened with her feelings, but she got a call. She quickly wiped her eyes and sniffed as she picked it up, seeing her bassist’s name.

“Hey, Dina,” she said, voice thick with tears and groggy from just waking up.

“Where are you? We have to leave,” she said, sounding frantic. Ellie pulled the phone away from her ear, frowning at the time. It was barely six in the morning, where the hell would they be going? “Don’t tell me you forgot about our fucking tour,” Dina said and Ellie brought the phone back to her ear. “What the fuck, Ellie?”

“That doesn’t start until the eighteenth,” she said.

“Yeah, but we have to get on a plane on the fifteenth. Today. Right now.” Dina sighed. “Where are you? Everyone’s waiting.”

“I…” She looked back at the door to your room. “I at least have to wait until she wakes up. I have to—“

“You’re kidding.” Dina shook her head, she could hear Jesse asking what happened in the background, Dina whispering your name and making him sigh. “The plane boards in forty-five. I have your suitcase… Why don’t you wake her up? You can have, like, fifteen minutes with her — Ellie…” Dina sighed when she heard her sniff. “I’ll come get you. You can call her before we board.”

“I just don’t want to wake her up—“

“I know.”

“She was upset last night, I want to let her rest—“

“I know… It’ll be fine, El. It’s shit timing, I know, but we have to go.” She sighed, nodding. “Do what you need to do. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

Ellie went back to your room, taking a moment to sit on the bed. She wished she hadn’t left. At least, she would’ve gotten to sit with you for longer — and she felt a pit in her stomach when she remembered — She knew how this would make her look, and she wished she’d just said it back when she had the chance. She wished she’d said it when she first got there, or before she took off your shirt. She should’ve said that instead of saying she was in love with you. Like she wasn’t still.

She wanted to wake you up and tell you now, but she couldn’t bring herself to. If you saw her like this, a complete wreck, you’d just try to comfort her. She wouldn’t be able to leave if that happened.

And as she got on her jeans, her keys jingling, she looked down at them. She slipped your apartment keys off of the keychain, set it on your nightstand, and placed a very soft kiss on the top of your head. She didn’t think she deserved to keep them. Not when she knew how upset you’d be when you woke up — how you’d think of her. Hell, if any paparazzi caught her at your apartment, coming in, or leaving, you’d probably think she was taking one last jab at humiliating you.

And it made her feel worse because she knew, after how upset you were, you wouldn’t even blame her. You’d think she hated you, and you wouldn’t even be mad at her. The thought had her sitting in Dina’s passenger seat, crying over everything all over again. After just getting you back, after missing you so much, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to make up for this.

“Ellie, I can’t watch you like this,” Dina said. “Just call her.”

“She might call me when she wakes up.”

“Call her, so she doesn’t think you left her in the middle of the night like she was some kind of one-night stand,” Dina told her, her tone firm. Ellie sniffed, nodding and dialing your number. It rang and rang, but eventually, it went to your voicemail. “Tell her,” she mouthed, but she just hung up. “Ellie—“

“She’s going to think I hate her, Dina.” She shook her head, looking at your contact picture and clicking the message icon. She typed, then deleted, then typed again. What was she supposed to tell you? You wouldn’t believe her if she said she forgot she had to leave in the morning because she was with you. Who would believe that? “Fuck…” She muttered, a tabloid notification popping up. The news was already spreading that she went over to your apartment.

“I don’t understand why you can’t talk to her. There’s no need to be this upset.” Ellie just shook her head, typing and deleting over and over. Dina glanced at her phone. “At least tell her you care about her. We both know what she’ll think when she sees the photos.” That just made her cry more. Dina nearly pulled over. Nearly offered to take her back, but they had things to do as soon as they landed. “Text her, Ellie. Please. This is hard to watch.”

“Her manager will delete the message.” She sighed, still sending you a text. It was only three words, but it was enough.

It was enough to make you pause when you finally checked your phone. You thought, just maybe, she went out to get breakfast for the two of you, or get you coffee like she would before, but the text let you know she wasn’t coming back. You pursed your lips, typing and deleting until you settled on a joke.

Ellie huffed a laugh, typing a long message. She wanted to explain away the photos, tell you she didn’t mean for any of that to happen, but she wasn’t careful because she just wanted to see you. She wanted to tell you she’d get on a plane another day if you asked her to, skip all the promotions just to be with you, but she knew you would never ask her to do that. Even if you wanted to — even if Dina would turn the car around for her. She retyped it over and over, reluctantly trimming it down.

You waited for her to reply, staring at the bubbles until they disappeared and sighing, tossing your phone aside. The night before had been so perfect, but she couldn’t even wake you up to tell you she had to leave. Knowing Ellie, she probably didn’t want to upset you, but you wished she had. You wished you’d been upset because she was leaving and not because she left.

Waking up without her, to an empty apartment, her keys left behind, it made you feel sick. You wanted to call, but you felt foolish dialing her number — you felt like an idiot for doing it the night before. You wanted to text, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself, and looking at her text from that night made you even more embarrassed. You just wanted to know why, and now that you did, you couldn’t say you felt any better.

She called you hours later, once she landed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. Your stomach dropped as you saw her contact pop up, just like it did when you saw the photos, and when your manager called you about them. Your hands started to sweat as you grabbed your phone, letting out a breath as the call ended. You texted her.

You knew she wouldn’t reply, and you knew it was because she didn’t know how to talk to you now. That hurt the most — that she didn’t wake you, because she didn’t know how to tell you — because she thought you’d be upset with her, even though you lived such similar lives. It was like you didn’t even know each other anymore. You were on speaking terms, but you couldn’t even speak.

Over the next weeks, you and Ellie started to text like you were still friends, sending each other things, and asking about each other’s days. You got rid of your manager and unblocked each of your old band members, texting them apologies that they each replied lovingly to. Despite how stupid you felt.

Ellie called when the news broke.

“Are you okay?” She asked. You answered the second time she called, feeling bad for ignoring the first when you heard the worry in her voice. “I saw the headlines.”

“I, uh…” You were always close with your manager, she knew that; it was why he was so adamant about looking out for you — why he pushed her away. He was the reason you could hardly speak to Ellie now. “I wish you were here,” you muttered. “I, just, I’m just getting back into my music, and now I don’t know what to do… I guess I could release independently…”

“You should,” she said, sounding happy just to have a conversation.

“You think?” She hummed. “Maybe — Maybe I’ll try that, then.” There was a beat of silence. “You have to go, right?”

“We open in a few minutes.”

“And you still called?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” That made you smile. “Hey, we, uh, we have a break in the tour soon — on the twenty-second. I could come home. Maybe we could see each other? I’d only have, like, a few hours, but—“

“You should do something nice, then,” you said glumly.

“The only reason I’d come back is to see you.”

And she came back, coming up to your apartment without care whether or not paparazzi caught her. Just like last time, all she wanted was to see you, and neither of you cared what was outside of your door.

You cared that she was there, standing in front of you like it was still a year ago and you were still best friends. But you didn’t know what to say after saying hello.

“Fuck it,” she muttered before pulling you in. Your lack of verbal communication led to getting it out physically, sweet kisses, and “I missed you’s” being given out haphazardly as you got your clothes off once you made it to your room.

It became a tradition, almost, each time she had a break. She’d come to see you, you’d have sex, and she’d be gone in the morning when you woke up. There wasn’t a single time she waited, no matter how late her flight was. She’d go out, bring coffee back for you, and leave her keys with the coffee before she went to the airport if there was time enough for that, but she never woke you to say goodbye. She couldn’t bring herself to.

Because the last time she got to say goodbye to you, she lost you, and she wasn’t going to let that happen again. She knew not to say goodbye.

She knew better.

“Is this how it is now?” You asked her one night, lying together in your bed. “We barely talk until one of us calls to say ‘I miss you’ and you come home for…” You looked at the clock by your bed. “Six hours?”

“I don’t have to come back,” she said quietly, half wanting to comfort you because you sounded so disappointed and half hurt that you didn’t seem to care about her coming back for you.

“Then don’t,” you mumbled, reciprocating what you took as apathy.

Maybe that was why you didn’t speak; you’d just misunderstand each other.

“You don’t mean that — hey…” She made you look at her when you tried to turn your head away, block out the conversation. “I love you?” She tried, hoping that would help your mood. You hadn’t been saying it since this started, and she hoped she could remind you why it did.

But, for some reason, that only worsened your feelings.

“Don’t bother. You’re not even going to be here tomorrow to act like it.”

She scoffed, nose reddening immediately. “Okay,” she muttered. “I’ll catch a flight tonight then. That better?” She moved you off of her, standing and putting on her clothes. She always left with some clothing item of yours, but she didn’t take anything this time. All you could think in the moment was that you at least got to see her leave, but the moment continued for far too long, and you started to regret saying anything — feeling anything.

All you wanted was for her to stay.

“You don’t want to wait until I’m asleep?” You half-joked, voice drab as you snatched her sweater before she could put it on, pulling it over your head. “Or give me your sweater?” She always did. She never left you like this. She never left you feeling vulnerable, with nothing to remember her by.

“Do you even want it?” You scoffed at her and she opened her phone, checking for flights. “Whatever. Keep it. I have to go now if I want to catch this.”

And suddenly there was a pit in your stomach as you realized she really was leaving. And upset. She tugged on the shirt she had under her sweater, making sure she had everything as she sniffed. She wiped beneath her eyes and you sighed, “Ellie—“

“You want me to go, I’m going. Keep the fucking sweater.”

“I love you, too,” you said, and she stopped at the tone of your voice, looking at you. “Are you going to come back again?”

“Do you want me to?” You pursed your lips, frowning at her and wondering why she’d even ask that. Why couldn’t she understand that you were upset because you wanted her there? Why couldn’t you just tell her that?

She took your lack of an answer as a “no” and nodded.

“I don’t want you to leave right now.”

“I asked if you want me to come back.”

“But, right now—“

“Right now, I want to catch this flight.” You shut your mouth, knowing you couldn’t stop her. “So, are you going to give me my sweater? Or should I just go?”

“You can take one of mine.” She huffed, heading for the door. “Why don’t you take your keys,” you suggested quickly, throwing out anything to make her stay. “You can let yourself in next time.” But she was closing the door behind herself, and when you heard the front door close, you felt your throat tighten. “Fuck,” you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest as you looked at the empty spot next to you.

That was the most you’d talked during any of the times she came home.

You waited and waited, but the door never opened again, and you had to go to sleep when your eyes got heavy, waking up to a knock at the door and quickly getting on pants before you answered. A delivery driver handed you a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

You didn’t think you could feel worse about that night when you read the note. Ellie wasn’t one to write long notes to people, maybe long journal entries, but when it came to talking she got straight to the point. She left out the flowery messaging and the sentimental paragraphs to say how she felt without sugarcoating it;

I know this won’t make up for it, but I wish we were spending today together too. I had the whole thing planned in case it worked out.

Maybe next year? lolll

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love Els ᡣ𐭩

It was no wonder she got defensive so quickly, you thought as you called her, getting her voicemail. There wasn’t anything you could think to say that you hadn’t in your message. You knew she didn’t want to hear you apologize, so you hung up.

She didn’t come back during her next tour break. You had half a mind to call her, but you didn’t want to come across like you were clinging to her. She didn’t come the next time either.

When the fourth time rolled around, you’d gotten so used to not seeing her that you were asleep when the buzzer rang. Someone else must’ve buzzed her in, because there was a knock at your door that woke you up and made you open the door sleepily.

“Oh,” Ellie said. “I didn’t realize you were asleep.” You stepped aside to let her in. “Want me to find a hotel tonight—?”

“No,” you said immediately, walking back to your room and getting in bed. “Just change your clothes and come to bed.”

She quietly did as told, smiling at the teddy bear and flowers on your desk before she got into a sweater and shorts and got beneath the covers. You immediately went to her, arms around her waist and head on her chest, to help yourself back to sleep. “Didn’t think you were coming,” you mumbled, half asleep. “Why’re you here?”

“I missed you…” She sighed, pulling you closer as she ran her hand up and down your back. “I wanted to give you space after acting like that… I was just upset already, and…”

You waited for her to finish, but it seemed like her sentence ended there. “You could’ve told me that.”

“I didn’t know how.” The conversation ended there, Ellie obviously tired and you not knowing how to respond.

You’d been so close before; you could talk about any and everything, you know every little detail about one another, so how did it get to this? Why couldn’t she just tell you she was upset because she couldn’t spend the next day with you — maybe, she thought you’d be upset, but you would’ve been happy to know she wanted to be with you.

Ellie had actually woken you up to say goodbye this time, telling you that she was leaving and she’d miss you before you went back to bed. She knew she shouldn’t have.

She knew better.

“We’re just holding on to what we used to have,” you said over the phone when she called about coming home again, saying she had a few days between shows and could leave then.

Ellie was quiet on the other end of the line. She knew you were right, but she didn’t want to say it.

“I just… I just feel like—“

“It’s too late?” She said quietly, telling you she felt the same. “For us, I mean… I know that…”

There was a long moment of silence, both of you wanting to say so much, wishing you’d said so much more, and finding yourself at a loss as your lips pursed. You heard her let out a breath, the sound shaking before she asked, “Do you still want me to come home?”

“More than anything.” You could hear her rustling on the other end of the line. “But it’d only be to say goodbye. I know you hate saying goodbye.”

“You always want me to,” she tried. She just wanted to see you. Even if you were upset, or saying goodbye again. Even if her last memory with you during this period of your relationship would end up being bad, she wanted to see you.

“Not this time.” But, more than anything, she wanted to see you happy with her. And you hadn’t been. She thought, maybe, giving you what you wanted now would do that. “I don’t want the last memory of this time together to be bad.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” But you both knew it would end up that way. There was another beat of silence. “Do you, at least, want me to come to give you my keys?” You frowned. “I took them before I left last time…” You could hear her playing with them, fingers fidgeting to try and distract herself. “I could just bring them back. Get a hotel?”

“I wouldn’t want you to stay in a hotel — you wouldn’t stay in a hotel if you brought them back.” She knew that. “Just keep them. It’s not like we’re done being friends.”

But you weren’t even that. Friends spoke more than you did, they cried less, and they didn’t know every intimate part of each other like you did. They didn’t remember every intimate detail, every beauty mark that they could kiss, every spot that when touched made them feel like they could spend the rest of their lives together.

You weren’t friends. You never were, and you never would be.

You both knew that, but she still agreed.

Even though she sat in the airport, waiting for you to text and tell her to come anyway, to say you missed her and you were sorry. Even just to tell her you loved her.

The texts slowly came to a stop, the calls too — any ask about how the other was doing felt too insensitive to continue. This time, instead of someone coming between you, you drifted apart. And maybe that was how it should’ve been all along, but you hated it. You both did.

The first thing she wanted when her tour ended was to see you, and the first thing you expected was a call from her — for her to ask to come over and you to say she didn’t have to ask. It never came, and she never did either, but it stayed in the back of your minds until July.

You’d kickstarted your independent career with a new band just in time for summer, and you’d be seeing each other at festivals. It was nearly every day in June, and oftentimes your set was either right before or right after hers. You’d pass by each other, say a quick hello, and move on because she had to get started and it wasn’t like you would stay. You saw each other at afterparties, but neither of you made the move to go up to each other.

Even though Ellie started talking about you during shows — even though she let your passing “hello’s” be what they were in June, until July rolled around, and she slipped in small details between announcing songs — let fans go wild. Even though she all but confirmed what happened that past winter, all but confirmed she was still in love with you, and made a point to say that if she had it her way you’d be together now.

And maybe it was a way to tell you without breaking your unspoken rule of not speaking. Because you saw the headlines, and they made you smile rather than cry. That was how you knew, if the time came, you would be with her. That’s why you started mentioning her between songs, why you did confirm what happened that winter, and why you made sure everyone knew that all she had to do was ask and she’d have it her way.

But she never did.

At least, not until August.

“Shit!” You gasped when your drink spilled down the front of your shirt. Someone was turning around as you were walking around them, your drink tipping back and down your blouse as they walked right into you.

It was at an afterparty for the last festival you’d be attending for the summer, and you were just heading out to leave.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” The girl had a napkin in her hand that she used to try and get the stain out before it settled, but you were less focused on that and more on her voice. You knew it well enough to know, even in the dim light and the music bouncing off the walls of the venue the party was held in, Ellie was the one drunkenly wiping at your shirt as if the cocktail would come out.

“It’s okay,” you said, grabbing her hand to stop her from wiping at your chest. “It’s not even my shirt.” She looked up at you, recognizing your voice, then back at the shirt. She recognized it as her own, though it was cropped and distressed for your set.

“I liked that shirt,” she said, tipsy.

“I’m not the one that dumped a cocktail on it.”

“I’m not the one that changes into it during every show,” she countered. “You did good today.”

“You saw my set?”

She nodded. “I always watch the stream.” That made you smile. “And you always have that stupid shirt—“

“It’s not stupid!” You defended, pulling at the hem to look at it. “I mean, now it is — thanks to you,” you laughed, “but I loved this shirt!”

“It's just a white band tee,” she laughed out, but she couldn’t deny how good it felt, for some reason, to hear that.

“Yeah, but it’s yours.” You rolled your eyes at her when she smiled.

“I’ll get you a new one,” she said simply, sipping her drink. “That sound good?” You smiled, nodding. There was a beat of silence, her looking you up and down, wondering if you’d bring up her shows, before she asked, “How’ve you been?”

“Better,” was your answer, making her frown. “Good,” you changed it. “Just… Music feels weird without you,” you admitted. She nodded like she understood, and maybe she did. Maybe, that was why she watched every show, but couldn’t bring herself to go. “I haven’t watched any of your shows just ‘cause… I don’t know—“

“I miss you, too,” she cut you off, narrowing your statement down before you could start to ramble. Usually, you’d make a joke about her letting you finish talking, but now you just smiled. “I think time apart, after everything, has been good for us though.”

“Me too.” You nodded in agreement. “I mean, clearly — We finally remembered how to talk to each other.”

Ellie chuckled, nodding. “Yeah.” There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t for lack of knowing what to say. Ellie just had to brace herself before she asked, “Do you want to go out sometime?” She’d been waiting to ask since summer started, hoping it’d been enough time. Hoping what you hinted at during shows wasn’t just for the headlines it produced.

“Like, as friends?” You asked, tilting your head at her. She was always catering to you, but you wanted her to pluck up and say it as boldly as she did on stage.

“We’ve never been good at being friends.” You laughed, nodding. “But sure, that works too if that’s what you want.” Like always, she agreed with you, but this time she made sure to speak up, “But I was asking you on a date.” You pursed your lips to hide the smile that immediately wanted to come to your face, raising a brow at her. “And somewhere public, and busy, where everyone can see us together, and paparazzi can have a fucking field day.” You laughed at her. “Unless you want it to be private.”

“I haven’t even said yes yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated back to you, making it a point that you said it. “What’ll make you say yes?”

“Ask me when you’re not drunk,” you told her, cupping her cheek very briefly. “It was nice to see you, Els.” You looked over at your band, ready to leave. “Text me.”

You found yourself waiting for a text from Ellie as you drove home with your bandmates, smiling as you thought over the conversation. She wasn’t that drunk, so you knew she’d ask again, but you still wanted an excuse for her to text you.

She knew that, and she knew you were already saying yes, which was why she was still at the party, taking celebratory shots with Dina before she finally went home. Immediately, she took out her phone to text you.

You, as promised, got a call from Ellie an hour later.

You laughed as you answered. She started talking the moment you picked up, and you just listened: she missed you, and she’d been giving you space until the right time came up. She knew she wanted to ask the minute you saw each other again and she knew you wanted her to, and finally, “So, will you go out with me?”

And of course, “Yes.”

──────────✿───────────

tags: @mikellie @xxylova @bready101 @thekill3randthefinalgirl @sawaagyapong @mila-makes-an-entrance

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sorrowsofsilence · 22 days ago

Text

the bet 3 • bad omens

pairing: all bad omens members x fem!reader

words: 12.7k • masterlist

warnings: 18+, polyandrous relationship (so yes, there is some angst and discourse with navigating the challenges of a shifting relationship), threesome, foursome, voyeurism, double penetration- pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!masturbating, male!receiving, fem!receiving, creampies, "sloppy seconds" (oops), swearing, nicknames: princess, pretty girl, good girl), jealousy,

summary: It wasn't really just a game after all, was it?

note: buckle up as there will be a part 4 due to how long this ended up being lol I’m sorry - also it’s 4am and not proof read I’m sorry

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Turning, you blinked at the clock on the nightstand, its digital numbers glaring back at you.

10:45 AM.

Your heart sank, realizing you all overslept and missed the bus's scheduled departure time.

"Guys," you said, voice hoarse as you tried to sit up. Peeling yourself from the swede beside you, you frantically shouted, "We’re late. We’re so late."

Jolly groaned beside you, pulling you back down against his chest.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your back.

"No," you insisted, wriggling free despite not wanting to, "It’s almost eleven- the bus was supposed to leave an hour ago.”

Ruffilo sat up from beside you abruptly, eyes wide with panic.

"What?" He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, cursing when he saw the time. "Damn it."

Folio muttered something incoherent, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to wake up from the cot on the floor. Matt frowned over at you from the bed beside yours, though his sleep-tussled hair marred the effect.

Noah already began to dress rapidly as you offered an apologetic look to Jolly who sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“We have an eight-hour drive. We’ll make the show but we’re probably fucked for soundcheck,” Matt mumbled, pulling on his jeans.

Ruffilo scrolled through his phone, and you peered over, noticing the array of missed call notifications and texts. “Shit, Bryan’s been texting for hours.”

Matt pulled his shirt back over his body, searching the floor for his baseball cap. Placing the fabric over his head he tossed you a wink, before putting his phone to his ear. “No regrets though, right?”

"No regrets," Ruffilo confirmed, the edges of his mouth tugging into a slight smile as he pulled himself out of the sheets, picking up a shirt.

"Speak for yourself," Jolly muttered. He remained lying down, arm slung over his eyes. But the small grin that played at his lips spoke more truth than his words.

The room was suddenly filled with hurried activity and idle chatter as the boys launched themselves into action - Matt taking control of the situation and letting Bryan know everyone would be there shortly, while Ruffilo, Folio and Noah packed their bags quickly.

Through it all, Jolly lay still, his gaze focused entirely on you, fingers threaded through yours.

“You’re worth it," he declared softly. His tone smothered any potential doubt regarding last night.

"Come on," he said after a moment, finally rousing himself. He moved with careful deliberation as he started to collect his clothing from around the room.

You pushed yourself off the bed and hurried to pack your things. Searching for your hoodie, you sighed in frustration when you couldn’t find it before a hand reached out to yours.

Nicholas smiled warmly at you, holding out his own sweater. With a nod of his head, he motioned for you to raise your arms, allowing him to pull the fabric over your head and down your body, engulfing you in his scent.

“Thanks,” You smiled shyly, mind flickering to images of him devouring your body just hours prior.

He beamed as he placed the hood over your head, gently holding onto your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

As he stepped away, you couldn't help but notice the lingering glances from both Noah and Folio. But these looks were not filled with animosity; instead, they seemed to hold a gentle challenge within them. Who could make you smile wider? Whose touch made your heart skip a beat?

It almost seemed like an unspoken agreement between them that you were cherished by all, but possessed by none.

Yet, despite this understanding, a twinge of envy still crept into Noah's chest.

The brunette came up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders, smoothing out the fabric of Nicholas’ hood against your back, "You're quite remarkable, aren't you?"

Your face warmed at his words, spine-tingling as Noah’s hand roamed down your back, and Ruffilo’s soft breath brushed your face.

“C’mon guys, we gotta go,” Matt said, eyeing the three of you briefly before opening the door.

Matt led you all out of the room and down the hallway, while Ruffilo and Folio followed closely behind, deep in conversation. You glanced briefly at one of the workers, who raised a curious yet accusatory brow toward the group leaving the hotel room.

As you moved through the lobby, Noah's arm slithered around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He pressed a hasty kiss into your hair before diverting his attention towards Bryan who had been pacing by the entrance, phone clutched tightly in hand.

“Sorry we’re late,” Matt said as he approached Bryan, “We overslept.”

“Overslept?!” Bryan exclaimed incredulously, brandishing his phone like a wand, "I've been trying to reach you since six in the morning! The bus was scheduled to leave at nine! You’re the manager, Matt, how come I’m doing the managing?.”

Matt held up his hands in surrender, visibly trying to keep things calm, "Sorry Bry, didn’t mean to stress you out. Let’s head to the bus."

Bryan drove everyone in the van back to last night's venue, and you quickly helped unload the bags onto the bus.

“I’ll stay in the van with Bryan,” Matt said, shifting on his feet as his thumbs jumped across his phone screen, likely texting the venue an update, “We won't have time for pit stops if we want to even make time for a brief soundcheck, so, prepare for eight hours of non-stop driving.”

Once Matt closed the bus door, you smiled at your boys, nerves suddenly radiating through your veins.

Eight hours. With a glance around the bus, you took a seat on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. You looked around at anything but them; until you noticed Noah sit across from you.

As your eyes met him, his gaze twinkling of mischievous innocence he wore so well, a rush of anticipation warmed your chest.

The bus started to move, smoothly looping itself onto the road.

Noah, leaning over the armrest of the seat across you, smiled that charming grin of his again. Jolly was already fishing for a bottle of water in the cooler. Ruffilo swiped through pages on his phone once more, while Folio had his head bobbing lightly to the music spilling out from the speakers.

It wasn’t an awkward silence, but unspoken words and thoughts lingered.

“You okay?” asked Noah, keeping his eyes on you as if trying to read you like an open book. His nearness made your body shiver in response, images of last night flashing back into your mind.

"I'm perfectly fine," came your reply, gentle but firm.

There was a soft grunt from Jolly’s corner, causing the group to glance at him.

He commented without looking up from his water bottle, “I think we have some things to talk about.”

“Such as?” You asked, knowing what he was going to say- yet prompting him anyway.

“Us,” he shrugged now, eyes darting between each of the boys before landing on you, “What happens now?”

There was a loaded silence that wrapped the room, each one of them mulling over their thoughts. Noah shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. Ruffilo stared blankly at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen while Folio gently tapped his fingers to the beat of the music from the speakers, his gaze distant.

“I mean,” Ruffilo started, his voice cutting through the dense quietness like a knife. “We all agreed that this wouldn’t change anything between us.”

As if on cue, all eyes fell on you. The weight of their gazes made your heart pound against your chest and face, burning.

“But did it?” Jolly pressed on, his gaze steady. His question hung heavily between you.

You remained non-committal, much to everyone's growing frustration. But then again, you had been so calm throughout this ordeal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred among you and the boys.

The bet was just for fun, right? Surely, this was nothing more than a week of lust and desire… right?

You chewed on your cheek in thought, unsure now.

"Well, did it?" Folio echoed his words barely in a whisper. His eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions, the teasing glint now replaced with uncertainty.

Silence fell upon them once more, awaiting your response.

You looked at each of their faces. Ruffilo's expression was unreadable as he continued staring at his phone, Folio wore an almost amused smile as he bobbed his head along the rhythm of the music. Ruffilo glanced at you briefly before his eyes quickly darted back to his phone screen.

Finally, your gaze landed on Noah, who was staring back at you intently. His gaze was questioning, but there was a hint of warmth hidden beneath his serious demeanour.

You knew there was more to this than sex, and your heart pounded as the words fell from your mouth.

"It's not that our dynamics have changed... but my feelings have."

The confession hung in the air as a new round of silence sunk into the confined space. It was filled with the hum of the bus engine and the low notes of a forgotten song playing softly from the speakers.

All eyes bore into you; curiosity, surprise, and in some, what seemed like relief reflected at you. You met each gaze in turn, holding your breath against the immensity of your declaration.

"Feelings? Toward all of us?" Ruffilo asked cautiously. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied your face for any inkling of insincerity.

You nodded, biting your lower lip nervously as you tried to gauge their reactions.

"Last night wasn't just... physical." You cleared your throat slightly, catching their almost intense attention. "I mean, it was and it wasn't simultaneously."

"Makes sense," Folio said suddenly, breaking his self-imposed silence. He shrugged a little under their stares. "I mean... feelings can catch you off-guard. It's not like you can control them. Especially in... unusual circumstances."

"Unusual? That's one way to put it," joked Jolly, trying to lighten the mood. A chuckle echoed through the bus from Noah, but the mirth quickly faded.

"I think what we really need to figure out is what you want to happen now," Noah said, leaning forward in his seat to look at you, hands lazily folded on his lap. His eyes flicked away from yours for a moment as if he was afraid to press further.

"To happen now?" You mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Unease stirred within you as you tried to summon words that wouldn't disrupt the equilibrium further.

"The question is more like... do you want us?” Jolly added softly, eyes never leaving yours, "All of us? Not only for sex but more than that.”

A statement so profound left you momentarily breathless. But it wasn't fear or dread that perforated the air within the bus - it was anticipation. A tantalizing spectre of something undefined yet powerful seemed to rise from the worn carpet of the bus, coiling around each one of you, poised to strike.

Noah broke the silence, his voice barely louder than an exhale; "Is that what you want?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions stripped bare before the boys whom you had known for years.

"Yes," you found yourself saying, gaze pinned to Noah's warm eyes, "But that doesn't mean everything just... falls into place."

"Do we take turns being your boyfriend?" Jolly asked after a beat, humour flicking through his eyes as he waited for you to react.

You scoffed playfully and rolled your own, "I don't know how it will work, Jolly."

"Neither do we,” Folio admitted, a stark rare seriousness replacing his usual aloof demeanour, “But we all want you. Last night, and the bet, was proof of that.”

"But we're willing to find a way if that's what you want," Noah chimed in, his voice gentle as he held your gaze with a hint of vulnerability.

You swallowed, the implications of what they were saying starting to sink in. Still, you found the courage to reply, "I think I'd like that.”

"What about Matt?" Ruffilo asked, looking up from his phone again to glance at you.

Your brow furrowed, "What about him?"

"He has feelings for you,” Ruffilo continued, meeting your gaze. “You know that."

“I do," you nodded, remembering the words spoken in confidence. "And I care about him. But right here, right now... it's not Matt I need an answer from." You scanned their faces one by one.

A silence stretched between you, and then, as though orchestrated, they each nodded in turn. Noah cleared his throat and played with the hem of his shirt.

“Alright," he said finally, voice steady but eyes fluttering with an array of emotions, "If that's what... if this what we’re all okay with... then we should go for it.”

This time, the silence that ensued wasn’t uncomfortable or tense. It was reflective, filled with a calm understanding and acceptance.

“Yeah,” Jolly agreed, chuckling as he tossed his water bottle from one hand to the other, “But let’s not get carried away. This needs... rules?”

“Yes, agreed,” Folio added in quickly at Jolly's suggestion. He could already see tension lines forming on Ruffilo's forehead.

“I think it’s fair to say the ground rule is honesty," he continued after a beat, "With each other and with oneself."

You nodded at his words, feeling a comforting warmth spread through you as you basked in their acceptance, their willingness to navigate this unconventional relationship.

“And respect," Ruffilo interjected abruptly, his voice a firm echo of conviction, "Respect for boundaries."

There was earnest sincerity to his words, and it moved you profoundly. He wasn't looking at his phone now. His eyes were on you, steady and unyielding.

“No one’s forcing anyone into anything," Noah added quietly. He glanced down at his hands briefly before meeting your gaze once more, "We're all here because we want to be."

A soft, comfortable silence fell as the weight of their words sunk in, each voice echoing the same sentiment: they were in this together

"Time," Jolly suddenly said, breaking the silence, "Each of us gets equal time." His tone was light, but the unexpected depth in his gaze told you he was serious about it.

"Like dates? Hangouts?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This might not have been what you initially envisioned when divulging your feelings, but Jolly's suggestion made sense and even provided a fair sense of order amidst this chaos.

Jolly shrugged, "Something like that. Just to ensure no one feels left out. We can make a schedule."

There was another round of nodding from everyone, accompanied by gestures of agreement. Noah gave a thumbs-up sign, Folio hummed appreciatively from his corner and Ruffilo nodded slowly.

"Okay," you agreed with a small smile, a blush creeping into your cheeks colourfully. This was really happening, and it might be terrifyingly unknown, but you were excited, too.

The tranquillity that swept over you all seemed to promise more than just a simple acceptance.

A moment later, Noah's phone chirped with an incoming message.

He glanced at it, expression unreadable, before passing it around without a word. The message was from Matt, the subject line reading "Guys, we need to talk."

A pause filled the air as they absorbed the brief message. It certainly added another degree of complexity to your delicate situation.

“What’s he want to talk about?" Ruffilo wondered aloud, frowning as he reread Matt’s message.

Folio bit on his lower lip in thought, "It could be about anything… but I guarantee it’s about what we are talking about right now."

Jolly glanced down at his phone again before looking at you, "Should we tell him? About... all this? Offer him a spot if you’re willing to have one more?" He waved a hand toward the group parked in the small bus.

You considered this for a few heartbeats, "I guess we have to," you said finally, "unless we start hair-pulling for timeslots in front of him and he figures it out himself."

The comment earned chuckles from across the bus, the tension easing somewhat at your joking tone. Jolly’s laughter was the loudest, his boisterous voice echoing like a jingle bell against the battered metal of the bus interior.

“Dibs on being first then," Folio chimed in, grinning. “You know, to avoid hair-pulling."

“Noted,” Noah played along, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he tried to suppress his smile. “It’s all about fairness.”

At that moment, somehow amongst all the complexities and apprehension of what was to come, a bubble of joy swelled within you, buoyed by their good-natured bickering and warm camaraderie. It was a strange feeling - being loved by not just one person, but four... It was intoxicating and overwhelming in equal measure.

"Okay," Jolly declared, "we’ll tell Matt when we get to the venue… he’s going to want in.”

Make that five.

Noah spoke up again. “And what about jealousy?”

Your eyes widened slightly, a lump forming in your throat. That was the issue, wasn't it? The very hurdle threatening to sever this complicated web of emotions binding you all together.

“Jealousy,” Jolly repeated, chewing on the word as if tasting it for the first time. There was a thoughtful edge to his expression, followed by a shrug, "Well, we are all human, aren’t we?"

Ruffilo let out a dry chuckle at that, then sighed, "I think it's unavoidable."

Folio nodded, "Yes, but what we can avoid is letting jealousy ruin everything.”

You looked at him; his statement echoed in your mind and held true. Jealousy was an emotion no one could escape from, but how you manage it was what mattered.

“And how do we do that?” Ruffilo's voice hitched higher as he asked the million-dollar question.

“By talking it out,” Noah placed his hand on your knee, "Being honest about our feelings. If we're starting to feel...you know...possessive or if something's on your mind, say it."

Folio huffed, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back against his seat, stretching his legs out. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. So who do you think will end up in a jealous rage first?”

You shot him a mock glare. “I’m going to personally ensure it’s you.” You paused before blushing slightly. “Besides, it's not always about possession." you pointed out and felt relieved when Folio nodded with an understanding smile.

“True,” he admitted, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "It's also about the equality... of love.”

“Oof, you’re already sounding like a philosopher,” Jolly commented with a lopsided smile, teasingly poking Nick’s shoulder. This elicited a small ripple of laughter amongst the group, which helped to dissolve some of the tension that had begun to creep in.

“Can’t help it,” Folio retorted with a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “When you're faced with an unconventional situation like this, it brings out the thinker in you.”

“And that's what we should do," Ruffilo chimed in, seemingly inspired by Nick’s words. "We don't have a rule book for this. We just need to...think before we act or say anything. If something doesn't feel right or if someone isn't comfortable, we need to respect that and discuss it. I mean, that's what relationships are about, right?”

You nodded along, listening intently before chewing on your bottom lip, and staring at the ground.

“Use your words, beautiful. What’s up?” Ruffilo reached over, holding onto your thigh. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up your leg, causing your stomach to churn.

“What if… what if you don’t want me… anymore?”

The bus fell into silence, the weight of your words hanging in the cool air.

After a long pause, Noah spoke up, his voice steady and comforting. “First off, stop assuming the worst. Second..." He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. "We're all here because we care about you.”

“But what if…” You started, but Ruffilo interrupted.

“What if we turn into aliens? What if I grow a third eye?” He shrugged with a smirk playing on his lips, earning chuckles from Jolly and Folio. “What ifs can drive you crazy, princess.”

“Hey!” You swatted at him lightly, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Jolly chimed in next, leaning closer to you. "Look... this whole thing is new to us too. It's unchartered territory for everyone here." He gestured towards your companions, "And it comes with its risks and uncertainties."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten.

Noah’s finger gently guided your chin to turn to him, his face inches from yours, “Each of us is committed to you- and only you- from now on. It’s us and you.”

“Look," Ruffilo interjected, his voice breaking through the weighty pause that had fallen over the bus. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair before he continued, “We all like you. We've known each other for what? Two years now? And there's just something about you..."

He trailed off indefinitely, leaving the silence to wordlessly weave itself into the fabric of your shared conversation.

“And what might that ‘something’ be?” Jolly burst out in his theatrical manner, falling against Ruffilo in exaggerated curiosity.

"It's not your cooking, that's for sure!" That earned Jolly a smack on his thick arm from Noah, while laughter echoed around the bus.

"No," Ruffilo quietly continued when the chuckling had subsided, "It's... you. It’s every little thing about you. It's the way you tilt your head when you're deep in thought. The way your eyes light up when you see someone in need and can finally help. The way..." his voice faltered slightly before he cleared his throat, "...the way you've found a place in our hearts. Fuck, its the way your mouth feels against mine and the feeling of your fingers running down my back.”

His words hung heavily in the air, “I- and the others, don’t want to even think about being with anybody else.”

Folio let out a strangled laugh, fighting bravely against his blush, "Well... Can't argue with that."

Your heart hitched at Ruffilo's raw honesty. His words conjured up an image of his grey, captivating eyes tracing your every movement, committing them to memory with a love so fierce it made your knees weak.

Jolly let out a snort full of amusement and suggestion, resting his arm over Ruffilo’s shoulders. “Did our dear Ruff just confess his undying love for our girl here?” he teased, nudging him playfully.

Ruffilo shot him an annoyed look but didn’t say anything.

“I feel the same,” You shared a smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “I want all of you, and no one else.”

A shared giggle erupted around the bus, light and airy and deceivingly innocent for such a bold revelation.

"Aww, guys," Folio began, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "are we having a moment right now? I feel like we're having a moment."

Jolly rolled his eyes dramatically, tossing an arm around Ruffilo. “Oh definitely. We’re all getting sappy in our old age.”

“Old? You’re the most aged,” Ruffilo shot back, swatting Jolly lightly on the arm.

Noah chuckled as he looked from face to face at his friends, shaking his head with a grin before reaching to tickle your side causing you to squeak with surprise, "Come on...we're all in this together," he added warmly.

The conversation carried on in cheerful spirits - an extension of what felt like an ever-evolving bond among all of you. There was laughter and teasing and even a few moments of quiet contemplation. As you watched the interactions, your heart so full it was nearly bursting, it dawned on you that there could be no looking back from this point.

“Well, I’m gonna take a nap,” Folio said, standing with a stretch, “As fun as last night was I barely slept on that fucking cot.”

His statement was met with scattered nods and murmurs of agreement. He flashed you a grin before heading down the hall toward his bunk, Jolly and Ruffilo following suit.

“You should sleep too,” Noah suggested to you, his voice soft in the dim light filtering through the worn curtains of the bus. He moved to sit next to you on the couch now, subtly reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I will,” you promised, nestling against him as your body tingled. The bus hummed as it travelled further, everyone else slowly drifting into their dreams. But despite the fatigue that tugged at your eyelids, you stayed awake, your mind filled with thoughts brought forth by recent confessions.

"You know," he started, his voice barely more than a breath in the quiet, "you don't have to worry about anything. We're here. We're not going away."

You hummed, nodding as you closed your eyes, sucking in a breath.

"We...we do love you," Noah whispered against your ear, his words followed by the soft touch of his lips against the side of your neck, a sweet promise painted across your skin.

With those words settling over you like a warm blanket blanketing you in the hum of the bus, sleep finally beckoned. You drifted towards it, his breath against your skin anchoring you amidst a sea of emotions.

"Noah?" You whispered, your eyelashes fluttering against his shirt.

"Hmm?" His fingers traced gentle patterns over your back, making you feel even sleepier.

"I love you too," the words tumbled out softly.

A comfortable quiet ensued, and you could make out Noah's slow smile pressed against your temple as he held you close. It was a quiet moment shared between the two of you, amplified by the thrumming energy of the tucked-away confessions.

He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering back a response that was both warm and reassuringly subtle, "I know."

Your nap was short-lived as your eyes opened slowly, your body moving against the hand of the man beside you.

As you lay across Noah’s lap, you felt his fingers trace up your legs, dipping between your thighs as he gently grazed across the thin fabric of your leggings along your desire.

You froze, heart racing with excitement as he tested you further, slipping his fingers closer and closer.

"Noah..." you breathed out, his name barely louder than a sigh. A shiver ran down your spine, shooting a thrilling jolt to the pit of your stomach. He paused, one finger precariously close to where you needed him the most. His soft laughter vibrations spread from his chest into yours and he placed a reassuring kiss on your temple.

"Pardon me for taking liberties," he murmured, his fingers stilling their prodding explorations, "But I feel we have moved past formalities."

Though his words were slightly teasing, you sensed an underlying seriousness in them that caused a strange heat to spread through you in waves. You pushed back against his hand lightly in silent permission and felt him exhale a soft sigh of satisfaction against your skin.

His fingers started to move again, starting their slow and expert exploration of your form through the thin material until they reached the hem of your leggings. His touch withdrew for a moment as he looked down at you with an expectantly raised eyebrow. Heavily lidded eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension awaited your response. You nodded, your warm gaze meeting his as your fingers moved to slip the material lower.

Gently biting down on your lower lip, you glanced up to meet Noah's eyes - they were darkened, pupils dilated with desire.

The brunette resumed moving his hand in tantalizing circles between your legs. He watched your face closely as he continued with expert patience, observing the subtle shifts in your expressions, etching each detail into memory. He teased you, delicately brushing your covered skin.

Suddenly, the bus lurched as it veered onto an uneven stretch of road, causing Noah's touch to falter momentarily. His breath hitched alongside yours at the sudden movement.

"Shouldn't we... maybe find somewhere more private?" You suggested, amusement flickering in his eyes.

To that, Noah ran an inked finger along the hem of your leggings, dipping his hand between your waistband and skin to just barely touch your core.

“Doesn’t matter anymore baby. You’re ours now. We are the only ones on the bus.”

Pushing past your underwear he dipped his fingers between your folds, his breath hitching once he felt how wet you were. He chewed on his lower lip, biting back a smile as his thumb circled a slow path over the sensitive bud, every rotation drawing out a choked moan from your lips.

“Shh…” He soothed, holding onto the delicate peak until you were writhing against him, “Wouldn’t want to wake them, would you?”

"No," you murmured, though the sound came out more as a desperate whimper.

Noah's slow, teasing motions inspired a yearning within you that was almost unbearable. "No...they should sleep."

Yet, part of you hoped one of them would hear.

"That's a good girl," Noah cooed softly, smiling down at you before sinking his fingers into your body, eliciting another choked cry. He tugged your leggings just below your ass, giving him enough room to pump his fingers mercilessly.

Gently rocking against his hand to afford yourself additional friction, he chuckled, brows furrowing in slight concentration as he adjusted his movements.

His other hand roamed up to cup your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip, "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss was open-mouthed yet achingly tender. One of Noah's hands was still buried between your legs while the other cradled the back of your head. You could taste the memory of last night's orgy from his tongue and welcome it, losing yourself entirely in the feeling of having him fill you in different ways.

The tenderness escalated quickly into a frantic pulse of desire behind one last thrust which pushed you over the edge. Pulling back from the kiss, a soft gasp slipped from your throat as your thighs tightened around Noah's hand.

"Easy, I got you," Noah whispered, his voice soothing as he rode out the waves of your climax. His fingers never stilled, drawing the pleasure out until you were shivering and whimpering beneath him with the intensity.

Breathing heavily, you watched as he pulled his hand from your body, taking his fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck,” He moaned, relishing in the taste as his hips rocked beneath you, “I love the way you taste.”

His words coiled heat in your lower belly, intensifying the ache between your legs despite the orgasm you’d just had. His mouth returned to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue; undeniably intoxicating.

“Want you,” you told him in between pants and ragged breaths, fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans.

Noah led you between his legs, and you slid down onto the floor, knees bent with your exposed ass in the air, tugging at his zipper to expose his arousal.

He groaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, licking desperately from base to tip agonizingly slow.

"Noah," you murmur, repeating his name like a sacred chant. His fingers weaved through your hair as he reclined back against the seat.

Your finger wound tightly around the base of him, thumb brushing over the wet tip of his swollen cock. His breath hitched, a tortured groan escaping his lips.

You were busy deciding your next move when Noah placed his hands on either side of your face.

"Look at me," he commanded gently, leaving your dripping between your thighs as you nodded.

Lifting your lashes, you found yourself locked in his fierce gaze. His eyes were even darker than when they watched his fingers glide in and our of your pussy.

“God, I’ll never get used to how good you look on all fours,” Noah whispered huskily, a sense of pride flashing across his eyes. A jolt of exhilaration washed over you at the compliment; the image of you splayed out so wantonly displayed on the bus floor pleasing him.

Taking his cock back into your hand, you resumed stroking him once more.

“Fuck,” He murmured appreciatively, his thumb tracing your swollen lips with a light touch. Unconsciously, you parted your lips for him, allowing him to slide his thumb into the warmth of your mouth. His eyes hooded as you suckled it suggestively, a small groan escaping through his gritted teeth.

Gaining courage from his reactions, you freed your mouth from his thumb and planted a chaste kiss atop the tip of his cock, before enveloping him with the wet heat of your mouth. A strangled grumble escaped from Noah’s lips as he watched you take him in without hesitation. His arousal was evident on his face- eyes glowing with animalistic hunger, lips parted in a silent gasp.

You continued to test the waters with slow, gentle licks and soft sucks. The noises he made were encouraging, each whimper, moan and sigh fueling your movements as you grew more confident.

Noah’s hand cradled the back of your head gently, "That's it..." He murmured beneath his breath, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. "Just like that."

The taste of him was intoxicating, driving you to take him deeper. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you had to fight the urge to grin around his length.

All too quickly his voice started escalating, fragmented warnings cutting through the silence - urging you to slow down or pull away. But you wouldn’t. You needed him to come undone, to dissolve under your touch and surrender to that delicious pleasure only you could offer him.

You swallowed around him as best as you could, creating a tight suction that elicited a loud guttural groan from Noah's lips.

Just as you pulled off him, a trail of saliva dripping sensuously from your mouth, you heard a low cough come from the hallway.

Your hand stilled and you glanced up at Noah, who only smirked at the man who slowly approached you from behind.

“Thanks for the show. But I’m tired of just watching.”

You shivered, turning to face the Dummer who stood leaning against the wall, hand wrapped firmly around his arousal as he chewed on the inside of his cheek excitedly.

“You’re right Noah. I do love watching our girl spread on all fours. Especially with her pretty pussy exposed as she takes care of you.”

Your face warmed as Noah’s hand found your jaw, turning you back towards his cock. You wrapped your lips around him once again, causing his head to fall back in pleasure.

You heard Folio shuffle behind you, running his hands up your exposed thighs, encircling the shape of your ass.

"Folio," you called softly, hot breath washing over Noah’s length, causing his grip on your hair to tighten. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath but didn’t stop you; the darkened desire in his eyes told you he wanted nothing more.

Folio chuckled as he knelt behind you, his rough fingers expertly tracing the wetness between your thighs. He spread your folds apart slowly, leaning forward to allow his tongue a sample of your arousal. The jolt of pleasure caused you to gasp and jolt forward, pressing Noah's erection further into your mouth. Noah groaned at the depth and arched into you.

The bus seemed to close in on you, the heat from Noah and Folio's bodies leaving you dizzy and clouded with need.

Nick’s tongue continued its sweet torture against you, each languid lick causing your body to tremble with anticipation. With each pass of his tongue, you pushed back onto his face, desperate.

"Folio," you whimpered his name again as he teased your most intimate area. His hands took a firm grip on your hips, holding you steady as he continued his delicious torment.

"Noah," Nick murmured, pulling away from you momentarily to speak hungrily to the former. "Can't wait to see her take us both."

Noah’s groan of agreement had a slick rush pooling out of you onto Folio's waiting tongue.

His relentless strokes drew another orgasm closer within your grasp. You got lost in the sensation of his tongue and Noah's hardened length in your mouth.

You felt Folio pull away, only to replace his touch with his erection sliding between your arousal.

“How badly do you want us beautiful?” Nick’s voice was husky, thick with desire and anticipation, as he swirled his tip around your opening. You whimpered, body trembling as you tried to push back, craving for him to fill you.

“Tell us,” Noah’s commanding voice cut through your pleasure haze. You moaned around him in response.

“I- I want you,” you breathed out replacing your mouth with your hand, stroking him as you begged. “Both of you.”

"Well then," Folio murmured against the sensitive skin of your back as he lifted your shirt, "Who are we to deny you?"

He didn't waste another second before he thrust into you-- hard. Your body rocked forward at the sudden intrusion, causing Noah's cock to hit the back of your throat again.

Nick’s every thrust was met by your eager pushes, the sensation of being filled so fully driving you closer to the edge. You could hear his harsh pants, and felt his abs tensing against your back with his every movement.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your desire, Folio skillfully manipulated you to a fever pitch. His fingers circled your clit while Noah's cock thrust in and out of your mouth, time slipping along the lines of pleasure and pain.

"Noah," Folio grunted, teeth grit as they scraped against the damp skin of your shoulder. "I'm not gonna last long. She's so fucking tight."

A strange mix of cockiness and raw desperation coloured Noah's voice as he responded, "Don't you fucking dare, not until I fill her mouth.”

Folio laughed, a dark, rugged sound that vibrated through your bones and increased the pace of his thrusts. Your body tightened around him as his fingers dug into your hipbone sky-rocketing your pleasure.

Your mind blanked at the overload of sensations; even as you struggled to breathe through Noah’s relentless rhythm. The world narrowed down to the two men possessing you, their harsh breaths mingling with your own.

All at once, you were on the precipice. Your body tightened like a bowstring, the sweet tension coiling in your abdomen.

"Noah...Folio," you moaned their names as your vision blurred.

"And there it is," Noah grunted. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth.

The taste of him shattered your resolve as Folio's cock stretched you wide. In unison as if orchestrated, Noah spilled into your mouth just as Folio filled you.

Your orgasm was swift and intense, rendering you senseless and quaking around the two men. Each gasp for breath painted pleasure on your senses until you were nothing but a crumpled mess between them, reeling in the aftermath of such pleasure.

When they finally pulled away, carefully untangling themselves from you, it felt like they left behind a void that ached. You swirled your tongue around the salty remnants of Noah, swallowing and collapsing forward onto your hands and knees. Your body felt spent, and yet ridiculously alive – every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

If this was a taste of your future, then you were ravenous for it.

Folio wiped perspiration from his brow and helped you up only for you to flop against him, exhausted beyond words. He laughed lightly, cupping your cheek affectionately as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated soothingly through you.

“Mmhmm…” You hummed, too content and flushed to articulate any other response. Nick leaned forward, placing a gentle yet hungry kiss against your lips.

“Maybe we should keep track of all your orgasms,” Nick chuckled again, licking his lips.

Noah nodded eagerly as his gaze was locked on you, blush tinting the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

“Come here,” He whispered, and you nodded, pulling your clothes back up and sitting next to him. Folio joined you on your other side, and you sat cradled between both boys.

“You think we broke her, Noah?” Folio teased, his voice a warm purr against your ear. His arm was draped over your lap, fingers interlocked with yours.

“You can try again later if you want," you mumbled, curling further into Noah's side.

He smoothed his hand through your hair, his heart fluttering when you sighed contentedly in response. His thumb began to draw lazy circles on your shoulder, a comforting rhythm that matched your steady, shallow breathing.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep," Folio warned playfully, grazing his teeth along your jaw.

"Would never dream of it," you replied to Folio's warning. You tilted your head, allowing him to press soft kisses along your jawline. He traced his lips down your throat, stopping just above the neckline of your shirt; another searing kiss here could so easily leave a mark.

His eyes met yours, a silent question in them that had you blushing more than your previous activities did. You nodded, permitting him. A wicked grin pulled at his lips as he pressed a kiss there, wet and heated. You knew a hickey would blossom there within the hour.

From your other side, Noah gave an approving hum, watching you and Folio with half-lidded eyes.

+++++

Matt, although slightly jealous, was happy to join your… relationship.

After arriving at the venue and hastily setting up, you approached him with a blush on your cheeks and a nervousness that seemed almost alien to the usually confident you.

“I want to talk,” you’d said, pulling him aside and tenderly taking his hands. The way you fumbled over words and avoided his gaze had Matt worried.

When you finally voiced out what was going on, the surprise in his eyes was evident. But instead of pushing you away or getting angry, he merely blinked at you, taken aback but not repulsed.

“If this is what you want, then I want it too, " he said, adjusting his cap before smiling warmly. I want you, they want you, and you want us. It makes sense, right? It may have started as a bet, but it's turned into much more.”

Even as the first blush of embarrassed desire rose in your cheeks, Matt leaned in. He whispered against your lips, his voice low and rough, "Besides, it��s not like I've never shared you before." His cheeks flushed pink at the memory and he cleared his throat.

“Well aren’t you full of surprises,” you murmured against his lips. He smirked at that, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between the two of you.

“Only for you,” he shot back, effortlessly charming as ever. The smugness in his voice made the tips of your ears burn - but it sparked an excitement in your belly that was impossible to ignore.

“Ready for our brief soundcheck, rock gods?” he practically yelled across the green room, causing all the boys to groan in protest.

"Wouldn't be much of a band without it, would we?" Folio refuted, grinning as he grabbed the cymbal bag. The banging and clashing as he set them up served as a prelude to the havoc that would be unleashed during their performance.

Jolly rolled his eyes and stood up, slinging his guitar over his shoulder while giving you a wink that made your heart flutter, "Yea well, don't expect me to save your ass if you miss a beat, Folio."

Ruffilo scoffed from where he was tuning his bass, "Both of you talk big for a couple of amateurs."

"Wow boys, keep your egos in check or we won't be able to fit in the room," you intervened with an amused chuckle.

“Messiah has spoken,” Matt announced dramatically.

Grinning, Ruffilo plucked a playful tune on his bass, echoing through the room.

On the other hand, Noah couldn't resist teasing you, "Oh yeah? We got to keep our egos in check?" He chuckled, leaning across the couch.

He reached out and lightly tapped your nose with one finger, "What about you, huh? Got any confessions for us before we hit the stage?"

You swatted his hand away playfully, although your heart pounded at the warmth in his gaze.

"What could I possibly have to confess?" You scoffed, attempting to dodge. But Noah was relentless.

"Bullshit," Noah contradicted, grinning.

"Maybe I like keeping you on your toes," you replied with a shrug and a smirk of your own. All too familiar heat rose in your cheeks when Matt interjected, "That's our girl."

"Don't ruin the moment, Matt," Folio chided, laughing even as Jolly lobbed a battery at him.

"Why not?" Matt retorted. "This is us. We're not exactly the sentimental type."

"No," Noah agreed, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. "We're just a mess.”

“A beautiful mess,” Ruffilo added, coming to stand behind the couch. He leaned over it to ruffle your hair, messing up whatever semblance of neatness you had attempted.

You swatted his hand away, instinctively fixing your hair. “Watch it, you.”

He barked out a laugh that echoed across the room. “There’s the feisty spirit we all love.”

“Feisty?" Folio echoed with a wicked grin, "Should we be worried?"

"Or excited," Ruffilo teased. He darted forward, placing a quick peck on your forehead before stepping back with a mischievous grin.

“That’s enough boys,” Matt chided, although he was hard-pressed to hide the laughter on his own face, “We’ve got a show to do and we better fucking practice.”

“Right,” Jolly said, pulling away from you and striding towards the stage.

“Lead on, rock star,” you replied with an encouraging smile.

Matt extended his hand toward you, palm up and you took his hand, letting him lead you down the halls towards the sound booth.

After soundcheck, you all headed back to the green room for a quick break.

“You were literally off beat bro,” Noah sighed, annoyed. Folio glared in response, nudging his shoulder.

“I literally couldn’t hear shit with my earpiece. I think it's broken.”

"I'll check it out," Matt offered, but Noah shook his head.

“It’s alright, Folio and I will figure it out. I’ll text you when we need to be backstage. C’mon Nick.”

Meanwhile, Jolly had surreptitiously sidled up to you, his fingers tracing circles on your arm as you entered the room.

"You doing good?" he mused. The furious blush was still evident on your cheeks and you couldn't help but fidget under his gaze.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," you stammered, mustering up a weak smile, only for Ruffilo to interrupt. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and grinned at Jolly.

"Leave her alone, Casanova. Can't a girl get some peace?" Ruffilo chided with a good-natured wink directed at you.

"Is there even such a thing as peace with you five?" you retorted, nudging him. Your response was received with a chorus of laughter that echoed down the hallway.

“Highly unlikely princess,” Ruffilo laughed.

Jolly approached you with two bottles of water, pressing one into your hand before gesturing to a seat beside him with the other. You graciously accepted both, sliding into the spot next to him. You noticed how his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, causing your face to warm.

“What?” You asked, eyes tracing his face, attempting to read his expression.

“You’re mesmerizing,” he whispered, his gaze devouring you now.

Shifting on the couch you took a sip of your water, refusing to take your eyes off of Jolly’s.

Unable to hold his gaze, your eyes flickered downwards to the floor, feeling both flattered and flustered. His lingering words left you in a tantalizing whirlwind of emotions and made you tremble with a fantastical mixture of terror and thrill.

“Come here,” He nodded, patting his lap.

You paused for a second, eyebrows raised in surprise, before complying with a silent shrug. As you settled onto his lap, Jolly’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he leaned slightly back in the chair.

“Mmm…” was all you could manage in response as you snuggled against him. His heart was thumping against your back and you wondered if he could feel the racing pace of yours too.

As comfortable as you were now, no one else seemed to take notice of your new position. Well, except for one person. You turned towards the direction where Ruffilo was shooting glances at Jolly from the corner of his eye. A slight pang of jealousy was visible in his eyes which he masked quickly when he noticed your gaze on him.

Rather than ignoring it, you nodded at Nicholas, beckoning him forward.

“Feeling left out Ruffilo?”

He shot you a stunned look, but a playful smile danced on his lips. "Never," he declared, rising from his spot on the floor. Suddenly he pounced, tossing himself onto the couch beside Jolly, nudging your legs playfully in the process.

"Hey!" you protested with a laugh, trying to find a comfortable position amidst Ruffilo's sprawling limbs.

Jolly grinned down at you from above, enjoying your struggle. His arm tightened around your waist as if holding you in place, your back pressed flush against his chest.

“What? Sharing is caring,” he teased, flashing you an impish grin.

The next words that left your lips spilled out faster than you could process them. “Why don’t you show me what sharing looks like?”

Challenged, Ruffilo leaned forward, angling his body towards you. He shot a quick glance at Jolly before his lips brushed against your cheek in a lingering peck that made your heart flutter. "Like that?" Ruffilo asked, the smirk evident in his voice.

Your face flushed a deep crimson, and you ineptly cleared your throat.

"Yes. Exactly like that." You managed to say, trying to keep the fluttery feeling inside under control.

Jolly leaned down, placing a kiss on your opposite cheek, allowing his hands to roam the curve of your hips.

With a careful eye, you noticed Matt leaning against the wall, taking a swig of his water as he watched you intensely.

Without much thought, you slid off Jolly's lap and onto the floor. You tiptoed ahead, biting your lower lip to hide your smirk.

"Liking the view, Matt?" You called out playfully when you were a foot away from him.

Matt choked on his water, and blushing furiously, shook his head in denial, "Wha- I wasn't - you're imagining things." He spluttered shoving the bottle to his lips again.

"Oh right!" You gasped dramatically clutching at your heart. "How could I possibly think that, considering how much you enjoyed it last night," you carried on, wagging your index finger at him admonishingly.

He glanced down at you for a moment before raising an eyebrow at your mock rebuke. "You caught me." He deadpanned.

"Always." You agreed quickly. As if prompted by some inner force, you stepped closer; so close that Matt had to bend his head down slightly to keep eye contact. His bottle suspended halfway between his lips and his grip on it growing looser, you reached up and yanked his hat off his head.

The water from his mouth gushed onto the carpet below, causing Matt to step back hurriedly, sputtering, "What the hell?"

You merely grinned at him, twirling his cap around your finger. Before he could snatch it back, you'd already made your way back to Jolly and Ruffilo on the couch. Planting yourself firmly between them, his hat resting atop your head like a crown, you smirked at Matt.

"Well, are you going to come get it?" you said slyly.

"What's the magic word?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you lightly tapped the brim.

Matt growled in mock frustration, pointing at you with a stern look plastered on his face, “You’re lucky we have a show tonight," he warned playfully.

“We have like 20 minutes,” Jolly interjected, placing a hand on your thigh as he peered down at you, his smirk growing.

"Just enough time for some fun then," came your response, tilting your head in challenge. You could practically see the cogs turning in Matt's brain as he worked out his next course of action.

Suddenly, he lunged towards you, but you were too quick and rolled off the couch just in time. You heard a loud thump and a burst of laughter behind you as Matt ended up on the couch where you'd just been sitting.

"Smooth," Ruffilo chuckled, patting Matt on the back while Jolly struggled to contain his laughter.

Pulling yourself up from the ground, you crossed your arms and smirked down at Matt who was now sprawled across both Ruffilo and Jolly like a big blanket. "Second try?"

Matt growled again - this time less playful and more serious – as he disentangled himself from the other two guys. He stood up, eyes never leaving the cap that was now in your hands. His gaze was intense, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine.

“Ready when you are.”

With a swift motion, Matt leaped toward you but you dodged him again, quickly running across the room. You laughed, thinking he was far behind until you turned around.

Two arms pinned you against the wall as his body caged yours against the wall.

"Gotcha," Matt whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand moved swiftly, snagging the cap from your head and placing it backwards upon his own.

The sight of him holding you against the wall made your thighs clench tightly, his hat no longer an obstacle of space between you.

Matt’s triumphant grin faltered as he read the fire in your eyes. A strange electricity danced between you two, the banter fading into silence replaced by the sound of your rapid breaths.

"But I still got you," you whispered, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Stop teasing me,” He mumbled, lidded eyes staring down at you with fueled desire as he dipped his face inches from yours, brushing his lips across yours.

Before you could retort, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. His other hand cradled the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, sending a rush of warmth coursing through your body.

"Clock's ticking," Jolly called from the couch. A smirk danced on his lips, one that was mirrored by Ruffilo, “15 minutes now.”

“Then we better hurry up,” Matt said quickly, latching his lips to yours in swift desperation as he tugged your shirt. You immediately moaned into his lips, arching your back to press into his body.

A husked laugh rumbled from Matt's chest as he broke the kiss to nuzzle the side of your neck. His hot breaths tickled your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His hands raked down your sides in an attempt to pull you closer against his chest.

Peeling you from the wall, you two walked over towards the middle of the room, now infront of Jolly and Ruffilo on the couch. As Matt began trailing kisses down your neck you tossed a smug smile towards Jolly, who chuckled lowly.

“Care to join in?” you teasingly asked Jolly, watching his eyes flicker with same mischief he seemed to evoke in you. “Or are you too afraid I might end up stealing your hat too?”

Jolly chuckled, pushing himself off from the couch with a quick shake of his head. “Sweetheart, I’d like to see you try,” he said before stepping closer, taking place behind you.

As Matt’s lips trailed to the side of your neck, a gasp slipped past your lips as Jolly put a protective hand on your waist. His head tilted down towards you, causing your heart to pound harder against your ribs.

“Twelve minutes,” pausing Matt warned, voice strained while maintaining eye contact with Jolly, who didn’t seem fazed one bit by his reminder.

“A talented man can accomplish much in only five minutes,” he said with a nonchalant smile before he leaned down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue tracing the bottom of your lip.

You glanced quickly at Ruffilo, telling him to lock the room door as Matt's grip on your waist tightened.

“Take my clothes off,” You mumbled against Jolly's lips, the whisper carrying an undertone of urgency. Quickly slipping his hands under your shirt, he tugged it gently over your head, throwing it carelessly onto the floor. Matt moved away momentarily to assist him, his warm fingers tracing the bare skin of your back as he unhooked your bra with practiced ease. Once again discarding the garment somewhere in the room, he moved closer still, his chest flush against yours.

"Eleven," Ruffilo called out from the couch, his own hand tracing the outline of his growing arousal beneath his slacks.

Eager fingers skimmed the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down and tossing them amongst the floor.

Matt and Jolly’s hands roamed your body as you were sandwiched between both of them, their mouths and tongues darting across your skin greedily.

Both rotated their hips into your body with asynchronous movements, curating a string of moans as their desires pressed into you.

"Ten," Ruffilo growled, his voice husky as he watched you with hooded eyes. Looking over at him, you give him a sultry grin and crooked your finger challengingly.

Jolly's hand trailed down your stomach until it converged with Matt's hand already covering you. A gasp escaped your lips as they simultaneously began exploring you further, their fingers dipping lower over your exposed skin and causing shivers to course through your body.

Jolly whispered against your ear, his hitched breath causing you to stir further back against him, rubbing against his covered erection, “You’re soaked.”

“Then do something about it,” You mumbled, staring at Matt who’s face flushed from the excitement.

Matt slipped his fingers into your core, eliciting a moan from your chest as Jolly circled your clit with his middle finger.

"Nine," Ruffilo growled, and you watched as he freed himself from his pants, stroking himself as he watched you mercilessly pressed between his friends.

Jolly nipped your neck lightly, drawing a gasp from your parted lips as Matt's fingers curled inside you.

"More," you whispered, arching your hips to meet the rhythm of their hands.

“Impatient today, are we?” Jolly murmured in your ear, but you felt him unzip his jeans along with Matt, both cocks pressed against your thigh, “Jump.””

Obliging, you allowed Jolly to lift you from behind, forearms holding you underneath the bend of your knee as he spread you open for Matt.

"Eight," Ruffilo called out, his voice tight with anticipation. You glanced over at him, noting the way he was pumping himself with an intensity that matched the thrumming excitement coursing through your veins.

Nicholas’ eyes were fixed on you as Matt positioned himself between your legs, his arousal teasing your folds before pushing into your body with need.

His moans were erotic as he relished in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

With you secure in Jolly's arms, Matt pressed more deeply inside you, each slow thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You reached down to grasp at Matt's arm, his bicep flexing under your touch as he filled you with slow deliberate motions.

Jolly nodded at Matt, having him replace one of Jolly’s arms so they both held you in the air.

Sucking his fingers briefly, Jolly teased your behind with proading motions.

“Think you can show us what it takes to be a good girl and handle two cocks?”

You leaned your head back onto Jolly’s shoulder and blinked up him, even as you gripped tighter to Matt- your breath hitching as you felt the cool slickness of the swedes fingers against your other entrance.

Jolly's grin was positively predatory, his eyes aflame with a need that mirrored your own. You nodded mutely, your body arching on instinct as he began nudging at your tight hole with one slick digit.

“Only if you can make me cum before Nick gets down to 3,” You moaned, brows furrowed as Matt pounded into you.

"Seven," Ruffilo called out again from the couch, his voice hoarser. His tight grip on his arousal and the desperation threading in his gaze made you bite down on your lower lip, the anticipation prickling under your skin.

"Challenge accepted," Jolly said, pushing his cock against you from behind. His head tipped back against the stress of having to delay himself, and once he finally sunk into your body your stomach butterflied with need.

Matt’s grip tightened around your thighs as you clenched around him due to the additional pressure. He moaned your name loudly, his teeth gritting in an attempt to hold back his orgasm.

“Fuck,” they both swore in unison as they watched each other disappear in and out of your body. Their shared rhythm faltered but quickly caught up again amidst groans of pleasure, their breaths hot and humid on your flushed skin. As they started following a synchronized pace, you could not tell where one ended and another began inside you.

Holding onto Matt’s shoulders for stability you cried out their names, completely overwhelmed as both pounded into you greedily.

"Six," Ruffilo rasped out, his voice strained from the feverish pace he was setting. The sight of you between his friends, being taken so thoroughly, was pushing him to the very brink. He never took his eyes away from the spectacle, his hand moving over himself swiftly and unrelentingly.

"I'm- I'm close," you whimpered, your fingers slipping from the sweat-soaked hair at Matt's nape to grip onto Jolly's muscular arm. The simultaneous stimulation was driving you towards a precipice of release faster than you'd anticipated. A sharp gasp left your lips as Jolly drove deeper into you, hitting a spot that made your vision blur.

"S...Five," Ruffilo's voice cracked against the constant onslaught of pleasure laced visions before his eyes. He watched as Matt's jaw clenched, just as desperate to hold back as he was himself.

“Hold on, love,” Jolly growled in your ear, “Give

us another moment.” Matt punctuated his plea with a particularly forceful thrust that made you bounce in their hold. You moan loudly, your fingers involuntarily digging into Jolly's arm.

"Fuck!" Jolly swore, feeling the first clench of your impending orgasm. The intense pleasure shot through your body as you tightened around them both.

"Four," Ruffilo's voice was nothing more than a whisper, almost obscured by the desperate sounds coming from the three of you. He was teetering on the edge, his hand working in time with Matt and Jolly’s vigorous pace.

Jolly accelerated his rhythm, the wet slapping sound of his skin against yours mingling with your frenzied cries of pleasure. Matt mirrored his movements, the two working as one to push you toward release.

"Three!” Ruffilo's voice barely held onto the last shred of control he had left, his free hand gripped tightly onto the armrest of the couch.

Jolly held you tighter, teeth gritted as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. The angle allowed him to brush against that sensitive spot within you once more, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. Pure bliss ran through your body as you let go.

“Fuck,” Matt exclaimed as he took in the sight of your body arched back, legs writhering and shaking against his hold as he kept them spread with Jolly.

Your next scream reverberated through the room, a raw and primal sound signaling your climax. Matt and Jolly barely had time to react before they were being squeezed tightly by your convulsing inner walls, the sensation pulling them over the edge with you. Both their movements were erratic before stilling abruptly, spilling inside of you with mangled breaths.

"Fuck-" Matt stuttered out haltingly between clenched teeth. Jolly bit the side of your neck gently, his teeth grazing the sensitive hickey Folio left earlier.

"One," Ruffilo choked out which caused you to stare at him hungrily.

“Wait Nicky-” you begged, allowing Jolly and Matt to lower you to the ground.

Ropes of their cum dripped between your thighs as you stood up shakily, but the sight of Ruffilo, so close to his own release, kept you rooted.

His eyes were wide with desperation and arousal as you inched closer to him; his focused gaze never once strayed from your sinful body getting closer.

"Z..Zero," he managed to breathe out just as you knelt before him, your lips scant inches from the tip of his cock. His eyes were pleading, awaiting your next move.

Without needing any further invitation, you opened your mouth towards his waiting desire.

"No..." Ruffilo swallowed hard, his voice a whisper among the heated gasps and pants of the room. His cock was throbbing, but he held himself back at the last moment, gripping your shoulder firmly. "Not like this..."

There was a pause when everyone else in the room seemed to hold their breaths, chests heaving from their own climaxes as they watched the interchange between you and Ruffilo.

"Up," Ruffilo ordered in a low voice, his fingers tracing over the curve of your ass as you clambered onto his lap.

Without any hesitation you sunk down onto his arousal, his head falling back in relief.

You cried again over the feeling of Nicholas filling you right after Matt released inside your body, leaving you clenching your thighs at the thought.

As you rocked on his lap, each movement was filled with a world of pleasure. Your lips met his in a feverish kiss, muffling your sweet moans that trickled into his mouth. His hands were on your waist, guiding your rhythm with determined fervor.

“H-How are you.. so full…” Ruffilo slurred out although the question was halfway lost amidst the gasping moans of your coupling.

"It's them,” you gasped against his lips, tilting your head back as he rolled his hips upward, forcing a high pitched whimper from your throat. "You taste - fuck, Nicky - you taste them?”

The thought drove him wild and he could only groan as he pistoned into you with renewed vigor, his mind clouded over with hot lust. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down harder onto him every time he thrust up.

A knock on the door sounded and you heard the door knob jiggle; but nothing could pull you away from Nick’s cock as he thrust into your body from below.

“Ignore it,” Ruffilo rasped, his fingers now delving deeper into your flesh, “Fuck the time.”

But the knock came again, this time louder, a worrisome addition to the symphony of pleasure echoing through the room.

“Guys? Open the door,” You heard Noah yell from the other side, “I need Y/N’s help.”

"Ignore him," Ruffilo commanded, his thumb tracing over your shivering belly that was full of their mixed cum. His teeth grazed the tender bud on your chest, drawing a desperate cry from you.

You glanced at the door, a pang of worry dancing in your chest…yet the persistent knocks and Noah’s voice only served to amplify the decadent pleasure you were feeling – it was a sinful thrill, performing something so intimate, so intense, with three men, while another begged for entrance.

But Ruffilo was focused too much on your body, and the sounds it made in response to his. He gnawed at your hard nipple while the other hand trailed down, tracing over the curve of your hip bone and around the juncture where he thrust into you.

"Forget Noah," he said with clenched teeth. His breath was hot against your damp skin and you felt a tingling sensation start from your center.

You shook your head in protest, ready to beg Matt to open the door- but with one final thrust all you saw was stars, your vision clouded from Ruffilo’s cock buried inside as another orgasm was pulled from you.

Ruffilo was not far after, his body freezing as his nails dug into your hips, spilling inside of you.

Both of you gasped in unison, panting heavily as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Ruffilo slowly loosened his grip on your hips, falling back against the couch as he held you close to his heaving chest.

"Noah...I swear," Ruffilo hissed between breaths, a low growl resonating in his throat.

"Open the damn door!" Noah shouted again, the desperation in his voice more apparent than before, “we are on stage any fucking minute!”

Jolly walked over and turned the nob, allowing Noah and Folio to enter; both froze when they saw you splayed on the couch, face flushed and body dripping.

Noah's brow furrowed as he took in the sight before him, his gaze darting between your spent body and Ruffilo who was still buried deep within you. Folio however, simply raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

“Having fun, are we?” he sarcastically asked, leaning against the door frame.

Ruffilo grumbled something under his breath, but otherwise made no move to untangle himself from you. You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks under their scrutiny but all you managed to do was whimper, closing your eyes as aftershock rode through your veins.

However, once you pulled away from Nick and finally stood up, you couldn’t help but feel shy under Noah and Folio’s intense gaze.

“Locking the fucking door was not cool,” Noah said, folding his arms.

Jolly laughed, shaking his head, “What if Bryan came in? What if another crew member did?”

Folio shrugged, “Yea well when we ask you to open the door, do it. Don’t leave us out.”

"Noah, Folio... Relax," Matt managed to say in between his chuckles, finally gaining some breath back. His smirk was wide and lopsided from the sidelines, naked under the dimly lit room with a sheen of perspiration matting his chest hair.

Jolly, leaning against the door frame now, rolled his eyes, "Seriously, guys. Have a bit of patience, will ya? We were in the middle of something." He walked back towards you, placing a protective hand on your waist as you struggled to keep standing.

“Fuck off Jolly,” Noah snarled, glaring at him with burning eyes, “This isn’t about patience.”

“And what is it about then?” Ruffilo snapped back from the couch.

“It’s about fucking respect.” Noah shot back, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Everyone fell silent as Noah's words echoed around the room.

Rule one of this relationship: respect.

A bitter taste filled the air as Noah's words echoed. He spoke out, pointing a firm finger toward Ruffilo still lounging on the couch, “We all agreed to this…thing because we’d respect each other. It's not just about getting our rocks off.”

Noah then turned his gaze to you, softening ever so slightly, "And it's not just about respecting one another," he said quietly, almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "It's about respecting her too."

You said nothing, standing there with Jolly’s hand still wrapped around your waist, warm and protective. You could feel every eye in the room upon you; their intense gazes made you feel even more raw and exposed than before.

"I needed to talk to her about the ear pieces and we are literally going on stage any minute," Noah continued after a heavy silence had filled the room again. “But you guys ignored me. Like you’re the only ones that matter. We still have a fucking job to do: and that job is not getting off minutes before a show.”

You chewed on your lip as Jolly finished helping you dress, and ran a hand through your disheveled hair.

Noah sighed, continuing, “It’s not necessarily about the sex; like yea, I’d love to have joined or what the fuck ever,” he said, glancing at you briefly before looking at his band mates, “But to make this shit work, we need to listen to everyone in this relationship.”

"Fine, we fucked up." Matt finally conceded, crossing his arms and leaning back onto the couch. "Next time we'll remember to let you in, Noah."

"I can't believe we're having this discussion right now." Jolly interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose, "A literal stand-off because we didn't let Noah into the room."

"This isn't about locking a door," Ruffilo said, "This is about control."

"What?" Noah's brows knitted in confusion, taken aback by his accusations, “the fuck does that mean?”

"You want control over this --" Ruffilo gestured vaguely to Jolly and you "--you want control over her."

"No!" Noah shouted, his face reddening as he pointed a trembling finger at Ruffilo, "Don't turn this around on me! This isn't about control; it's about, fuck..." He groaned in frustration, stuffing his hands into his hair.

"It's about boundaries. There are five of us here - all with the same level of ownership, the same rights, and the same responsibilities."

The room fell silent again for a minute before Folio sighed heavily. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way," he suggested, "I want everyone to feel equal in this relationship." He looked around the room between you and each of the men, his fiery gaze finally resting on you.

There was a moment's pause, then the click of a microphone being switched on followed by a low, distorted voice echoing over the sound system: "Bad omens on stage in two. Meet back stage."

The room, which had moments ago been echoing with tension, turned to sudden urgency. All thoughts and discussions of boundaries and power dynamics were put on pause.

"Guess we gotta go," Folio said, breaking the silence.

Jolly’s hand slipped away from your waist as he swooped down to grab his leather jacket; Matt hastily buttoned his shirt, while Ruffilo went over to the couch and began pulling on his boots.

Noah grumbled under his breath and nodded stiffly at you, his usually easy-going demeanor replaced with a stoic facade. Before turning on his heel and moving toward the door, his words floated back towards you, "We'll talk about this later."

You felt a pang of regret pinch your heart as you looked at each man striding out of the room; their bodies tense, their spirits subdued. You realized then what an enormous impact this conversation had on all of them. This wasn't just about a closed door or establishing boundaries, it was about setting the course for the unfamiliar and complex journey you were all embarked on together. This was a relationship shaded in harmonies and discord.

Just like their music, it was a composition of distinct individuals striving for harmony, yet not losing themselves within it.

Folio turned his head towards you at the doorway, his eyes lingering on yours as though waiting for some form of assurance. You nodded, forcing a small smile onto your lips, an affirmation that this conversation was necessary and beneficial in the long run. A promise, whispered through that fleeting contact: we will navigate this complicated score together.

+++++

note 2: I have no idea if this is what you guys wanted :-: lol, but this is the turn I took to build upon some more plot I guess since it was a requested a few times about delving into the actual relationship aspect. I do really appreciate the love this has gotten, especially considering I wrote the bet as a oneshot. Yet, here we are lol. Thank you so much for taking the time to read!

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lacy1986 @calleyx13

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@darkmxgician @sprokat @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @anything-more-than-human

@fuck-me-muke @fadingangelwisp @tosoundlessdarkistare

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #bad omens x reader #Noah Sebastian smut #Nicholas Ruffilo smut #Noah Sebastian fanfiction #Nicholas Ruffilo fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #joakim karlsson smut

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