#You are the third friend to say that to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whytheylosttheirminds · 3 days ago

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home for the holidays (part two) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️ (part one here!)

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

(taglist for this series is closed. please see author's notes at the end of the chapter for important info about the taglist!)

Somewhere between his house and yours it dawned on Rafe, much to his annoyance, that he had a big, stupid crush on you.

He tried everything to suppress it. He reminded himself that you didn't like him, that you probably thought you were better than him. He reminded himself how stupid it’d be to get attached to someone only a few months before graduation.

Jesus, really man? He thought. She’s not your type, Rafe. She hates you. Be a fucking man and pull it together.

But it was the way you were perched in the driver’s seat, scooted all the way forward leaving no room between you and the wheel, smiling as you sang along to Mariah Carey. You looked so soft and cute, the sleeves of his hoodie slipping over your hands as they clutched the steering wheel.

Fuck, he definitely had a crush on you, and he hated having a crush. There was way too much room for rejection. This was one area in which he’d never really grown up, so he opted for his usual defense mechanism - pushing your buttons, like he was ten years old on the playground, pulling your pigtail just to get a reaction.

“So was I right about you not having many hookups in college?” He blurted out sometime during the third play of All I Want for Christmas is You.

Your head snapped toward him, complete confusion and not even a smidge of amusement on your face.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled. “That’s kinda personal, actually…”

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you at parties, and you don’t seem to have a boyfriend. Four years is a long time…”

“Everything is about sex with you, huh? Some of us are actually in college to learn,” you scolded him. It was his intention to push you away, and yet the repulsion in your voice still stung.

“Alright, I’ll stop asking,” he conceded.

“Good,” you huffed, shoulders slumping a little.

He looked over at you every so often, determined to find a flaw, some blemish or ick that he could use as a dealbreaker. This plan backfired terribly, his eyes only discovering more pretty features and cute little mannerisms that made his stomach leap every time he looked at you. He felt like a moth, brainless and hopelessly drawn to the warm light of a lamp that was sure to zap him dead at the slightest touch.

After twenty minutes of freezing him out for his “no hookups” comment, you gasped and excitedly pointed out the first of many road signs for your hometown, your annoyance with him replaced with excitement as the signs advertised you were getting closer and closer to home.

Then you finally gave him something to resent you for. After a remark about how excited you were to see your family, you looked over at him with big, kind eyes, nervously broaching the topic with a light touch on his arm, “I’m sorry about your family leaving you behind. That totally sucks.”

There was a softness in your tone that was so warm and inviting it made him want to jump out of the moving car. He knew he was fucked up for being mad that you were being nice, but he couldn’t help it, the tenderness in your gaze made him feel like a wounded puppy, and he hated your pity.

He pulled his arm away from your gentle fingers like they’d hurt him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “They didn’t leave me, it was just a miscommunication.”

You withdrew in more ways than one, pulling your hand back and falling awkwardly silent. Rafe kicked himself mentally, of course just when you’d started to come around to him, he pushed you away. Little did those girls in your dorm know, that was the true Rafe Cameron special.

“So, uh, you were saying something about presents for your brothers? How old are they?” He asked, praying he hadn’t made you shut down for good, trying to re-stoke the fires of the friendship you had been building since you offered for him to come home with you.

You were chewing on your nails, picking at the dead skin nervously. At his prompting you started to speak again, though a bit less enthusiastically than before he’d shut you down.

“Uhm, well,” you sat up a little. “There’s Luke, he’s sixteen. And then Reese is thirteen and Bennett is ten.”

“Fun ages,” he nodded, wincing at his cliché words.

“They are fun,” you nodded, a smile returning to your lips at the thought of your little brothers. The sight of you smiling again soothed the ache in his chest and he leaned back into his seat, full of relief.

“Luke is such a teenage boy, too cool for everything. I got him some Nike cleats because he plays football, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like them but I think he’ll wear them. And Reese is quieter, he’s always been a bit more sensitive. He wants to be a photographer, so I got him a vintage Polaroid camera. Benny was the easiest to shop for,” you smiled at the thought of your baby brother, Rafe could tell you had a special love for him. “I got him one of those giant gummy bears that comes in its own plastic case. It cost a fraction of what I spent on the other two but I guarantee you he’ll be the most excited.”

“I’m sure they’ll all like what you got them,” he assured you.

“They better, they cost me a whole paycheck,” you huffed, thinking of all the hours you’d worked slinging drinks at your college’s go-to student bar to pay for the presents that were currently sitting in your trunk.

“It’s better than what I got my sisters,” he reminded you with a laugh.

“Hey! I spent six whole dollars on those souvenirs!” You scolded him, smiling at the memory of the crappy little knick-knacks in the backseat.

“And I’m sure they’ll love them,” he agreed.

“What about your sisters? How old are they?” You asked.

Surely, you were just being polite, keeping the conversation going after he’d asked about your brothers. But he wanted nothing less than to talk about his family right now, the thought of them all hanging out at the Bahama house, completely forgetting that he existed, still stung fresh. He wondered if Sarah and Wheezie even asked his dad where he was, why he wasn’t on the plane. Maybe they were relieved to celebrate the holiday without him annoying them, he probably deserved it.

“Hey, isn’t that your exit?” He pointed at the highway sign, advertising that the off ramp to your hometown was only half-a-mile away, trying to distract you from your question.

“Yes!” It worked, you sat up in your seat, excitedly pressing a little harder on the gas as you celebrated the proximity to home.

“Woah, slow down, I’d like to celebrate Christmas alive,” he joked as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher and higher.

“Oh shit sorry,” you giggled, pulling your foot back to slow down a little. “I’m just excited. It’s gonna be so cozy. My dad will have put a bunch of colored lights all over the front of the house, and the tree will be up, probably a fire going and Christmas music playing. I can’t wait to see them!”

His jealousy was almost debilitating. What must it be like to feel this excited to go home? To know what was waiting for you was going to bring you so much joy? He wanted what you had so badly, he was tempted to reach out and touch you just to see if he could absorb your happiness by osmosis.

The little town you called home was just as small as Rafe was picturing, if not more. Though, the tiny houses lining the main street were decked to the nines with Christmas decorations, so much merriment in such a tiny little hamlet. The further into the country you drove, green street signs giving way to rickety, hand-painted ones, the more he felt like he understood you.

You smiled at all the lights, body absolutely buzzing with each turn that brought you towards home. Finally, you turned on a long dirt road, past a field of horses Rafe recognized as the farm you said you grew up next to. Approaching a mailbox with your last name on it, your smile fell from your lips, eyebrows creasing as you turned onto the property.

At the end of the long driveway was a small little split level home Rafe surmised to be yours, only where he expected a display of twinkling christmas decor, there was only one single flickering porch light. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume the family who lived here didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, concern on your face growing as you pulled the car up and parked behind an old, rusting mini-van.

Arms full of presents, Rafe helping with your bags, you stumbled anxiously through the front door. The inside of your house was just as disappointing as the outside. It was messy, dishes on the counter and the echo of obnoxious video games ringing through the halls where there should be the familiar chatter of your family having dinner.

“Hello?” You called out, setting the presents down on the kitchen table. You peaked your head over the island, into the open space of the living room. In the far corner, where there should’ve been a Christmas tree, there was a pile of unfolded laundry.

Two messy headed boys peered over the back of the couch, the third head not moving from its fixation on the TV as his fingers continued to click away on his controller.

“Gigs!!” The smallest one, who Rafe assumed to be Bennett, shouted, he and the second smallest, who he identified as Reese, rose from the couch and made their way towards you.

“Gigs?” Rafe repeated under his breath.

“As in Giggles. It’s my childhood nickname,” you explained, and when you saw his teasing smirk added, “shut up.”

Reese and Bennett nearly tackled you, colliding into you with little bear hugs. Reese was nearing your height, though not quite there yet, and Bennett was small but stocky, his chubby arms squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Rice and beans!” You sang affectionately as you returned their hugs, messing up their hair and pinching their cheeks. You looked to Rafe to answer the question you could see already forming on his lips, “rice and beans, as in Reese and Bennett, their nicknames.”

He smiled at your affectionate embrace with your brothers, nodding with a little, “ah.” Something in him ached, like a haunted limb, a muscle he didn’t even have that was sore from lack of use.

After several moments, Bennett pulled away, eyeing Rafe and pointing a stubby little finger right at him, “who’s he?”

Reese covered his brother’s finger, forcing his hand down correctively.

“Benny, that’s rude,” you said, unable to suppress the little chuckle at your brother’s boyish indifference.

In your concern over the state of the house, you hadn’t planned out how to explain Rafe to your brothers. ‘He’s a friend’ wasn’t totally accurate, but it was the only language they’d understand. Before you could open your mouth to explain anything, though, your youngest brother blurted out, “are you Giggy’s boyfriend?”

“Bennett Alan,” you snipped at him through gritted teeth, giving him a motherly glare as you used his full name in warning. “You’re being rude, and he is not my boyfriend.”

This was true, though Rafe wasn’t sure there was any need for the tinge of disgust in the way you said it. He could sense Bennett formulating another pot-stirring question and jumped in before he had the chance.

“I’m Rafe,” he set his bag down next to the counter and held out a hand.

Bennett puffed out his chest, putting on his best adult voice as he shook Rafe’s hand, “I’m Bennett, my friends call me Benny.”

You and Reese gave each other knowing smirks, sharing eye rolls over your brother’s precocious antics.

“And which should I call you?” Rafe played along with his all-business tone.

“Depends, how much money you got?”

Rafe smirked, but you were mortified. “Oh my god, Beans! You can’t ask people that. Here, make yourself useful and put these presents under the tree.”

“We don’t have one,” Reese told you, the first words Rafe had heard him speak, and by his quiet tone and the way he avoided eye contact he understood why you’d called him the sensitive one.

Rafe caught the way you allowed worry to flash across your face for only a second before you smoothed your features back into faux nonchalance, like you were putting on a show for the kids.

“Oh okay, well then I guess we’ll just leave them on the table,” you shrugged, as if you hadn’t been raving about your family’s grand Christmas trees just minutes ago.

Your eyes drifted back to the living room, where your remaining brother still hadn’t risen to greet you.

“Lukey? Help me with my bags?”

The shaggy haired boy finally turned, eyeing Rafe with a cold distrust that felt like looking in a mirror.

“Looks like he’s already got ‘em,” he grumbled.

You gave him an authoritative glare that had much less playfulness than the one you’d given Bennett.

“Where are mom and dad?” You asked Reese in a hushed tone, shielding the question from Bennett, who was busy dragging a chair over from the kitchen table.

“It’s Thursday,” Reese responded, giving you a knowing look like you should know what that meant. When you clearly didn’t, he added, “chemo day,” in a whisper so quiet Rafe could barely hear it. “Mom’s been asleep since they got back and dad had to work the evening shift.”

Rafe did hear though, and your eyes flicked to him quickly with a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you yet, like he somehow had something to hold over your head now. He wanted to say the exact right thing to put you at ease, to let you know your family’s business was safe with him. As he was formulating the words, Benny was climbing up on the chair he’d dragged over, standing directly between you and Rafe.

“How tall are you?” Benny asked Rafe once he could meet his eyeline.

“Uhm,” Rafe cleared his throat, pulled from the moment, “I’m 6 '2.”

“I’m 4 foot 1 and three quarters,” Benny explained, as though if this were a competition, he was just a few points behind Rafe, and gaining.

“Nice! 4 '1 is very respectable,” Rafe smiled, deciding it was best to be on Benny’s good side.

“And three quarters,” Benny corrected through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry, and three quarters,” Rafe put his hands up in defense.

Benny crossed his arms and gave Rafe a once over, as if he was the man of the house deciding if he was allowed to stay.

Sensing your brother was about to say some other rude thing to embarass you, you stepped in, “Benny why don’t you go show our guest where we keep the air mattress,” you grabbed him off the chair and lowered him to the ground with some difficulty, “and be nice,” you added in his ear.

Benny obeyed but gave Rafe narrow, suspicious eyes the whole way down the hall.

“There’s like a thirty percent chance Benny tries to fight him,” Reese noted as the two of you watched them go.

You chuckled, settling on the couch between your two brothers.

“So who is he really?” Luke asked, still not pausing his video game but at least acknowledging your existence.

“He’s just a guy from school,” you shrugged. “He’s Brody’s friend.”

“Is Brody here?” Reese asked hopefully. You and Brody had been friends your whole childhoods, and your brother’s were always big fans.

“No, he had an internship or something, but I’d already told Rafe I’d give him a ride, and when we got to his house his family was just, like, gone,” you explained. “They went on a trip and didn’t even tell him.”

“Yikes,” Luke said. “That’s shitty.”

“Language,” you scolded, making him roll his eyes. “But yes, it is shitty,” you added, making him smirk.

“He’s like Kevin from Home Alone,” Reese quipped. All three of you laughed.

“Honestly? It was kind of exactly like that, only sadder. Like a lost puppy. I mean, who just forgets their kid?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping it wouldn’t carry down the hall. “I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do so I said he could come here.”

Your brothers seemed satisfied with your explanation. Even though nothing you said was technically untrue, you still felt like you were somehow being dishonest. You’d never admit it, but it wasn’t all out of pity, there was some small part of you that wanted to bring Rafe home, that was intrigued by him and wanted to see more. But there was no way to explain that to two teenage boys, so you settled for the Home Alone excuse.

Benny came back around the corner, leaping onto the couch and nearly knocking over Luke’s soda.

“Beans, chill,” Luke groaned as he narrowly caught his Mountain Dew before it spilled all over the coffee table.

“Where’s Rafe?” You asked Benny, looking around to see if he’d followed your brother back out.

“He said to tell you he’s going to bed, he seemed kinda grumpy,” Benny shrugged, stealing Luke’s soda when he wasn’t paying attention and taking a swig.

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your voice. “Okay.”

Down the hall, Rafe snuck quietly into the laundry room as the fading voices of you and your brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water heater, which sat in the cramped space right next to the air mattress Benny had helped him set up.

Your voice echoed in his head, ‘I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do.’

So it was a pity invite. You saw him as some sad character from a 90s movie, not an actual companion you wanted to spend the holiday with.

He settled on the uncomfortable inflatable mattress. He was in a house full of people, and yet he was beginning to think he might actually feel less lonely all by himself in Tannyhill.

Up before the sun, out the door before breakfast’s done; that’s the way your dad had been your whole life, working a string of manual labor, blue collar jobs that meant he was usually gone before you woke up.

This morning however, you were determined to talk to him before he left, to confront him about the complete lack of Christmas you’d found at your homecoming. You set your alarm at an ungodly hour so you could wait for him to come down the stairs.

Hunched over the counter by the brewing coffee pot, you ran your hands over your face. Your holiday homecoming was nothing like you imagined, the biggest surprise of all being the person you came home with, but you’d figure out how to broach that subject later.

“Hi Gigs.” Your dad’s footsteps were so quiet, you hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. When you turned to meet him, he flashed you a tired grin.

He’d gotten home after you went to sleep last night, this was the first you’d seen him since your anticlimactic arrival. He looked more exhausted than you ever remembered seeing him. Even more tired than after Bennett was born and he had colic for six months.

“Hi dad,” you approached and gave him a hug before returning to the coffee pot to pour some for him in a travel mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

“A lot on my mind,” you said, turning to face him. “Made you some coffee. If you stay and talk to me I might just be persuaded to make you breakfast.”

Your dad slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling on and lacing up his heavy work boots.

“No time for breakfast,” he waved you off. “You know that.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” You asked, knowing your window to get answers was closing quickly.

But he didn’t answer, he just sighed heavily and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Just not a breakfast guy that’s all,” he joked. You knew he knew that’s not what you meant.

“You didn’t even hang any lights,” you mumbled softly, feeling a bit childish. “And there’s no tree.”

Your dad sighed again. You wondered if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in one conversation.

“I’ve been working double shifts, there just hasn’t been time. I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s been a long year, kid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s gotten so bad? I would’ve come back sooner,” you said, pulling a side eye from him that you read as: and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.

“I don’t know, why didn’t you tell me about the frat boy in the laundry room?” He countered.

‘Oh, right,” you blushed, feeling like when you were twelve and he found you hiding a stray cat in the garage. “Was gonna mention him but, you know, you were working.”

“Could’ve told me you were bringing your boyfriend home,” he scolded you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to explain. “He’s Brody’s friend. He needed a place to crash.”

“Ah, Brody’s friend. That makes me feel so much better,” he rolled his eyes.

Your dad was never a fan of Brody, too much of a ‘knucklehead’ as he called him. You knew Rafe wouldn’t fare much better in your dad’s good graces, no guy you liked ever did. Not that you liked Rafe. Fuck, your blush was getting deeper. You quickly looked down at your feet, hoping your dad wouldn’t notice.

Luckily, he was too tired to read your facial expressions, he huffed as he rose from his chair and approached you, digging in his pocket for some cash. “Here, grab a tree and some gifts for the boys -”

“You haven’t even gotten them gifts yet?” You sighed.

“I know, I know,” he nodded, his baggy, tired eyes begging you for a little slack. You’d never seen him look so tired, sympathy overpowering your disappointment. “I’m trying here, gigs.”

“I got it,” you gave him a small, dutiful smile and pocketed the cash.

“I knew you would,” he gave you a side hug and accepted the travel mug of coffee you handed him. “I’m sorry things aren’t exactly what you expected. but I am glad you’re home.”

As he slipped out the front door into the chilly dusk, your mind spiraled. You knew your mom was having a rough patch with her breast cancer, but you had no idea it’d gotten this bad. No Christmas was simply not an option, maybe things would never go back to normal for you, or your parents, but that was adulthood wasn’t it? Your brothers shouldn’t have to grow up just yet, and you’d make sure they didn’t.

Everything felt wrong, off kilter in a way that made your stomach twist with the familiar anxiety that comes with any situation you can’t control. So you did what you always do when things feel uncertain; you made a list.

Pulling a notebook from the kitchen junk drawer, you uncapped a pen and quickly scribbled everything you could think of that needed to be done:

Decorations

⇢ box in garage? lights working?

Presents for the boys

⇢ wishlists? budget??

Buy and decorate tree

⇢ Douglas Fir? tree lots still open?

Under each item you scribbled all the steps you could think of, as well as any conflicts you might hit along the way. Maybe if you could just work the problem, you could fix this, save Christmas and by extension, your family.

You eyed the empty checkboxes next to each item with worry. If you were going to pull all of this off in just two days, you’d need to call in some reinforcements.

The door to the laundry room squeaks if you open it slowly, which you did deliberately, milking it for all the disruptive sound it’s worth. Rafe was sprawled out on the air mattress, which had deflated just a bit in his sleep, making his legs stick up in the air a little higher than his upper body.

He was snoring away, just like he had in the car, your noisy opening of the door not doing what you’d hoped it would.

You sighed loudly, he didn’t stir. You cleared your throat, still nothing. You coughed theatrically, he was still out cold.

Finally, you opened the lid to the washing machine, taking off one sock and dropping it in, letting the heavy metal lid slam closed as you started a rinse cycle. At the crash, Rafe shot up, nearly falling off the air mattress.

“Oh good, you’re up!” You chirped, as if you hadn’t caused the sudden awakening.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and he squinted, barely able to open his eyes in his exhaustion. You gave yourself one second to think about how cute he looked before redirecting your focus to the reason you were in here.

“Just doing some laundry,” you told him as he reached around in the dimly lit room for his phone. “But since you’re awake...”

“What time is it?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“I dunno probably like 9,” you shrugged, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

“I can’t find my phone,” he sunk back into the mattress, making like he was going to go back to sleep. That wouldn’t do.

“Oh, here!” You flicked on the fluorescent overhead light, making him wince and pull the covers over his head.

“Gah! Turn them off please!” He cried out, voice muffled from under the blankets.

“It’s time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us,” you walked over to the mattress, kicking it to jostle him around on the half-inflated plastic.

“I’m on vacation,” he protested.

“Yes, exactly, Christmas vacation,” you walked around to the end of the bed, grabbing the covers in two hands and pulling them from his body, making him groan and curl up in the cold air like a rolly polly bug. “We have Christmas things to do.”

You tried not to notice the sculpted arms revealed by his grey tank top, and you really tried not to notice how the thin material of his flannel pajama pants was leaving very little to the imagination. He looked up after a moment, blinking his eyes open to catch you staring, his lips twisting in a cocky grin. He opened his mouth to say something smug and flirtatious, but before he could, his eyes caught the clock on the wall behind you.

“It’s 6am?!” He yelled.

“Oh is it?” You laughed, no longer trying to hide your scheme. “My bad, 6s and 9s look the same to me.”

Swiftly, Rafe stretched out his long leg, hooking his foot behind your knee and pulling you toward him, sweeping you off your feet and onto the mattress. A sharp “oof!” left your lips and as you crashed down onto what little air was left in the mattress to catch you. Landing hard, you immediately slid towards him, your body settling square on top of his.

“You wanna talk some more about 6s and 9s?” He grinned at you, his morning voice low and raspy in a way that sent goosebumps rushing up your spine.

“Ugh, you’re a pig!” You smacked him on the shoulder, pins and needles lingering in your hand where your skin had met his, and tried to push yourself up.

Wobbling on the plastic mattress, your attempts to get off of him only had you wriggling further down until your face was hovering over his. This was the closest you had ever been to him, suddenly noticing just how blue his eyes were. The glow of them under the fluorescents actually knocked the wind out of you, freezing your body in place over him as you took them in, feeling like you might drown in them if you stared too long, but letting the waves pull you under anyway.

“Morning,” he lips curved into a smile that was so handsome it almost made you forget your mission.

Grasping at your reason for coming in here like it was a lifeboat, you decided to use the compromising position you had him in to your advantage, leaning a little closer as you said, “I need you.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in shock, was this really about to happen, right here in your parent’s laundry room?

“Oh yeah?” He flirted, muscles tensing in anticipation beneath you. “What do you need, hmm?”

“Just say yes and I’ll tell you,” you purposefully dropped your voice lower, adding a tinge of suggestion to your words to really bring it home.

“Anything,” he agreed, his mind five miles ahead of you in the wrong direction.

You sat up, straddling him, and pulled the list of tasks from your pocket.

“Great, get dressed, we’re leaving in five,” you smiled down at him, relishing the completely baffled look on his face. “We’re gonna save Christmas.”

“No, we don’t have time to stop, we gotta stick to the list,” you protested as Rafe turned the car off the road and pulled into a drive thru.

After tricking him into agreeing to help you, you’d rushed him through getting ready and out of the house, convinced the stores would be packed as soon as they opened. He dragged his feet the whole way, but somehow you’d managed to wrangle him into the car, insisting he drive so you could look through some catalogs to map out gifts for your brothers.

“If I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, I’m getting coffee,” he shot you down.

“Okay, fine, but if we get there and all the good deals are gone, I’m blaming you,” you conceded.

You tapped your knee anxiously as the line of cars in the drive thru crawled like a herd of snails. Rafe watched your fingers strum out of the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time the way your nails were bitten down to the beds. He wasn’t paying much attention, but he was fairly sure they weren’t that messed up yesterday.

“What do you want to order?” He asked, unsure why but suddenly only caring about finding a way to distract you.

Without needing to look at the menu, you recited, “venti blonde americano with two extra shots of espresso and a splash, like a really small splash, of oat milk. Actually no oatmilk. And four shots.”

Rafe blinked back at you, your fidgety fingers lifted to your lips as you chewed on your cuticles.

Pulling up to the speaker, he leaned in and said, “yeah grande black coffee for me, and uh, a tall green tea please.”

“That is not what I ordered!” you snipped as he pulled forward to the first window.

“Yeah, I’m cutting you off,” he explained. “If I let you have any more caffeine, you won’t have any fingernails left.”

You dropped your hand quickly, surprised that he had noticed. You were miffed that he was denying you your coffee, but he was probably right. You took a deep breath and sipped your tea as he drove to the first stop on your list.

Somewhere along the highway, the radio jingled the familiar first notes of All I Want For Christmas is You. You sat up, excitedly reaching to turn the volume up.

“If I have to listen to this song one more time, I swear I’m gonna drive the car off this bridge,” he groaned, his hand covering yours to stop you from making his misery louder.

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic,” you raised your eyebrows, giving in and returning your hand to your lap. “She’s the queen of Christmas!”

“Please,” he gave you a pouty lip from the driver’s seat. “It’s killing me.”

“Okay, fine,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “No more Mariah Carey.”

The department store parking lot was swarming with last minute shoppers. You hated that you belonged with them, punished for procrastination. Usually you did things early and thoroughly, now people would think you were one of the careless who pushed things to the last minute. It was a silly thing to worry about, but everything seemed to worry you today. You even made Rafe exchange phone numbers with you in case one of you got lost in the crowd and you couldn’t find each other. Your mind was running wild with worst case scenarios.

Rafe found a spot far from the door, as you walked towards the store’s entrance, you flipped through the catalog you’d snatched from your parent’s junkmail.

“Okay, so I circled everything that’s similar to what’s on the boys’ lists but on clearance,” you explained to him as he grabbed a cart, not fully listening to you. “We’ve got like fifty dollars for each of them, I think we can find a couple good things.”

Once inside the door, Rafe immediately grabbed a bag of chocolates off of the stocking stuffers display.

“That’s not on the list,” you reminded him, jaw dropping when he opened the bag and started eating the candy right there in the middle of the aisle. “And you didn’t pay for that!”

“Relax,” he held the bag out to you, “have some chocolate. Get into the Christmas spirit.”

“Since when are you the expert on the ‘Christmas spirit?’” You eyed him, noticeably not accepting a piece of his stolen candy. “You just threatened to throw Mariah Carey off a bridge.”

“No, I said I was gonna throw myself off a bridge if I had to listen to her one more time,” he placed his hand over his chest as if he was proving his innocence. “Besides, one of us has to have a little joy,” he noted, tilting his head a little to emphasize his point.

He was right, you were stressing a little too much. If Rafe Cameron was out-Christmasing you, then clearly you needed an attitude adjustment.

“You’re right,” you sighed, accepting one of his chocolates and popping it in your mouth as you looked around the store to map out your shopping plan. “Alright, aisle ten for Reese’s camera lens and then aisle four for Benny’s lego-”

Your sentence was cut short at the feeling of Rafe’s thumb on the corner of your mouth, his face cool and casual as the pad of his finger ran across your lip. Your eyes shot around, there were at least a dozen people in this section, all close enough to see him circling your mouth with his finger.

Before you could push him off, not that you really wanted to, he pulled back. You stumbled a bit, subconsciously chasing the feeling of his touch. He revealed his thumb to you, he’d collected a little glob of chocolate that had smeared around your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught for our little shoplifting scheme,” he joked, licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and not an incredibly sensual action for a fluorescent lit department store at 7am.

“W-we are not shoplifting,” you stammered, fighting speechlessness and praying he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were burning. “You better pay for those.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. I’ll pay for them, I promise. But if I forget, I’m saying you took them.” He dropped the chocolates into the cart before you could protest and wheeled toward the first aisle on your list, making you scurry a bit to catch up with his long legs.

“Bastard,” you mumbled, still feeling flustered.

Somewhere between the frozen food section and the office supplies aisle, you actually started having fun.

Your cart filled slowly, the rush you were in when you entered the store slowing with every moment that passed walking around the store with Rafe. You joked about the hideous holiday decor, and the cheesy romance novel shelf. You stood on the back of the cart as he wheeled you around, nearly taking out a display of canned goods, and got a stern warning from a stock boy that sent you both into a fit of mischievous laughter. He tried on a series of truly awful hats for you, and even let you snap a few pictures.

As you laughed and shopped together, you couldn’t help but notice the cheery looks of the older ladies that passed you in the aisles. You returned their friendly glances with a blush, wondering, though it made you feel like a silly schoolgirl, if they thought Rafe was your boyfriend.

You’d remind yourself how foolish the thought was as you checked items off your list, seeing as this was not the real Rafe Cameron. The real Rafe Cameron wouldn’t be caught dead shopping for gardening gloves and barbeque tongs for your parents, he’d rather be pregaming a party or kicking the girl from last night who’s name he’d already forgotten out of bed.

And yet, here he was, pushing the cart while you rattled on about Christmas when you were seven when it snowed so hard the power went out, the last time you remembered actually having a white Christmas. The way he nodded along intently had you actually wondering if it could be real, if being with him could be more than just a distraction from a stressful morning.

Your thoughts spiraled even further when he stopped to point out a his and hers sweater set, one reading “naughty” and the other “nice.”

“As long as I get to be the nice one,” you smiled as he pulled the itchy wool over his head.

He leaned down to tug its partner over your head, his voice low in your ear, “Only ‘cause I know you like it when I’m naughty.”

Butterflies did pirouettes in your stomach, you snapped a picture of the two of you in a mirror, Rafe towering over you from behind as he smiled for the camera.

“Yeah, we’re definitely buying these,” he said, tucking the tag into your collar, his knuckles ghosting over the skin of your neck.

After a few more shenanigans, you realized two hours had passed, and you still had several more items on your list.

“How about this? For your brothers?” Rafe asked, pointing out an Xbox in a display case.

You snorted, “there’s no planet on which my brother’s would think that actually came from our parents. They’re still using an old PlayStation someone gave us years ago.”

“Well then I’ll get it for them, you can say it came from Santa,” he shrugged, as if the astronomical price tag below it didn’t even exist.

“Our Santa brings, like, socks and candy. He doesn’t have a black card,” you pulled his arm, guiding him to a cheaper aisle.

“And what does your Santa usually bring you?” He questioned, a not so subtle way to find out what you wanted for Christmas.

“I don’t ask him for much,” you brushed the question off. “I just want my family all together.”

Rafe didn’t push any further, watching you out of the corner of his eye, realization dawning that you were serious, you actually didn’t expect to get any gifts for Christmas.

Not noticing his eyes on you, you scanned over everything in your cart, adding it up on your phone’s calculator for the hundredth time. You couldn’t remember a day in your life you weren’t worried about money. Every penny counts now more than ever with your mom not working and your dad unable to find a job that pays enough to keep everyone afloat without completely running himself into the ground.

Without realizing it, you brought your fingertips back to your mouth, biting your nails anxiously for the first time since Rafe had pointed out the bad habit several hours ago.

“Hey you know what?” Rafe said, and you were so lost in worried thoughts that you flinched at the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we split up to get the rest of the list? We’ll cover more ground that way. Also, I think I saw some fake trees on sale back there, so I can grab one.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the little bubble of your flirty shopping spree pop.

He was clearly ready to be done with this little excursion. But you’d had more fun than you thought you would, and there were still several days of break left to enjoy with him. You could feel the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart swaying just a little bit in his wind. The thought terrified and thrilled you all at the same time.

After collecting your half of the gift list, you searched the store for Rafe. You found him in the jewelry section, leaning against the glass display case. You made your way towards him, prepared to tease him for wasting time in a section that wasn’t on the list, before you saw his reason for being there. You stopped short, ducking behind an inflatable Santa to watch with a disappointed glare.

He was chatting up a pretty sales girl, her store uniform fitted tightly as she smiled down at him, her cheeks rosy pink and pretty smile blindingly white.

Rafe gave her the charming grin you’d begun to hope he only reserved for you, probably drawling some cheeky compliments to cause her to blush in the way you surely did when he talked to you.

The feeling in your chest was unfamiliar, and painfully uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you identified it as jealousy. No, no, you were not jealous over this obnoxious frat boy, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be. That was not how you were gonna start your Christmas break.

Just as you’d resolved not to be jealous, he reached up and brushed his hand against the necklace she was wearing, admiring her jewelry surely just as an excuse to bring his hand close to her chest. She beamed at him, his attempts at flirting clearly working.

A deep frown settled on your features. He was supposed to be shopping for your little brothers and instead he was feeling up a sales girl? You felt so delusional for thinking you’d misjudged him on the drive down. He was the same guy you thought he was when he showed up at your car yesterday, you should've trusted your gut.

Hoping he wouldn’t catch you watching, you turned quickly on your heel, beelining for check out.

Taking the bag from the sales girl with a wink, Rafe tucked the small item at the bottom of his cart, under the presents he’d collected for your brothers, and began searching for you in the crowded aisles, looking forward to the pleased look on your face when he informed you he’d found everything on his half of the list.

When he found you, you were already half way through checking out, loading items onto the belt and watching with tense shoulders as the total on the screen climbed higher and higher.

“What, were you gonna leave without me?” Rafe joked as he started adding his items to the belt.

“We’re on a schedule, we don’t have time to keep fucking around,” you grumbled.

Rafe met eyes with the college-aged guy who was working as cashier, both of them flashing knowing smirks as if to say, “chicks, am I right, man?” Their boyish camaraderie made you even angrier.

Once your cart was empty, you started to help Rafe empty his cart, but he jumped around to the front before you could, blocking your access.

“No, no, I got it,” he said nervously, his body blocking you from reaching into his cart.

Irritation crept up your chest, threatening to take over completely. You suddenly felt so petty and immature, like you were Benny’s age, knowing you were about to say something rude you’d later regret.

“Fine!” You shoved the cash your dad had given you in Rafe’s hands, “I’ll just go pull the car around then.”

Rafe watched you leave through the store’s sliding glass doors, arms crossed as you exited to the parking lot, which was wet and slippery from the wintery sleet mix that had started falling at some point when you were in the store. You paused and huffed deeply, annoyed by the shift in weather, throwing the hood of your jacket up as you jogged across the lot to your car.

He had no idea what had changed in the thirty minutes you’d been shopping separately. There had been a moment earlier when he thought he’d finally won you over, and now you were back to treating him like he was the bane of your existence.

“This too?” The cashier asked, holding out the decorative mistletoe Rafe had thrown in the bottom of his cart, thinking he could work in some cheeky joke with you and get that perfect eye roll/reluctant smile expression you make that he’d become a little obsessed with.

“Yeah, sure, whatever man,” he agreed with a frown.

As promised, you brought the car around, giving Rafe the cold shoulder as you loaded the gifts into the trunk. When you got to the fake tree Rafe had snagged from the holiday section, you paused.

“What’s that?” You questioned him.

“A tree?” He snapped back. “I told you I was gonna grab one.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we have to get a real tree.”

Rafe looked up at the sky pointedly, the worsening weather causing shoppers around you to duck and run to their car to get out of the misery.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It just…it has to be real, okay?” You huffed. “I found the last tree lot in the county that still has Douglas Firs, so you can take this one back.”

“Why don’t we keep this one just in case you change your mind,” he suggested.

“Fine, keep it, but I’m not changing my mind,” you threw the box with the fake tree into the trunk and slammed it closed, nearly catching Rafe’s hand in the heavy door as you did.

You stomped around to the driver’s side, leaving Rafe to return the carts to the main entrance, his jaw clenched in frustration the whole way. What had started as disappointment in your change in demeanor had turned into full-on anger. He may not be your favorite person, but you weren’t the only one having a shitty Christmas, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved whatever the fuck this was.

“I’m telling you, it was veer left, not turn left!”

The windshield wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the freezing rain out of your line of vision. You sat all the way forward in your seat to see through the watery streaks they left behind. You had pulled onto some muddy back road as Rafe read directions from the GPS, trying to find this obscure tree lot several miles outside of town.

“Veer left doesn’t make any sense, I know that road, it’s all factories and empty lots,” you waved him off.

“Okay, well it’s clearly not this road! Is this even a road? It’s like a fucking swamp out here, I don’t know how your tires are even still moving,” He argued back.

“Not everything around here is as nice here as it is in the Outer Banks, Rafe. We’re doing our best, sorry if we don’t meet Cameron standards,” you griped at him.

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, just admit you’re fucking lost,” he snipped back.

“I am not lost. It’s probably just taking me on a shortcut. The road will clear up any minute.”

As you said those fateful words, the road got even more unstable, dirt and gravel mixing with the precipitation to make what looked more like a vat of chocolate pudding than a road.

Stubbornly, you accelerated, determined to get out of this patch of road and prove to him you were right. As you sped up, the steering wheel turned erratically under your hands, your tires skidding on the slippery road, eventually stopping movement at all.

“Hmm interesting,” Rafe quipped sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you try to navigate the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“It’s fine, I just need to…” you accelerated more, your spinning back tire kicking up mud as it fought for forward motion.

“Stop, you’re gonna - “

POP! The car skidded forward violently just an inch before stopping altogether, the weight of it sinking underneath you as a loud whistling noise echoed from the rear tire.

“- blow your tire,” Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation as the low tire pressure light on your dash illuminated with a little ‘ding!’

You avoided his eyes, hands still clutching the steering wheel as you clenched your jaw in anger.

“Thanks a lot,” you mumbled.

Rafe blinked at you in disbelief, jaw hanging slack.

“Me?” He scoffed, looking around the car as if there was someone he could look to for confirmation that you were being insane. “How is this my fault?”

“You’re rushing me! I know how to drive on back roads but you were distracting me!” You were grasping at straws, you knew it, he knew it, but logic had flown out the window when the tire blew.

Rafe just chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s just call someone and -”

But you were already opening your door, booted foot landing with a squelch in the mud.

“What are you doing?” He called after you.

You leaned down to look at him through your cracked door, “never changed a tire before, rich boy?” With a smirk, you slammed the door in his face.

Scrambling in the mud behind you, Rafe tried to reason with you.

“It’s pouring, you’re gonna get sick! Please just let me call someone and we can get a tow home - ”

“We still have to get the tree,” you shut him down, loosening the spare tire from the back of the hatchback.

Rafe threw his hands out in disbelief, “you’re not serious right? You’re still trying to find this fucking farm that, I gotta tell you, I’m starting to think doesn’t even exist.”

“Yes,” you said simply, lowering the tire to the ground and pulling the lug wrench from the trunk.

“You might actually be the most stubborn, ridiculous person I’ve ever met. What is it about getting this tree?” He yelled over the steadily increasing rainfall.

“Because, Rafe, I can!” You dropped the wrench in the mud and turned on him, tears stinging your eyes as you yelled, letting all your frustration out on this boy, who just yesterday was a stranger. “I can’t get my dad a better job, and I can’t buy my brothers the presents the really want, and I can’t cure fucking cancer! But I can get a goddamn Douglas Fir, like we have every year since I was born. So I’m getting this tree! You can call your new friend from he jewelry department to come pick you up, but I’m staying here and changing this fucking tire!”

Standing back, Rafe buried his hands in his coat pockets, nodding along as you let it all out, the loose threads all twisting to finally weave together an explanation for your shift in mood. He spotted the tears as you mentioned your powerlessness over your dad’s job and your mom’s cancer, feeling like he was starting to understand your stubborn insistence to make this cursed Christmas joyful.

Though he knew he should be comforting you, he couldn’t help the little upward twitch of his lips at your comment about the jewelry girl. That explained your mood at check out, and if he was being honest, made his heart leap a little at the thought of you actually being jealous for his attention.

After several moments of his eyes on you, sizing you up as he digested your outburst, you suddenly felt exposed, and a little silly, “what?” you asked him with a burning blush.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin, leaning down to pick the wrench up from the mud, “just didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

Your jaw fell slack, out of all you’d just said, of course he was zeroing in on your comment about the girl in the store. You were somewhat relieved though, glad to have an excuse to move on from talking about all the sad, stressful things going on at home.

“You’re such an ass,” you laughed, the air between you growing a little lighter. “I bet people call you that a lot.”

Rafe knelt down in the mud, beginning to loosen the screws of the flat tire.

“Not everyone, some people go with ‘lost puppy’,” he muttered under his breath.

Your smile fell from your lips, your eyes grew as you realized he was quoting you back to you. He had heard you talking about him to your brothers last night. You replayed all your words in your head with a wince - laughing about how he was like the kid from Home Alone, saying you only brought him home because you felt awkward. God, now you felt like an ass.

“Rafe, I’m…I’m so sorry, that was not cool…”

“It’s fine,” he said, a small grunt leaving him as he used the wrench to loosen a particularly rusted bolt.

“No, it’s not. We shouldn’t have been laughing. I didn’t just bring you home because I felt bad-”

“Why did you then?” He stopped what he was doing, his eyes landing on yours so suddenly, you jumped back a bit, taken by the striking blue, and the vulnerability you were seeing in them for the first time.

Deciding it was time to get your own jeans muddy, you knelt down next to him, hands wrapping around the wrench handle next to his to help him pull, both of you struggling due to the rain making the wrench so slippery.

The bolt still didn’t budge, and you paused for a minute, sitting back on your heels and looking at him.

“Because it’s Christmas,” you answered his question. “And I wanted to spend it with a friend.”

The tips of his ears burned red, he hoped you’d think it was just from the cold.

Going in for a second try, you both tugged on the wrench again, gritted teeth and white knuckles as you combined your strength to turn it as hard as you could. Frosted rain slipping between the end of the wrench and the bolt made it slip, the metal flying through the air. You and Rafe both slipped in the mud under your knees, Rafe trying to catch himself on his hands so he didn’t land on top of you, but not quite in time. His large body landed on top of yours and you both went tumbling down the side of the road, landing side by side in the muddy ditch with an unsettling squelch.

Both of you completely covered in mud, panting and shocked, Rafe turned his head to look at you, “fake tree?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agreed. “Fake tree.”

You and Rafe snuck in through the garage, both of you tracking mud with every step. There was no way you’d make it all the way up to the bathroom without destroying the floors in your wake.

You’d laughed together the entire drive back to the house. What a disaster the shopping trip had turned into, and yet, you were more in the Christmas spirit now than you had been in a long, long time.

“Oh shit,” you yelped, slipping on your own muddy boot and knocking down a pile of boxes as you tried to stabilize yourself.

Rafe’s arms shot out to catch you, your nails digging into his forearms to hold yourself up. You eyed him, still wearing the “naughty” sweater you hoped he’d remembered to pay for.

“Well these are ruined,” you sighed, looking down at your own mud-soaked pullover. “And there’s no way we’re making it upstairs without tracking in mud.”

Before your sentence was even finished, Rafe was hooking his hands into the collar, pulling the sweater up and off with one pull, peeling off the soaked t-shirt underneath it, too.

Failing miserably to hide your shock at his sculpted form, you bit your lip to silence the gasp that was begging to escape. He was just as built as you expected, if not more. His abs creased in a perfect set of six, sturdy pecs and two thick blue veins running through each bicep. He was somehow tan in the middle of December, and his skin was perfectly smooth apart from the little line of rough hair that ran from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans.

He caught you staring, of course he did, and smirked as he flustered you further by unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor in a muddy heap, left in only his black boxer-briefs.

Frozen in place, you subconsciously pulled your sleeves down over your hands, as if covering yourself up more could clear the cloud of attraction fogging your brain. Rafe turned and walked towards the door that led into the house.

“Wha-where are you going?” You asked him, snapped out of your trance.

“To take a shower,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’m fucking freezing, but you can stay here and drip.”

He smiled at you expectantly, there was a challenging dip in his voice as he over pronounced the last word. Something competitive rose in your chest, he clearly didn’t think you had it in you to strip down, too. At the end of the day, you were a classic oldest child - you didn’t take kindly to losing.

Keeping your eyes locked to him, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off over your head, copying him by pulling the shirt underneath off too until you were standing in front of him in just your bra. Rafe tilted his head as his eyes raked over you, raising his eyebrows when he got to your jeans, just as muddy and destroyed as his had been.

With a hard swallow, you undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, shimmying your hips a little to pull the wet denim over your curves. Rafe went pale and speechless, taking in the little show with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. You piled all of your clothes in the corner, hoping no one in your family stumbled upon them before you had the chance to wash them.

Rafe didn’t even try to hide the way he was drinking you in as you padded towards him in your underwear, brushing past him to get to the door first.

“I mean, damn,” he wolf-whistled at you, quietly so no one inside the house came looking for the sound.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, stepping ahead of him so he couldn’t see your pleased smile.

He followed your tiptoed steps through the hall and up the stairs, stopping at each corner to make sure no one was going to come around it and catch the two of you sneaking around in your underwear.

Once you made it to the upstairs bathroom, you turned on the shower, excited to step into the steamy water and finally warm up. You were surprised to find Rafe still standing in the open doorway when you turned, sure he’d get the hint that he should wait outside when it came time for you to really strip down.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-scolded him.

“Enjoying the view,” he winked.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pushing him by his chest so he stumbled back into the hall. “I don’t need your help for this pa-”

Your sentence was cut short by the creaking of wood under incoming footsteps. Panicking, you grabbed Rafe’s wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Woah, is this really happening?” He asked breathlessly, licking his lips before you slapped your hand over his mouth to shut him up, his eyes going wide at your boldness.

“Someone’s coming,” you mouthed, urging him to be quiet as you kept your palm firmly sealed over his lips.

The footsteps in the hall grew louder, their owner getting closer and closer to the door, not knowing you had a half-naked man pushed up against the other side as steam swirled around your bare bodies.

As you both waited with baited breath, your eyes drifted over Rafe’s body, so close to yours in the tiny bathroom. You couldn’t help it, sure that desire was painted all over your features. There was no use in denying it, as the warm steam caused a single drop of sweat to roll down his chest and into the ripple of his abs, you finally allowed yourself to accept that you wanted him, bad.

He felt it too, you were sure of it, his eyes half closed with heavy lids as he looked down over you, drinking in all the exposed skin and soft lace of your underwear set.

Just as his hand slowly started rising toward your hip, a knock on the other side of the door made you both jump, a little yelp of surprise almost leaving your lips before Rafe threw his hand over your mouth, the tables turned.

“Hey Gigs?” Benny’s little voice called from the other side of the door.

You tried to move Rafe’s hand from your mouth, but he only allowed you to lift it enough to respond before covering your lips again.

“Y-yeah, Beans?” Your voice cracked in response, Rafe flashing you a teasing grin at your flustered state. You shot him a warning look, praying your little brother couldn’t sense what was going on.

“Can we open the presents you bought us now, pleaseee?” Benny asked.

Normally you’d say no, that they had to wait until Christmas day. But as you were about to reject his request, Rafe pulled his hand from your mouth, letting his thumb tug your bottom lip down as he dragged his fingers to your jaw and brushed the soft skin of your neck. You could tell by his wicked grin he was enjoying seeing how far he could push you, drunk off your blushes and gasps.

“Yes, sure, th-that’s fine,” you told Benny, eager to get him away from the door. Rafe chuckled quietly at your compliance, making you clench your jaw even harder in annoyance at him.

“Sweet, thanks!” Benny called, hurrying back downstairs, clearly not having expected you to give him the answer he wanted.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you glared up at Rafe, “you can’t do that!”

He threw his head back in satisfied laughter, bringing it back down only to drop his lips close to your ear.

“So, how about that shower?” He whispered.

With a little grin of your own, you leaned in too, “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

Rafe managed to find his way back to the laundry room without bumping into any of your brothers. He ran his hair under the utility sink faucet to get the flecks of mud out, throwing on some clean, warm clothes before heading to the kitchen in search of a much needed glass of water, his mouth still full of cotton at the thought of you nearly naked in front of him.

As he rounded into the kitchen, he stopped short, surprise flashing across his face.

A painfully thin woman, who he could only assume to be your mother, stood in the middle of the small space, bony hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair. Her bald head was wrapped in a silky scarf, and she smiled an easy grin that reminded him so stunningly of yours.

“You must be Rafe,” she said. “Have a seat.”

(to be continued)

a/n: okay not the single longest post I've ever made on this website. period. thank u for reading!! two more parts w the last taking place on New Year's Eve. merry everything!!

taglist note: the taglist for this series will be posted in replies asap and has gotten very long so it is closed. I'm soooo thankful that ppl want to know when I post you have no idea! but it takes me a long time to do and makes posting difficult, so I am asking that in order to stay on the list for the rest of the series, you interact with each post in some way (reply with feedback, a rb, an ask - anything you'd like!) it really helps me as a writer! thank you!!

if you missed the taglist, just follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs to be first to know when I post!

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hs-is-loml · 23 hours ago

Text

He's My Favorite. (ln4)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Sainz!Actress!Reader

Summary: fans are speculating who y/n might be dating but it turns out it was in front of their faces the whole time. or y/n and lando are mistakenly considered to only be best friends and people are in for a surprise.

Type: Social Media AU! face claim is Bruna Marquezine!

Warnings: probably a few grammar errors. lots of fluff. drivers standing their ground against neymar jr. because he deserves his own warning. inaccurate timelines but then again this is a fictional smau! UNEDITED

a/n: i'm on a kick rn. nothing can stop me.

all translations come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist

twitter

instagram

carlossainz55 just made a post

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,560,937 others

carlossainz55 so proud of this one! but papa did say your head is growing too big after you saw yourself on the billboard...and i agree with him. anyways, go support y/n by watching her new movie Blue Beetle now in theaters!

tagged yourusername

view all 117,342 comments

sainzforlife this family is too talented for their own good-

yourusername papa did not say that.

→ carlossainz55 just ask him then @/carlossainzoficial

→ carlossainzoficial mija, es de lo único que has estado hablando desde que lo viste. (daughter, that's all you've been talking about since you saw it.)

→ yourusername papa, that's not very nice. don't try to pretend like i didn't catch you sending the trailer to all your friends last week...

iamrebeccad beautiful girl and amazing movie!

→ yourusername i love you more than my brother.

→ liked by iamrebeccad and 217 others

xolo_mariduena at least you didn't see her crying when she first saw the billboard

→ yourusername XOLO, NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT

→ landonorris send the video.

→ yourusername now, look what you've done. all the drivers are going to see me crying now-

→ xolo_mariduena you'll still take me to the next gp right...?

landonorris just to let you guys know she cried after this photo was taken too

→ carlando4life does this mean lando was with the family for the private screening??

→ 4papaya lando is a part of their family so probably😭

instagram

landonorris just made a post

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, mclaren, and 1,860,657 others

landonorris can't believe this girl is going to be blown up on the big screen coming to theaters near you. jokes aside proud of you and everything you do.

tagged yourusername

view all 99,342 comments

thatonebakucorner this post is so sweet!

yourusername thank you, lan🫶🏻

→ carlossainz55 why did you send him a heart?

→ charles_leclerc yeah, what's that about?🤨

→ yourusername carlos, you're just jealous you didn't get a post from lando

georgerussell63 i never get appreciation posts like this

→ landonorris what do you want me to post about your slideshows?

→ alex_albon it's because you're not y/n

welovey/n LOL not the drivers grilling lando about this post

ln4csforever "proud of you and everything you do" LANDO JUST TELL HER YOU LOVE HER ALREADY

→ paddockfashion please- like lando could pull someone like y/n

twitter

instagram

yourusername just made a post

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, neymarjr, and 1,341,972 others

yourusername such a crazy week but glad i got to spend it with some of my favorite people. thank you for all the love and support you guys have given to Blue Beetle!

tagged carlossainz55 and landonorris

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worldchampionsisaid what is neymar doing here?!?

→ neymarandy/n they need to get back together asap!

→ mywifeisy/n yes because that would be such a good idea even though he cheated on his baby mama while she was pregnant??

oscarpiastri lando is asking if you're serious with the guy in the third photo

→ oscarpiastri apparently, i wasn't supposed to ask you on here so now lando is yelling at me.

carmenmmundt proud of you, love! ❤️

→ yourusername love you, carmen! 🤎

ferraricountyourdays the third pic?? Y/N, WHO IS THAT MAN??

→ y/nismilf she needs to hard launch him already!

neymarjr linda como sempre, amor. (beautiful as always, love.)

→ carlossainz55 no, go away.

→ charles_leclerc wrong post, buddy.

→ georgerussell63 abosolutely not-

→ danielricciardo don't forget what happened last time you tried to contact her.

→ maxverstappen1 move along.

→ fifaandf1crossover do you know you have 30 minutes?

→ y/npleasemarryme love that they always protect her!

shesmyfavactress weird she posted picture with her bf along with one of lando and carlos

→ f1girlies maybe because she's an adult and allowed to be friends with her brother's ex teammate?

fernandoalo_oficial i remember when i used to be your favorite driver

→ carlossainzoficial those were the days

→ yourusername you two are still my favorite of all time.

→ carlossainz55 i'm hurt, y/n.

→ landonorris so was your caption meaningless?

→ yourusername i can't win.

whatacrossover oh, lando and y/n are definitely dating.

yourusername just added to their story

shared post by yourusername and landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, anasainzvdec, and 2,493,968 others

yourusername and landonorris just kidding, he's my favorite.

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carlossainz55 that hand is getting a bit low, don't you think?

→ yourusername get over it. you've had years to get used to this already.

→ inmyf1era YEARS you say?

landonorris i get to be with you every day. what a life.

→ yourusername i love you.

→ oscarpiastri you're ridiculous

→ charles_leclerc mate, look what she has turned you into

→ yourusername charles, i will tell alex about this.

→ charles_leclerc I WAS JUST KIDDING. PLEASE NO

lilymhe was waiting for this hard launch!

→ alex_albon i thought lando was going to spill before they could even do one

carlossainzoficial what can i say i love my son so i approve

→ yourusername could've said that you love and care for your daughter's happiness

sebastianvettel actually, y/n forgot who her real favorite is

→ yourusername love you, seb!

→ landonorris back off, old man.

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hitomisuzuya · 2 days ago

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hi again, teehee. my request is just reader and scara who are enemies that got forced on a road trip by their mutual friends. the two are sitting at the back of the van, but reader has to sit on his lap cause theres not enough people!! that leads to reader cockwarming scara pretty dejectedly, cause she wanted a peaceful car ride; which ended up with her squirming in discomfort on his cock!! but of course, no one can see them cause they still have their clothes on!! byebyee 🫶

- 🎧

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cockwarming. some humor. enemies to lovers. a bit of degrading sexting.

this request was a fun challenge for me to write since the situation doesn't offer room for dialogue😌

scaramouche hates you for a number of reasons. he hates that you smell good all the time. hates how your hair always looks so pullable. hates how soft your skin looks. hates how hard he can feel himself getting when argue back with him, and call him out on being on an asshole when he is in fact being an asshole.

and you hate scaramouche for plenty of very valid reasons. he is selfish, arrogant, and incredibly egotistical. rude and a bit self absorbed. you swore he purposely picked fights with people because he thought it was fun. he legit stuck his tongue out at like child, with this stupid fucking smirk that just wanted to kiss right off his face.

normally, you like being a passenger on road trips at night. there was just something so peaceful about just sitting and looking out the window and listening to music.

unfortunately for you, you got to enjoy none of those things.

sometimes, with road trips more people ended up coming along than there was even room for. which in turn left you sitting in scaramouche's lap. you are sore, there are so many so many ways you could sit in someone's lap. all you wanted to do was get to the hotel, check into your room and fall asleep cuddling your jeff the shark plush.

and to top it all off, scaramouche would not stop texting you. he was impossible to ignore, especially when he could clearly see you were trying to ignore him.

'you know, you can turn the other way if you want. i can brace my arm behind your back or you could rest it on my shoulder. or i could brace my arm behind your back,' you grit your teeth reading scaramouche's text message.

thing is he wasn't being nice. doing any of that would require you straddling him. this wasn't the first text you'd gotten from him like this. he much preferred this position. he could feel the heat between your legs right on his cock. the bumps in the road were easily felt sitting in the back of the van, shifting you in his lap and causing you inadvertently rub on his cock.

'are you cold?'

you sighed and texted back 'i am good sitting the way i am, thanks. and no, i am not cold.'

'okay, well i am so grab the blanket for me.'

you reached over and yanked the blanket back to you over the seat, and threw it at him. "the hell you are cold," you said your first words in hours outloud. you swore you heard him laughing even though you had ear buds in.

scaramouche maneuvered the blanket around the both of you. he wasn't an idiot, in fact he was very sure of a lot of things. you were undoubtedly sore, especially in your neck and back. and you are most definitely cold. you would have to change positions sooner or later.

you felt your phone vibrate in your hand again. 'look i am not exactly comfortable either.'

'didn't say you were.' you texted back, squirming a little in his lap. your body had been crying for awhile for you to change positions. you sighed heavily and moved so that you are straddling him. for the third time that night.

scaramouche sincerely thanked whatever stars aligned in his favor for the fact that you'd chose to wear a skirt that day, which was no doubt hiked up more than little hidden underneath the blanket. he was positive he could feel your panties up against his jeans, especially when the van went over a bump. especially.

'exactly, what with you grinding on my lap,' came another text.

you rolled your eyes, your hand tightening on your phone. 'oh like i plan every bump in the road,' you were more than aware of him between your legs, and feeling he was hard at times was unavoidable. and top it all off your phone battery was half way drained, being sucked up by scaramouche's texts.

you heard him sigh as a bump shifted you in his lap. 'you sure sound comfortable.' you texted.

'awfully concentrated on me, aren't we? you like this, don't you? or maybe you have thought about this?' you knew his text was a taunt. he knew he was close to stamping on your very last nerve.

'get over yourself.' he could feel how scathing your text was. and it was such a turn on for him.

'you really haven't thought about fucking me? not even once? be honest.' you grit your teeth, and looked up at him to see him raising at you with a smirk on his face. god he is so smug.

'no,' your response was quick and simple. but truth is, you had. you hated how smug he looked just knowing he was right. you had spent some long night thinking about him. shamelessly.

'i don't mind being in this position,' you admitted in a text back, feeling a little bad about how snappy you'd sounded. you thought he felt pretty good between your legs, becoming more than a little away of thick he really is. 'yes, i have thought about it,' your heart pounded realizing you had pressed send.

scaramouche looked up, surprised at your text. you hadn't given him a inch this entire time. you look so fucking adorable looking away from your phone screen shyly, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks.

slowly you looked down at your phone when scaramouche texted you again. 'you wanna cock warm me for awhile? it would be more comfortable for both of us.' it was ideal that a blanket was around the both of you.

'..are you serious?' you texted back, hardly believing how this had happened. your pussy has clenched just reading the text, as infuriating as his text was. scaramouche was making you realize how touch starved you were.

' ...yes.' you texted back. he made you realize just how badly you wanted his cock inside of you. you squirmed knowing it was probably going to be uncomfortable after a few hours, but the thought was making you wet.

scaramouche knew in a few hours you wouldn't care how uncomfortable it felt. you wouldn't feel any discomfort. you would be wet and squirming, soaking on his cock because the van going over bumps would nudge his cock head into your sweet spot at random consistency. he couldn't fucking wait.

no one noticed you shifting into a position to peel your panties aside, the blanket concealing your movement. to everyone else it would look like you were trying to alleviate stiffness in your muscles from sitting in one position to long.

scaramouche freed his now straining cock from his jeans, silently swallowing a groan as he maneuvered his cock inside of you. you lowered yourself back down into his lap. it helped he saw the struggle to not make noise in your eyes as his stretched you apart.

'remember to keep quiet, slut. or everyone will hear how good you feel to finally have my cock inside you,' your pussy clenched reading his degrading text. texts he kept on sending you. the van went over a well placed bump, nudging his cock right into your sweet spot.

your toes curled as you squirmed a little. scaramouche on the other hand was in heaven. his cock was finally inside the girl of his dreams in a very erotic way. he could sit back and enjoy your tight warmth squeezing around his cock, your pussy oozing juices feeling it throb.

he couldn't resist idly playing with your clit underneath the blanket while he scrolled through his phone. you had to thankful to be turned away from everyone. the throbbing in your swollen clit was almost unbearable, making his cock feel twice as good inside of you.

'go ahead, kitten. roll your hips a little, no one will notice. it will make you feel better.' he pinched your clit, wagging his finger on the sensitive nub while he texted you with one hand.

the shock of pleasure made your thighs quake under the blanket. you moaned loud in your head as your hips twitched to roll down onto his cock.

'you slut. fuck that felt good. do that too much and i am gonna cum inside you.' scaramouche texted back.

your breath hitched in your throat reading his text. more wet pooled onto your pussy reading his text. your hand shook as you texted back 'promise?' you could barely even think with his cock buried that deep inside you. you want to rub and grind against him, nuzzling his neck and licking at his mouth submissively while you told him how good his cock felt.

his response was quick. 'when we checked in at the hotel, you are coming to my room and i am fucking you raw.'

'yes, please.' you texted back. he knew you couldn't wait judging from how tight your pussy felt on his cock.

scaramouche gave you break after awhile. he would have to have his cock back in his pants well before arriving at the hotel. he kept you straddling his lap though.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #modern au #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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llyfrenfys · 3 days ago

Text

Adding on with a personal example of this since I cannot sleep (it is 8am and insomnia has got me bad. I've been up all night).

Last week I went to a local pub with some friends. I got up to use the toilet (important note: I'm a disabled trans man with IBS). The pub I was at legit only has an accessible stall in the ladies' room. And I'm a trans man who passes frequently enough for it to be An Issue if I went to the accessible stall. It was also about 3am, give or take.

So I go to the adjacent men's room and use the toilet stall (even if I wasn't trans, I'd still need the stall anyway for my IBS). Outside, I hear a cis man passing some women queueing for the ladies' room. As mentioned before, the accessible stall and ladies room are frustratingly one and the same. An accessibility nightmare. So there's always queues. The man walks past and tells the women to come into the men's with him instead of waiting and they can give him blowjobs. I couldn't see anyone involved (again, I was in the stall having an IBS moment). But this made me so angry I began to prepare to get up - then stopped because - I'd be putting myself at huge risk by 1. Probably outing myself 2. Even if I didn't end up clocked, I'm not very tall or intimidating, 3. I was actively having a disability moment and couldn't exactly pack it in to get on my high horse.

I felt pathetic and hopeless because I couldn't step in to say something. Expecting marginalised men to put ourselves in harm's way just feels like an extension of the patriarchal idea that men have to be defenders or protectors and if not, we are not performing masculinity sufficiently (and as op put it so well, essentially discredits feminist men in the eyes of men who aren't. As does the act of being a feminist while a man).

When I was outed to my parents for the third time without my consent (c. 2019) my dad (estranged, along with my mum) said to me that "no man will ever accept you" [note: I went on to date a cis man for the next 5 years] in regards to my transness. Even though he is dead wrong - he really meant "no man *like me* will ever accept you". And unfortunately a lot of cis men are like him.

I feel horrified I couldn't step in to say something to that man in the men's room last week. But I am unlikely to have achieved anything and would likely be on the receiving end of violence depending on how the man took criticism.

I wish there was something constructive I could do in moments like those without putting me in harms way. I sadly couldn't approach the women later to check if they were okay because I didn't see their faces. And even if I did - I don't want my presence to be unnerving for them so soon after being harassed by a different man.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

#good soup op

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selfcarecap · 2 days ago

Text

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret.

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind.

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy.

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them.

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it.

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend.

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could.

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade.

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting.

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up.

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time.

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him.

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say.

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist.

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it.

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top.

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too.

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan.

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?”

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend.

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers.

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa.

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans.

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction.

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.”

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief.

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum.

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum.

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic.

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits.

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.”

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

#logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #Logan howlett x reader x wade wilson #wade wilson x reader x Logan howlett #wolverine x reader x deadpool #deadpool x you x wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #Logan howlett smut #wade wilson smut #Logan howlett x you #wade wilson x you #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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awkwardandeccentric · 2 days ago

Text

You know what’s pretty sad?

If you’re a high-masking autistic, you know that most people just kind of tolerate you. They want to be around the person you could have been if you were “normal.” It’s reinforced by caregivers, by friends, by teachers, by employers, that you are not who they want you to be. So you try to be “normal.” But you can’t be. That’s not something you’re capable of. The more autistic traits still slip out. And the people around you know you’re not “authentic” but you don’t even know what “authentic” looks like.

I think Blitz fell for the person under Stolas’ mask. When the cracks showed and Stolas was either too tired to fix them, or felt good enough to not need to, or some secret third thing.

Until Season 3 or 4 tells me otherwise, Blitz fell for the person who info dumps about carnivorous plants and reads weird smut and and talks with more 20 dollar words than is strictly necessary and loves words. But he most likely saw that person very far and few between. Just enough to keep him interested. Not enough that he was convinced that’s who Stolas actually was.

If Blitz had been able to say that he was falling for the person Stolas was when he wasn’t masking, and if Stolas was in a place he could have heard it, they’d save themselves a lot of heartache.

#helluva boss #stolas #blitzø #stolitz #high masking autism

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almondmilkcleanser · 2 days ago

Text

when I made a little mess, he told me to clean my act up....

└ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 `

synopsis - your friends are seeing less and less of you and all you can give them as an excuse is that between school and Sukuna your schedule is filled to the brim. Is tonight going to be any different? pairing - ryomen Sukuna x reader

content -Daddy dom sUkuna listening to - positions x ariana grande minors do not interact a/n - happy holidays everyone <3

Ping!

Come out with us for drinks! Its been so long since weve seen you since you started dating this guy. Whats his name again?

Ping!

Oh come onnnn! This is like the third weekend in a row that youve bailed on us. Sewriously, who is this guy anyway?

Ping!

Y/nnnnn! We miss you! Why dont you tell your little boy toy that you cant sit on his lap this weekend and actually come out with us~~~ love you talk to you later!

Ping!

Are you okay? We’re worried. Whats really going on? Everytime we try to invite you out you say youre with this Sukuna guy. Seriously who is he? Ugh! Call me later. Love you bye!

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Tsk. you dont need those kinds of friends anyway. Nothin’ but a bunch of jealous girls. Isn't that right, beautiful?” You wish you could reply, but you were stuffed - practically down to your rib cage - full of Sukuna. He crossed his flexed biceps behind his head, a smug expression slowly creeping across his face.

Aggressively pressing the lock button on your phone, he tossed it clear across the room. He read the plethora of messages between your friends, how they complained about their boyfriends/dates - both seemingly interchanged between each other in some, very odd, sort of fashion - and how they were going to form a man hating group. Just for you to turn around and meet Sukuna. Mean old Sukuna. Curse destroying Sukuna.

Sukuna, your Dom. Sukuna, your boyfriend.

Sukuna, the one training you to take his entire dick down your throat as your first lesson.

He chose your hairstyle, two low ponytails that hung daintily down your back. He didn’t give a shit if you just got your hair done. He’ll pay to get it fixed once he’s done with you. He kept you pampered; your hair was done, nails were done, fresh pedicures, the works. So to hell with messing up a hairstyle, daddy Sukuna took care of it all.

The new choker he bought you complimented your skin tone perfectly. You always voiced your concerns on how the BDSM community never catered to darker skinned women as far as color selection, but he pulled the appropriate strings, so nothing on your beautiful brown skin looked washed out or ashy. The metal heart brightly polished - almost spit shined - and neatly rested on your throat. That pretty fucking throat that he had grown so acquainted it.

He hmm’d to himself as he reminisced, his eyes never leaving your innocent face as you stared back at him. Your plush, glossed lips, encircled around his dick. As you swallowed him whole, he thought back to the first time you rode him.

Your hips bouncing up and down at a hungered pace, his large hand wrapped around your neck, and his engorged dick french kissing your gripping walls, pulling him in deeper, deeper, deeper into the depths of your love nest to welcome his seed home.

Thank fuck for birth control. A mutual agreement between you two - but it was, in all honesty, the best thing you could have done.

His dark eyes flashed something so lustful, so salacious, that he almost sounded giddy upon sharing it with you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, Mmh, I have an idea.” your soft tongue flicked the pre-cum clean off the tip of his head, your eyes innocent and wanting. With your hands still wrapped around his dick, you continued to lick the head, your ears perked at his idea.

“Yes, daddy. What’s your idea.” Sukuna loved your obedience. If half of the idiots surrounding him on a day-to-day basis had half the brains and even a fraction of your pussy, then his days would go a lot smoother. But until then-

With an ever growing smile, he jerked his head to the side of him, making your eyes wander over his direction. In the corner was the suspension rig that he put together for play time.

The metallic poles glinted brightly under your living room lights - they almost mocked you, ready to hoist you in the air for all of Sukuna to see and galore in his own self of triumph - its black lapels sturdy, strong, shining. For you.

Sukuna read your eyes with triumph. Partial sadism and partial perversion intertwined themselves into one, forming at the root a creation that would sit-pretty in the back of his mind. Of course, you would look up at him, mouth stuffed with his girth, with such an harmless stare. You blinked - pleading almost - that his mind wasn’t affixed to the sight of you dangling there, helpless and pleading, pussy pretty, raspberry pink, and wanting to be split down the middle.

“Remember what daddy talked about last weekend? How if you didn’t get that A in your organic chemistry class that we’d be setting up our next little toy?” In what world was that fucking contraption little?!

“Y-yes, Daddy.” you stopped giving him head to look deeper into his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his upper thighs. He traced your bottom lip and smirked. His sadistic eyes shimmering brightly.

“I saw how you tried to turn that ‘C’ into an A. So I logged into your school account.” his voice simmered a mixture of amber and sweet tobacco. But you and your pussy knew that he wasn't anywhere near pleased. He fed you his thumb, and like an obedient plaything you opened your mouth, letting him rest on your tongue.

You suckled down, lapping your tongue around it, taking in the hints of your own juices from this morning’s requested “stuffing session”. You were a greedy little thing. Begging him for one finger, then two, all four, and finally his thumb. Your mind was still recalibrating from that orgasm even to this second.

“Baby, tsss, why did you lie to me?” he used his other hand to tiptop to one ponytail, then the other. Holding both in his hand, he tugged gently. You had no reason outside of being a brat. You hated organic chemistry. The teacher didn’t offer extra credit. And Sukuna, as hungrily devilish he was, he didn’t fuck around when it came to your education. You still remember how many times he edged you because you forgot to turn in a huge presentation for your English class. You already had an A in the class! But Daddy didn’t care.

You held his wrist with both of your hands, putting extra care into teasing his thumb. Taking it a step further, you nudged his hand to welcome two more of his fingers. You could taste yourself. A specially formulated nectar that practically oozed from your pussy, all dried up on his fingers. He knew what you were trying to do. But by fucking God did he enjoy falling for it.

He pulled on your ponytails, popping his mouth off of his hands and upwards at him.

“Sweetie, I asked a question. Why did you lie about your grades?” He took those same two fingers in his mouth and purposely slobbered on them. He scooted off the chair, his torso still towering over yours, and repositioned himself on his knees in front of you. He snaked his hand behind you and popped those same two fingers in your slicked opening. You welcomed him cheerfully, making him tsss at the sudden wave of wet warmth sucking him in.

He had to keep his composure. He had to keep his vices in tack. Otherwise he would turn you around and fucking throttle you for hours.

“Speak, Y/N.” he growled.

“B-because I didn’t want you to be mad, Suna~” you clenched your teeth, swallowing down a moan. “I fell asleep studying and didn’t remember half of what was on the test. But I won’t do it again- ah- I p-p-promise.” Sukuna stuffed you with a third finger but refused to move. He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Tsk tsk tsk. All you had to do was tell me the truth. But now-” the pressure of his thumb as it pressed against your asshole sent shivers across your body.

“We’re going to have some fun.”

✥✥✥

“Mmmm… look at that pussy.” Sukuna took a few steps to admire his work. You were dangling in midair, your ankles held up by two suspension straps and your arms held behind your back by another set of suspension straps. Your body lazily rocked back and forth in midair, everything exposed to Sukuna.

“And you were protesting this idea so much, Y/N.” Sukuna snorted, bunching all the straps in his hand to rock you back to him. “Look how wet she is,” with one finger, he scooped the inside of your pussy, whistling in wondrous regard at how sticky you were. “She’s fucking ready, princess. Are you?”

Your body was hot. You’ve never been this exposed by anyone in your life! If your friends were to get a glimpse of you - Ms. high-strung, always punctual, studious and practically perfect - strung up like a holiday ham about to get the shit fucked out of you, what would they say?

Sukuna pulled the holsters back, guiding his thick dick into your slicked entrance with precision. He growled aloud, seeing you so helpless as he stretched you open sparked something carnal inside of him. His pretty pillow princess, hanging in the air, submissive and so fucking sexy. All for him.

All for me

Slap! He moved his hips back and forth. Palming your beautiful ass, slapping each cheek as you rocked back and forth. Swallowing him whole.

All for fucking me.

Your pussy gripped around him, making him moan aloud. “F-fuck, baby. Your pussy isn’t letting up today. She’s a g-good girl~ she’s a good fucking girl~” he slapped your ass again, upping the pace. He gripped the holsters so you’d stay in place as he slammed into you. He made your pussy his home, claiming each available space as his. Your sloshed insides coated his dick with an opaque film that glistened every inch of him from tip to base, even dripping down his balls.

“S-s-suna-a-a-a~” Your pitched whines fed him. He fucked you harder, and harder, and harder. Your slutty pussy let him in each and every time. Its warmth enveloping his massive girth and nestling him home. With a grit of his teeth, he tried his damnedest not to cum, but you were just-

“Dammit, she’s so fucking good baby. Your pussy l-loves this”

“‘Ts so fucking tight.” He spit on his thumb, guiding it in your forbidden hole. “Sucha nasty fucking girl.” He pulled himself out of you to admire you. Your open pussy, slicked, wanting, welcoming. “Does daddy’s girl want to come?” He licked two fingers and pressed them on your clit. The electric shocks sending your back into an arch and your moans into a frenzy.

“Hm? I don’t think i hear you, doll~” he slapped your clit with those same two fingers, chuckling under his breath. Your eyes caught a flashing light in the corner of the room. It was your phone. Your friends were calling you again.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” his hand wrapped around your neck. He smiled into your neck, biting playfully on your shoulder. “Looks like others want your attention as much as I do.” He guided himself back into you. Your quivering pussy clenching down, refusing to let him go.

“How’s about this-” he kissed your cheek. “You give me a good orgasm and I’ll let you go. And you can go make up lost time with your friends. Sounds good?” he didn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, he stood back up, grabbed your hips, and proceeded to pound into you.

“F-fuck! You like this, huh, sweetheart?” You did. You fucking did. Being so vulnerable and open to him from all angles drove you fucking insane. Your body rocked back and forth as his hips met your ass. The ripples of your ass sending Sukuna in a daze. He loved watching your almond-coated body glazed with sweat. You needed this fucking more than you admitted. And he was more than happy to give it to you.

His thrusts increased in force. So much that he had to cinch onto your hips so you wouldn’t fly forward. But Daddy Sukuna knew you. He knew you would take it. With a fucking smile. Your moans escalated to a near animalistic pitch. He loved seeing you let loose. To hear you curse, whine, and groan your frustrations made him proud to be yours. To be your release. To be-

“My pretty fucking girl. Taking all of this dick for daddy, huh? Fucking come on me, princess.”

“That’s-” stroke “An-” stroke “Order.”

Your hips buckled as he pushed forward, kissing the end of your cervix. You felt his fluid coating your walls, glistening each surface area of you with his cream. Even when you were stuffed, droplets of his cum littered the floor, streaked down your thighs, and pooled underneath you.

“Suna~” you whined, “These are going to stain my stockings, again.” he responded by kissing your shoulder again.

“I’ll just buy you another pair, doll. ‘Ts nothin’ when I get to see your pretty face like this.” and then, another devilish idea sparked in his head. He held the holsters again, turning you around to face his pelvis.

“How’s about one more round. And then you can tell your friends to meet you wherever you decide. My treat~”

As you looked up at him, his dick jumped to life again. Both sides equally veiny, moistened, and waiting for your plush lips to wrap around them.

You didn’t say anything, all you did was smirk and latch your soft tongue around the base.

“Nnh-” Sukuna squeezed the holsters. “Good girl.’

“Good fucking girl.”

END.

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slvttyplum · 3 days ago

Text

"an apprenticeship? really? he should be studying under you, why are you letting him do it." the tone in your voice changing causing naruto to turn around, his eyes furrowed as he walks over to you, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, staring at you wash your hands in the sink.

"what's that supposed to mean?" your voices going quiet.

the silence was damning, you knew what you said and how you said it was wrong, but you were the only one who could talk to naruto in a way where you weren't coddling words, that's why he loved you.

"you gonna answer me or just say what you want without expecting a response?" naruto also said shit like you did, causing lots of arguing.

"excuse me?" quickly turning off the sink, and he could read your face like a book, his body stiffening and his blood running cold. he just couldn't let you have the last word, and he got into deep shit for it.

"you wanna do this now?" turning off the water and quickly wiping your hands off with the towel that hung beside you, wasting no time to mimic his position while looking at him, eyebrows furrowed and all.

"you know what? let's do it." his conscience telling him to back down now and not to cause any more drama, to just apologize and say that the both of you would talk about it in the morning, but his pride was just too damn big.

"alright, let's do it. one. you're never home, the only time you're home is when it's a life or death situation or for sex." naruto's mouth opening for a rebuttal but quickly closing back when you hold up your hand holding up two fingers.

"two. i have to do everything around this damn house including parenting, yet you don't want my advice on what your children should or shouldn't be doing." naruto once again opening his mouth trying to defend a case he hasn't even built yet, but you're a little too fast, adding a third finger to the mix.

"three. i'll go easy on you and let this be the last one." every time i critic sasuke, you're the first to defend him. this man made your life a living hell, the least you can do is not defend him every fucking time."

a few seconds of silence pass and naruto's face unclenches, his whole body does. a smile forming on his face as he turns towards you, leaning on the counter again.

"you know, i missed this." your face scrunching in confusing as you tuck your arms in again, you could always count on naruto to look like he just one a million dollars when getting degraded.

"are you fucking delusional? did you hear anything i just said?" naruto still smiling, walking towards you, his hand around your waist and his eyes tracing your face.

"i did, loud and clear, my love. i missed you putting me in my place, telling me how it is, because you're right." your mouth open with shock, narutos hands rubbing over your ass and a grin on his face, this was the first time in fifteen years he's said that you were right… fifteen years.

"i'll be better, i'll do better, starting with us. i won't let him do the apprenticeship, he'll study under me. hm?" his eyes now locked in on yours, the sincerity written all over his face, showing you that he was serious.

scoffing as your arms wrap around him, snuggling into his chest.

"finally got your fill of scolding?" naruto would be lying if he said he didn't get scolded every time he walked through the door, because he most definitely did.

before this, he didn't know when he would start being home consistently, being with you, helping around the house, helping his son.

he finally got the realization that there could be no more waiting, his family needed him now, he couldn't rely on his best friend to train his son, you put that into perspective for him, and he couldn't begin to thank you enough.

"i love you, im always listening when you think im not. let me be there for you." his hands rubbing back up to your waist, his arms squeezing around you, kissing the top of your head.

#naruto #naruto uzumaki #naruto shippuden #boruto #boruto uzumaki #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto uzamaki #naruto uzamaki x reader

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softness-and-shattering · 1 day ago

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Id say its less like chips for dinner and more like fairy floss. Mostly air, disappears into your mouth immediately, doesnt sustain you at all. Its barely worth the sugar hit.

I think its also ok to want a story with low tension, because even low stakes high tension can be stressful. But in that case we have to absolutely love the character down their bones, which means, without big challenges to garner sympathy, they gotta be incredibly competent and charming and larger-than-life, in which case theyre not relatable - which I think would be fine could work really well - but writers and editors tend to want relatable characters I imagine especially for coziness. You want reader insert.

Cause story elements are quite flexible, but if you leave out too many you dont have a dish anymore, just some ingredients. You left out the seasoning so its all bland, or you forgot to put liquid in the soup so it burned.

Something like Legends and Lattes I think could also work if the setting was really deeply a character, but in my memory its just fantasy coffee shop au. There was a big magic cat of some kind is my main memory, but it wasnt super distinct.

Maybe this is a better metaphor, as I was becoming more disabled and less able to cook, I made a minestrone soup entirely out of cans and pre-made broth. It was all the same ingredients as when I made it from more-scratch but it came out terrible. If you have a generic coffee setting + generic fantasy setting (the + makes it more interesting but not much bc ....its just a coffee shop au its been done a gazillion times) + reader insert character + no stakes or tension to the plot....theres nothing left to be The Interesting Part.

Though for me the weirdest part of the book was not fully trusting the low stakes especially in the final third. I never felt like i could relax because she has a sword shes been an adventurer, shes having dealing with a local magic gang, maybe the tension is about if she'll pick up her sword again. So it was a weird tense experience for me in a way that didnt break or resolve because I didnt feel like I could be sure that these low stakes were going to stay low stakes, even with a blurb on the cover about how chill it is.

For a reccomendation though, theres a picture nook called The Tea Dragon Society with a very interesting world (and such pretty art), and interesting take on dragons, really cool characters, the protagonist is a kid who acts like a kid. Its a small story about four people intergenerationally bonding over care for dragons that grow tea. Nothing like, showstopping revolutionary, its not a michelin chefs newest dish, its more like that friend or relative whos food you love because its a really good version of the familiar. I think thats ny food metaphor for it.

-im also thinking about cozy games but I dont have specific analysis to add atm.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

#comment #cozy fantasy

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peachhcs · 3 days ago

Note

we need more macklin fics and fluff bc that one was actually so cute. i need more asap 🩷

sorority formal

still debating if i should make a macklin au to add to my samy + will verse (HAHA my own fanfic verse??) but here’s some more fluff between the lovely rookie and his gf from santa clara university :) — also cleaning out my inbox so that’s why i’ve posted four times in a row LOL

also if this is bad i’m so sorry. i lowkey awkwardly switch between 2nd person and 3rd person pov sometimes so apologies for that. otherwise, i’m really starting to like writing about mack 😌 (slight allusion to sex but there’s no sex actually described just kissing)

masterlist

macklin had never been to a college sorority formal before, nor did he really understand what it was or what to expect, but he agreed to be your date nonetheless. plus, the look on your face was hard to say no to when you asked him two weeks ago.

the brunette was in his room trying to find the right suit to wear while will sat in the corner on his phone. he knew a little bit from when he was at boston, but he never found any interest in going to those frat and sorority parties, so the rookie was a bit in the dark when it came to this stuff.

will wasn’t much help either.

“i dunno man. i’ve never been to a sorority formal before. i assume it’s the same as any other formal? i’ve been to samy’s soccer banquet,” will shrugged, watching his friend try on his third suit.

“y/n said to just wear something neutral. her dress is pink i think,” macklin explained as he examined the dark navy suit in the mirror.

“i think that looks fine. navy and pink go well?” will nodded.

“i’m kind of nervous. is that bad? i don’t really know what to expect,” obviously, he didn’t want to make y/n look like a fool at her own sorority, so the boy’s nerves were at an all time high at the moment. what if he did something stupid?

“samy texted me back and she said it’s like prom but for college. there will be food and drinks and then you dance if you want. some sororities will do speeches or superlatives,” will read off the text his girlfriend just sent him.

“oh, okay. that’s not too bad then. i’ll be fine,” macklin assured himself and decided on the navy blue suit.

“yeah, it will be chill. you basically get to spend a whole night with your girlfriend,” will grinned and the brunette couldn’t help but smile at the thought. he hadn’t seen you in a few days because of your crazy busy schedules, so having this night to yourselves would be nice.

“yeah, you’re right. it will be chill and we’ll have fun,”macklin was basically saying positive affirmations to himself at this point which made will chuckle. he stood up to help his friend with his suit.

“don’t even sweat it, dude. she’s gonna love you,” the blonde assured and if will thought so, then macklin was gonna believe it.

once he was finished getting dressed, he grabbed his phone to let you know he was on his way over to your dorm. the boy rushed through the house, double checking his pockets that he had phone (check), keys (check), wallet (check), and a small bouquet he decided picking up for you because he knew you liked flowers.

“knock ‘em dead!” will called from the porch as macklin got into his car.

the brunette drove the short drive to the university. being new to driving in the states still and the nerves about tonight made his hands a bit shaky as he turned onto the drive that led to your dorm. he didn’t need to sweat this. it was you. y/n. his girlfriend. there was no reason for him to be nervous about some sorority formal.

he parked in the lot and climbed out, doing a third check that he had all of his belongings. you were waiting in the lobby for him after getting his text about being on his way. the hockey player stopped in his tracks though when he laid eyes on you.

your strapless, silky dress stopped around your ankles where he could see your pretty white heels. your hair was down like it usual was and macklin was pretty sure his pupils turned to hearts.

“hi,” you grinned when he got closer.

“hi..wow..you look..” the boy lost his words making you laugh.

“you look pretty..wow,” you complimented his navy suit.

“s-so do you. wow..i..i’m in awe,” he admitted earning a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re sweet. are these for me?” you noticed the bouquet wobbling in his hands. the brunette quickly flushed and handed them over to you.

“yes, sorry. they are.”

you admired the pretty pink and red petals, “thank you. these are pretty. wanna come up for a second so i can put them in water?” it wasn’t really a question because macklin was going to follow you regardless.

the two of you stepped into the elevator. mack’s nerves were now because of how beautiful you looked beside him and he didn’t know how to express it other than telling you and the building desire to kiss you. he followed you down to your dorm. your roommate grinned at him.

“hey mack,” maya waved.

“hey maya,” he waved back.

“look, he brought me flowers,” you showed maya the pretty bouquet.

“wow, brownie points for the hockey player,” she teased a bit which made him flush. he watched you find a vase and fill it with water from your bathroom. you came back out and placed the flowers into the vase.

“like them?” you asked for his opinion.

“i like them,” he nodded.

“i’ll put them by my desk for now. thank you, again,” you pecked his cheek.

“of course,” the boy was glad you liked them and he was glad he decided on getting them the other day because the smile on your face was so worth it after spending an hour at the store trying to pick them out.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. we’ll be back later,” you called to maya who threw up a thumbs up.

“have fun! don’t get too drunk.”

you went back down the elevator and then out of the building where you latched your arm with mack’s. he rubbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“it’s not far from here,” you explained as you led the way.

“i’ve never been to one of these before,” the boy admitted a bit nervously.

“don’t worry, it’s so chill. you’ll get to meet some of my sorority sisters, we’ll eat, dance, drink some, and then we can leave whenever,” you explained and it eased some of mack’s nerves a bit more hearing you explain it. as much as he appreciated samy’s brief explanation, he also liked hearing it come from your lips too.

the two of you came up on one of the college bars in the area. it was already blasting music that could be heard from outside. macklin followed you inside where you were immediately greeted with security to check your ids. you both got little x’s on your hands meaning neither of you were 21. mack’s gaze flicked around the space that was dimly lit and pumping base through his bones.

“omg, y/n, hey!” a girl greeted you.

“hi jen, you look gorgeous!” you admired your friend’s dress.

“no you do! is this your boyfriend?” she turned her attention to mack.

“yes, this is macklin,” you gripped his arm again and the boy managed a tiny smile.

“nice to meet you. i’m jen, the sorority president. come on in. we have food in the back and drinks at the bar so get whatever,” jen explained.

you quickly led macklin to the back because you were starving. the boy watched you take a plate so he copied whatever you did. you laughed at his behavior.

“don’t be so nervous, mack.”

“sorry. just getting used to it all,” he said. he’d never been into a bar before because he wasn’t old enough first of all and if he was caught underage drinking he’d definitely get a mean punishment from his coach.

“it’s okay. it’s overwhelming, but i’m right here remember,” you assured and some of the worries eased hearing you say that. macklin offered a grateful smile as he followed your lead with the food and then followed you to a seat.

you sat with some other girls and their dates which got all of you quickly talking. the more you talked, the more comfortable macklin became and flushed when a few people recognized him as a hockey player. being next to you made him feel a lot more comfortable too. seeing you look so calm and content helped him do the same and by the time you were done eating, he was having a full conversation with some of the guys without you involved.

“let’s get pictures!” one girl exclaimed when she came around with her camera.

you pulled mack up. he eagerly wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you smiling wide as the flash went off—almost blinding you guys because it was so bright and the room was so dark.

“aw, you guys look adorable,” the girl spun the camera around so you could see the preview. macklin quickly kissed your cheek.

“i love it, thanks,” you said.

you guys ventured back towards the center of the dance floor to start dancing along with the others. macklin was big on getting to dance, so he took full advantage, urging you to join his energy. you giggled at the way he bounced on his feet and pulled out his best dance moves for you.

when everyone started coming onto the floor, it got warm fast so the brunette lost his suit jacket leaving him in just his dress shirt that was almost halfway unbuttoned by now. his arms were around your waist, the two of you swaying to the beat and being in your own world together.

any anxiety the rookie felt earlier had completely disappeared being in the center of the dance floor with you. all that mattered to him was you in his arms as he spun you around.

“did i tell you how gorgeous you look?” the boy leaned in closer as he spoke over the music.

“you did, yes,” you grinned.

“well i’ll tell you again. you look gorgeous. prettiest girl here,” his words earned a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re too sweet, mack.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n. you’re beautiful,” he leaned in closer, still wanting that kiss he hadn’t gotten yet. you saw his request and closed the gap.

the two of you shared a sweet kiss, not caring that there were others around you or watching. your lips felt like heaven against the hockey player’s. he never wanted to let you go, but forced himself to to get some air back into his lungs.

“i could kiss you forever,” he mumbled.

“me too,” and you reconnected your lips for another quick kiss. mack’s hands wandered a bit lower towards your hips and then swiping over your ass. a giggle left your lips at his behavior.

“we should save this for the dorm,” you smiled while directing him away for now. a little pout appeared, but he understood and let you go.

the music picked up again and it had him spinning you around once more. because all of his focus was on hockey growing up, the brunette’s never had an experience of going to an end of the year dance or prom or anything, so he was glad he was getting to make this up with you right now.

as the night winded down, you and macklin decided to leave. he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders for the quick five minute walk back to your dorm. you appreciated his gesture, tugging it closer to your body to hide yourself from the semi-cold evening temperatures.

“thanks for coming tonight,” you smiled as you rode the elevator.

“of course. i had a lot of fun. thanks for bringing me,” mack returned your smile.

“i’m glad you did. better get ready for next semester,” you teased a bit and mack’s heart swelled just a little bit at the idea of coming back to your formal because that meant you wanted him enough to stick around for the next one.

he knew what you two had meant a lot to both of you, but sometimes he got in his head just a little bit wondering if he was good enough for you or not enough because he was some big shot hockey player and he knew what everyone thought about hockey players. he worried he wasn’t the one for you even though you were 100% the one for him. he knew it from the day he met you, so hearing you say that made him burst with joy.

maya wasn’t in the dorm, probably taking the hint that you guys wanted the room to yourselves. macklin was glad because he wanted to continue that kissing you guys were doing earlier.

he watched you hang up his suit jacket like you did every time he brought his suits with him and kick your shoes off. he followed suit and then didn’t waste another second bringing your lips to his again.

that urge he’s had all night only got stronger the more he kissed you. you reciprocated all of his actions and unspoken wants, pulling your hand through his pretty brunette locks and running your hand down his chest.

“i love you,” the boy mumbled between kisses.

“i love you,” you breathed.

he found your gaze for a second, wondering if this was right. wondering if you were sure about him. his thoughts were answered though when you grabbed ahold of his face to kiss him again and lead him to your bed.

needless to say, all of his anxieties were eased by the end of the night and the love he had for you had never been bigger.

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drewizz · 1 day ago

Text

THIRD TIME - 08. blunder

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: smut (piv unprotected [wrap it before you tap it], slight thigh riding + cunnilingus) & toxic relationship (platonic?)

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous

blunder. (noun) a stupid or careless mistake

Rafe Cameron does not apologize.

He was currently on the brink of insanity, and he blamed it on you. Sleep had been non-existent; his mind wouldn’t shut off, replaying every word and glance you gave him. Yet here he was, at your front door mustering courage to spit out two simple words to you.

“I’m sorry.”

Nevermind that, at least he was here with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs. He hated how vulnerable he felt, hated that he was even here. (But for desperate measures, he needed to be here.)

He raised his hand to knock on the door, hesitated, and then let it fall. What was he even supposed to say?

Hey, I’m sorry for being a complete asshole, but I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m not even sure what the next step is between us. What are we? Do you like me?

Before he could overthink himself into leaving, the door creaked open. Relief mixed with dread until his stomach dropped.

You weren’t the one opening the door.

It was Topper Thornton.

“Top? What the fuck are you doing here?” Rafe blurted before he could stop himself.

Topper looked just as surprised, but his expression quickly morphed into a knowing smirk. “Oh, well speak of the devil. I could ask you the same thing.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. He tried to piece together why the hell Topper would be at your house—early in the morning, no less. His stomach churned with suspicion, his temper already flickering to life.

“Where’s Y/N?” Rafe asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Topper leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “She’s inside. Why?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He pushed past Topper without waiting for an invitation, his gaze darting around the small entryway.

“Y/N!” he called, his tone clipped.

“What the hell, man?” Topper said, stepping in front of him. “You can’t just barge into her house.”

“So you’re just allowed to be in here?” Rafe snapped as he could feel his anger level again.

“I’m actually a good friend of Y/N,” Topper said, his tone mocking.

The sound of footsteps caught Rafe’s attention, and he turned to see you stepping out of the kitchen, your face a mix of confusion and annoyance.

“Rafe?” you said, voice laced with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you,” he said, his gaze flicking to Topper before settling back on you. “But I guess you’re already busy.”

You frowned, your brows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”

Rafe gestured to Topper, his movements sharp. “Him. Why the fuck is he here?”

“Seriously?” You said, crossing your arms. “He stopped by to drop something off, and now he’s leaving. Why are you even here?”

“I asked why he’s here, didn’t I?” Rafe repeated, his voice rising (and ignoring your question). “You think it’s normal for him to just show up at your house like this?”

“Rafe, you need to calm down,” you said, your tone firm. “I told you, he’s only here to drop something off from a while ago – I haven’t seen him for probably over a year.”

“I’m calm,” he snapped, though his clenched fists and rigid posture said otherwise. “And whatever. I don’t care why he’s here.”

Topper snorted, and Rafe’s head whipped toward him.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Rafe said, stepping closer to Topper. “Just because you came here to drop some shit off doesn’t mean –”

“Doesn’t particularly mean what?” Topper interrupted, his smirk widening. “Unlike you, I actually know how to treat people right, or so I’ve heard.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with anger, his hands flexing at his sides. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Topper said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Topper, stop it,” you said while stepping between them.

Rafe’s gaze snapped to you, his expression softening for just a moment before hardening again. “Is this what you do now?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory. “You let him into your house, you hang out with him –

“Are you serious right now?” you interrupted, noting how your voice was rising. “You don’t get to come here and act like this. Especially not after the shit you said last night.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “I don’t trust him,” he said, his tone defensive.

“This isn’t about Topper,” you said with evident frustration. “This is about you and the fact that you can’t seem to figure out what exactly you want.”

“I know what I want,” Rafe said, his voice quieter but no less intense.

“Do you?” you shot back, with eyes narrowing. “Because last night you made it pretty damn clear that you didn’t.”

Topper cleared his throat, his presence suddenly feeling intrusive. “You know what? I’ll leave you two to... whatever this is.”

He gave you a mock salute before brushing past Rafe and out the door.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the tension in the room became almost unbearable.

You turned to Rafe, your expression a mix of anger and hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” Rafe said, his voice rising. “I’m not the one letting him hang around like he owns the place.”

“He’s just someone I know, Rafe,” you said, your voice cracking. “He needed to give me back something from almost a year ago. I don’t even consider him as an entirely good friend of mine, anyway.”

“Well I don’t think you’re fucking him,” Rafe said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “And I’m also not trying to control you or shit like that.”

“Yes, you are,” you said, your frustration boiling over. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either. Do you even hear yourself?”

Rafe opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His hands flexed at his sides, his frustration palpable.

“You can’t have it both ways, Rafe,” you said in a voice much softer now, though no less pained. “You can’t keep pushing me away and then get mad when I try to move on.”

“I’m not trying to push you away,” Rafe said, his voice coming out much harsher than he wanted it to.

“Then what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes searching his.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice softening. “I don’t know how to do this. This thing… between us.”

Your expression softened, but only slightly. “You need to figure it out, Rafe. Because I can’t keep doing this.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension.

Finally, Rafe took a step back, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Go to the beach with me.”

You looked at him with disbelief written all over your face. “Is that seriously what you’re going to say to me? After all of that?”

“Well I didn’t know that he would be here,” he muttered. “And I was originally going to apologize to you.”

His jaw worked overtime, clenching and unclenching, before he finally groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Alright," he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. "I was – whatever. I was out of line earlier, including last night. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve it. Happy now?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter with a barely concealed smirk. "That’s your idea of an apology?"

His head snapped up, his glare half-hearted. "What do you want, a parade?"

"A little sincerity wouldn’t kill you," you shot back, crossing your arms as your smirk widened.

Rafe groaned again, the sound low and frustrated. "Fine," he bit out, stepping closer. His voice softened, though the vulnerability seemed to physically pain him. "I shouldn’t have acted like that. Okay? I’m sorry."

You tilted your head, feigning deep thought. "Well that sounded half-assed, no?"

“Fine. I’m incredibly sorry I was acting like a complete asshole to you, and you don’t deserve it.”

“Did you say that to just shut me up or to actually apologize?”

"Both," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Now go to the beach with me.”

“Fine. But only because I have no plans for the rest of the day.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

The short ride to the beach was quite peaceful. There weren’t any words exchanged between you two, as Rafe’s eyes were focused on the road and yours settled on the scenery passing outside the window.

“You’re oddly quiet.”

You rolled your eyes as you wiped your sweaty palms on your legs. (You weren’t even sure why your palms were sweaty in the first place.) “There’s just nothing to talk about.”

In return, all you got was a quiet hum of acknowledgment from him.

As he drove, the tension between you softened into something more tolerable. Rafe tapped the steering wheel, glancing at you occasionally like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start. The road stretched ahead of you two, winding toward the coast where the scent of salt and sea promised a reprieve from your usual turmoil.

“And we’re here, princess.”

The sun was still high in the sky when he parked the car near the sand, the salty breeze rolling in as you opened the door. Something about stepping out onto the warm sand with Rafe beside you felt surreal.

“This feels normal,” you said, grabbing your bag from the backseat. “Oddly.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow as he shut his door. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad,” you replied, walking next to him. “Just unexpected. First you come and argue with Topper. Then, you’re apologizing and asking me to go to the beach with you. Now here we are.”

“I’m certainly exceptional at surprises.”

His smirk was enough to make you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

You made your way down the sandy path, weaving between families with umbrellas and couples sprawled out on towels. The ocean stretched endlessly before you two, the waves crashing in a rhythm that was both calming and wild.

You dropped your bag near a quieter spot and slipped off your sandals. The sand was warm beneath your feet, the kind of heat that made you want to run straight into the cool water.

“Race you,” Rafe said suddenly, already tugging off his shirt.

You blinked at him whilst shamelessly staring at his topless form. “What?”

“Come on, Y/N.” He was already taking off toward the water, his laugh carried by the wind.

“Cheater!” you shouted, chasing after him.

By the time you reached the shoreline, he was already waist-deep in the water, grinning like he’d just won a gold medal.

“You’re the worst,” you panted, stepping into the surf.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, splashing you playfully.

The cold water hit your body, and you gasped. “Rafe!”

“What? Thought you needed to cool off.”

You didn’t hesitate, scooping up water with your hands and throwing it at him. The splash hit his chest, and he feigned a dramatic gasp, clutching his heart.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he said, advancing toward you.

“No, wait–”

But it was too late. He scooped you up in one swift motion, carrying you further into the water.

“Rafe! Put me down!” you shrieked, laughing despite yourself.

“As you wish,” he said, and before you could protest, he dropped you into the waves.

The water enveloped you, cool and refreshing against the heat of the day. You surfaced quickly, sputtering and wiping your face, only to see Rafe doubled over in laughter.

“You’re dead,” you said, lunging at him.

The two of you spent the next several minutes splashing and dunking each other, laughter blending with the sound of the waves. It was chaotic and silly, the kind of unguarded fun you didn’t realize that you needed for a long time.

At some point, both of you stopped, panting and standing waist-deep in the water. Rafe ran a hand through his wet hair, the sun catching on the droplets clinging to his skin.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he said, nodding toward you.

“Good at what?”

“Keeping up with me.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Wading back toward the shore, the sun was drying both of your soaked skins, as you two found your spots on the sand. Rafe pulled a towel from your bag and tossed it at you.

“Thanks,” you said, wrapping it around your shoulders.

Sitting in silence for a moment, watching the waves crash and retreat, you smiled to yourself. You liked this. The peace. Having comfort by you. Him.

“This is nice,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice unusually quiet. “But I still wanna know why Top was at your house.”

“Topper’s just someone I know. We have history, not like that but – he’s someone I know. He’s not even considered a close friend of mine.”

“So he was just at your house? When you two aren’t even close friends?”

You felt your own eyes warily turn to Rafe, letting out a sigh. “Rafe, I already told you. He needed to drop something off that I forgot I even had, after an entire year. That’s all.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Another cue of serenity passed between you two.

After a few long minutes, you glanced at him, surprised to find him looking at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something you couldn’t quite place.

“What?” you asked, suddenly getting self-conscious.

“Nothing.” He looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just never seen you so happy.”

You smiled faintly, staring out at the horizon. “I guess I am.”

For a while, both of you just sat there, the sun beginning its descent and casting a golden glow over the beach. It was peaceful in a way that felt fragile, like it could break at any moment.

“You like ice cream?” Rafe asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “There’s a nice ice cream shop around here we can head to, before head back.”

“Depends on the flavor,” you replied, standing and brushing the sand off your legs. “But an ice cream sounds perfect for right now.”

After the (unfortunately) short moment at the beach – Rafe rolled his truck to a stop in front of the small ice cream shop. He never took girls out for ice cream, much less to hang out with in the public (that was apart from fucking). And here he was today, apologizing to you. Taking you to the beach. Driving you to buy ice cream. So many things he’s never done over the past years, but all done in a single day – just for you.

The faint hum of conversation and laughter spilled out as you both stepped inside the shop, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the cozy atmosphere.

Rafe made a beeline for the counter. “Two small salted caramels, please,” he told the cashier without hesitation.

“Hold on,” you interrupted, pulling his arm back. “You don’t get to decide my order. And really, salted caramel?”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Oh, and here I thought we would have the same favorite ice cream flavor in mind, too. If salted caramels that terrible of a flavor, what’re you going to get?”

You stepped closer to the menu (miserably failing to stop the smile creeping onto your face), scanning the options with mock seriousness. “Something simple. Like vanilla.”

“You’re impossible,” Rafe said, shaking his head but grinning nonetheless.

Finally ordering (after a small bicker), the two of you headed back outside, finding a quiet bench under a streetlamp.

You took a slow lick of your cone, savoring the sweetness, while Rafe leaned back, his legs stretched out and his cone melting slightly in his hand.

“Vanilla? Really?” he teased.

“Some of us appreciate the classics,” you shot back, holding your cone up in mock defense. “And really, salted caramel?”

He gestured toward his cone, feigning offense. “Hey! It’s the perfect combination. Salty and sweet, not to forget how it’s a little unexpected of flavors… like me.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin etching your face. “If by ‘unexpected’ you mean ‘annoying,’ then sure.”

Rafe chuckled, and for a moment, the banter was light and easy, the earlier tension melting like the ice cream in both of your hands.

But then his gaze lingered, catching on a streak of ice cream at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got…” He gestured vaguely at your face.

You frowned, swiping at your lip with your hand. “Here?”

“No.” He leaned closer, the amusement fading into something heavier. “Let me.”

Before you could protest, his thumb brushed against your lip, his touch warm and deliberate. The motion was slow, almost agonizing, and you froze, your breath catching.

Then he did it. He brought his thumb to his mouth, licking off the ice cream with a small, deliberate flick of his tongue. “Hm. Tastes sweet.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “That was unnecessary.”

“Was it?” Rafe’s voice was low, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was downright dangerous.

You tried to form a coherent response, but your mind felt like a jumbled mess of emotions. Rafe leaned back, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re such a jerk,” you muttered, but your voice lacked any real bite.

“Yeah, but I’m the jerk you agreed to come to the beach with,” he replied, his smirk widening.

You groaned, focusing on your cone and refusing to look at him, afraid of what he might see written all over your face.

Both of you sat there in peace for a while longer, the quiet night wrapping around.

“You know,” Rafe started off. “I just noticed your parents are never home. You don’t live with them?”

Touchy subject. But you didn’t want to talk about it right now, not while everything was going well. It would ruin the mood. So instead, you just shrugged. “I don’t really talk to them anymore. It’s been awhile, so yeah. I just live alone.”

Rafe glanced over, promptly nodding without asking any further questions.

The stillness stretched over you two, once again, before you sighed. “We should get home now, it’s getting dark. Drive me back home, please?”

“Anything for you.”

The drive back to your house was quiet, the air between both of you charged with a tension that seemed to grow heavier with every passing mile. When Rafe finally pulled into your driveway, you hesitated before getting out, glancing at him.

“Today was really nice,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. “It was.”

Inside, the house was dimly lit, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as you set your bag down and went to get you two some water. When you turned back, Rafe was standing closer than you expected, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, but his eyes betrayed him, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re staring,” you said, trying to inject some levity into the moment. This was exactly the feeling you felt the last time he was inside your house. In the kitchen. Standing less than 1 foot away from you.

“Maybe I can’t help it,” he replied, his voice low and rough.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your lips met.

The kiss was hesitant at first, a question of which neither of you were sure how to answer. But it deepened quickly, all the emotions you two had been suppressing were now spilling over into the way yours mouths moved against each other.

When both of you finally broke apart, breathless, foreheads resting together.

“You can’t just do that,” you started off. “This is what happened last time… and you know.”

Rafe quirked a teasing eyebrow at you. “What? Is this your way of subtly asking to reenact it?”

You felt your face ablaze, strongly gripping the counter behind you. “No, I wasn’t,” you squeaked as you heard him chuckle. “I was just… telling you.”

“Princess, you can always just ask for it.”

You were not going to be making the same mistake again. But impulse came before forethoughts of your heady actions. You gripped his shirt, pressing your lips against his – hopeful that he would reiterate with the same desire.

And thankfully, he did. His hands were suddenly wandering everywhere on your body. Searching around, finding its spot – one gently (but needily) cradling your head, while the other skimming your waistline.

“Bedroom,” you hoarsely muttered against his lips. “Not here.”

Lips reuniting with a desperate hunger, a collision of breath and need that sent a shiver through both of you. His hands were roaming more instinctively – grasping, pulling, holding – as you two stumbled back, movements uncoordinated but full of urgency.

Rafe tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss, mouths moving in perfect chaos. You gasped against him, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer as you bumped into the corner of the hallway. A half-laugh, half-groan escaped as he steadied you, his grip firm at your waist.

You didn’t bother turning on the lights; the faint glow from the horizon outside was streaming through the windows, enough to guide you two.

The kisses were relentless, punctuated by whispers of names and breathless laughter. His hands slyly sliding under your shirt, warm against your skin, as you were pressed against the bedroom door. You fumbled with the handle, breaking the kiss just long enough to look up at him, your eyes glazed and lips swollen.

“Here,” you whispered, barely audible, but he didn’t need words. His answer was the way his lips returned to yours, softening for a moment before pulling you inside. As if he was waiting for this very moment, lost in action.

Every step was a tangle of limbs and stolen touches, the urgency was pacing and being matched. Crashing onto the bed, everything was becoming hazy. The desire was just about everywhere, scouring through your body.

You could feel how strategically slow he was moving against your body. His lips glided across your lips, down to your chest (which was still frustratingly clothed).

Everything was too slow for your liking. It was becoming too agonizingly slow. You were splayed on the bed, between his knees and his hands were still actively roaming around everywhere. Soft kisses planted on every inch of your skin that was bare.

Both of your clothes were coming off, one by one, with an exchange of a soft kiss on your skin. His hands were just about everywhere, on the heat of your thighs, to your soft abdomen. The cool air hit your breasts which were pleasantly pert, and nipples unthinkably hard.

Soft moans were spilling out of you, with a trail of heavy breathing, as his tongue was swirling on the junctions of your skin, next to your sopping heat.

“Rafe,” you weren’t even thinking straight. “Stop teasing, you’re gonna kill me here.”

All you got in response was a soft chuckle and a teasing kiss to your clit. He was softly licking at your cunt, and you were only dripping in response. Your sweetness dripped on his tongue, down his throat – now he was impossibly stiff.

Quickly climbing onto the bed, as his back hit the headboard of the bed, sitting up up-right on his thigh. He sat you up right on his thigh, enclosing his hand full of your hair, bringing his lips down to your ear. “Princess, you’re soaked.”

You felt your face turn more red (if that was even possible), starting to slowly grind against his thigh. Your arousal was slowly spreading, as your clit was deliciously colliding with muscle-taut thighs. “Feels too good,” you whined.

Rafe was in absolute euphoria as he felt what was happening right now. You were here, on top of him on your bed, getting off from his own thigh – whining and moaning in his ear. He felt your fingers trace his arms up to his pecs, leading to goosebumps to arise, making him shiver and shut his eyes.

He felt your cunt moving from his thigh to his hard cock, as your hips were hugging him. He could imagine behind his closed eyes, a glistening trail of your arousal dripping all over him – and this made him harder. Painfully.

Next thing he felt was your warm cunt enveloping his cock, as you sank down on him. Eyes rolling back into his head, his teeth were gritting against each other. “Oh my fuck,” he managed to get out, he’s not sure of what he’s saying, anyways. “I didn’t put on a condom.”

He’s in complete bliss, trying not to thrust up harder, as he hears you mewl in his ear.

“It’s okay, ‘m on the pill.”

You were so fucking tight and warm, clamping down on his cock like how he clamped his sweaty fingers deep in your hips – mentally apologizing if it left a small bruise the next morning.

The way you rolled your hips in such a fluid motion was keeping him insane. A rhythm that was built, drawing him too close to the edge that he’s even thinking about shoving you away. He can hold himself, just a bit more.

Next thing is that he feels you shudder, both your pelvis and your breath, against him. He can feel your fingers digging into the expanse of his shoulders, as you’re writhing in a flowing motion. You’re coming undone against him, on him, with him inside of you.

“Oh my God. Rafe.”

Hearing his name sweetly cry out of your mouth, with your succulent voice while your sweaty body collides with his, only causes him to roll you over onto your back. He wants more, and he can sense that you also want more.

“Can I…?” he muttered against your lips. He’s seeking your approval, that this is okay. Everything’s okay. It’s not just him. It’s both of you. You both want it. To fuck. Or was it love?

Or maybe, each other?

Nevermind that, he’s inwardly grinning as he sees you manage to spread your legs even wider, whining out a response, knowing that this is surely mutual. Right?

“Please,” you manage to whine out. “Yes.”

He notes your confirmation as he holds you down, hands gripping your thighs. Both of your bodies meet together like a puzzle piece, like the two of you have always done this with such… love.

He grazes your slick-covered heat with his cock, sliding into you with such ease. The pleasure that’s thrumming beneath his hips is driving him mad, eyes rolling back due to the immense surge that went straight to his body.

Moving at an incredulously slow pace, he can feel your finger grasping at him – a sign to go faster. And so he does. Picking up his pace, his thrusts are going at a faster tempo, he leans closer to your face to give you a kiss. He murmurs sweet nothings into your ear, he’s not even sure of what he’s promising you at this rate.

All he feels is your hips attempting to meet his hips at the delicious pace, cunt clenching as his fingers reach down to your attention-seeking clit. He feels you tug at his hair, at his back – your hands are everywhere. He loves it.

He’s not sure of what you’re saying, but he hears your high-pitched whines and mewls, as your hips are erratically twitching and your soaked cunt clenching him tightly. Pulling out, he lets go on your stomach, feeling a groan rip through his throat. Everything is hazy.

A long moment of silence is passed through between the two of you, only deep breathing and pants to be heard. He hears you ask him to help carry you to the bathroom, and so he does.

He cleans up in the guest bathroom, and after a few long minutes you two reunite again in the bedroom the two of you just fucked in.

“Lay down with me,” you muster out, grabbing his arm and tugging him down on the floor. “The bed’s all sweaty now, just lay down on the ground with me.”

So he does, and he likes it. He’s not really sure what to do next. He’s never done this before. He usually fucks and leaves. He’s not used to staying after a session of fucking. Then he hears your sweet, timid voice which catches him off-guard. A question he’s been dreading to be asked.

“So, what does this make us? What even are we?”

“Uh,” Rafe clears his throat. “Friends.”

You sit upright, staring down at him. “Friends?”

He doesn’t like this. He’s not sure why you’re furrowing your brows at him, in a questioning tone. They’re friends now, right? So all he musters out is a blunt response. “Yeah?”

You stare at him warily and confused. You were sure that the reason he took you to the beach and got ice cream, him pulling you in for a kiss – it was more than just saying the word ‘friends’. It was like the night, all over again. “You’re joking, right?”

He looks away, sighing. “I already told you I don’t do relationships, Y/N.” He can’t tell you that he’s never been in a relationship before, he thinks it’ll ruin his image for you. A boy who’s never been in a relationship before.

You feel as if he just stabbed you, once again. “So this whole time,” you started off carefully, trying to get only the facts straight. “You fucked me as a friend?”

“Yeah.”

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he felt of you. Were you a friend? More than a friend? No, he couldn’t think you were more than a friend. He felt that dating was a meticulous chore.

“Get out.”

He hears your voice, but it sounds pained. Why? Did you seriously want to be more than friends? He told you plenty of times that he didn't do relationships, why was this being turned onto him?

“What?”

You’re sniffling, and you’re not sure if you should necessarily be crying over him (again). “I said get out of my house.”

“I already told you I can’t, and don’t, do relationships.” He’s not sure why he says that in a questioning manner. It’s how he feels, right?

“Rafe, will you just get out?”

He stands up, and suddenly he feels angry. He’s not sure why, but he feels mad. Livid, even. He told you multiple times that he’s not a relationship type guy, and now it’s his fault? The next few words he spits at you is from complete impulse. “You can’t fucking make it seem like it’s just my fault when you were also the one rubbing yourself all over me. I even told you I don’t do relationships.” He snaps his mouth closed as he sees your pained face, washed by vulnerability.

“Get out.” Your voice betrays you, slipping out the tremble.

“Fine.”

He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to apologize. He wants to hold you tight to his body and apologize, with genuinity. Telling you he’s never done this. He can be better for you. But he can’t hurt his pride. He walks to the front door and turns back to ask you (with some kind of audacity). “Can I have your number, at least?”

You shove him out the door, and before slamming it shut on his face, you mutter with such vile. “You won’t need it since this is the last time we’ll see each other.”

He blankly stares at your front door that’s been slammed at his face. He feels sorry, but he’s not sure how to express it. Is he sorry? He’s not sure. But he feels guilt, in some way.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Well, not as he originally planned. He wanted to build a truce between you and him. Not a complete shut out. He sighs, angrily running his hand through his hair. He walks to his truck and he’s confused. Did he like you? Or did he just enjoy the utmost interesting attention you gave him?

He decides on the latter, and he drives off. Something is oddly nagging at his heart, but he (attempted to) brush it off instead.

That marked the first checkpoint between Rafe and Y/N. Strangers to enemies, with an inclusion of two fucks and an unsolicited "date." In other terms, the first “try” between the two of them, after two weeks of their first encounter at a party, with unsupervised whiskey.

NOTES. hey... it's been awhile 😅 (but yay! we finally ended the first part) we're going to get that topper and yn's parents backstory in the second part.. (the upcoming few chapters 🤫) meanwhile.. thank you for all those asks and love you've been all sending :') truly love all of you

TAGS. check settings if you aren't properly tagged. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @percysley @wtfdudesblog @fratbrochrisgf @rrosiitas @powpowjinxlife @ltristessedureratoujours @ditzyzombiesblog @honeyluvsatj

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