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keehomania · 13 days ago

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bad religion — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, angst, minors dni, sexually explicit content below the cut, bartender!reader, unrequited love, slowburn, crashout!rafe, nobody understands him like i do, reader lowkey has bob the builder mentality, no religious themes despite the title, dirty talk, gun play, alcohol consumption, drug usage, if it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion; this unrequited love

it started off as a way to pay off your student loans—tuition, housing, supplies. the minute you enrolled, you had picked up the job. it was supposed to be temporary, just until you found a better solution, but time had a way of slipping through your fingers. years later, you were still standing behind the counter, wiping spills, pouring drinks, and serving customers whose names you rarely bothered to learn. the debt was gone, long since paid off, but you hadn’t managed to leave. you told yourself it was because the money was decent, but deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t know where else to go.

the roadside had become something of a second home to you, though a noisy, sticky one. you liked the rhythm of it, the way the nights started off slow and built to a fever pitch, only to settle into a steady hum again by closing time. you liked the regulars, too—the older men who came in after long shifts at the docks or the factory. they nursed beers as if they were lifelines and tipped generously, their wallets loosening with each drink. they were kind, if a little lonely, and they made your job bearable.

the others weren’t as pleasant. there were men with slicked-back hair and gold watches, the kind who brought their wives to brunch in the mornings, but showed up at the roadside every night with someone new on their arm. whiskey neat for him, a bright, sugary cocktail for her—each woman seemingly younger, blonder, and more compliant than the last. they never tipped, and they always left a mess. you hated them the most.

and then there were the tourists. they breezed in like they owned the place, their faces sunburned and shining, and almost always said the same thing: “surprise me.” you never did. you’d pour them a vodka soda with light ice, knowing it would do the job. they didn’t care about flavor or nuance, just speed, and you weren’t about to waste good liquor on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.

over time, the faces all blurred together. you’d seen so many people come and go that you’d stopped trying to remember them. the roadside was a revolving door, and you preferred it that way. no attachments, no complications.

“on the clock?” you looked up, having been lost in thought, polishing a variety of glasses and setting them away. he was sat in front of you, a look of near disinterest playing on his face. he almost seemed ticked off. the scent of his cologne clashed with the smell of gin. he fashioned a buzzcut, a polo shirt, and a pair of shorts. tan, blond—he’d have been disney’s dream if he was just a few years younger. if he wasn’t so easy to recognize, you would’ve mistaken him for a tourist. “unfortunately,” you responded with an honesty that almost made him smile. “what can i get you?”

for a second, he didn’t respond. you stood in front of him, with nothing but the counter separating you, but it did little to stop either of you from staring. his light blue eyes bored into yours without the faintest shade of shame. there seemed to be a grey hue to them that the photos of him never captured. rafe cameron, what were the chances of him showing up? he had gained a certain reputation thanks to his father, and his tendency to act out in public. maybe it was best if you said nothing. so, you broke the gaze.

“single malt scotch,” he answered, leaning forward against the counter. you nodded, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement, paired with the uncanny order that screamed toxic masculinity. you grabbed the bottle of scotch from the shelf, careful not to let your hands tremble as you poured the amber liquid into a clean glass. the sound of the pour filled the silence between you, and you were hyperaware of his gaze tracking every movement. it wasn’t just curiosity; it felt calculated, as though he were sizing you up, deciding if you were worth his attention.

the scotch settled in the glass, and you slid it across the counter toward him. “here you go,” you announced, your voice steady despite the prickle of unease his presence stirred. rafe pulled out a wallet from his pocket and laid a crisp bill on the counter, more than enough to cover the drink. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he enjoyed the way it kept you waiting. “keep the change,” he muttered, picking up the glass and taking a measured sip.

you tucked the bill into the register, brushing off the way his tone lingered in the air. glancing around the bar, you noticed a lull in the activity. the older regulars were nursing their drinks, and the tourists had either left or were too absorbed in their own conversations to need you. your eyes drifted to the window, catching sight of a dirt bike parked just outside. its sleek red and black frame stood out against the muted colors of the streetlights.

“that your bike?” you asked, your curiosity slipping through before you could stop yourself. rafe’s lips quirked up slightly as he set his glass down. “yeah, ktm. you know bikes?”

“not really,” you admitted, leaning your hip against the counter. ��but it’s a nice one. looks fast.”

“it is.” he took another sip, his eyes still on you. “you like fast things?”

there it was—the subtle shift in his tone, just enough to make the question feel loaded. you raised a brow, refusing to let him get under your skin. “depends on the thing,” you replied coolly. “fast isn’t always better.”

the smirk on his face deepened, and for a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you like he was trying to figure out what made you tick. “you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said finally, his voice low and edged with amusement. “i like that.”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter. “and you’ve got a way of talking that screams trouble. i’ll pass.”

“trouble, huh?” he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “you make that judgment on your own, or is that what you’ve heard about me?”

you hesitated. his reputation preceded him, of course. rafe cameron, the kook prince with too much money and too much anger. everyone had a story about him, most of them involving fights, drugs, or some poor girl left heartbroken in his wake. but something about the way he was looking at you now—calm, almost bored—didn’t match the chaos you’d heard about.

“a little of both,” you admitted, meeting his gaze again. “does it bother you?”

“not really,” he said with a shrug. “people are gonna think what they want. doesn’t make it true.”

“doesn’t make it false either,” you shot back, unable to help yourself.

that earned you another smirk, sharper this time. “you always this quick with your customers?”

“only the ones who think they’re special,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

his laugh was soft, but almost genuine, and it caught you off guard. “fair enough,” he said, finishing the last of his scotch. he pushed the glass toward you, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “one more?”

you nodded, grabbing the bottle again. this time, you didn’t feel the same pressure to avoid his gaze. if he wanted to play games, you could play too. as you poured, you said, “you must get this a lot.”

“what’s that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“girls falling over themselves for you,” you said bluntly, setting the glass down in front of him. “the charm, the looks, the whole mysterious bad boy act—it’s a lot.”

“act?” he raised a brow, clearly amused. “you think this is an act?”

“isn’t it?” you countered, crossing your arms. “seems a little rehearsed.”

he leaned forward, the movement subtle but deliberate, and suddenly the air between you felt charged again. “if i wanted to charm you,” he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave, “you’d know.”

the heat of his words settled in your chest, but you refused to let it show. instead, you picked up his empty glass and started wiping it clean. “i’ll take your word for it,” you said evenly, refusing to meet his gaze.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. he watched you in silence, his expression unreadable, and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. finally, he stood, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

“thanks for the drink,” he said, his tone cool and detached again. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

“maybe,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked toward the door. his figure disappeared into the night, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne and a lingering tension you couldn’t quite shake. when you glanced out the window again, the dirt bike was gone, its engine a distant hum in the night. you exhaled, realizing only then how tightly you’d been gripping the rag in your hand. he was trouble, no doubt about it. but for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret the encounter.

the walk home was quiet, unsettlingly so. you’d managed to convince one of your co-workers to cover the rest of your shift, citing the lack of customers as a valid reason, but now, as the empty streets stretched before you, you almost wished you’d stayed. the moonlight pooled on the cracked pavement, illuminating a path that felt both too open and too confining. you held your house keys tightly in one hand, the jagged edges digging into your palm like a makeshift weapon. just in case. you weren’t the type to take chances.

your steps were brisk but measured, careful not to echo too loudly. every shadow seemed alive, every sound amplified. a rustle in the bushes had your heart racing, your grip tightening on the keys. it was probably a cat, you told yourself, though your eyes darted back toward the noise every few seconds, just to be sure. the world felt too quiet, too exposed. you hated this part of the night—the vulnerability of it. it wasn’t paranoia, you told yourself, just caution. but still, your mind raced with every worst-case scenario.

when you finally reached your house, relief washed over you like a wave. the sight of the peeling paint and sagging porch might have been depressing to anyone else, but to you, it meant safety. unlocking the door felt like unlocking a barrier between you and the rest of the world. once inside, you locked it again, flipping the bolt twice just to hear the satisfying click. the air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cleaning products and something slightly metallic. it wasn’t much, but it was yours. or at least, it was until the lease ran out.

the place was as minimal as it could get. a mismatched thrift store couch dominated the small living room, its cushions worn and sagging in places. a single bookshelf stood in the corner, half-filled with old paperbacks and a few decorative knick-knacks you’d found at a yard sale. the kitchen, visible from the living room, was clean but bare, its counters free of anything that might be considered a luxury. your future depended on saving, on scrimping wherever you could, and every dollar you didn’t spend brought you one step closer to a life that didn’t feel like you were treading water.

you dropped your bag near the door and kicked off your shoes, the weight of the day settling over you like a blanket. collapsing onto the couch, you reached for the remote and flicked the television on. the screen blinked to life, casting a dim blue glow across the room. you scrolled aimlessly through the channels until the news caught your eye.

“...marking the anniversary of ward cameron’s death,” the reporter announced, her voice measured. the screen cut to a montage of images—ward’s face, the cameron estate. “ward cameron, a prominent figure in the outer banks, left behind a legacy of wealth, corruption, and betrayal. his death, which shocked the island community, continues to be a topic of both fascination and controversy.”

you scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “apple, tree,” you muttered under your breath, the words bitter and sharp. it was hard not to think about rafe, his cool demeanor and the air of entitlement that clung to him like a second skin. the spawn of the man had left the world behind with a son who seemed a fistfight away from being institutionalized. it was rich people bullshit, all of it, and it infuriated you. they lived in their gilded cages, creating drama out of thin air while people like you scraped by just to keep the lights on.

the reporter continued, delving into ward’s crimes and the ripple effect they’d had on the community, but you tuned her out. it all felt so distant, so removed from your own reality. people like the camerons didn’t have to worry about overdue bills or walking home alone at night. they sneezed, and the rest of the island lined up to wipe their noses.

you grabbed the thin blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over yourself, letting the reporter’s voice fade into background noise. the couch wasn’t comfortable—not really—but it was familiar. it was where you ended most nights, too tired to drag yourself to the bedroom. the faint hum of the television lulled you into a fragile sense of calm, the weight of the day finally giving way to exhaustion.

as you closed your eyes, the image of rafe’s piercing blue stare flitted across your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. you shoved it away, chalking it up to nothing more than an odd encounter. he was a blip on the radar, a momentary distraction in a life too busy for indulgences like curiosity. with a heavy sigh, you let the hum of the television pull you under, the world slipping away as sleep claimed you.

the next day dawned slow and gray, the kind of morning that felt like a continuation of the night before. you went about your routine with mechanical precision, brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom with its perpetually fogged mirror and peeling wallpaper. breakfast was quick—toast, black coffee, and a glance at the wilted plant by the window you kept forgetting to water. you were out the door before you had time to feel the weight of the day ahead.

the walk to the bar wasn’t long, but it was enough to remind you why you hated mornings. the streets were quiet, but not in the same way as they were at night. this quiet felt temporary, like the city was holding its breath before the chaos of the day began.

at the bar, you fell into the rhythm of the job almost immediately. wiping down counters, setting up glasses, restocking liquor shelves—it was second nature by now. the hours dragged, each one blending into the next as a slow trickle of customers came and went. a few regulars shuffled in for their early beers, their faces as familiar to you as the scratches on the bar top. you greeted them with polite smiles, but your mind was elsewhere.

you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself, but you half-expected rafe to show up. every time the door swung open, your eyes darted toward it, only to find someone else stepping inside. the anticipation was irritating, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. you told yourself you didn’t care whether he came back or not, but the lie was too obvious to be convincing.

by nightfall, the bar began to pick up. the low hum of conversation grew louder, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint strains of a classic rock playlist. you stepped outside for a smoke break, needing a moment away from the noise. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of salt from the ocean. you leaned against the wall, the cigarette in your hand a small comfort against the monotony of the day.

the sound of a motor rumbled in the distance, growing louder until it filled the air. your eyes flicked toward the source, and there he was, pulling up on his dirt bike like he owned the place. the red and black machine gleamed under the dim streetlights, and for a moment, you just watched as he killed the engine and swung a leg over. he took off his helmet, revealing that same buzzcut and piercing blue eyes that had lingered in your mind longer than you cared to admit. he saw you almost immediately, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he approached.

“you get lost again?” you called out, unable to resist. your tone was teasing, but the sight of him sent an unexpected jolt through you. “figure 8’s on the other side.”

he chuckled, low and amused, the sound like gravel in his throat. “must’ve taken a wrong turn.” his eyes dropped to the cigarette in your hand, and his smirk deepened. “those things’ll kill you, y’know?”

you scoffed, tapping the ash off the end and watching it scatter to the ground. “not fast enough, obviously.”

“let’s hope not,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “not until i get a glass of scotch.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. “two nights in a row, it must be good.”

he tilted his head, the smirk on his face turning downright devious. “among other things.”

the way he said it sent a chill down your spine, one you couldn’t quite shake as you turned and headed back inside. you heard his footsteps behind you, steady and unhurried, as though he knew exactly where he belonged.

behind the bar, you reached for the bottle of single malt without needing to ask. he took the same seat as the night before, his movements deliberate and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. you poured the drink and set it in front of him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“caught the news last night,” you said casually as he pulled out his wallet. “sorry for your loss.”

the change in his expression was instant, the smirk wiped clean in less than a second. his jaw tightened, and his light blue eyes grew cold. “don’t be,” he said flatly. “i’m not.”

you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obvious deflection. “he’s your dad, is he not?” you asked, more curious than you should’ve been.

rafe’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “sure, why not?” his tone was stoic, detached, and it made you regret bringing it up. the silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken that you couldn’t quite place.

he sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the counter as though it held answers to questions you didn’t even know how to ask. to you, it was just another reminder of how different your worlds were. but to him, the weight of that silence carried memories he wouldn’t let surface, not here, not now, not ever.

the bar buzzed around you, but for a moment, the two of you might as well have been the only ones there. you busied yourself with wiping down the counter, giving him the space he clearly needed. whatever his relationship with his father had been, it wasn’t your place to pry. but as you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of man grew up in the shadow of someone like ward cameron?

you were midway through rinsing a glass when a new customer slid into the seat beside rafe. the man was tall, blond, and sun-kissed, his skin bearing the unmistakable sheen of someone who spent most of their days by the water. his outfit—a white wifebeater and faded shorts—screamed local. rafe stiffened beside him, his easy demeanor shifting as he leaned back in his seat, jaw tightening. the newcomer leaned forward onto the bar, turning his attention to you.

“excuse me?” his voice cut through the background noise, drawing your focus. you walked over, keeping your expression neutral.

“what can i get you?” you asked casually, pulling a towel off your shoulder and tossing it onto the counter.

the man grinned, clearly enjoying himself as he pretended to think. he was already swaying slightly, the telltale sign of someone who’d started drinking well before stepping through your door.

“well,” he began, dragging the word out like it was some profound thought, “i’d ask for a beer, but it depends.” he paused, his smile growing wider. “does the beer come with a phone number?”

you bit back the urge to roll your eyes, a skill you’d perfected over countless encounters like this. leaning forward, you fixed him with a stare so sharp it could cut glass. “a restraining order, actually,” you replied coolly, your voice devoid of humor.

the man laughed, clearly not deterred. if anything, your response seemed to fuel his bravado. “come on, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head as though to charm you. “what kind of customer service is that?”

you turned away, doing your best to ignore him as you crouched to grab a beer from the fridge. the cool air brushed your skin, offering a brief reprieve from the heat of the room. you popped the cap off the bottle, your back still turned, oblivious to the way the man leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the way your jeans stopped below your waist. what you missed, someone else didn’t.

the first crash was deafening, shattering the rhythm of the bar in an instant. you whipped around, the beer in your hand sloshing slightly as your eyes widened at the scene before you.

the blond man was on the ground, sprawled awkwardly, his face contorted in shock and pain. towering over him was rafe, his knuckles already bloodied from the first blow. the air felt electric, charged with the sheer force of the rage radiating from him. “come on, sweetheart,” rafe sneered, his tone mocking as he delivered another punch. “what kind of manners are those?”

the man barely had time to respond before rafe grabbed him by the front of his tank top, hauling him up like a ragdoll. the look in his eyes was something primal, something feral. “i might just make you my bitch if I don’t kill you first,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

the man whimpered, his bravado completely gone, but rafe wasn’t finished. his fist connected again, the sound of impact reverberating through the room.

“rafe, stop!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos. you scrambled out from behind the bar, pushing past the growing crowd of onlookers. it took more than just you to pull him away. one of the other bartenders jumped in, followed by a bouncer, both of them struggling to wrestle rafe back. his chest heaved, his hands still twitching with barely-contained energy as they held him.

you crouched beside the man on the floor, who was clutching his face and groaning. his nose was bleeding, and one eye was already swelling shut. your heart pounded as you turned back to rafe, fury and disbelief written all over your face. “are you trying to get me fired?” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

his gaze shifted to you, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his breathing heavy, his hands still shaking as they hung at his sides, blood dripping from his knuckles. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice dripping with venom. “because that’d be such a shame.”

his eyes flicked back to the man on the floor, his lip curling in disgust. you saw it then—the side of rafe cameron everyone warned you about. the man who was a ticking time bomb, always seconds away from detonating.

your manager’s glare burned into you, sharp and unrelenting, but the message clear as day. with a sigh heavy enough to rattle your ribs, you turned back to rafe, still seething where he stood, blood dripping onto the floor like a crimson metronome. “come on,” you muttered, jerking your head toward the back. “let’s fix you up before you make this night even worse.”

rafe followed without protest, his steps heavy and deliberate, the energy of the room shifting as you led him through the door behind the bar. the hallway was dim, illuminated only by the flicker of a fluorescent bulb, the walls lined with scuffed paint and the faint smell of bleach. you shoved open the door to a small office-slash-medical-room hybrid—a cluttered, utilitarian space with a desk shoved against the wall and a first-aid kit hanging by the door.

“sit down,” you snapped, pointing at the worn metal chair in the center of the room. he obliged, sinking into the chair with an infuriating calmness, his long legs sprawled out as if he owned the place. he didn’t say a word, but his gaze tracked you as you rummaged through drawers, the scrape of metal and plastic breaking the silence.

it wasn’t until you turned back with supplies in hand that you noticed it: the black grip of a gun tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “are you kidding me?” you hissed, your eyes narrowing. “you’ve gotta be shitting me. second night here, and you’re ready to get me fired.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes drawn to the streaks of moonlight slicing through the cracked blinds. the faint silver light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them just enough to be dangerous. “i have a permit,” he said finally, his voice low and disinterested, as if that explained everything.

you almost laughed. almost. “put that shit away,” you ordered, gesturing sharply.

he smirked but complied, pulling the weapon free and sliding it into his jacket instead. only rafe cameron could make following directions look like a favor. “unbelievable,” you muttered, stepping closer. “hold still.”

you crouched beside him, your fingers deft as you dabbed antiseptic onto a rag. the smell was sharp, stinging your nose as you pressed it to his knuckles. he didn’t flinch, his stoicism unnerving as you worked to clean away the blood and dirt. his hands were strong, calloused in a way that hinted at a life rougher than the one you’d imagined for someone like him.

“you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” you asked, your tone cutting.

“he was staring at you,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

you glanced up, caught off guard by the frankness of his statement. “so what? i deal with creeps like that all the time. doesn’t mean you get to knock their teeth in.”

his lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “guess i’m not good at letting things slide.”

“yeah, no kidding,” you shot back, shaking your head. his knuckles were raw and split, the blood pooling in thin lines that you carefully wiped away.

the silence between you stretched, thick and charged, until finally, you leaned back and surveyed your work. his hands were still trembling, though whether from adrenaline or something deeper, you couldn’t tell. “all done,” you said, straightening up. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m clocking out before someone else decides to bleed all over my bar.”

rafe stood, towering over you as he adjusted his jacket. “i’ll take you home.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “my legs work just fine,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

he didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i wasn’t asking.”

before you could protest further, he was leading you back to the front, where his bike waited. the night air was cool against your skin, the hum of cicadas filling the silence as he handed you a helmet.

“don’t tell me to hold on tight, because i won’t,” you warned as you climbed on behind him, the words almost daring.

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “we’ll see about that.”

the engine roared beneath you, and despite your earlier words, your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist as the bike lurched forward. the wind whipped past you, pulling at your hair as the world blurred into streaks of light and shadow.

by the time he pulled up to your house, your pulse was racing for reasons you refused to examine too closely. you slid off the bike, your legs unsteady as you removed the helmet and handed it back to him.

“thanks for the ride,” you muttered, stepping onto the porch. rafe followed, his gaze sweeping over the small, weathered house you called home. you braced yourself for some snide comment, but he said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“it’s not much,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively.

“it’s enough,” he said simply, his tone carrying none of the judgment you’d expected.

you looked up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. there was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart stumble even as your mind screamed at you to stay away.

no matter how much your mind screamed at you, you knew you wouldn’t listen. when he kissed you, it wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was rough, insistent, a collision of mouths and unspoken tensions. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, claiming and demanding in a way that left you breathless. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t kind. but it was everything you didn’t know you’d been craving.

“we’re so not doing this,” you exhaled with a shaky laugh, breaking the kiss as reality clawed its way back into your mind. your palms flattened against his chest, as though a barrier of mere inches could hold back the tide of whatever this was.

but rafe didn’t flinch. his hands, rough and warm, rested on your bare waist, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin that sent sparks racing through your veins. his gaze, piercing and unrelenting, locked onto yours like a challenge, daring you to contradict him.

“yes, we are,” his eyes seemed to say, the intensity of his stare enough to make you forget the very air around you. “are you scared?” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like silk. they weren’t a question, not really. they were a taunt, a gauntlet thrown at your feet.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. his nose brushed against the shell of your ear, his lips so close they grazed your neck, and you swore he could feel the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin.

“i’m not scared of anything,” you shot back, your voice firmer than you felt. defiance burned in your chest, even as the sensation of his mouth barely ghosting over your jaw made your knees weak.

“maybe you should be,” he murmured, his voice low, his tone a promise more than a threat.

the words undid you. they stripped away your composure, your restraint, until nothing remained but the white-hot pull that had been simmering between you all night. your fingers moved before you could stop them, wrapping around the back of his neck, the tips grazing the bare skin there. the contact sent a shiver through him that you felt as much as saw.

and then you were kissing him again, your lips colliding with his in a frenzy of heat and need. there was no hesitation this time, no room for second thoughts or retreat. he tasted like scotch and rebellion, smelled like leather and something darker, something dangerous. you weren’t scared, but you should have been. everyone was scared of the devil.

his hand found the small of your back, his touch searing through the fabric of your shirt as he pushed you backward, through the open door to your house. your legs gave out slightly, the doorframe digging into your spine as you kissed him harder. rafe’s other hand roamed up your side, his fingertips tracing the line of your waist, up to your chest, cupping one of your tits through the fabric. your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed gently.

“you must do this a lot,” you half-joked as his lips find their way back to your neck, wet and sloppy as they travel down to your collarbone. he grunts against your skin, “could say the same about you,” he retorts. the room spun around you as he backed you further into the house, his hands never leaving your body, his mouth never leaving your neck. you felt the wall behind you, your body trapped between the hardness of the wall and the hardness of, well, him.

his hand slid around your thigh, diving under the fabric of your jeans, fingertips grazing the wetness of your panties. your hips bucked slightly at the touch, betraying your own eagerness. “haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “what’s the matter, baby? did i turn you on?” you wanted to defy him more than anything, but you were powerless to resist.

instead, you fought fire with fire, raising your knee enough to press it against the center of his shorts. no matter how tough your bones were, they did little to prepare you for just how hard and heavy he felt, throbbing under the thick material of his shorts. “you’ve got it worse than i do,” you do your best to retort, but it’s not easy, not with his fingers rubbing sweet circles against the damp spot of your panties, drawing out every whimper he can from you.

“ease my pain, why don't you?” he murmurs softly. you watched him through hooded eyes as he crouched down, his fingers tugging down your jeans until they're pooling around your ankles. you complied, raising your feet to rid yourself of the blockage. when you did, he took a moment to admire you—pressed against the wall of your own home, standing in nothing but a skimpy top, panties soaked, and a pair of heels he didn’t plan on letting you take off.

when you tried to, he was quick to stop you. “heels on,” his voice was coated in authority, and you’re quick to pull back. “everything else, off.”

“bossy, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but ask him, but it only encouraged him. you watched as he leveled the playing field, peeling his own shirt off, leaving him in nothing but his shorts. he seemed skinny, thanks to his height, but you had clearly been deceived. he was toned, everything about him was toned in just the right places.

your eyes trailed down to the metal tucked in his shorts, and you allowed yourself to pull the weapon out, holding it in front of him. “really?” you couldn’t help but ask. he offered a smile amd a shrug, unable to protest as you sat the gun on the table beside him. better safe than sorry.

you couldn’t help but trail a hand down his chest, your feather-light touch sending shivers down his spine as you traced every muscle and crevice from his collarbone to his hips. youd never admit it out loud, but he was incredible. “see something you like?” he teased, attaching his lips to your neck a final time as his fingers tugged at your shirt, eager to get it out of the way. you whimpered at the feeling, the way he’d bite down enough to make you wince, but run his tongue over the surface a second later. “don’t flatter yourself,” you managed to say.

but he had every intention of doing so. he allowed your shirt to fall to the floor as his lips travelled south, making their way down your collarbone and over your clothed tits. you tilted your head back, fingers instinctively pulling him in closer by the back of his neck, drawing him in further between your tits. he unclasped your bra with ease, giving you the impression he had definitely done this plenty of times, but you were too desperate to care. “should’ve just told me you wanted it rough,” he said, and you swore you could feel his smirk against your skin.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingertips ghosting over the lace of your panties. with a sharp tug, he pulled them aside, revealing the sticky mess that had been hidden beneath. “dripping all over my fingers, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a tremor through you. his finger slid through the slickness, teasing your entrance before pressing inside. you moaned, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting back against him. “fuck, rafe, too much,” and you wished you were exaggerating. his fingers were thin, slender, hitting all the right spots like they had them mapped out.

his eyes searched yours as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his strokes measured and deliberate. “not enough, never enough,” he countered, his tone almost mocking. you whined, desperate for more. he smirked, adding a second finger, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle. you leaned into the wall, using it for support as his digits worked their magic. you were dripping all over his fingers, wetting them from the tips to his knuckles.

when he pulled them out, it almost felt cruel, a long whine drawn out of you as the feeling of emptiness replaced fulfillment. “so fucking needy, jesus, shit,” he groaned, taking a second to admire how glossy his fingers were, how hard the sight of your arousal had him. “just a second, i promise.” you nodded, watching as he brought his shorts down, leaving him in his boxers, but only for a second. it was enough for you to catch the trailer, to see what awaited you.

when his boxers followed, you really wished for another minute to process the sight. his cock flopped against his abs, twitching. his tip was stained an angry red, beads of pre-cum trailing down the underside of his cock, following a prominent vein before collecting under his balls. “stroke my ego, just like that,” you heard him say, but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly, teasingly. “you like watching, don’t you?” you nodded, your eyes glued to his hand as it glided up and down. “good,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “i’ll put on a fucking show for you.”

he stepped closer, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit, hard and ready to split your folds open. you could feel the heat, the urgency, and the promise of what was to come. he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “gonna take this dick like a fuckin’ champ.”

your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, his words hitting you in the core of your being. you didn’t know why, but you craved his dirty talk, his filthy mouth whispering bittersweet nothings that turned you into a trembling mess. “yes, please, fuck me,” you breathed, your voice a shaky whisper that seemed to echo through the room.

rafe smirked, his hand still working his cock. “that’s my girl,” he said, and the term of endearment had your stomach doing somersaults. his eyes never left yours, not even as he pushed his cock past your folds, eyes glued to the way your jaw dropped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation of his bare tip splitting you open.

you were soaked, the sound of his skin slapping against yours obscene, filling the room as he picked up his pace. he leaned in, his teeth capturing yours in a brutal kiss that had you moaning into his mouth. your nails scratched at his back, leaving deep red grooves that you knew would scar. his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, his strokes deep and unrelenting. “fuck, shit, pussy’s squeezing my cock,” he groaned through the kiss, breathless.

the room spun around you, the sensation of his bare length inside you, the feeling of his teeth on your lip, his tongue in your mouth—it was all too much. your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending a live wire ready to spark and explode. “yes, yes, fuck, yes,” you chanted, your voice a desperate mantra that matched the rhythm of his hips.

his hands slid to your throat, thumbs pressing against the pulse that beat frantically. you gasped, the sudden pressure a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core. his grip tightened, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you aware of your vulnerability. “you like it rough, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress in your ear. you didnt even have to answer, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him told him everything he needed to know.

his hand slid down to grip your neck, his fingers tightening as he slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. “you want it harder?” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. you nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you weren’t sure how much harder it could get—with him pounding your pussy, you could feel the way he throbbed, pulsing deep inside of you, but you had to expect the unexpected from him. the unexpected came as he leaned back, hand wrapping around the barrel of his gun. your eyes widened, but you were in no position to resist—you didn’t even want to.

there was something dangerous in his eyes, something you had only seen once, just a few hours earlier at the bar, but it drew you in more than you wanted it to. his pace never faltered, his hips slamming against your flesh as one hand held your leg up high, the sight of your cunt swallowing him whole only adding fuel to the fire. his other hand held the gun, finger to the trigger, as he pressed it to your temple.

“tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, gripping your thigh in a way that told you to expect a bruise or two. the cold metal of the gun you knew had to have been loaded dug into your skin, his fingers locked around the trigger.

“scared,” you barely managed to whisper, tits shaking with every forceful thrust. “i’m scared, rafe,” but your words were like music to his ears, the clenching of your cunt a sign that you were just as horny as you were scared.

he threw his head back, pushing your leg up even farther, enough for it to sting deliciously as he rammed into you, the head of his cock bruising the entirety of your pussy. “you should be,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his chest. he lowered the gun, giving you a temporary feeling of relief, one that didnt last long. he brought it closer to you, tapping your bottom lip with the muzzle. “didn’t i tell you?”

your eyes widened at the sight of the weapon so close to you, his fingers never leaving the trigger, but you knew your best option was to oblige. your lips parted, and he was quick to push it into your mouth. he groaned at the sight, watching your swollen lips wrap around the barrel enough to send him over the edge. “doin’ everything i tell you to, fuck, you’re so good.”

you felt the metal of the gun slide along your tongue, his hips moving with the rhythm of your mouth. you didn’t dare bite down, not with how close he was to climax. his hand tightened around your throat, his other hand keeping the gun in your mouth as he fucked you harder, his strokes becoming erratic. “you’re gonna take it all, baby. all of me. every single drop,” he promised, and the thought of his hot, sticky cum filling your mouth had your pussy tightening around his cock.

you felt your orgasm approaching, the tension in your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap. you moaned around the gun, the vibrations of the sound traveling up the barrel and into your mouth. rafe’s eyes glazed over, his movements becoming sloppy with lust. “yeah, just like that,” he whispered, his thumb pressing into your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your world spin.

the gun slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving as his grip around your neck loosened slightly. his eyes snapped to yours, searching, hungry, as he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness. before you could protest, he turned you around, pressing you into the wall. his hand found your throat again, squeezing as his cock nudged at your entrance from behind.

the fear and arousal had started mixing in a heady cocktail that had you on the edge of oblivion. with a smirk, he slammed into you, his bare skin slapping against yours in a way that was almost painful. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you mercilessly, his hand around your neck keeping you in place, his other hand pressing against your stomach to keep you steady.

his thumb brushed against your clit, the sensation making you moan, your knees buckling slightly. he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through your body. “such a sweet thing,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “letting me fill this sweet pussy up.” you could only moan, unable to do anything but submit to his will. the pressure built inside of you, a crescendo that was only heightened by the way he choked you, the way his cock hit just the right spot deep inside of you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing becoming ragged. “yes, yes, fuck, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he demanded, his voice a mix of pleasure and command. and like a good little slut, you did. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking and convulsing around his cock, your cunt pulsing with every beat of your heart.

his grip on your neck tightened, his thrusts becoming even more punishing as you came. your nails scraped against the wall, leaving marks that would surely be there when the sun came up. you could feel your eyes water, your vision swimming with the pressure he applied, but it only added to the intense pleasure that flooded your body. “fuck, yes, take it, take it all,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside of you. his cum filled you, hot and thick, and you felt the stickiness of it trickle down your legs. he leaned into you, his body pressing you into the wall, his breathing harsh and heavy in your ear. for a moment, you felt it all, right before youe vision betrayed you.

the morning greeted you with the kind of disorientation that made reality feel like a cruel trick. your head throbbed, and your body ached as if every muscle in you had given up the fight. blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the window, you became acutely aware of the rough texture of the couch beneath you. the blanket draped over you was haphazard, your clothes were gone, and a sickening weight settled in your stomach.

it didn’t take long for the memories to come flooding back: rafe’s hands on your skin, his lips on yours, the way he’d devoured you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. and now? nothing. the couch was empty, and the only remnants of him were the bruises on your neck and the dull ache between your thighs.

you exhaled shakily, pressing your palms against your face. what had you expected? a note? breakfast? rafe cameron wasn’t the kind of man who stayed. he took what he wanted, and you’d been foolish enough to give it to him.

the guilt settled like a weight on your chest as you forced yourself to your feet, rummaging for clothes. the shame was suffocating, curling around you as you dressed in silence. by the time you stepped out of your house, the sun was high, and the day was already slipping away.

at work, the tension was evident. your manager’s icy glare followed you as you prepped for the event that night. “last night was your first strike,” he said coldly, and you knew there was no room for argument. you nodded silently, biting back the urge to snap. the day dragged on, and despite the busy prep work, rafe never appeared.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the event was in full swing. the bar was packed, music pumping through the speakers, and you were moving through the crowd like clockwork. but you couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the anticipation every time the door swung open. he still wasn’t there.

frustrated, you stepped outside for a smoke, seeking solace in the familiar burn of nicotine. the beach in the distance was scattered with people, laughter and music drifting on the wind. that’s when you saw him. rafe was leaning against the hood of his bike, his head tilted as a girl’s hands tangled in his hair. her lips moved feverishly against his, her body pressed against his in a way that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not that serious,” you muttered to yourself, exhaling a shaky breath. but it didn’t stop the sting, the ache that settled deep in your chest. you extinguished the cigarette against the wall and went back inside, needing something—anything—to dull the edges of your emotions.

the first drink went down easy. the second burned, but you welcomed it. you poured yourself a third before a light tap on your shoulder startled you. “excuse me,” a voice said, nervous and unsure.

you turned, offering a faint smile to the tall, sunkissed guy standing behind you. “are you on your break?” he asked hesitantly.

you shook your head, setting your glass down. “it’s okay. i could use the distraction. what’re you having?”

he slid onto the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. “a mai tai would be alright.”

nodding, you set to work, your movements automatic. you slid the drink across the counter, noting the way he fidgeted with his fingers. “busy night,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“yeah, i guess,” you replied.

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “came with a friend, but he’s with a girl right now.”

you sat beside him, crossing your arms. “sorry to hear that.”

“it’s fine,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “i’m topper, by the way.”

before you could respond, a familiar presence loomed beside you. you turned slowly, your stomach sinking when your eyes landed on him. “this the friend you were talking about?” you asked topper, though your gaze stayed fixed on rafe.

“yeah,” topper said, oblivious to the tension. “you two know each other?”

rafe opened his mouth, but you were quicker. “no,” you said firmly. “no idea.”

rafe’s expression was unreadable, but you didn’t care. you spent the rest of the night ignoring him, focusing on anything but the way his eyes bore into you. when your shift finally ended, you clocked out and stepped outside, only to find him waiting.

“what do you want?” you snapped, already exhausted.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone laced with faux concern.

“fuck off, rafe.”

he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “is this about sofia?” he asked, realization dawning on his face.

“so she has a name,” you said bitterly, yanking your arm free.

“get over yourself,” he called after you. “you should’ve known it was casual.” his words hit like a slap, but you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

the next few days were a blur of muted colors and sharp-edged feelings that refused to dull. you didn’t go to work; the thought of stepping back into that bar, facing the memories etched into its walls, was unbearable. instead, you sought solace in the one place that had always calmed you—the beach.

the sand felt cold beneath your feet, even in the mid-morning sun. the rhythmic crashing of the waves usually soothed you, their endless cadence like a lullaby for your restless mind. but today, they felt distant, like a song you no longer knew the words to.

you sat by the shoreline, knees hugged to your chest as the salty breeze tangled in your hair. there was no anger, no fire—just an aching hollowness that stretched out inside you. mourning someone who was never really yours wasn’t a dramatic storm; it was a slow erosion, like the tide pulling pieces of you away until you were left unrecognizable.

you replayed every moment with him in your mind, dissecting every look, every word, searching for signs of something deeper, something real. but the truth was glaringly simple: rafe cameron wasn’t yours. he was never meant to be.

as the day slipped into evening, the sun sinking low on the horizon, you wandered aimlessly along the beach. the golden light painted the world in soft hues, but it couldn’t reach you. the weight of your thoughts dragged you back to the sand, and you sat again, staring at the endless expanse of water, feeling as though it mirrored the vast emptiness inside you.

you didn’t notice the presence beside you at first. the silence had become your companion, so when the soft crunch of sand gave way to stillness, you barely registered it. but then you turned your head, and there he was. he didn’t look at you. his gaze, like yours, was fixed on the water. the sharp angles of his face were softened in the twilight, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. he said nothing at first, and neither did you. words felt too heavy, too complicated for the fragile stillness between you.

“my dad had a choice to make before he died,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, as though dragged over gravel.

you didn’t turn to him, didn’t acknowledge his words beyond the faintest flicker of your lashes.

“he told me he had to choose between me and my sister,” he continued, his tone clipped, detached. “he told me it’d always be her.”

the confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, but you stayed quiet, your eyes locked on the waves that seemed to stretch forever. “the first night i came into the bar,” he said after a pause, “it was the anniversary of ward’s death.”

your throat tightened, but you remained silent, letting him unravel the threads of himself piece by piece.

“i bent over backward for him, y’know?” his voice cracked, but he recovered quickly, masking the vulnerability with bitterness. “did some things i wasn’t proud of for him, but none of it mattered.”

his laugh was low and bitter, barely more than an exhale. “so forgive me if i’m a little hesitant to let you in.”

there was a challenge in his words, a dare for you to contradict him. but you didn’t. you stared at the water, your voice soft when you finally spoke. “i’m not him, rafe.”

he nodded slowly, the movement barely perceptible out of the corner of your eye. “yeah,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “but most of them are.”

you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“i told him once that I knew something was wrong with me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost distant. “but he told me to keep it quiet. that’s how much he cared.”

the silence that followed was suffocating, filled with all the things neither of you could say. the ocean stretched endlessly before you, its waves crashing softly against the shore as if mocking the turmoil inside you.

“i’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“for what?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.

“for what he did to you.” he didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken pieces that didn’t quite fit together but couldn’t seem to pull apart.

tears pricked at your eyes, hot and unwelcome, and you blinked furiously, determined not to let them fall. but it was no use. the weight of everything—the loss, the pain, the hopelessness—was too much. a single tear slid down your cheek, then another, until they were falling freely, carving silent trails down your face. you didn’t wipe them away, didn’t hide them. what was the point?

you felt him move before you saw him, his arms wrapping around you from behind. his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his grip was firm, possessive. for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his body a cruel comfort against the chill of the night.

but even as he held you, even as your tears soaked into his shirt, you knew the truth. you would worship something that has destruction in its blood, blind and desperate, chasing something you could never truly have. rafe cameron was the kind of man who would burn you to the ground and then light another match just to watch you smolder. and yet, there you were, willingly stepping into the flames.

you stared out at the ocean, its vastness swallowing you whole, and you knew you were lost, eyes dilated as you watched the clouds float. you would practice the worst religion of them all, praying for something you knew you’d never have.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe smut #rafe angst #rafe x reader smut #rafe fanfiction #north carolina

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pazziville · 7 months ago

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my pazzi roman empire list pt. 2

paige's favorite view

cute interview moment

azzi making a shot and paige impressed as hell

gentlewoman paige pt. 2 + blushing because of azzi

why were they so close? the gap between dorka???

menace azzi

boy, ass grab, must be her girlfriend 😭

azzi's biggest fan

borrowing/matching clothes pt. 3

cute ass bench moment

a biggie concert [another] [two] [three] [lil moment analysis] [four] [five]

azzi filming paige in the background when she dapped up a bigge (assumption)

shoutout to her best friend

paige not being able to not touch azzi

her money's on azzi

azzi annoying paige on the bench

kayla's car with azzi and paige photos (not sure if it is really kayla's car please do correct me if i'm wrong)

kissy face

private but not secret + pazzi following each other on goodreads

paige going straight for the azzi's package 😭

kiki do u love me

this photo this other one and this too

azzi surprising paige in uconn for her birthday 🥹

azzi going to minnesota to help paige with her event

paige using azzi's favorite song as her first night entrance song

pazzi balling in wheelchairs

pazzi with a fan who's wearing a pazzi customized jersey

2024 charity event crumbs [photo]

paige's old ig pfp being a snap of her and stewie (azzi's dog)

paige wearing an azzi shirt [video]

paige being extra when she didn't get a high five immediately from azzi

azzi fudd's 😾

paige pinky promise with azzi's dad and her cute plea to azzi's mom and azzi

azzi fixing paige's grad tassle

pazzi in the beach in europe [azzi in a purple bikini and we know who loves purple 😏 (this is a joke)]

azzi telling paige to go shower lmao

paige dancing with jon and jose and azzi smiling in the background

azzi having hopkin paige photos in her room (this was crazy ngl)

hidden pazzi moments compilation

azzi calling paige at 1am

pazzi touching each other during a huddle crumb

azzi looking at paige compilation

azzi wearing paige's hoodie in the cruise matching shoes in the cruise pazzi cruise pics compilation bonus cruise photo

fetus azzi holding paige cutouts 🥹

matching/borrowing of clothes pt. 4

paige's senior tribute video ft. azzi

matching chains

paige's 'my girl'

azzi picking up paige

sharing/borrowing of keychain

the squad realizing paige and azzi came in together and being so done with them lmao

paige showing azzi off pazzi's kid because we're delusional their kid apparently paige handing her phone to azzi little analysis moment

azzi holding paige's wrist/arm in a huddle

alleged azzi calling paige honey clip

paige allegedly jealous of drew lmaooo

azzi's stare at paige that could KILL [another moment]

watching a soccer pride night game together

sideline flirting idfk what this is but it's crazy [more snaps] [hand on lower back]

kk liking a pazzi edit

azzi wiping paige's tear

the goddamn pazzi slam cover shirt

concerned azzi

clocked them 😭

paige allegedly winning a plushie for azzi

allegedly sharing of clothes pt. idk anymore

THE pazzi timeline w/ some photos

yin & yang

paige's favorite basketball player [another]

this slideshow (9th and 5th slide???!!!)

their favorite movie

this ass touch???

facetimes pt. 2 [another] (these clips will probably be taken down out of respect for jon's wishes to not let his lives be screen recorded and posted anywhere but these were from july 12, 2024)

paige copying azzi 🥹

paige's mom complimenting azzi

azzi eyeing paige

-> next part

a/n: part one here! any worthy pazzi moments to be added in this list can be submitted through my questions in blog. much love. <3

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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printhutt123 · 1 year ago

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Neon Sign Board Manufacturer in Delhi

Print Hutt is a premier Neon Sign Board Manufacturer based in Delhi, combining expertise and craftsmanship to illuminate spaces with distinctive signage. Renowned for meticulous attention to detail, they offer versatile designs, from minimalist to intricate, ensuring each neon sign is a unique work of art. With a commitment to client collaboration, Print Hutt tailors neon signs for diverse occasions, including weddings, birthdays, and commercial branding. Their creations transcend borders, captivating a global audience. As a beacon of Delhi's artistic expression, Print Hutt continues to shape the city's neon sign landscape with a radiant fusion of creativity and quality.

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pray-everyday · 2 months ago

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coldfanbou · 9 months ago

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The First One is On The House

Ningning fic once again a challenge given by @i-am-lifeform24

Length 2K

Ningning X Mreader

“Hello? Yes, I can fit her into my schedule. I should have an opening at 7. Later? I guess I could take her in after the show. Alright, I look forward to her visit.” You put the phone back on the receiver and walked back to the table; you were so looking forward to going home early for the evening when you got a call from that customer. You would've preferred taking the appointment for another day, but you wanted to keep your weekend free. You sit back in your office chair and stare at the ceiling before gazing at the clock hanging on the wall. Three hours, that’s how long you’d have to wait for your guest to arrive.

Getting bored, you pulled out your phone and checked social media, seeing posts from stars from earlier in the day as they walked the red carpet for some fashion event nearby. You see a few of your usual clientele post pictures, liking them before moving on. Eventually, you get tired of that and begin some repetitive tasks, trying to seem busy as you wait for the client to arrive despite them arriving a couple of hours from now.

Soon enough, you went back to looking at your phone, checking out photos from the event, and seeing the different kinds of people that went. You stopped on a picture of Ningning from the group Aespa when you heard the door open. It was your friend, a manager for various groups. “Sorry for getting here late. She just felt so tired during the show, and we thought it best to call you.”

“Just who is it? That they needed a massage so desperately? I could’ve had a nice evening for myself.”

Your friend stands aside, letting his gues walk forward. “I’m sorry for making you stay late.” You recognize the woman as she bows her head; it’s Ningning. She was still in the same clothes you had seen in the picture a moment ago, a revealing short black dress that clung to her body.

You wave her off as you refocus. “It’s fine. Just prepare for the massage. I’m going to talk to your manager a bit.” You point the small woman toward a changing room and look back toward your friend.

You see him heading out the door before you can say anything. “I’m going to get some food. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Hey!” The door shuts, and you’re left alone again. You head toward the window and watch him walk toward a nearby restaurant, shaking your head. “I’m gonna talk that guy's head off when he comes back.”

A small voice catches your attention, “I’m ready.” You turn back around to see Ningning covering herself with the towel provided. “Where did my manager go?”

“He went to go eat across the street. Anyway, please follow me.” You lead Ningning into one of the massage rooms and have her lie face down on the table. “I hope the clothing in there wasn’t too tight. I’m going to move the towel down now.” Ningning nods her head.

You move it down slowly, revealing the tan bra that was provided to all female guests who would rather not be naked. It was thick and padded, meant to be comfortable. Your eyes move down her back, noting her flawless skin. You lather your hands in an unscented oil, rubbing it in between your fingers before placing your hands on her lower back. You apply slight pressure on her back, dragging your thumbs away from the center of her body. “Did you have a good time at the fashion show?”

“It was alright, but the chairs were so uncomfortable. My body started to ache from sitting in them.”

“I see. Is there anywhere that aches specifically?”

“I mean, my butt hurts,” Ningning says with a laugh. You just nod along, creating an awkward atmosphere. You kick yourself for not laughing at her joke. Continuing the massage, you move your way up her back, reaching her shoulder. You could feel the tension in them and increase your strength as you began to massage all the knots out. Ningning groans as she feels your hands dig into her shoulders and release the tension in them. “Ooh, that feels so good.” You focus your efforts on Ningning shoulders, and once they relax, you take a step back.

“I’ll be moving down now.”

“That’s fine,” Ningning moans as she places her head on top of her hands. You move the towel up slightly, keeping her ass covered as you begin to work on her thighs. As you ran your hands across them, you could feel the toned muscles underneath. Working on the one nearest to you, you give her thigh a strong squeeze.

Feeling your hands move across her thighs, Ningning feels her body getting warmer. She used her hands to cover her mouth, struggling to keep her groans from filling the room. Your hands felt good; Ningning could feel a growing wetness between her legs as your finger brushed against the inside of her thigh. Her cheeks begin to turn red as you switch to the other side, starting the process over again. When you accidentally squeeze her thigh a bit too hard, Ningning couldn’t hide her moan—letting the long, smooth sound of her voice fill the room before catching herself. She buries her head in her hands, too embarrassed to look anywhere in the room. You try to ignore it and continue on.

Needing Ningning to turn onto her back, you finally speak up, “Ningning, I finished with your backside; I need you to turn over.”

“O-okay,” She turns herself over slowly, glancing your way. You began to massage her arms, and as you got to her shoulders, you noticed Ningning continually glancing at you. Nearing her chest, Ningning groaned again. She rubbed her legs together, growing more aroused as your hands glided along her body. Moving down to her legs, you noticed the wet spot between Ningning’s legs, and she knew it too.

You tried to ignore it, but Ningning continued to rub her legs together as you tried to massage her. “I…I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. We’ll just stop here.”

Ningning grabs your hand. “Wait!” She let go briefly before grabbing your hand again. “I-is there any other services you offer?” You understand what she means. Ningning’s voice grew smaller as she went on. “I mean, I see in videos that sometimes masseurs offer special services. Is that an option here?” You were about to reply when Ningning placed your hand on her breast. I can pay you. I-my body just feels really good when you touch it.”

You had to admit that Ningning was a beautiful woman that you’d be lucky to have sex with, and you considered your options. You look at the clock on the wall; half an hour has passed. Knowing your friend, he’d likely be going for seconds right about now and want to take his time getting back. “Alright.” Ningning gives you a soft smile and lets go of your hand. You place it over her slit, the briefs she was wearing keeping your away. Still, it was enough to make her groan. Like the bra provided, the briefs were meant to keep customers more comfortable. Ningning stares at you with lustful eyes as she squirms on the table. You snake your hand under the briefs and drench your fingers in her nectar as you slide your hands along her slit. Feeling your fingers touch her sends Ningning over the edge; you watch her toes curls and eyes shut as she cums at that moment. “I’m sorry. It’s my first time,” She mumbles.

“I…figured.” You reply as you begin pulling down the briefs. Ningning covered her face, her shyness taking over. You turn her body towards you before dropping your pants. Ningning’s eyes become glued to your growing bulge. “It’s not polite to stare.”

“It just looks so big.” Her comment makes you chuckle. You pull down your underwear, revealing your cock to the young woman. She reaches toward it without uttering a word; you feel her soft hand wrap around the tip. “It’s so warm…”

“So you’ve used toys?”

“...yes,” She says shamefully.

“It’s natural, Ningning. No need to be ashamed, but let’s see how the real thing compares.” You tell her as you take a step forward and rub the tip of your cock against her slit. Ningning whimpers and stares at your cock as it runs along her cunt. You lean in, kissing her neck softly as you push your head against her cunt. She wraps her arms around you, holding you closely as she begins to fill the room with her moans. You feel her walls squeezing your cock as you push inside of her.

“Ahh, hold on,” Ningning moans, her hands gripping your shirt. You stop moving, giving her time to adjust. You pepper her with kisses as you wait, softly squeezing her body. “You can move now.”

You push more of your cock into Ningning, watching her expression carefully. You see her shut her eyes and moan as you bury yourself inside her. Her walls are tightly wrapped around your cock, rubbing against the head. You begin thrusting slowly, holding onto her hips to keep her in place. Each thrust brings out more moans from Ningning.

The small woman holds you tightly, wrapping her legs around you as you thrust deeply into her. You could feel Ningning’s walls tighten around your cock, as she neared another climax. “I’m cumming again,” She whimpered. “I’m going to cum.”

You speed up your thrusts, making her cry out from pleasure. You feel her thighs squeeze your sides as she cums. You continue thrusting into Ningning, making her let out a high-pitched whine. Each one was driving her crazy as you overstimulate her. You force your tongue into her mouth as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Ningning’s arms lose strength. Falling onto her back, Ningning lets out weak moans. You revel in the feeling of her walls clamping down on your cock. When you feel your orgasm coming, you begin to slow down. You pull out entirely and turn Ningning onto her stomach. You press your cock against her cunt, holding onto her waist with one hand. You ram the length of your cock back inside the petite woman, slipping in with ease. As you drive your cock in and out of Ningning, you watch her ass bounce as it slaps against your body. “You’re so tight, Ningning. I’m getting pretty close to cumming.”

“Cum…” Ningning mumbles as her head bobs with every thrust. You feel yourself getting closer. Your hands dig into Ningning’s flesh.

“Where do you want it?” You ask as you ram your cock deep into her cunt. Ningning doesn’t respond to the question, only repeating the word cum. You make the quick decision to pull out, knowing it would only cause trouble if she got pregnant. You pull out at the last moment, painting her back as you spurt cum onto her. Ningning feels the warm cum hit her back, groaning as her mind slowly returns to her.

You check the clock; your friend should be back in a few minutes. You grab a few towels and wipe the cum off Ningning's back. “Your manager is going to be coming back soon. You better get changed.”

“Manager?” Ningning slowly blinks as she realizes. He’ll be coming back soon. She struggles to stand up, and you’re forced to help her get into the changing room while you clean up. You wait by the entrance for her manager to show up, and soon enough, he appears.

“I’m back.” He says with a burp. “Where’s Ningning?”

“You really didn’t hold back on eating, did ya? Did you get me anything?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” Ningning steps out of the changing room looking like she did when she first stepped foot inside, the only difference being her slightly frazzled hair. “Oh, there you are.”

“Sorry for the wait. I struggled with the heels.”

“That’s okay. Let’s get you back to the dorms. Thanks for dealing with her.” Ningning nods her head and follows her manager out the door, picking up a business card before giving you a wink and leaving.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #aespa smut #ningning smut

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prestogifts · 2 years ago

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Customized Gift, Photo Lamp & Personalized Clock

Looking for a customized gift for your loved ones? Look no further than photo lamps and personalized clocks! These gifts will be cherished for years to come.

#customized gift #photo lamp #personalised clock

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jsluvtzu · 6 months ago

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who’s protecting who?

park jihyo x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of attempting to keep jihyo from getting hurt, you ultimately forget about yourself

cw: none, men dni

wc: 5k

a/n: first fic in a while hooray!! my friends and i beat the pickleball pandemic and caught the volleyball virus instead, so enjoy this fluffy vb themed fic :p (this might be my longest one yet)

as you finished ringing up the last customer of the usual lunch rush, you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. hurriedly assuring the customer that their order would be out soon and excusing yourself to the back, you asked your coworker to take over the counter for a bit while you took a small break from standing for so long.

pulling your phone out of your pocket and into your hand, you saw a text message flash across your screen, slightly blocking the lockscreen picture you had of your girlfriend kissing your cheek.

jihyo 🩷

y/nnn i think i wanna try volleyball and learn how to be as good as u :pp

smiling as your eyes flickered between reading her text and reminiscing on the exact moment the photo on your phone was taken, you tapped on the message and replied.

okay love i"ll teach u lol

knowing jihyo had a busy schedule consisting of both work and her 12 different hobbies, you didn't want her to overwhelm herself by taking on yet another one. nonetheless, you were excited to have her join you in something that you've always imagined the two of you doing together.

u sure ur not too busy tho?

it'd been about 2 years since you first picked up the sport as a pastime with a couple friends. eventually it turned into friendly tournaments on the weekends at the local community court with other groups, which then turned into trying out for professional leagues and miraculously making it into one.

jihyo 🩷

i can always make time silly

unfortunately, your break time was now quickly coming to an end, so you rushed to type out a response and carelessly shoved your phone back into your pocket.

we can go after i get off work then :) wear something u can freely move in and put on ur most comfortable shoes. i love u see u soon ml

speedrunning through the last few hours of your shift was excruciating when all you could think about was finally being able to show the girl you loved most how to play the sport you loved most. the anticipation of coaching her into becoming a better player than you made it impossible for you to focus on making a drink as simple as an iced latte.

"oh shit-" you whispered to yourself, realizing that you'd almost overfilled the cup with the caffeinated liquid.

as you clocked out and drove home, you couldn't stop yourself from mindlessly humming and calmly dancing to the music you had playing in your car. your coworkers even stopped to ask you, "what's got you in such a good mood?" multiple times.

and to no surprise, jihyo was already packed and ready to go the minute you opened the door to your shared apartment. the oversized backpack on her shoulders was filled to the brim with snacks and water for the active evening ahead. her sporty outfit was exactly what you'd imagined your girlfriend would wear. a slightly loose fitting muscle tee, athletic leggings, and her new favorite pair of running shoes on her feet to top it all off.

you couldn't help but melt at her eagerness as you took your shoes off and set your keys down onto the table by your shoe rack.

"hi baby," you said amusedly, "you're well prepared i see."

she beamed at you with her doe eyes and hummed in agreement as she skipped towards you to greet you with a kiss. her warm lips made contact with yours in a desperate manner, almost a silent message to relay just how much she'd missed you since you left for work early in the morning. you pulled away just enough to where your lips barely grazed each other, "let me change first and then we can be on our way, okay?" you pecked her lips again and once more to her cheek as you walked away to your shared bedroom to free yourself of your coffee reeking clothes. jihyo quickly set her backpack down onto the couch and followed behind you shortly.

you changed into your team's white long sleeved compression jersey with your custom number on the back; a bright pink "21" for jihyo, of course. soon after, you slid into your spandex shorts and turned your head to the side to see jihyo leaning up against the wall next to you. the sunlight shining through the open blinds accentuated her features perfectly. she was smiling proudly as she watched you morph into a different version of yourself that she only saw at your games.

"what're you looking at.." you said shyly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your girlfriend's gaze.

she only giggled in response and lifted herself off the wall to fill the room with a loud smacking sound as she slapped your ass and made her way over to your bed, plopping down and facing the ceiling. you immediately let out a loud "oww!!" and rubbed over your burning cheek to soothe it.

"so, who are we playing against today? anyone i should be worried about?" jihyo asked. you walked over to the full-sized mirror in the corner of the room before answering her question, still focused on the stinging pain she left. "hm? oh, actually we aren't playing a real match today. i'm just gonna be showing you the basics and whatnot," you replied, tying your hair into a messy low bun at the same time.

a couple seconds of silence passed, concerning you enough to make you look behind you through the mirror and see your girlfriend who once laid flat down suddenly pin-straight up glaring at you. her posture was something out of a horror movie the way her back was perfectly aligned and her hands were beside her knees. you gulped and almost genuinely got scared until you glanced down to see her feet barely touching the floor. that's when you choked back a laugh at how cute her attempt at intimidating you was.

you finished up doing your hair and walked towards your pouty girlfriend. "what's wrong? why are you making a face like you just came out of one of those insidious movies?” you asked, pulling out a few strands to frame your face.

she whined in response, "i don't wanna learn the basics.. that's so boring. i wanna learn how to really play volleyball. not that kiddie stuff for the youth age group." you reached a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "hey! that 'kiddie stuff' is really important, you know. you can't just go right into spiking without knowing how to hit and jump correctly first," you grumbled. jihyo looked at you confusedly, "..spiking..?" "exactly," you huffed.

jihyo groaned as she launched herself backwards onto the bed, the sheets rustling under her and beginning to surround her as she sunk further into the mattress.

"trust meee, it's for your own safety, love. i just don't want you getting hurt if i let you go right into a game not knowing what to do, that's all. a one-on-one session is always the best option for beginners," you reassured her, grabbing both of her arms and slowly pulling her up towards you. when you heard your girlfriend groan at you again, you realized it could be something else bothering her.

"ohh, or are you just annoyed that you have to be alone with me?? is that what this is??" you asked teasingly. but as soon as she heard that, jihyo stopped her whining immediately and scrunched her eyebrows up in a questioning manner, shaking her head aggressively.

"w-what? no! why would i be not wanna be alone with you! i just wanna be good already! just like.. let me skip the tutorial or something pleaseee," she pleaded. jihyo removed her arms from your grip and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you closer to her. you mockingly nodded your head and sarcastically spewed out "uh huhs" and "mhms" repeatedly, letting your girlfriend continue tightly hugging you and begging you for a free pass.

during the whole car ride there, it was impossible for you and jihyo to spend more than 2 seconds without touching each other in some way. whether it be her insisting she hold your hand while she secretly gushed at how attractive you look driving one-handed, or her switching to playing with your fingers while she asked more volleyball questions, or even kissing at each red light, there was never a single moment in that car where you two weren’t expressing your love in a form of touch.

as you pulled into the parking lot of the court complex, jihyo remembered the long nights and hours upon hours you would spend at these courts — it was practically your second home. that thought suddenly worried her that she might’ve been taking away your precious practice hours.

“baby, don’t you have practice today? if you do, you have to focus on that, not teaching me how to play. we can always do that some other time,” jihyo rambled.

you softly laughed at her flustered state knowing that you never told her the season was over yet. “no, love, don’t worry. it’s off-season for now, i don’t have any practices to go to,” you said reassuringly, squeezing her hand in yours to help settle her down. “plus, i would skip out on practice any day if it meant i could be with you.”

she sighed contently as you parked in an empty spot and turned the car off. before jihyo could even reach to click her seatbelt off, you teleported over to her side, opening the door for her and holding your hand out to help her up from your low sedan seats. your girlfriend mewled at the chivalrous gesture, grinning from ear to ear as she peeked her head out of the door. and to make sure she didn’t bump her head against the doorframe, you shielded her head with your hand as she came up.

popping the trunk open, you grabbed your backpack that was filled with volleyball gear and swung it over one shoulder. you made sure to grab jihyo’s as well, throwing hers over your other shoulder.

“you see that building over there with the big 2 painted on it?” you asked, pointing to the right side of the complex, “that’s where we’ll be. it’s a smaller court though since it’s only a practice gym.” jihyo looked in the direction you pointed at and hummed as she took in the size difference from the competition gym on the left and the practice one you mentioned.

while you were leading her to the unlocked doors of the practice court, jihyo kept pestering you to let her help you with one of the bags you were carrying, but of course you never let up. it even got to the point where you accidentally whacked your poor girlfriend with her own snack-filled bag while twisting and turning in protest of her need to help you.

“oh fu- sorry! i’m sorry, it was an accident i swear!” you frantically apologized, pulling jihyo into a messy hug. the heavy bags on your shoulders slipping off your arms as you held her close to you.

jihyo faked a hissy fit and jokingly pushed you away, “no i get it, you just hate me,” she said firmly, turning her head sharply and crossing her arms.

you paid no mind to your girlfriend’s antics, only catching up to her to hold open the door and watch her stomp past you in a sulk.

“i love youuu,” you chuckled.

her reply was barely audible, but you heard her mumble out an “i love you too” back.

setting your things down on the floor along the sidelines, you grabbed out an extra pair of knee pads you'd packed for jihyo. "come here love, let me put these on you," you ordered. it was difficult to slide the pads onto her legs with her shoes still on, so you helped her take them off for the time being, placing the pair neatly beside you.

kneeling down in front of her, you gently lifted one of jihyo's legs up at a time, skillfully adjusting the protective pads around her knee and taking extra precaution to make sure her legs were still able to move properly. you then sat back on your knees and admired your work, wondering why you felt like there was something missing.

"hmm.. i think.. i have something else for you to try on too," you pondered, digging through your bag once again to discover an old pair of extra small knee pads that didn't fit you anymore.

standing up with the gear in your hands, you held your girlfriend's forearm out as you stretched the material to enclose around her limb.

you snickered slightly at your spontaneous idea, "these are makeshift elbow pads specially designed for you." the pads were big enough to fit comfortably around her arms, protecting her exposed elbows from any potential harm.

jihyo allowed you to put them on her with no complaint, but soon began her whining when she began to feel the restricting feeling around her arms that was slightly limiting her movement.

"noo y/n, i don't need these. and they're so uncomfy!! i think i would play better without them.." she argued, scratching at the inside of her elbows to relieve the itching it caused.

knowing that your girlfriend was bound to try something outside of her comfort zone once she got into the flow of things, you decided it was the right decision to do everything in your power to help keep her from hurting herself while doing so. "just wear them please ji, i would feel much better seeing those on you," you refuted. it was true. you felt at peace knowing at least your girlfriend's precious joints were protected if not anything else.

she sighed out annoyedly, but ultimately complied to your requests only because she didn't want you to worry about her.

"thank you, my love," you said in satisfaction. you then reached into the cart of volleyballs behind you as jihyo slipped her shoes back on, squeezing a few to determine which one had enough air in it. grabbing the one you felt was best, you warmed up your wrist a bit by dropping the ball in front of you and striking it straight down, catching it once it came back up a couple times.

"okay, so first things first. you're gonna learn how to serve the ball," you said, leading her to the middle of the court facing the net. "the goal is to hit the ball over the net and onto the opponent's side of the court so that they can receive it and keep it in motion," you softly explained, repositioning her arms and legs into the perfect position for a proper serve.

jihyo picked up the skill quickly as you explained each step to her in full detail, making sure to critique her mistakes and show her the better way of executing her moves. within about 15 minutes of the first lesson, your girlfriend was already on her way to becoming the next star player for your team.

once she got at least 3 serves over the net, you decided she was ready to move onto the next step; receiving the ball. you showed her the proper way to hold her arms together and how to position herself under the ball to pass it to a teammate in front of her. you could tell jihyo was a natural at the sport as she was with any other activity she's ever tried.

after about an hour or so, her form was starting to get smoother and her reaction times were getting faster. but your energy needed replenishing and so did hers.

taking a short break together on the bleachers, you both had a water bottle in hand and shared the protein bar that jihyo had prepared earlier.

"do you wanna try peppering with me? i think you could be pretty good at it at this rate," you asked, sensing the way she was getting antsy to move onto something more advanced.

jihyo had no idea what exactly it was that you were asking her about, but she was eager to try it anyways. you put it in simple terms for her, explaining that it was a back and forth process of hitting and receiving the ball to each other. and just like that, hearing that she would be able to play against you in a way got jihyo excited again, the adrenaline giving her more energy than that protein bar ever did.

"okay! let's do it! come on!" jihyo exclaimed, throwing her bottle to the side and skipping back to the court while grabbing the ball. you smiled at how endearing she was and followed her soon enough, joining her across the same side of the court.

after another hour and a half of you two going at it, jihyo was seriously improving with the minimal coaching she had from you. it was honestly impressive how quickly she adapted to the flow of the game, but you expected nothing less of her.

deciding it was alright to push her a little further since she had all the protective gear in the world on, you picked up your pace a bit and spiked the ball harder, giving her less time to react and training her reflexes. obviously, jihyo played along effortlessly, getting herself hyped up by her newfound skill at volleyball. you could hear her cheer for herself everytime she successfully received the ball and sent it back in your direction.

but what you soon failed to realize was that the once amateur jihyo you knew 3 hours ago was gone. her alter ego had now taken over and fueled her with that insane ambition she had hidden away. as your eyes were too focused on watching her in case she fell, you completely failed to see the flying ball coming at your face at the speed of light.

bam.

you don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion. the world faded into a quick darkness as you felt something pushing against your face. that's when reality hit. or better yet, that's when you were hit.

jihyo had gotten carried away with her strength and sent the ball directly towards your lovely face with a perfectly executed spike. not knowing she was capable of that, she screamed out in pure terror when she saw your body fall backwards onto the shiny hardwood floor.

"holy shit! y/n!! oh my god, oh my god!? are you okay??!" she panicked, sprinting over to your side and crouching down to lay you onto her lap.

you could only croak out in pain and kept your eyes sealed shut as the bright fluorescent lights above you were too intense to take in at the moment.

jihyo repeatedly muttered out small apologies and cradled you as she looked over your face to see a big red spot that she left across one side.

"y/n, please.. i'm so sorry baby, please talk to me. do you know who i am?! how many fingers am i holding up?? what's your name? how old are you!" jihyo cried in distress. she cupped your cheek and gently tapped it with her thumb to try and get you alert and awake again.

slowly opening your eyes at the feeling of her soft touch, you blinked your eyes slowly as you adjusted to the bright lights, making out the faint figure of your girlfriend in front of you. "i'm fine, ji, don't worry," you whispered in between groans. you reached a hand up to your forehead, feeling the tenderness as you ran your fingers over the surface. wincing slightly, you regained enough composure to inch your way up off of jihyo's lap, her arms coming behind your back to support your body.

"is there anything i can get you? maybe an ice pack or something?" jihyo said meekly. you could tell even through your disoriented state that she was feeling guilty. before you could even think of an answer, you could only bring yourself to thoughts of hurrying up and recovering so you could show her that it’s okay.

"uhh, yeah. yeah, there should be a um- gel pack in the freezer in the uh.. coach's room across the field," you stammered, squinting your eyes closed when the lights became too much again.

with no hesitation, jihyo got up and ran towards the door to follow your directions as you told her where to get the ice pack.

"you stay right there, okay? don't move," jihyo demanded. you could only nod your head weakly, shifting yourself to slowly lay back down on the cold tile beneath you. the sound of the metal door closing behind jihyo reverberated throughout the open space.

the pain across your face was getting worse as time went by, the throbbing you felt on your eyebrow in sync with your heartbeat.

as your mind started to process what just happened, your brain began to flash images of the ball smashing your face in repeatedly, making you cringe at how dumb you probably looked. with your knees propped up and your feet on the ground, you held your hands to your face and rapidly kicked the floor in a temper tantrum, simultaneously wailing at the replaying moment in your head.

you silently cursed yourself out for allowing yourself to be so careless and possibly giving your girlfriend the ick by seeing you get your face contorted with the sheer force of impact.

shooting your body upright, you slid backwards on your hands towards the wall, leaning against it and rummaging through your bag to find your phone. after you found it, you quickly switched to the camera app to check the damage, already sensing how big the knot on your forehead was going to get in the next hour. sure enough, the large red and tender spot on the left side of your face was growing a lump. being in pure disbelief, you moved the camera further away to get your full face in frame, staring at yourself in shame and embarrassment. after a couple more seconds of examining yourself, you could only conjure up a scoff and put your phone down as soon as you heard the door open loudly again.

jihyo, who came in sprinting to your aid with an ice cold gel pack, was leaving a trail of condensation behind her as it was thawing in her hands. once again, you could only think about how dangerous it would be if she were to slip and fall on the water, but the continually throbbing pain on your face was making it difficult for you to speak up and scold her to be careful.

"here, put this on it for now. it should help the swelling go down," jihyo panted, clearly out of breath from running around outside trying to find the coach's office while being worried sick about you at the same time. she ran her thumb over the small bump forming on your eyebrow and cooed at how much pain you must've been in.

she gently pressed the ice pack to your forehead and kept whispering small apologies, her pretty face scrunched into the cutest concerned look you've ever seen. you weren't usually the type of person to like being taken care of like that, but seeing jihyo like this only made you want to get hurt again just to see that look on her face. but looking down slightly at her arms, you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she looked with those makeshift elbow pads she still had on.

"what's so funny? do you really think you should be laughing right now?" jihyo reprimanded.

you almost cackled in her face at her sternness, but quickly stopped and winced in pain instead when the pain in your face prevented you from forming a real smile.

jihyo tsked at you and told you to shut up, adjusting the ice pack to cover more area on your skin. "stop moving, would you?" you cleared your throat, "sorry it's just- you look crazy with those elbow pads on," you said, stifling a laugh. suddenly a slap landed on your shoulder which you didn't see coming since jihyo had both of your eyes covered with the ice pack. "don't be annoying right now, y/n. you were the one who made me wear them anyways.."

she took the ice pack off your face to quickly slide the stupid pads off her arms, which she struggled to do. you helped her wiggle them off and threw them to the side as she pressed the cold pack back to your skin again.

"alright, alright," you surrendered. "wait. isn’t it me who’s supposed to be the one mad at you right now? given that you were the one who hit me in the face in the first place.."

your girlfriend paused and rolled her eyes at your smart comment, "why don't you just shut up and hold that to your busted ass face, how about that?" she said sarcastically, grabbing your hand to take over holding the pack against your head.

jihyo was pretending that she was okay by making jokes and getting annoyed at you, but in reality, you knew that she was beating herself up inside with the guilt of getting too carried away and hurting you. she's always wished that her competitiveness wasn't so intense since it could result in someone getting hurt just like you did.

besides the point, jihyo helped you stand up and grabbed your things and hers, sneaking away your keys from your bag's outer pocket with her empty hand.

she linked arms with you while your other arm was stuck covering the left side of your face with the freezing cold pack of blue gel. "let's go home and get you fixed up," jihyo said, reassuring you that she would make you feel all better. "oh, and i'm driving us home," she added, clearly not leaving any room for an argument.

"what? no. i'll drive," you argued anyways.

"y/n are you insane? you can't even see out of one eye right now, angel. i'm driving." jihyo made sure to emphasize the last part to you, unbeknownst to you as she already had your keys in her pocket.

the both of you continued arguing the whole way to the car, jihyo ultimately winning as she managed to get you towards the passenger side. but in the middle of your bickering, a familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"oh! isn't that?-"

it was the same friend who you ditched earlier with the excuse that you were "too tired" to join her and your other friends in a scrimmage today.

"hi, stacy!" jihyo greeted, waving at your friend enthusiastically.

you hid your face away from stacy as you heard her voice get closer, already expecting her to tease you about your injury.

"hellooo, y/n! what are you guys doing here this late?" she asked innocently, inching her neck downwards to make eye contact with you since you had your head held down. "and- what happened to your face?"

you sighed, knowing there was no escape from this now. "oh i just.. i…" you stuttered, looking to jihyo for help.

she picked up your signal immediately, "oh! that? y/n just fell and hit her head, that's all," jihyo laughed awkwardly.

"uh huhh. so this is why you were 'too tired' to scrim with us tonight then, huh?" stacy asked sarcastically, getting uncomfortably closer to your face.

while snickering, you slapped the gel pack on stacy's face, causing her to wipe her face and gasp out in shock.

"shut up," you teased, playfully pushing your friend away.

after a few minutes of catching up, you three eventually said your goodbyes and waited to see stacy drive off before turning to open the car door.

"wait- what did she mean by you were 'too tired?'" jihyo asked, pulling you back by your arm.

"oh, yeah. i told the group earlier that i was gonna take the day off since i was tired. we were supposed to play a practice match against some teams today, but, i got to spend my time doing something better instead," you said, smiling down at her and admiring the way the moonlight reflected against her glassy eyes, moving a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead.

jihyo couldn't help but pull your face towards hers and smash your lips together, completely forgetting about the fact that your whole face was in the early process of bruising. your eyes widened and you moaned painfully against her lips, attempting to pull away from the grip she had on both of your cheeks.

luckily, she realized it and released you, apologizing hectically once again. "oh shit- oh my god i forgot! i'm sorry baby, you were too cute and i couldn't help myself," she explained.

"haven't you hurt me enough today??" you asked in an annoyed tone. you quickly regretted it though once you saw the pouty look on her face and the way she said she didn't mean to in that little whiny voice.

"i knowww, i know. i'm just teasing you, love," you reassured her, pulling her sweaty body in for another hug.

"you know, maybe you should wear the elbow pads next time. seems like you need them more than i do," jihyo mumbled against your chest.

her comment made you scoff incredulously, "i-" but before you could even formulate a comeback, she opened the car door and forced you into the seat, blocking out whatever you managed to say with ''lalala" and shushes instead.

as she closed the door on you and made her way over to the driver's seat, you sulked into the leather cushion and chuckled at the way the tables turned on you.

turns out you were the one needing the protecting that night.

#twice imagines #twice x reader #twice fluff #kpop x reader #kpop gg #jihyo x reader #jihyo fluff #park jihyo

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