#gotta love me some angst to write
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marcescet · 1 month ago
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what is grief, if not love persevering?
one shot, 8.1k words.
"So when Rio stopped feeling her, like a thread being cut, she knew. Agatha must be gone, or else why won’t she feel her anymore? Her one true love was gone, and she hadn’t seen her in so long she’d almost forgotten how she looks, how she smells, forgotten the sound of her voice. And god, did Rio miss her. At times she missed her so much it was near impossible to breathe."
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noahtally-famous · 3 months ago
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funny how this fic started off as an "unserious" idea (not cracky, more so i didn't take it that seriously, it was basically so i could rotate certain characters from my head into a google doc), i didn't expect to care abt it as much as i do now like i have a basic chapter layout for half of the set chapter count, specific scenes prewritten, a planning doc with around five pages thus far, the basics (title, summary, etc), random scenes for it spinning around in my head, and a bit of chapter one and three pages of chapter four written 😭
and i started properly thinking stuff for and working on this fic like...two days ago
it was not supposed to be This Serious hfjkdhf
#(this reminds me of how unserious i initially took picking petals but then it turned into All That lmaoo)#literally shoved some of my fav reboot rarepairs in this lmao#i think the reason why i havent made more progress with the chapter prewriting is bc college is kicking my ass i hardly get free time 😭#and also there arent any transcripts for s2 of the reboot :(#had to do psychology and mental health research for one of the characters for a hc and although i wanna incorporate it im hesitant#bc i dont wanna fuck it up somehow. but also im doing more research in case i think of another idea for them#i might go for it tho. we'll see. if i do its gonna further the angst bc some Baggage goes with it but stuff will wrap up too#so far whenever i think abt them i use that sort of lens anyway#so either i do it fully or aspects are implied via connective factors like environmental surroundings#either way it will involve that specific idea i have thought up to some degree#anyway im halfway thru s2 and taking notes for the fic while watching (i was planning on watching first then rewatching while outlining-#-buuut im too pumped lmao i see scenes and go 'oh imagine if i change it up a little in the fic' etc etc and then i just gotta jot it down)#the elimination order is tearing my hair out tho bc i love the cast but s2's elimination order was Not It i def gotta change that#ugh so much planning 😭 it was NOT this difficult with picking petals#(could be bc tdpi is my fav cast to write for)#sigh. lets see how it goes! and if I'll even publish this anytime soon lmao#kit writes#kit stuff#noahtally-famous#(....also dw ygs i know i rlly gotta finish agtsta's next chapter too-)
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artemistorm · 1 year ago
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Shelter in the Storm (part 1?)
Random fic I had the idea for last night and I spent all day today writing. Wild gets stuck in a cave in a cliff in a storm. I do have some more written and an end goal in mind for this story but who knows if I can focus long enough to get there. Anyways. Here you go. (1373 words)
******
Wild wakes. He’s cold. Everything hurts. He blinks his eyes open. It’s dark and he can hear rain falling and wind whistling and moaning. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got there. He’s there, but not really there, and he doesn’t even notice his eyes closing and he slips off to sleep again.
The next time he wakes, he’s cold. So cold.
He needs warmth. That’s all he can think of: warm, warm, warm, he instinctually seeks it out like a lizard in the morning. He can’t see anything but he doesn’t need to. His hand finds a way into the pouch on his belt and gravitates toward the heat of his flameblade. He takes it out and lays it beside himself surprised when his arm lances with pain above the cold-dulled soreness he has everywhere else in his body, but he doesn’t care to figure out why.
The light of the flame blade is the only thing Wild can see in the darkness and he takes comfort in knowing he isn’t blind. He tries to sleep again but only dozes on and off for an indeterminate amount of time. The sword isn’t doing enough to stave off the chill in the air. He groans and rubs his face in his sleeves. Again, he reaches into his pouch. His hand shuffles around clumsily and with minimal feeling in his cold-numb hand. His hand closes around a bottle and he pulls it out. It’s glowing softly orange—a warming elixir—just what he needs.
With great effort he sits up. His grip strength is weak and his hands shake as he wrestles the cork from the glass, then downs it in gulps, suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. It may not be a heart elixir but it still has a minor degree of healing effect. He slumps against a stone wall and closes his eyes and drifts as warmth washes over him and the pain fades away.
Wild wakes up sometime after the sunrise but it’s still dim. The warmth of the elixir has worn off and he’s cold again, but it’s tolerable. He starts, eyes widening when he sees how his hands and arm are a bloody mess. His clothes are damp and filthy and tattered and he has no recollection how it happened.
He’s in a relatively small and shallow cave of jagged and crumbly stone. Beyond arm’s reach at the mouth of the cave, his glider lays, the cloth shredded, just like his sleeves and arms. What could have done all this?
Wild staggers to his feet and limps stiffly toward the mouth of the cave. The ground where the glider lays is splatted with bird or keese guano and he grimaces in disgust. He picks up the glider and tosses it further in away from the edge. He can’t repair it. He doesn’t have any spare fabric suitable for it, nor does he even have a sewing kit or skills.
He looks out into a dark and stormy sky and far below, a field of bright green grass. He’s in a cave high up on a cliff. He leans out as far as he dares and looks up to see the top, but he can’t, rock overhangs the cave entrance blocking his view. He can’t glide out of the cave with the glider (and his arms) in the condition they are, nor can he climb the rain-slicked cliff. He’s stranded in the cave until the storm lets up.
He backs away from the opening and looks at he slate. No map. They’re not in his Hyrule.
That’s right. This is a new Hyrule.
It comes back to him now. The Chain had entered a portal into a new Hyrule and Wild ended up alone at the top of the cliff in the storm. He’d walked along it for a while but didn’t find anyone. He’d thought he’d heard Hylian voices echoed up from the field below and he had jumped off the cliff to glide down.
His memory of what happened next is foggy. He remembers being in great pain and terrible fear, scrambling to not die. There’s a gap in his memory and the last thing he remembers is flopping to the ground in the cave and immediately passing out.
What had happened to him while he was gliding? Had he been attacked? Did he slip off the glider’s handles and fall? Had he been struck by lightning? Did he run out of stamina? Had he fallen into the cave or climbed up to it? Were his injuries and the damage to the glider caused by the jagged cliff rocks or by something else?
At any rate, he was stuck. He’d have to camp out and make the best of it.
Wild had another warming elixir and then went about starting a fire. Once it blazed strong enough that a gust wouldn’t put it out, he set up the cooking pot and started heating up water. Gingerly he peeled his tunic off, splashing warmed water onto his arms to unstick the tattered fabric from where it had adhered to his wounds. Tunic removed, he inspects his hands and arms, rinsing off blood and dirt (he hoped he hadn’t gotten any guano on them, but he couldn’t tell). Hot red streaks (rope burns?) spiral around both his arms from the knuckles of his hands to his elbows like ivy encircling a tree. A multitude of cuts and bruises litter his skin from his fingertips and along his palms and the undersides of his arms. It feels as if the bones themselves were aching.
As much as Wild hated to admit it, he ought to use the ointment Hyrule gave him once. It was some kind of sticky honey-based ointment that was supposed to somehow prevent infection and help with healing. While Wild had an excellent immune system and rarely ever got sick, he’d been told that being cold, dirty, and not caring for injuries immediately all increased his chances of getting an infection.
Wild finished washing up, used the whole bottle of ointment to cover both his hands and arms, then bandaged them. He put on his snowquill set and tossed his dirty clothes in a pile. Between the warming elixir, the snowquill set, and the fire he was quite cozy. He dumped the washwater at the mouth of the cave and it ran out and away off the cliff, washing away some of the guano. He set a new pot of water to boil in order to make tea and porridge.
He frowned at the thick and heavy clouds. How long would this storm last? How long was he going to have to linger in the cave? He doubted the others would find him halfway up a cliff in a cave; when could he leave to go look for them? The storm didn’t answer but raged on with no sign of letting up anytime soon. If he had to guess, he was going to be stuck there all day at least, and probably all night too.
After breakfast Wild sets up camp. He constructs a low windblock wall around the fire of loose stones he’d found from the back of the cave, sets out bowls and pots at the entrance of the cave to collect rainwater, hangs up his dirty clothes on the cave wall, piles firewood nearby, and rolls out his bedroll. Taking inventory of his supplies, he finds that while he had plenty of ingredients, he is low on actual meals and elixirs. Hmm. He knew what he was going to do to while away the stormy day.
But first, a nap sounds nice. Despite only having been up for an hour or two, he feels himself starting to crash again. Though it is rather unusual for him to be so tired, it did happen from time to time on his adventures. There was nothing for it except to sleep and hope he felt more awake and less foggy once he awoke up again. And so he lays back on his sleeping mat, feeling warm and safe and well fed, even if the ground was a bit lumpy and his body was sore.
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whysamwhy123 · 11 months ago
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HALLEJUAH!! I REMEMBERED HOW TO ACTUALLY FINISH WRITING SOMETHING FOR A CHANGE!!
Of course, it's not any of the fics I wanted to finish. I went back to what is essentially my bread-and-butter now and wrote a short-ish, random OrangeHook fluff. But considering how much writing's been a struggle as of late, I'm just glad that I successfully finished something. I was back in one of those stretches where I couldn't seem to write much of anything. And this fic isn't about their age difference or Hook being a cuddlebug, so...progress?
Unless I decide I completely hate it (which is always a possibility) expect something to drop on Valentine's Day, tis the season, after all.
#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write#Small victories you know?#Will I ever get sick of OrangeHook?? Apparently not#Can't even remember the last time they interacted on screen but that ain't stopping my brain LOL#On a more serious note - I really do hope that I can get back into the swing of things and make some real progress#On the bigger fics I want to work on#I want to finish the messy angst OrangeHook fic at some point even if it's unlikely to appeal to anyone#Annnnnd deep down in my cold dead heart I still wanna make an honest attempt at that DG Dead Dove fic#Even though that would be even more unappealing + a huge undertaking because that bitch would be loooooooooong#Also I had a slightly less angsty OrangeHook idea recently about them having their first fight and I wanna write that too for some reason#And there's still a part of me that really wants to continue Business/Pleasure because I have soooo many ideas for that AU#But that would require me to get over my inability to write smut#And I don't know how to do that (would appreciate any advice on that if you've got some...)#But at the same time I don't wanna beat myself up for not being able to write much - if anything - most days#This is a hobby after all - it's supposed to be fun#There ain't no deadline and it's not like I'm letting anybody down#Just gotta do at my own place#And write whatever absolute trash I want to write 😈#My tags are always so obsessive like SHUT THE FUCK UP SAM#But if you've actually read all these - hey. Thanks. Love ya 😘
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indelicateink · 9 months ago
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i am just so earnestly curious. i read the books a long time ago, i am struggling to put myself in the shoes of someone who doesn't know what's coming. the latest promo that has the sinister projection of L: does this come across as menacing to people who are book-innocent? do those audience members have anxiety about him showing up in paris?
i know he was fucking excoriated by a lot of viewers for season 1 and ep 5 especially (no matter one's experience with the canon), and a lot of people now despise the character.
but does like. anyone actually have concern abt the guy showing up and making trouble? it seems to be the reaction they want people to have, I'm curious if it's working?
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metal-mouse · 2 years ago
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My hand slipped and I wrote Sebastian smut. I’m still working on my Ominis one-shot, I didn’t like how it turned out so I’m starting from scratch. In the mean time I’ll be posting Sebastian x F!MC.
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304files · 25 days ago
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you don’t understand how mc is literally me and i am here. she’s me to a molecular level. no joke, i never read an mc that was so deeply similar to me it hit me like a gut punch.
reading this while listening to the playlist was truly an experience (which was so good btw i LOVE your music taste). can we talk about how absolutely gorgeous your writing is for a second??? the way you craft your sentences are so satisfyingly beautiful it’s insane!! some of my favorite quotes:
“It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.”
“Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over.”
“That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star.”
“You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.”
“‘You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.’”
i don’t know if you’ve ever read this book, but the vibes of this fic reminds me a lot of the starless sea by erin morgenstern!! literally my favorite book EVER. if you haven’t read it then i think you would like it a lot!! ^^
this is truly one of those types of stories that you come across and it just makes you absolutely fall in love with reading. the type that makes you want to pick up a pencil and feverishly write out the story that’s been in your head for years. if this story was a song, to me it would be dog days are over by florence + the machine. it just gives you that feeling that everything will work out and everything will be okay and this too shall pass. i love it so so much and i’m so happy that you decided to share it with the world so that people like me and so many others could come across it and read it for themselves! ♡♡♡
𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗
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  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm
[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.
⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚
〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ 、、
wc ➛ 17.9k
𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader
𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy
𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, creampie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any
✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe
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Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  
You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  
You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  
When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  
He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 
You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 
He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 
The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 
“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.
Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?
Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 
Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 
“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 
It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 
He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  
Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  
Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 
Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  
Can’t things just stay like this? 
“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  
“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 
An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 
He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 
Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  
Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 
“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 
“I just... don’t know.” 
Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 
You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 
He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 
An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 
“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  
A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 
His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 
Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  
His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  
His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 
“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 
Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  
“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  
“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 
Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 
“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 
As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  
⚝⭒ 
Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  
This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 
You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 
Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  
This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 
“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 
When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  
“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 
“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  
You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 
“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 
That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 
The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 
When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 
It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 
Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 
He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 
Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  
But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 
“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 
You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  
⚝⭒ 
Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  
Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  
So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 
Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 
“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 
With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  
“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 
“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 
Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  
There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  
Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 
Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  
He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  
“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 
“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  
His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 
“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 
Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  
“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  
He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 
Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 
Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 
But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 
“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 
It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 
Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 
It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 
He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 
That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  
⚝⭒ 
Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  
It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 
Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  
The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 
You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  
And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 
With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  
Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  
“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 
His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 
You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  
The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 
He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 
Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 
Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 
That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 
“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  
Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  
Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 
“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  
An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 
Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 
You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 
Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 
The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 
The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 
His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 
Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  
“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 
Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 
“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  
“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  
It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 
“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 
But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 
His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 
“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 
“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 
“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 
The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  
“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  
“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 
Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  
Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  
Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 
⚝⭒ 
Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 
You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 
Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 
“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  
With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 
“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 
Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 
Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 
Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 
He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  
“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  
“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 
Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 
“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 
The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  
“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  
Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  
⚝⭒ 
You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 
Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 
Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 
Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 
“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 
His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 
No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  
That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  
You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 
His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 
Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 
Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 
And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 
“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  
Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  
String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  
“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  
Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 
In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  
A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 
You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 
But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  
Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  
“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 
The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 
Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 
Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  
Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 
You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 
He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 
“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 
And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 
Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 
Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  
“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 
An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  
He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 
The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  
Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 
Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  
Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  
About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 
“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 
His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 
Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 
His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 
“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  
“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 
Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 
“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 
And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  
He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 
That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 
How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  
⚝⭒ 
A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 
It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  
Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  
You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  
And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 
“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  
“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 
He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 
But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 
“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 
Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 
He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 
“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 
Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 
Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 
“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 
Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 
Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 
And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 
⚝⭒ 
The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 
But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 
You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 
Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 
Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 
You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 
It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 
“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 
The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 
“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 
He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 
You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 
“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 
Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 
Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  
Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 
“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  
“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 
“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 
That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  
“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  
⚝⭒ 
Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  
For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  
It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 
You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 
It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 
You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 
The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 
Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  
You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 
So you do. 
Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 
A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 
You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 
“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  
His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 
In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 
“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 
“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 
“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 
He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 
Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 
There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 
He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 
There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 
Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 
Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 
He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 
He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 
“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 
Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 
Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 
Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 
The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 
“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 
Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 
“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 
So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once. 
But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 
When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 
“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 
You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  
“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 
⚝⭒ 
Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 
Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 
With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  
“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 
His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 
It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 
His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 
And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 
Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 
When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  
Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 
He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 
Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  
He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 
And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 
He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlights pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 
Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 
Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 
Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 
Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 
The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 
Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 
The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 
You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 
“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 
“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 
He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 
You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 
The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 
Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 
A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 
And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 
Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 
The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 
“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 
“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 
You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 
Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 
“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 
Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 
His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 
A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 
When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 
Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 
Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  
You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 
His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  
Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 
Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 
“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 
The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 
He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 
“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 
Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 
The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 
Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 
“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 
With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 
It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 
He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 
Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 
“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 
You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 
Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 
Home. You are home. 
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✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.
﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!
#[ ౨ৎ ] 𖥦 kipo’s favorites .ᐟ#[ ✩ ] 𖥦 kipo’s fic recs .ᐟ#[ 𖦹 ] 𖥦 hueningkai .ᐟ#ribs playing as i finish this… the playlist for this is goated#THIS WAS SOOOO FUCKING GOOD HELLO???? immediately added to my all time favorites#kai in this is sooOoooOOOO RAHHHHHHH🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅#and FUCK yeonjun‼️‼️#the parallels with the months and kai being all like “it’s just a moth” and yeonjun straight up killing it#i genuinely could talk about this fic for forever#I LOVE WHEN THEYRE JEALOUS AND POSSESSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!! it’s gonna hit for me everytime and this HITTTT#i dream of your writing style i need to be inside your brain like you’re so insanely talented i NEED some of that water you’re drinking#i love how he got her to go with him and tried his hardest to show her that life is more than the town they grew up in.. that hit CLOSE#genuinely starting crying actually#and the scott street started playing as they confessed to each other and i SOBBED and THEN more than this started playing#i love the moth aspect so much like they’re truly soulmates tied together… nothing is gonna keep them apart not even themselves#THE ENDING WITH THEM IN THE BACKSEATTTTTTT#i (s)creamed like me next me next i need kai so bad especially during that scene he is so fucking hot#genuinely one of the best fics i’ve ever read like i’m trying not to have the tags and reblog be all long but i have THOUGHTS and FEELINGS#i WILL be rereading this over and over and over and over!! like genuinely this fic means everything to me i really needed it#the gentle and soft moments of them at the creek picking berries and the moths floating around them#they were ALWAYS meant to be and the moth yeonjun smashed just proves it like#“every song is about you” I LITERALLY SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGSSSS LIKE!!!!!!! one of my favorite tropes ever it hits like crack fr#i fucking love this so much and i’m stealing all of the song out of the playlist too#i gotta reread it again so i can catch all the little details now that i have the full story#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai smut#hueningkai angst#txt x reader#txt smut#txt angst
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imavikingo · 6 days ago
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(This will be a vent post about fics with heavy topics, with one in specific in mind, but with a general tone bc really... This happens often).
Why people love to do dramatic speeches in fics where a character basically tells another "No one will ever love you" "You deserve to be alone" "No one should be with you, ever" and in the next chapter/scene THEY GET TOGETHER?? Or are like "I love you" "me too" ???????
Like... If you want to write a happy ending -without a toxic relationship in mind- and you care about the plot and said plot is serious... YOU NEED TO ADDRESS THAT. Especially if you're building the relationship from scratch and your story it's about or has heavy topics. Don't do stuff like that only for the dramatics bc -healthy- relationships don't work with that kind of interaction. Especially if your fic has a lot of plot/words, and tries to be realistic with feelings and psychological problems for one or more characters.
And if they do, there will not be a happy ending really, ESPECIALLY if you write the character that received that kind of vitriol SUICIDAL from the get go (or has problems with their self-image/worth).
I don't understand how anyone can find the other character is in the right?? And people in comments usually don't care about this kind of things either. How can you excuse or simply ignore that kind of vitriol??? When the fic tries to paint them as a healthy relationship and "goals"?
I really can't enjoy fics like that bc what do you mean the character that you made specifically suicidal (in this particular case) that also was talked down FOR BEING SUICIDAL needs to forgive and forget AND ALSO ASK FOR FORGIVENESS from the other party? I understand that both were in the wrong in the end (they don't write it like that tho, and only think of the suicidal character as the one in the wrong). But really? Make them be together after that? Without a single conversation talking about it? Without a single "I'm sorry I was angry and spoke without thinking and wanted to make you hurt?" (Because other things had to happen too) Like man... the other chapters were so good in building the relationship and in one interaction I can't read about their relationship anymore bc of this....
Am I too picky???
I mean... if you're going to talk about heavy topics and want a happy ending -without the relationship being toxic and terrible/codependent in a "dark/sick" way-, you should put yourself in the shoes of the characters you wrote and fix the problem, not ignore it. If both characters have issues, you should put yourself in BOTH of their positions too. Especially if one of the main characters was suicidal and self-harmed from the beginning.
People are flawed and not everyone acts the same, sure. But if someone is or was in a terrible state, and even if they weren't, If someone else they loved tells them something like that... IT WILL HAUNT THEM. And will be a problem for the relationship. Not amount of "Happy ending guaranteed" will save the relationship (in my eyes at least).
I really don't understand the need to add that kind of things to fics with heavy topics when you end up ignoring it completely. If everything you write is intentional, how can you ignore something as crucial as that? With the topics the fic has???? And justify it? (("They were fighting!! usually when ppl fight they talk without thinking" sure but ppl often tell the truth in that state too. If you say it while mad, it's probably bc you were thinking it on a normal day, if you were thinking it, it's bc you more than likely think it's true to certain extent OR because you resent the other person/want them to hurt. And if you want them to hurt and you do this while you're NOT really together... How can you justify and say this won't happen again?)).
Idk I really think I'm too picky/serious and annoying sometimes... :')
#I'm being nitpicky about fics topics AGAIN#But for real tho if you do research for your fic and you care about the plot how do you excuse something like that?#I understand the need for DRAMA(tm) but c'mon!!!#I really couldn't finish this particular fic bc I found that part in poor taste and couldn't enjoy anything after.#Like cool cool so I need to forget I read that when it was written intentionally to harm them and the character self-harmed after cool cool#I would love to write a comment in that fic in particular...but: 1- No one else said anything 2- the fic is finished#3-I don't want to be shitted on bc the fic has A LOT of ppl that loved it#4- I know for a fact someone would look into my account and shit on my ficlets (and I know I can't write for shit)#Ik that criticism should be something that ppl accept/want or not. But some take it as an insult to the person not as criticism of art#So 🤷🤷🤷 I prefer to scream into the void that is Tumblr. (Bc I say this in general too)#I swear this is why I could NEVER enjoy or like Shojo (since I was a kid)#I always disliked the way the main character was written and the fact the romantic interest was so... mean and uninterested in em#I don't like drama for drama's sake either. I need it to have a satisfying resolution or not and end terribly#Also I know I talk too much about realistic topics or interactions when they're fics. I KNOW THAT#But to read something even if I don't do it to enjoy it (angst/heavy topics) I want the characters to feel alive in certain way#The characterization matters 2 me yk? And in this case and in other cases too people write the chara a certain way-#But then ignore that in favor of the ship or the other character. And man... If you write s character SUICIDAL AND THEY SELF-HARM...#How can you ignore a crucial interaction like that!!!??? I don't understand. I really don't ;;#Also: I'm a nobody and my opinion is not relevant. But I love to read...I love reading stories and I always get annoyed by stuff like this#Like “bummer... the story was so good gotta stop reading tho bc I can't ignore this"
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phone4pills · 2 months ago
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PENCIL SKIRT dad!Matt x nanny!Reader
smut, back shots, standing doggy, mirror sex, degradation, breeding kink
The bathroom mirror reflected each tear on your face, as if to mock you for being so sensitive. Each pull on your hair, each harsh and merciless thrust had your insides twisting and turning. “Mr Sturniolo-” You chocked out his name, your grip hardening around the edge of the bathroom sink, the porcelain ceramic being the only thing keeping you grounded.
Meanwhile, Matthew Sturniolo didn’t hold back. He grunted, grabbing your hip with the hand that wasn’t buried in your hair. Your knees were almost completely useless, and if it weren’t for your position, bent over the sink, you did not think you’d still be standing on your two feet. Your usually neat, black pencil skirt was rolled up to you waist and your panties hung low around your heels.
White pre-cum leaked from Matt’s tip into your warmth, dripping on the floor every split-second he pulled out before burying his length within you again. “So wet f’me, yeah? Not very professional of you, is it?” Your eyelids closed tight, ears catching each groan that rippled from his throat. “Is it, y/n?!” Matthew asked again, more sternly. You shook you head quickly. He picked up his pace, slamming into you harder than ever. “Be a good girl and use those words, hm?”
“No… not p-profes- ahh.” A breathy moan escaped your lips when he bottomed out, bruising your cervix. Each callous noise increased in volume, until Matthew was pulling his hand out of your hair to cover your mouth, slapping your cheek slightly. “Shh, don’t want the girls to hear, do we now?” You shook your head again, mumbling a ‘nuh uh’ before he chuckled. You looked pathetic, your mascara was a black mess under your eyes and your mouth hung slack.
Your clit was rubbing against the cold surface of the counter, giving you more pleasure than you thought you could handle. The tightness in your stomach began to break loose, and Matthew knew because your eyes rolled back into your head. Your back arched into his grip and soon enough, you came undone, turning into a moaning mess. But Matt kept going, chasing his own high.
“M- Matt…” You whispered into his palm. He didn’t like it. His hand landed a slap on your ass. “You know not to call me that. So naughty… you don’t deserve this do ya?”
You found your head shaking again, submitting to his viciously laced words. “Say it, y/n. Look in the mirror and say it.” You struggled to hold eye contact with yourself in the reflective glass framed on the wall in front of you. Nevertheless, you abided. “I d-don’t deserve this!” Your words were slightly muffled but they were enough to have Matthew tipping over the edge. As his cock started to twitch inside of you, he hissed.
“You want me to fill you up with my babies?” Leaning in to speak next to your ear, his voice was sickeningly sweet. You nodded giving him a hoarse ‘yes please’ before his movements came to a halt and Matthew pumped you full of his white fluids.
You straightened down your skirt, taking a deep breath, and laid Matt’s warm towel on the counter, folded neatly. He’d gotten to his shower in the end, letting the hot steam roam the air, fogging up the mirror. “Tell the girls to get dressed. Think m’gonna take them out to get ice cream.” His relaxed voice reverberated off the walls of the space. And with that, you left, shutting the door behind you.
Tag list: @hearts4werka @pvssychicken @sturnslcver @sophand4n4 @sofieeeeex @lovingregulusblack
This is probably my last piece of smut for a while, no nut November is coming up and I gotta lock in with some fluff and angst. Love this AU to death, might write more for it in the future but until then you can see other Matt fics in my MASTERLIST. Thanks for reading!
- ©phone4pills
1K notes · View notes
chunghasweetie · 7 months ago
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𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | J.JK
— part 1
— pairing | fem!oc x dealer!jjk
— summary | after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist
— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)
unprotected sex, toxic fwb, lots cursing, jealousy, angst, ratchet behavior, dirty talk, angry sex, belittling, drinking, smoking🍃, womanizer behavior, breeding kink, both 🚩🚩 , daddy kink, degrading, slapping (face), false accusations, double standards
— word count | 6.2k words
— song suggestion | love you like me — william singe
He was blocked once again.
He didn’t even know for what this time.
Well, he had a good idea.
Running his mouth again. They always argued and he was always blocked and unblocked.
This time he think he actually irritated you.
“Goddamnit Y/n.” He cursed. He pissed you off once again but now his number and his Instagram was both blocked by you.
For some reason this time irked him more than the others.
“You’re still stressing over that girl?” Jimin plopped on the couch next to him.
“I can’t believe you still fuckin on her.” Taehyung walked in, taking a seat on the couch too.
“That’s my girl ya’ll know that.” Jungkook bit his lip, staring at his blank phone screen.
“You need to get like how you used to. 3 or more at a time. Always.” Jimin spoke, “You used to be like that. You used to make fun of guys like you. Now you’re giving out free shit to some girl.”
“I mean he does get pussy from it but like, only her bro?” Taehyung looked at Jungkook. “You used to have all these girls on you. Stephanie, Nari, Seunghee, Belle, Maya… What happened to you man?”
Jungkook thought about what they said. “Shits just different now.”
“Oh my gosh she’s ruined you.” Jimin groaned. “Nah man. We’re going to a Jackson party.”
“He’s having a party?” Jungkook looked up from his phone. “Why haven’t I heard anything about it?”
“Because you’re too busy stressin’ about some bitch.” Jimin shook his head.
Before Jungkook could correct him, Jimin corrected himself. “Some girl. Before you start.”
“Anyway, it’s tonight.” Taehyung spoke.
“So bring whatever cash you got and we’re definitely gonna send you home with a girl or two.” Jimin swung his arm around his shoulder.
“Oh shit I think she’s posting about you Jeon!” Taehyung was on her phone, immediately making Jungkook’s head snap over.
“Really?!”
“No man.” He laughed. “We really gotta get you more girls. You need more pussy than just her.”
“Yeah, no more Y/n.” Jimin shook his head.
“Whatever.”
༊—
“I’m so jealous.” Seungyeon swooned over the text messages on your phone.
“I don’t see why. This looks annoying as hell.” Elkie rolled her eyes.
Jungkook🍃
Wyd
Lemme come over
I got shit for you and your friends
Omg fucking answer
You’re mad annoying
I ain’t even mean what I said fr just reply 😭
“I think it’s cute. And hilarious.” Seungyeon chuckled. “What made you block him this time?”
“He was bragging about how many girls he sells to. How they’re all pretty and thick as hell. So I just said ‘cool’ and blocked him.” You shrugged.
You and your friends had been getting ready for hours for a Jackson Wang party they had personally been invited to.
“You better not hope he doesn’t pull up tonight.” Elkie spoke.
“Yeah Y/n. Taehyung’s going and I’m sure they’ll try to convince him.” Seungyeon told her.
“He’s probably too busy getting high in his room.” Elkie replied. “Or selling in the east side.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it.” You shook your head. “I kinda do wish he would be there though.”
“Is his dick really that good?” Elkie asked you as she was baking her makeup.
“Unfortunately it is. Like, real good.” You started to get flashbacks.
“Here she goes.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes.
“He fucks me sooo good yall don’t get it.” You began. “Even though he’s annoying and shit I’ve never had dick like his. Once we started recording our shit I can’t stop rewatching.”
“You aren’t worried he’ll show people?” Elkie asked.
“They’re all on my phone. He only has a few. Even if he does show his homeboys it’s whatever. He’s damn near louder than me anyway.” You told her.
Your phone went off, making you look over at it to see the notification.
kplug🍃 has added you on Snapchat
“Oh my gosh.” You said out loud, immediately making the girls look over.
“He fucking added you on Snapchat!” Elkie laughed out loud, “He’s crazy”
“And on his plug account?” Seungyeon’s eyes widened. “He’s obsessed.•
“What can I say? This pussy makes him insane.” You jokingly boasted.
“Did you add him back?” Seungyeon asked.
“Nah not yet. I’ll wait until I’m almost done getting ready.” You tossed your phone on your bed.
“Yeah that’ll be better.” Elkie nodded.
“Ugh I need to hurry anyway. I’m tryna look good tonight.” You groaned, looking at your barely half done makeup.
No matter what it was, you loved to look good. You were a confident woman who took pride in her appearance.
Tonight mattered. You hadn’t took good pictures in quite some time and Jackson’s party was the best place to take them at.
You had just changed up your hair last night. You had a brown base with blonde highlights. And for tonight you decided to add gold and bronze tinsel to elevate your look.
Your friends always had the same energy, wanting to look as good as they could even if it was a simple occasion.
Seungyeon and Elkie definitely showed out with you tonight.
You all had skimpier outfits on tonight. You were a low cut brown latex top with a matching black mini skirt.
Your heels were black and the strings wrapped up around your mid calf. You sprayed your expensive perfume all over, making sure you smelt as good as you looked.
Your makeup was finally done for the night and it couldn’t have looked better. You looked incredible.
The girls had taken some pre party pics in your room, posting on all social media.
“Oh Y/n! Add him back.” Seungyeon told you.
You nodded, adding Jungkook back on Snapchat.
“He’s gonna see all our videos at the party. He’s gonna regret saying all that shit to you.” Elkie laughed. “Gonna see so many dudes all up on you and start punching walls and shit.”
“He probably already is and we haven’t even left the house yet.” Seungyeon laughed with her. “The pictures we posted right now are enough to make him tear his hair out.”
“Damn right.” You giggled. “Yall got everything? I’m about to order the Uber.”
Both girls nodded, making sure they had everything they needed.
kplug🍃 just sent you a snap
You looked at the notification, “Hm.” You hummed to yourself, not opening his snap quite yet.
Once the uber pulled up all of the girls climbed in, taking more pictures in the backseat on the drive there.
You lived in a nice area, but nothing compared to Jackson’s place.
The location was one of his many homes,
“Jackson lives so far from us.” Elkie looked at the map on her phone.
“Yeah but his area is so nice. It’s worth it.” Seungyeon added. “I wonder how many people are gonna be there.”
“Girl you know it’s gonna be so packed we gonna have to get dropped off damn near a mile away.” You laughed.
“You better hope Jungkook doesn’t show up.” Elkie looked over at you, who was just opening his snap.
The snap was him a car, sitting in a car full of tackily dressed women right corner of him. One of the girls was taking the picture for him.
“I should’ve just shut up.” Elkie covered her mouth. “They’re definitely going.”
“He’s petty as hell!” Seungyeon looked over at your screen. “What does he expect you to say to that?”
“Probably nothing.” Y/n turned off the phone. “He wants to be like that he can go right ahead.”
“You’re so cool about it.” Seungyeon looked at her in amazement. “I would’ve went batshit crazy.”
“I’m not trippin because I’m not holding back at this party.” She laughed.
༊—
“Why would you guys do me like this?”
“You’re so dramatic.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “We found you a car full of girls to take to the party and you’re complaining.”
“Didn’t ask for it. Y’all make me look like a charity case. I could’ve gotten plenty at Jackson’s.”
“Whatever.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “You know how much play she’s gonna get there? And you’re gonna have to watch it alllll.”
“Yeah man. You’re gonna have to watch all sorts of dudes kissing up on her and shit. You’re gonna look like a bitch.” Jimin added.
“Exactly. So let us help you bro.” Taehyung smiled. “Come on it’ll be worth it. Plus, you look great man. She’ll be unblocking you in no time.”
Jungkook and the boys got in the car full of women, instantly leeching onto them.
“Hello ladies” Jimin greeted, buckling up.
“Hiii Jiminnn” They replied in union, almost fighting to talk to him.
One of them turned to Jungkook, immediately biting her lip. “Hey Kookie.”
“Hey Oliver.” He exhaled.
“It’s Olivia” She laughed. “You’re like— so funny!” Her annoying voice rang in his ears.
“Oh— my bad.”
The girls had tried talking Jungkook the entire ride there, trying to get him to open up and talk to them.
“Ouuu look at his phone.” One of the girls motioned.
“Omg look!” One was quick to snatch his phone, “He added Y/n on Snapchat, let’s send her something!”
“You guys should!” Taehyung added.
“No one needs to do that!” Jungkook tried to take it back but they already snapped pictures and sent them to Y/n on his phone.
Olivia passed the phone to Taehyung who kept repeating ‘give it to me’
“Taehyung what the hell!”
“It’s for your own good!” Taehyung held onto his phone for the rest of the ride there.
༊—
“Yep. I’m definitely gonna get sloppy drunk.” Seungyeon announced as they walked inside Jackson’s party.
“There’s no way you won’t. This shits fucking cool.” Elkie looked around the home.

People everywhere and the music was booming in all corners. Girls dancing damn near naked on tables and guys dancing around with empty shot glasses.
“Oh my gosh they’re here!” One of the guys accidentally said a bit too loud, making some heads turn towards the girls.
“Seungyeon come dance with us!”
“Y/n come on we already have shots for you!”
“Elkie come get on the table with us!”
Multiple people were trying to holler at them in attempt to get their attention.
“Yeah it’ll be hard to stay sober tonight.” Elkie laughed.
“Uh huh. And when Taehyung gets here I’m dipping.” Seungyeon giggled.
“You’re still fucking with him?!” Both girls snapped their heads.
“Y’all don’t get it! He is soooo fine whenever he talks to me I just wanna do whatever the hell he wants.” Seungyeon swooned.
“She can’t be serious.” Elkie looked at you. “So let me get this straight. You’re fucking on Taehyung and you’re fucking on Jungkook. Should I just dance with Jimin tonight? Since we’re the three musketeers all of a sudden.”
“Okay Jungkook was an accident!” You defended. “You wanted weed didn’t you!”
“Cut the crap! It was one time” Elkie shook her head. “I can’t believe you two.”
“Whatever.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes. “You should go with me when I go talk to Taehyung. Omg! We can all hang out tonight!”
“Uh, did you forget we’re not on the best terms?” You interrupted her fantasy.
“You never are. Get over it.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes. “Elkie pleaseeee.”
“I can’t believe you.” Elkie kept shaking her head. “You guys are sick.”
“Who’s sick?” A voice interrupted them. “I don’t need any illness spreading around at my party.”
“Omg Jackson!” Seungyeon gasped.
“Hey ladies. Hey Y/n.” He gave you a side hug. “I knew you guys would come showing out.”
“Always. You know us.” Elkie giggled.
Jackson knew the girls very well. They’ve been around since his early party days, helping him promote and build up his status for the parties.
You always went above and beyond for him, offering to even financially support the parties during the time.
Now Jackson was so rich his party budget skyrocketed. All because of those girls he was able to be where he was now. He was more than grateful.
“I know. I shouldn’t have expected any less.” He chuckled, “I’ll tell the security upstairs about yall so don’t sweat anything okay?”
“You got new security?” You questioned him.
“Fuck yeah I did. Last party the security was too drunk to even do their fucking job. I was pissed.” Jackson shook his head.
“Everything’s all good now though,” He continued. “Gotta nice new set up and it’ll do y’all real good. I promise you won’t be disappointed. You ladies have fun, okay?”
“Thank you Jackson.” The three girls bid their goodbyes. They didn’t expect to speak to him for long, especially since he was running a huge party.
“Let’s hang out down here for a bit and then make our way up yeah?” You suggested, earning a nod from the girls.
“Unless it’s too hard for Seungyeon to keep herself away from Taehyungie” Elkie teased her.
“Oh my gosh I hate you.” Seungyeon groaned.
“Speaking of Taehyungie,” You eyes behind her. “Here comes the man of the hour now.”
“With a shit ton of girls at that.”
Seungyeon snapped her head his way. “Oh my gosh.”
“Don’t look!” Elkie turned her attention. “Act unbothered. You can’t let him know you care. Like Y/n when Jungkook calls!”
“Yeah— Okay whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “But she’s right. He’s with hella girls. He’s not thinking about you right now. You can’t act like you’re waiting for him.”
“Look at you miss love expert.” Elkie teased you. “Let’s get you drinking Seungyeon.”
“Yes! Let’s drink! Finally.” You clapped your hands.
The girls walked off to the bar, plenty of people wanting to take shots with them.
The girls played a few drinking games and partied on tables just like the girls before you.
It would be a lie to say Jungkook’s eyes weren’t locked on you.
It was just him, Taehyung, and Jungkook in their own little section, a few guys coming up to talk to them here and there.
“Oh my gosh I hate you guys.” Jimin groaned. “Taehyung you can’t do this to me too.”
“She’s so bad Jimin. I’m almost as bad as Jeon.” Taehyung stared down Seungyeon.
“I thought you wanted to drown yourself in pussy! You were hyping me and Jungkook up earlier!”
“I’m a big fat liar okay!” Taehyung folded.
Seungyeon and you were both dancing on tables, lost in your own little world with drinks in your hands.
Jungkook hadn’t said anything in a minute. Simply staring.
Damn did you show out.
He watched as many guys threw themselves at you, begging you to come down so they could have a piece.
What could he expect? You were a beautiful woman blessed with a body others would pay millions for. You could actually dance and you had looks that could kill.
You were a heavily desirable woman. Especially at a party like this where everyone knew of you.
He knew you weren’t gonna go home with any of these guys. None of them stood a chance.
He didn’t understand how he had one if he was honest.
The way you two started— having intercourse was wild and random. Just a random string of flirty led to you giving it up for him.
Goddamnit he missed you. It was a petty argument like usual. Him getting blocked just to get unblocked in the morning.
This time bothered him more than the others. Especially seeing you like this.
“Shoutout to these lovely ladies right here!” Jackson suddenly announced, all three girls surrounding him.
“My day ones right here” He said proudly.
Jackson wrapped his arm around your waist, pecking your cheek.
Interesting.
Jungkook hadn’t realized you two had become so close.
Was he the reason Jungkook wasn’t unblocked yet?
“Especially Ms. Y/n here. Shit would not be possible without her.” He spoke, making everyone cheer. “Everyone treat them well tonight alright?”
Elkie and Seungyeon cheered before Jackson walked off, finishing his announcement.
Why would it not be possible without you?
None of it made sense to Jungkook.
He downed a shot, hissing at the aftermath. It made Jimin look over.
“Someone’s mad.”
“Shut up.” Jungkook huffed. “I have no reason to be.”
The girls were laughing together and drinking a bit more.
Seungyeon kept stealing glances at Taehyung.
“Oh my gosh. She’s going insane.” Elkie pointed out Seungyeon’s constant tabs on Taehyung.
“Alright we’re going upstairs.” You motioned both girls to follow you to the next story.
“Jimin we have to follow them.” Taehyung watched as they left to go upstairs.
The man rolled his eyes.
Jungkook looked over, seeing Jackson look over that way too.
“Yeah.” Jungkook opened up his mouth. “Let’s go.”
The boys shortly followed them, heading upstairs.
This level was just as intense as the first floor. The only difference was that these people smoked a bit more than they drank.
“So many bad bitches in here.” Jimin looked around. “Nice move Tae.”
“Man who cares? Where the hell is she?” Taehyung looked over.
“Goddamnit.” Jimin cursed, forced to walk over to your friend group with Taehyung.
Jungkook wasn’t too thrilled either. Especially because he didn’t know how you were going to be like.
“Hey Seungyeon.” Taehyung approached her, making her instantly turn her head.
Poor girl had been waiting for that man to talk to her all night.
“Oh. Hey.” She kept it short, just like you and Elkie told her to.
“Let me get you and your girl friends some more drinks yeah?” He offered, making it harder to fight and say no.
“Please.” She caved in, making everyone follow them to the bar.
“Fucking great.” Jimin mumbled.

It was awkward as hell. Two odd couples and two random friends all forced to hang out together.
All because of Seungyeon and Taehyung.
Taehyung got all of them drinks like he said, everyone drinking together to ease up a bit.
Taehyung and Seungyeon were lost in their own conversation.
They were so corny it was making everyone extremely nauseous.
“Are you proud of her?” Jimin shook his head, speaking to Elkie. “Your friend single-handedly ruined my friend group.”
“My friend? Your boy here started it all.” She argued.
“Like hell he did. She took advantage of him.” He told her.
She laughed. “Who’s the one who’s supposed to just drop the shit off and go?”
“You can’t blame a man for just tryna get some.” Jimin shrugged. “Not his fault.”
“You’re delusional.” Elkie rolled her eyes.
“I like how you speak to me. You wanna go make out?”
“Sure.” Elkie shrugged, walking off with Jimin.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
You were alone with Jungkook.
“So,” You began to speak. “Which girl in the car was your favorite?”
“Is that seriously how you’re gonna start this?” Jungkook stared you down.
“Hell yeah.” You chuckled. “You’re a fucking prick. You’re childish and you’re just down right stupid. Sending me some photo of some bitches. Made you feel so good being with other girls huh?”
Started off strong already.
“You know what, it did. They didn’t have a fucking loud mouth like you do. Didn’t have to hear a bunch of bullshit every two seconds.”
“See this is exactly why you’re blocked.” You scoffed. “You’re a dick.”
“You block me all the time mama.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t mean shit.”
“Probably doesn’t mean anything because you’re too busy with all those other bitches.”
“Me? I’m not the one fucking the party host.” He argued back.
Your eyes widened at the accusation. “Oh wow.”
You weren’t going to deny it.
It wasn’t true. You never slept with Jackson.
But Jungkook thinking that you did was enough to satisfy you.
“We’ll come back to that.” Jungkook poked the inside of his mouth with his tongue.
He was obviously very irritated.
“You’re always so angry.” You groaned.
“Because you just manage to strike that one nerve.” He shook his head.
“You’re so aggressive all the time baby.” You eased him. “Let’s drink some more. Please?”
He shook his head. “Trying to sober up. Someone needs to take you home.”
“I can Uber back.”
“By yourself?” He scoffed. “Fuck no. Your friends are long gone and most likely gonna end up going home with Jimin and Tae. Who can’t drive.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Elkie and Seungyeon were going to town on them. The couples were drunken messes.
You agreed, continuing to drink. You two talked for a bit, somewhat civilly.
The both of you couldn’t help but check each other out.
For you, that alcohol came in through your mouth and went straight to your pussy.
Jungkook’s going straight to his dick. Probably why you two always had sex whenever you hung out.
“Let’s go to Jimin’s car.” Jungkook mumbled lowly to you, making you nod.
Jungkook lets out a low whistle as you walk next to him. He couldn't help but stare at your body.
You were so fucking beautiful, he thought to himself.
The car was a bit far from the entrance. The lot was big so the parking was a bit inconvenient.
However, it was hidden well enough.
He opened the backseat car door for you, waiting for you to get in.
You could sense he was still irritated with you. It was written all over his face and you could sense it in his body language.
His anger and irritation had the opposite effect on you, making your pussy wetter than it already was.
Jungkook started the car, letting out a heavy sigh as he pulled out of the parking lot.
He glanced over at you, his eyes scanning over your body. "You know, you make me so fucking angry sometimes..." He growled, his hand reaching over to grab your thigh.
“It’s not my fault. You started it this time.” You shook your head.
"I didn't start shit," Jungkook retorted, his eyes narrowing at you. "You did. You always fucking do."
He couldn't help but get more and more irritated with you.
The idea of you and Jackson weighed heavy on him.
You were fucking Jungkook for weed. Were you fucking Jackson for drinks and party invites?
“You did last night. That’s exactly why I blocked your ass. Always running your mouth.”
Jungkook's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He couldn't believe you just said that. "You didn't have to block me. You’re so fucking dramatic."
He snapped at you, his anger getting the best of him. "I fucking hate you sometimes."
“Fine. Just drop me off right here then.” You replied, just as irritated with him now. “I’ll fucking walk home.”
“You're not fucking walking anywhere. I'll take you home." He gritted his teeth.
“Whatever. Just drive me home and you can just get rid of me after. Since that’s what you want so bad.” You folded your arms.
He couldn't believe how much of a stubborn girl you were, but he still couldn't help feeling attracted to you. Even when you were like this. "Why are you so fucking difficult?"
He glared at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.
“I’m not even doing anything.” You grabbed your purse once he pulled up to your place.
It was natural for Jungkook to let himself in. He did so again, despite their arguing.
“I thought you would approach me at the party to apologize. But no, you’re just arguing with me because you’re jealous of some guy!” You huffed.
Jungkook scoffed at your words. "Jealous? Fuck no. I just don't like seeing you with other guys, that's it."
“Yeah whatever.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re annoying. Your stupid pride won’t let you just admit it.”
You lifted up the couch cushion, a small bag of pre rolls packed away.
“You know what? Fine. I was jealous when I saw you with Jackson. Are you happy now? I fucking admitted it.
“Gonna fucking smoke with me or what?” She looked at him, ignoring him. “Got your two favorite things right here. Weed and arguing.”
He ignored her, grabbing his own preroll and lighting it up with her lighter.
“That’s all you’re gonna say?” He scoffed.
“Do you want a fucking cookie? Congrats, you actually told me the truth for once.” She took a few hits. “So you were jealous”
“Yeah, I fucking was. I don't like seeing you with other guys Y/n. It makes me want to rip their fucking heads off." He chuckled and shook his head. "Especially him.”
“Isn’t Jackson your homeboy?”
“Exactly. Why the fuck would I want to be fucking on the same girl as my bro? That makes me look like a fucking loser.” He glared at you.
“We were just catching up. We’ve known each other for mad long.” You defended.
Jungkook couldn't help but stare at you as you took a hit from the roll. He felt a surge of jealousy, but he tried to push it down.
"Just fucking catchin' up huh? With his bitch ass?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I know what kinda guy he is.”
“I know you’re not talking. Tell me, Jungkook. How many girls do you sell to that don’t pay cash? Too busy selling with their bodies.” She looked at him.
“Yeah? You’re gonna fucking start this shit again?” He chuckled, anger written all over his face. “I’ve told you the same shit over and over Y/n. I’m not fucking anyone else but you.”
“Car full of sleezy bitches all climbing on you? Yeah okay. Find that fucking hard to believe.
Jungkook understands your skepticism. Especially with the type of guys he hung around.
“Tell me this Jungkook.” You began, “How come it’s an issue when I’m with Jackson but when you’re with all these other girls I’m just supposed to believe you.”
Jungkook leaned in, his expression more serious now. He muttered. “I don’t want to do you like that.”
"I just get fucking pissed when I see other guys trying to fuck what's mine." He cocked his eyebrow.
“You’re annoying.”
Jungkook's gaze never left yours face as you rolled your eyes. He could tell you were irritated with him, but he didn't back down.
"I'm annoying cause I don't like seeing other guys around my girl?" He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t like all these fucking guys tryna hop on you.” His eyes darkened as he stared down at you.
“I get it.” She sighed.
“Mm I don’t think you do.” He shook his head.
Jungkook turned you around, pushing you against the couch. "Fuck you piss me off. You’re just so fucking sexy" He growled, pinning your hands above your head.
"You're gonna let me fuck you like this?” He looked at you. “Because I’m fucking angry. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to give you that slow and lovey shit right now.”
You simply nodded. You swallowed hard, knowing exactly what was going to happen.
Weed made you horny.
Alcohol made you horny.
And you were definitely cross faded.
“Fucking open your mouth.” He moved his hand, now slapping you across your cheek.
It wasn’t enough to really hurt, but enough to leave a sting.
He seen your facial expression change. “No way. You actually like that shit?”
You two always had rough and angry sex. With the amount of times you two pissed each other off, it was like second nature.
This time was different. Jungkook was livid.
“I do.” You swallowed. “N-No condom tonight please.”
This was the first time ever. You never thought those words would ever leave your lips.
You needed it bad tonight. Real bad.
“Oh wow.” He laughed sarcastically. “You’re that sick? You get onto me every fucking day for asking to hit it raw. Now you want to?”
He almost couldn’t believe it. “Letting me toss you around like a fucking ragdoll. He fucking teach you about that shit?”
“N-No Jungkook.”
He slapped you once again. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I promise. He didn’t.” You pleaded.
Jungkook let out a deep breath, knowing you submitted to him.
He moved his hand to your neck, squeezing enough for you to feel.
“Fucking embarrassing me.” He slid his pants down. “Got all my fucking friends talking about you. That what you wanted?”
“N-No.” You swallowed.
He slipped your skirt up, sliding your panties to the side.
He forcefully pushed himself inside, giving you not a single warning. “You let him fuck you raw did you?”
Staying still for a moment, knowing he would soon start fucking you with all the frustration he had in him.
“N-No I didn’t Jungkook.” You honestly replied.
“Not my fucking name.” He warned.
“You clearly wanted his attention Y/n. You think I ain’t notice that shit today?” His grip on your neck got slightly tighter.
“Changed your hair. Spending money to look good for him. Didn’t look in my fucking direction once. Get some new dick and you forget what you already have? Forgot about daddy’s dick?” He scoffed.
Jungkook's thrusts became more powerful, as he let out all the anger and jealousy he felt towards Jackson.
“T-That’s not what I—“
Jungkook's grip tightened on your hips, as he started thrusting. "Shut the fuck up Y/n." He grumbled, as he started pounding harder.
He smacked your ass, leaving a red mark. "Didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight. Figured he stretched this pussy out.”
“H-He didn’t”
“You really have the fucking guys to speak to me right now?” He slapped her.
“Mmph— sorry daddy”
Jungkook grinned, hearing the slight tremble in your voice.
You couldn’t help but be turned on by how angry he was. How degrading he spoke to you.
Him expressing how jealous he was of Jackson definitely did a number on you.
"This.. is all yours, Y/n. It always has been." He slapped your face. "Don't.. you dare fuckin' look at him again. Don’t you fuckin’
dare question if I’m with other bitches or not.”
“Won’t— promise Daddy” She apologized.
Jungkook's expression changed to an angered confusion, as you apologized. "Sorry? You think.. You fuckin' deserve my mercy?"
He hissed as he stopped thrusting, grabbed you and forced you on all four. "I'll show you fuckin' sorry."
“You're mine to fuck. Mine to spoil. Mine to hug. Mine to love.” He grabbed your hair and pulled it back, as he started thrusting hard again. "And you just fucking gave that away?”
“No I— Daddy no I didn’t.” You whimpered.
Jungkook's thrusts became more violent as his anger continued to fuckin boil. "You.. You fuckin' slut," He growled and smacked your ass hard once again.
“D-Didn’t fuck him.” You confessed, swallowing. “N-Never fucked him.”
Jungkook stopped thrusting, his expression was furious, he looked at you with pure shock.
"You didn't fuck him?" He repeated between gritted teeth, not entirely sure if he should believe you or not. “Are you serious?”
“N-Never fucked him.” She hit her lip.
“So you lied?” His voice was low.
“I just never denied anything you said.” She confessed, a bit ashamed now that she was confessing out loud.
"Wow Y/n." He murmured lowly, making a pause in his thrusts, as he looked at you with confusion and shock. "And you made me do all this.”
“I-“ She felt her stomach drop.
Jungkook scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was still holding you by the throat, a little tighter now as his cock started to thrust intensely again. "Yeah, you did.”
Jungkook grunted, his thrusts became louder and more intense, holding you tighter. "You're a fucking slut.."
He whispered in a low voice, his hand starting to squeeze around your throat. He pulled himself out a bit to slap your face.
“Pulled all that just for some dick? Seriously Y/n?” He grunted into your ear.
“So sorry Daddy” She apologized softly, the sensual nickname slipping from her lips.
Upon hearing you call him "Daddy" his thrusts became more intense. Hearing it made him weak everytime.
A low growl sounded out from his throat again as your body was pushed back onto the bed with each thrust deeper into you.
He snickered, his hand reaching down to slap your ass cheek, hard. "You're a fucking whore.." He moans, his thrusts are so hard that he's smacking against your body. He leaned in to bite your neck.
“Finally got the dick you wanted? I can’t fucking believe you pulled that shit.” He grunted, utterly shocked. “Can’t fucking believe you did that.”
His thrusts became even more forceful, each hard smack against your ass echoing around you.
He moans as he bites into your shoulder, teeth grinding into your skin angrily. "Why'd you fucking lie to me?" He growls into your ear.
“Wanted you— Wanted your attention.” She whimpered. “Wanted to see how you felt.”
“Yeah? That’s how you fuckin’ wanted me to confess?” He roars out angrily, his grip tightening almost painfully.
“I-It worked…” She boldly whispered.
His glare is fire as he grabs your throat, pulling you back to look into your eyes.
"You like it when I get tell you how I feel? You fuckin’ like it?” He growls out, squeezing your throat tighter for a moment before letting go.
“I liked it Daddy” She bit her lip.
His jaw almost cracks from the intensity of his teeth grinding as he hears your response.
He begins to fuck you harder, losing his anger and going into a frenzy. "You’re so fucking lucky I love to abuse this pussy.”
“Shit feels so fuckin’ good Daddy— Fuck” She cursed repeatedly.
A low groan rips from his throat, feeling your walls squeezing around him at your curse. He liked when you talked dirty. “So fucking pretty like this.”
“Lying about other dudes is different for you baby..” He huffed. “You love this dick huh baby? Tell me.”
“Yes Daddy— I fuckin’ do.” You nodded quickly.
He leans back down, biting at your bottom lip and nodding.
"That's right, you love this dick, mama. Fucking take it then." He spoke lowly, encouraging you to get more vocal and naughty while he pounds into you.
“Feels so much fucking better raw.” She rolled her eyes back. “Should’ve fucking let you months ago.”
He lets out a growl, feeling how tight your walls are on him with no condom. He nods, agreeing and liking the feeling of you raw.
"That's right mama. You ain’t believe me when I said you were the only one. Should’ve been let me hit it raw.” He chuckled. “Gonna fuck you so good now though."
He's on the brink of losing it, he knows he's about to cum soon.
He looks down at you who’s absolutely fucked dumb on his cock.
He curses, slowing down just a tad. "You fucking loving that we're doing it raw now?”
“Feels so much fucking better now. W-Want you to cum inside too.” You begged, making his eyes widened.
“Are you serious?”
“W-Want it so bad I— Please.”
He groans, loving the idea at your request. “Pretty girl gonna let me cum inside, I couldn’t ask for more.”
He speeds up a little bit, slamming into you roughly and grunting. "That's right, fucking want my cum? Wanna turn mama into more than just a nickname huh?”
He dirty talked her so good.
“Mm yes Daddy yes.” She swallowed.
His eyes grow wide at the idea but he smirks while he continues to thrust into you hard, making a dirty scene in his head.
"That's right, I wanna fill your womb up with my kids, make them from your tight fucking pussy, don't fight it mama. So close” He mumbled in her ear.
“Shit I’m close too.”
He knows he's close too, groaning almost in pain from not cumming yet. He continues to fuck you relentlessly as you near the edge.
"Shit! Cum on my cock mama, you need to cum, you want to cum so bad don't you?"
“Cumming fuck” She immediately let go of the feeling building up in her stomach.
He's right on the edge with you, his cock swells up before he pulls out and shoots his hot load to the side of your stomach, he's not ready for kids, at least not yet.
He slumps backwards and curses. "Fucking shit.”
The two were panting on the couch, struggling to catch their breaths.
She panted. “I’m sorry for lying Jungkook. It was wrong of me to lie to you.”
He smirks and shakes his head but still looks at you with an amused expression.
"No need to apologize momma, we're fucking both dirty. Besides we both liked it didn't we?" He winks and wraps an arm around you.
“You’re really not mad?”
“I mean it irritated me a lot when I thought you fucked him.” He sighed. “I’m just relieved now.”
“When I told you I haven’t been with anyone else I meant it.” You told him. “That’s not
something I would lie about. Especially after I pressed you for so long.”
“I know. When I seen him touch you like that I just— I thought I lost you.” He looked at you. “I just kinda thought you were using me.”
“It’s not about weed for me anymore Jungkook.” You swallowed. “It hasn’t been for a while.”
“It was never about the weed for me.” He confessed. “I just wanted to see you since the beginning.”
“You thought that was a secret?” You couldn’t help but snort.
“Okay I’m never being vulnerable with you again.” He shook his head.
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bokutosbabe · 1 month ago
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Did You See Me On TV?
( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )
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a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.
content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used
synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?
⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '
it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?
...complete and utter silence.
you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.
you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?
the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.
" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "
you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.
you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3
it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...
him <3 : thanks
and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.
and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.
maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '
he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.
"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.
" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.
" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.
" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.
yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.
" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )
" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"
" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...
"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"
yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '
it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.
" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.
" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.
oh, soccer players and their superstitions.
" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "
the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.
your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "
many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.
he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.
one day, you would, but not now...you think.
"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.
"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "
and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.
but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI
⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆
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this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!
likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!
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damsel-loves-machines · 5 months ago
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I’m interested.
I know a lot of people probably aren’t interested but I’m almost tempted to do a ‘Lucifer comforting Reader during Body Horror’ drabble bc I imagine falling from Heaven and entering Hell would change Reader’s anatomy a little (claws, horns, fangs, etc.) and I love going into that topic.
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writing-fanics · 2 months ago
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Hi 🥺 I had a dream that I really want into a fic but I’m so ass at writing but the dream was basically Josh and Y/N are a couple through the death of the sisters and when they go back the next year Y/N is pregnant and trying to tell Josh but half way through his prank he finds out (I don’t remember how) and ta-da I wake up!
If you’re not comfortable writing this it’s ok! Just ignore my ask :) ❤️
[note: omg! We had the same dream!]
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Josh Washington x F!Reader
A/n; no use of y/n
Warning: mentions of pregnancy: slight angst: fear for life
You nervously stared at the positive pregnancy test while sitting on Josh’s bed in the lodge, tapping your foot against the floor and biting down on your lower lip. Unsure of how you are going to tell Josh the news. You weren't that far along not even showing yet, but you were pregnant. Three weeks in fact.
The sound of footsteps coming up the steps made you shove the pregnancy test into your pocket, acting as if nothing was happening. You looked up, seeing your boyfriend Josh walking into the room to sit beside you. “What’re you doing up here all by yourself?” asked Josh, as sat down beside you.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, that doesn’t sound very fun” he said.
He moves closer, putting an arm around your shoulder. "I was thinking we should heat up some of those frozen pizzas you brought," he says, rubbing your arm.
“Throw ourselves a little party, " he says, placing his hand on your thigh. You turn to look at him and smile, seeing the smirk on his face. After that, " he leaned closer, closing the gap between you. You gasped quietly, feeling his lips against yours.
"Mm, you've got the whole night planned out don't you?" You asked, looking at him. He put an arm around your waist, keeping you from laying down on the bed. "You could say that." He grinned, planting another kiss on your lips.
"Why?"
"Are you pregnant?" he asked, You froze and bit your lip. “Ahh.” you said nervously. “Im just joking with you.” he said, kissing you on the lips.
"I would love to start a family with you," he said, holding your hand and gently rubbing it with his thumb. You smiled as you looked at him.
“I can see a little you or little me running around,” He said smiling at the thought.
Your heart skipped a beat hearing his words, “Josh, I-I’m-” but you were interrupted, by a knock at the doorway. You two turned around and saw Sam standing there, “Am I interrupting something?” asked Sam, and you pulled away and shook your head.
“N-No, we were only talking.” You said. She looks at you not convinced for a moment then turns towards Josh, “Hey Josh. No hot water's kinda major oversight doncha think...?” asked Sam, looking at him and her.
“Yeah yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler. It's in the basement.” said Josh, as he he then returned his gaze back to you.
He planted a kiss on your lips. "Let's finish this when I get back, okay?" he said as he pulled away. He went with Sam downstairs to the basement to turn on the boiler, leaving you all alone.
—-———
You sat there on the bed staring at the pregnancy test, and then your stomach grumbled. You pouted, frozen pizza sounded really good right now. Placing the pregnancy test on the night stand, you got up and made your way downstairs.
As you made your way downstairs you noticed Chris and Ashley, talking by the kitchen door. “Whats going on, where’s Josh?” You asked, looking down at them.
As if on cue you heard Josh’s screams coming from the kitchen, as the door rattled. “Josh!” You cried out, rushing down the stairs.
Trying to open the door hearing his screams, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Come on!” You groaned.
“Josh!” Ashely called out, and as she touched the door she was pulled inside. The door slamming behind her, “Ash! Josh!” You and Chris called out fearfully, as you tried to get the door open. Once the door opened you and Chris were met face to face, with a psychopath wearing a mask. Before you could do anything, the psycho had punched Chris in the face knocking him unconscious.
Leaving only you.
Your eyes widened as you backed away, turning to run. You didn’t get far the psychopath pulling you back wrapping his arms around you and placing a cloth over your nose.
Your vision blurred as you struggled against his strong grasp, feeling the rough texture of the cloth covering your mouth as you desperately tried to pull it off. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your surroundings as you fought to stay conscious.
You whimpered in fear and desperation, your body growing weaker as you struggled against his overpowering hold. Finally, your strength failed, and your body went limp in his arms.
He shifted your body placing an arm underneath your thighs and another, on your back. Carrying you bridal style. Walking up the stairs quietly, he entered his room. Placing you on the bed carefully.
He knelt down and brushed his fingers against your cheeks, causing you to shift. He was about to get up and leave to begin the next phase of his prank, but something on the nightstand caught his eye.
Picking up the plastic link that stuck his arms to his side, he looked back and forth between you and the positive pregnancy test. Why didn't you tell him? Were you nervous? Scared? Worried he'd be angry at you?
He could never be upset with you for being pregnant. He wanted to wake you up and twirl you around in his arms. But he was in too deep; he couldn't stop now, could he?
[a/n: sorry for the wait with this one also the abrupt ending. Josh basically didn’t mean for u to be there the same time Chris and Ashley were]
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keikikait · 2 months ago
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ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)
this is part three. for part two, click here!
pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)
word count: 6.7k. i got carried away. i locked in all day to write this.
summary: a trip to get your new phone results in something new…until rafe finds out
warnings: SMUT WARNING 18+! HEAVY cunnilingus (pretty much all pussy eating), slight nipple play (f receiving), rafe is a munch argue with the wall, slight dom!reader (never written it before so soz if it’s awkward), leg humping, cumming in pants, some angst at the beginning/middle, smut at the end, jealous!rafe, some jj x reader, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread
a note: i am so locked in on this series. that being said, this is most likely the final part. but don't worry, i have another rafe idea in mind!
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚*:・゚✧
You only get a few hours of sleep before Rafe is stomping around your room, getting dressed to leave you yet again.
The sunlight pours in through your now open window, your curtains flowing softly in the wind. Your bed is so warm and soft that you don’t even want to get up, your duvet smelling faintly of Rafe’s cologne. You sit up, rubbing your eyes. “Rafe?”
He turns to look at you, his blue eyes softening when he looks at your sleepy face. He slips his arms through the holes of his shirt before pulling it over his head, smirking. “Yeah? You okay?”
“Where are you going?” You ask, yawning.
“I gotta go.” He says, straightening his shirt out. “I was supposed to meet with Sofia for breakfast today. Some new breakfast bistro opened up downtown.” Rafe sits down on the edge of your mattress, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “I’ll be back tonight, alright?”
You whine, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “No.”
Rafe sighs, grabbing your hand and gently pulling away your grip. “Sweetheart, don't do that.” He says, his voice stern. “I told you, I'm supposed to be with her for breakfast.”
“No!” You tug him onto the bed. “You love me, not her. You said so yourself.”
He falls onto the bed, cursing under his breath as he looks at you. He sighs, reaching out and taking your chin in his hand. “Don't do this, pretty girl. I'm supposed to be with her right now. Don't throw another tantrum like that. Not now. I don't want to be late. I'm not going to be late just because you are being a brat.”
You push his hand away, sitting up fully. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Rafe. I don’t want to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”
Rafe sighs again, frustrated. He grabs your chin again, more roughly this time. He moves closer to you, pinning you against the pillows. “You just promised me last night you wouldn't doubt my love for you again. I'm going to spank that bratty little ass of yours if you keep this bullshit up.”
“I’m not doubting you, I just…” You sigh, pushing against his grip. “I want to be your first choice. I want to be your only choice. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”
“You don't think I know that?” He snaps, his grip tightening. “I know that, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that? I know you don’t want to share, I know you want me to be only yours, I know all of that. But I don’t have a choice right now, alright? Why can’t you understand that?”
His grip stings your skin. You wince slightly, pushing against him. “Why can’t you just break up with her, Rafe?”
“Because I have to play the long game with her, baby. I don’t expect you to understand, but you gotta trust me. This will pay off in the long run, I swear. So stop being a brat about this, please.” He moves closer, shifting one hand to pinch your hip as a warning. “I don’t want to have to punish you for questioning me.”
You whine, squirming under his grip. “Rafe, please, just listen to me! I swear, you don’t need her, she’s just using you--”
Rafe’s phone starts ringing, vibrating on your bedside table. 
It’s Sofia.
Rafe looks over the nightstand, gritting his teeth when he sees her name. He sighs, grabbing his phone and holding it to his ear. “Hey, babe.” He says, his voice suddenly soft. He turns to look at you, a warning gaze telling you to keep your mouth shut.
The way he says babe makes your heart ache, tears welling in your eyes. You crawl towards the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around his hips, and press your face into his stomach. You want him to stay with you.
He gently places a hand on your head, his fingers running through your hair as he talks to Sofia. “Yeah, I’m on my way right now, I’m just running late.” He says, his voice sweet as usual. There’s a pause as Sofia responds to him, his voice softening even more as he answers. “Of course I still want to come, babe. You know I do.”  He tugs your head back before moving his free hand to your chin, pinching it between his fingertips as he glances down at you.
Your bottom lip trembles as his thumb brushes over it. You kiss it, trying to nuzzle his hand.
Rafe’s silent as he listens to Sofia respond to him, his gaze growing dark as he glances at your face. He lets you nuzzle his hand, dragging his thumb across your teeth as he responds, his voice growing a bit deeper as he speaks. “Yeah, I’ll be there in half an hour, I promise, okay?” He sighs, holding your chin. “Alright. I love you too, babe. See you soon.”
I love you.
I love you?
Your eyebrows furrow and you immediately pull away, moving towards the head of the bed, trying to soften your cries as he hangs up the phone.
Rafe sighs, shutting his phone off and setting it back on the nightstand. He glances at you, watching as you scoot backwards towards the top of the bed. He frowns. “Hey. Come here.” His voice is so soft that you almost give in.
You shake your head over and over, bringing your knees to your chest. How stupid could you be? Why did you even believe him in the first place?
“Stop it.” He snaps, his voice suddenly serious. He grabs one of your ankles, pulling you down towards him. “I said, come here. Don’t make me say it again.” He pulls you down the rest of the way, pinning you against the headboard with his large, strong frame.
You try not to cry, biting the inside of your lip, squirming underneath him. “Just go. You’re going to be late.”
“Baby-” He sighs, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “Why are you being such a brat? We talked about this last night, alright? I told you to trust me, so why can’t you trust me?” He gently takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I swear, this attitude of yours really needs to stop. Don’t make me put you over my knee.”
The way he talks to you makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn. You squirm, trying to get him off of you. “Please let go, Rafe. I understand. Please just let go.”
He sighs again, frustrated. He sits back a bit, but he doesn’t move back entirely. He continues to hover above you, towering over your frame. “Sweet girl, please, stop this. I told you last night, I don’t want to have to punish you. I don’t want to fight you, but you have to let me work with her. I swear to you that I’m going to dump her as soon as I can, alright? You have to trust me.”
You sniffle, squirming underneath him. “Promise?”
“I promise.” He says, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him, his face just a few inches from yours. “I swear to you, I’m gonna dump her soon, alright? I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, sweetheart. I love you, alright? I swear.”
“I love you too.” You say. And you mean it. Does he?
He sighs, his brow softening. He leans in and kisses you, his lips gently gliding over yours. He pulls away after a moment, just to stare at you for a moment. He then glances at the clock on the nightstand over his shoulder, sighing again. “Okay, pretty girl, I really do need to get going now. I’m definitely gonna be late if I’m any more late. I’m sorry.” He moves back, releasing your chin.
“Be safe.” You call, standing up from your bed.
Rafe pauses, glancing back at you with a small smile, lingering by the door to your bedroom. “I will. Don’t throw any tantrums while I’m gone, alright?” He sighs, his expression growing soft. “I’ll call you when I’m headed back, baby. Love you.”
He exits your bedroom, and a few seconds later you hear your front door open and close.
You’re alone. Again.
It's only 8:30 AM, but the weight of the world already presses down on your shoulders. You groan, climbing back into your bed and burying your face in the pillow. You sniffle, wiping away the tears on your cheeks and your undereyes. Your mind races, and you know you should get up and get ready for the day. You should also eat something. The tasks loom like dark clouds on the horizon, threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you close your eyes and go back to sleep, even just for a little bit.
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You forgot you smashed your phone.
After your morning shower and a rather large breakfast, trying to make up for the last two days. You search your living room for a while before finding it curled around the corner of the plaster wall. It’s smashed in half, the screen cracked all the way down to the charger port. Thankfully, you had a bit of forethought last night, ordering the phone to be for next day pickup rather than delivery.
You pick up the two halves of your phone, your finger accidentally running over the screen. Somehow, the phone still turns on, glitching for a moment. You carefully throw it into the trashcan before sweeping up the excess glass. You’ll have to go pick up your new phone today, as much as you don’t want to.
Maybe I’ll just go after lunch…, you think. You really don’t want to go out right now, especially not to the Apple Store in the mall, but then you remember that Rafe said he would call you tonight. You rub your eyes, letting out a loud groan before heading into your bedroom to change.
It takes you around an hour to get ready, picking out your outfit, fixing your hair, doing your makeup, getting yourself looking somewhat presentable and not like you just laid on your couch for two days. You end up picking a simple yet cute outfit, a white sweater tucked into a short dark blue skirt, black tights, and some heeled boots, and a small black leather shoulder bag. You check your reflection in your bedroom mirror, sighing to yourself. You looked good, really good. You could almost hear Rafe’s comments on your outfit; ‘You look great, sweetheart, but that means other men will think so, too.’ But maybe you did want them to think that way.
You hesitate a moment when you grab your keys. You’re still exhausted and really don’t want to go get your phone, but you need to get your phone, even for non Rafe-related reasons.
With a heavy sigh, you grab your keys and head out. 
After a short drive and a long peruse of the parking lot, you finally head inside the mall. You feel inclined to check Sofia’s Instagram, reaching for a phone that isn’t there. Making your way through the mall, you finally reach the Apple Store, which is mostly empty, and you’re quickly able to get in line for customer support. Luckily, it doesn’t take too long for you to get in, and soon enough, you’re talking with one of the employees, giving them the serial number of the phone you ordered. The woman behind the counter is all smiles, seemingly kind and cheery. She taps away at the computer on the counter top, typing in the number. She asks you routine questions before setting up your phone for you, sliding it across the table. 
“Thanks.” You say, standing up. “We’re all good on payment, right?”
The woman, Sherri, smiles and nods. “Everything’s all set, honey!” She says, cheerful. “Anything else we can do for you today?”
“I am all set.” You say, giving her a smile before hurriedly rushing out of the Apple Store. You mess around with your phone settings, looking down as you walk. 
“Ow. Hey—” You bump into someone as you step out of the Apple Store, glancing down at your phone instead of watching where you’re going. A familiar voice makes you stop dead in your tracks, and your head tilts slightly, a small smile on your face. 
“JJ, hey.” You say, putting your phone into your purse for safe keeping. 
JJ is grinning, as usual, his hands stuffed in his pockets and that charming smirk still on his face. “Hey, sugar.” He says, looking you up and down. “You look fancy today, you goin’ somewhere?”
“Just had to get a new phone,” You say, pulling it out to show him. “Smashed mine by accident.”
“Damn, that sucks, baby doll.” He says, leaning in a little closer to look at it. “You gotta be more careful with your stuff. A pretty thing like you needs to take care of herself.”
You blush, and your ears turn pink, too. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially with JJ. Even though Rafe had filled your head with tons of negative opinions on JJ, you had never had a problem with him. “Y-yeah, I know.” You’re having a hard time forming sentences, stuck on an endless loop of blushing and admiring the blond in front of you. 
“Mmm, such a cute blush. You’re a lil flustered.” He teases, leaning in closer, his eyes looking you up and down. He reaches out and grabs your hand to gently pull you closer, and you oblige, getting right up against him. “C’mon, baby doll, you got a crush on me now or somethin’?”
“Maybe.” You say softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. 
He chuckles, looking down at you. “Yeah, sweetheart? You got a thing for me?” His tone turns teasing, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.  His moves his hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb along your jawline. “What, boyfriend ain’t treatin’ your cute little ass right, or somethin’? That why you got a crush on me?”
“You know I don’t have a boyfriend, JJ.” You say, reaching out and rubbing the hem of his button-up shirt, your thumb swirling on one of the buttons. 
JJ grins at you, the smirk growing wider. “That right, pretty girl?” He asks, letting go of your chin and grabbing your hand, stopping you from swirling your thumb along his shirt. He grabs your hand instead, his touch rough. “If you don’t got a boyfriend, then that means you’re free game, darlin’.”
You intertwine your fingers, tugging him closer. “That I am.”
“Oh yeah?” JJ grins, being pulled closer to you. He grabs your wrist, turning and pulling you against his chest, his free hand resting comfortably on your hip. “That means I could kiss you, and you’d let me?” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as he looks down at you. He grins. “Maybe I’ll try it right now.”
“A kiss before our first date?” You ask, tilting your head a little. “How naughty of you, JJ.”
He chuckles again, shaking his head. “I’m a naughty boy, sugar, everyone knows that.” He says, his eyes looking you up and down once again. “But you look just too damn cute in that girly little outfit of yours, I can’t resist you. You’re too damn pretty.” He smiles again. “But yeah, I guess I should take you on a proper date first, huh?”
You nod, tugging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you free now?”
JJ laughs, his arms wrapping fully around your frame as you tug him closer. He rests his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezes your hips with his fingers. “Free as a bird, baby doll. You wanna go right now?”
You nod, incredibly eager, willing to do anything to get your mind off of Rafe. You look up at him and bite your lip. “How about we try that new breakfast bistro downtown?”
“Whatever you say, sugar.” JJ says, his smirk growing wide as he notices the eager look on your face. “You seem like you’re kinda hungry for somethin’.” His hand moves to the small of your back, gently holding your frame close to his. “Breakfast bistro ain’t a bad place to start.”
“My car or yours?” You ask. 
He grins, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to look at him. “You don’t mind ridin’ with me, do you, sweetheart?” 
You shake your head. 
He smiles back down at you, leaning in closer. His face is just a few inches away from yours, his eyes staring down into yours before glancing to your lips. “Good.” He whispers. “Cuz I don’t think we can both fit in your teeny, tiny car. Plus…riding on my bike means you can hold onto me.”
You glance at his lips before meeting his eyes. “I’m ready when you are, handsome. But remember,” You lean a little closer. “It’s just one date.”
He chuckles, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly before he leans in to give you a gentle kiss. “You’re cute as hell, you know that?” He asks, pulling away a moment later, grabbing your hand again. “C’mon, sugar, my bike’s parked out back.”
You eagerly follow him, your whole body feeling fuzzy.
The new bistro is called the Early Bird Cafe & Bistro. 
It’s totally not your fault it’s the same restaurant Rafe and Sofia are supposed to be at, just like it’s totally not your fault that you’re here with JJ at the same exact time. You spot Rafe right away, wearing that light blue sweater that drives you absolutely crazy, hugging his biceps and shoulders so well you wish you could sink your teeth into him. 
You slip the hostess $20, hoping she would let you get the empty table directly behind them. Sofia would have her back to you, but Rafe would get a front row seat. Your little bribe works, and she quickly leads you and JJ into the bistro and to the nearest empty table, right behind Rafe and Sofia’s table. You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you hurry into your seat, JJ sitting across from you, resting his hand on the table.
It’s perfect. You and Rafe can look each other dead in the eyes, while Sofia and JJ will have no idea. 
At first, you try to focus on JJ, listening to him talk as you look at the menu. You only peek at Rafe every few seconds, your eyes drawn to him, no matter how hard you try. He’s just sitting there, talking to Sofia as usual, but he keeps glancing at you, his eyes watching you intently. You order the cheapest thing on the menu, leaning across the table and holding JJ’s hand while he talks about his bike and how much it cost to fix it.
You prop your hand up on your palm, pushing your lips into a pout, and look up at JJ while he talks. You know Rafe is watching you.
JJ is absolutely loving your attention, oblivious to the fact that you’re doing all of this just to make Rafe watch. He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you when he sees the pout on your lips. “Oh, c’mon, you gonna give me that cute little pout? You tryna make me blush or somethin’, baby doll?” He reaches out and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. You kiss it, pressing your tongue against it.
He groans under his breath at the gesture, the smirk spreading wide on his face. “Oh, shit. You know, I love that mouth of yours.” He says, a hint of warning in his tone, his hand still holding your chin as his thumb continues to rub along your lower lip. You lick the tip of his thumb again, Rafe’s furious expression visible even out of the corner of your eye.
JJ’s lips twitch at the gesture, letting his thumb slide fully past your open lips, pushing into your mouth as he leans closer to you. “God dammit, you know how to tease a man, don’t you?” You kiss his thumb again before pulling back as the waitress rounds the corner, setting your food down.
Rafe is furious, chewing aggressively and holding his silverware so tight it might snap under the pressure. Sofia is rambling about something he doesn’t care about, completely unaware of his eyes remaining solely on you.
You keep your attention on JJ for the rest of your date. All things considered, he's actually a really sweet guy. Even after finishing your food, you continue to sit and chat, and you notice Rafe and Sofia doing the same. He was keeping an eye on you, occasionally glancing your way. The bistro starts to close down, so you and JJ start to head out. You fish through our purse for some more cash, but JJ’s already throwing it down, even including a small but reasonable tip.
“Thanks, JJ.” You say, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I’m treatin’ you, alright? You don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 
And you don’t.
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JJ gives you a ride back to the mall so you can pick up your car. After sharing a few more kisses, your back pressed against the hood, he reluctantly pulls away. 
“I had fun, sweetheart, seriously.” He whispers, his thumb rubbing your lips again before resting his hands on your hips as he leans closer. He gives one final kiss, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. “I’ll call you later, alright?” He mutters, kissing you one final time. 
You nod. “Ride safe, okay?”
He chuckles, kissing your nose before letting you go. “Of course.” He says, putting on his helmet. “I’ll call you later. You be safe, too.” He gives a last wink before getting onto his bike and riding off. You wave him off, watching him leave the parking lot. You ride home on cloud nine, your chest feeling light, almost euphoric. You felt happy and wanted for the first time in a while.
When you go to pull into your parking spot, you see Rafe's dirt bike parked right next to it. “Fuck.” You groan softly, grabbing your purse before getting out of the car, closing the door behind you.
As you walk towards your front door, unlocking it, you hear the soft sound of music inside. You push open the door, your eyes widening when you see Rafe sitting on the edge of the couch, sitting in the dark. The only thing that gives the room any light is the streetlamp outside, the soft glow filtering through your windows. He looks up at you as you come in, a cold, blank expression on his face.
“How did you get in here?” You ask, setting your bag down.
At first, he doesn’t respond to you, sitting completely still. He watches your every movement, his eyes narrowing as you set down your bag. He stands up, slowly approaching you. He grabs your face in an iron grip, squeezing your cheeks just a bit too hard as he tilts your head up so you’re forced to look at him. There’s nothing but barely restrained anger in his eyes. “You have some gall.” He says, his voice low. “Being there with him. Letting him kiss you. Letting him touch you.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” You say. “You do that a lot.”
“Shut up.” He says, his hand still on your face. His eyes are cold and furious. “I had to watch him touch you. Kiss you. Look at you. Hold you.” His grip on your face tightens slightly. “I had to sit there and watch it. It was all I could do not to drag him out into the alley and break his goddamn fingers. I should’ve been on that date with you. That should’ve been me.”
“I’m tired of being your second choice, Rafe.” You snap. “I want a boyfriend. I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”
“Don’t you dare throw that in my face.” His voice is soft yet threatening, his fingers tightening around your face even more. “You know it’s more complicated than that. You’re not my second choice, sweetheart, you’re just-.” He sighs, frustrated. “Damn it, sweetheart, you’re just…” He shakes his head. “You’re mine. You belong to me. End of story.”
“Then fucking prove it.” You say. “You want me? You want me to belong to you? Dump Sofia. Dump her right now.”
He’s furious. He grabs your arms, squeezing them hard. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, I can’t yet.” He hisses, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t get rid of her until I’m ready, alright?”
“I’m not going to wait that long.” You say.
Your phone vibrates on the dining table, a phone call from JJ.
Rafe groans under his breath, his eyes darting to your phone just a few feet away. “Don’t.” He says, his grip on your arms tightening. “Don’t you pick that up.”
Your face falls slightly. “I’m not waiting around forever, Rafe. I’m not going to sit here and just hope that one day you’ll want me.”
He groans again, his grip on you bruising. “God damn it, I want you now.” He says, pulling you so close against him that you’re practically pushed flush against his chest. “I promise I’m going to break up with her, I promise, just give me some goddamn time.” His eyes are growing red and bloodshot.
You shake your head, your voice soft when you speak. “I can’t wait that long, Rafe. I won’t. You either have me now, or you don’t have me at all.”
Rafe scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “So what, you’re gonna run off to that dumbass, just because I can’t leave Sofia yet?” His grip tightens again. “Is that it, sweetheart? You’re just gonna toss me aside for some nobody?”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You say softly. 
He lets out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around you. He buries his face into your neck, pulling you tight against his chest. “You’re supposed to trust me, pretty girl.” He mutters, his voice trembling. “You’re supposed to trust that I’m gonna pick you, that I’m gonna break up with her.”
“I don’t want some of you. I want all of you.” You say. “I don’t want to wait around until you decide to pick me.”
“You’ve got all of me, baby, I promise you.” He mutters into your neck, his arms squeezing you tighter. “I swear to you, you’ve got all of me, I just-.” God, he sounds so desperate, and his eyes are starting to well with tears. “Sweetheart, I need you to trust me, alright? I swear I’m gonna end it with her.”
You shake your head. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I can’t wait around for you anymore.”
He whines, pulling you back by your shoulders so he can look at you. He cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “God damn it, sweetheart, you’re killing me here. Don’t you understand? I need more time--”
His phone rings this time, lighting up from its spot on your dining table.
A call from Sofia.
You take a deep breath. You can do this. “You can either break up with her right now, or you can leave.”
He stares into your eyes, his face growing desperate. He can’t believe this is really happening. He’s going to lose you, he’s going to lose his mind, he’s going to lose the last good thing that ever happened to him. He doesn’t even know what to say.
The phone stops ringing.
You breathe out softly as it starts ringing again. “Choose, Rafe. Sofia or me. You can’t have both anymore. It’s not fair to me or her.”
He’s desperate, and panicked. He’s losing you. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he loses you. He whines again, the ring of the phone still echoing through your apartment. He doesn’t have time to think about it.
He slams his lips against yours, kissing you heatedly, passionately, desperately.
You pull away. “No, Rafe. Fucking pick something for once in your goddamned life.”
His hands are shaking as he grabs your shoulders. His breathing is shaky as he tries to pull you in for another kiss, but you won’t let him. He looks so desperate, his eyes full of panic as he stares into yours. His phone starts ringing again and finally, he slams his palm down against your dining table, the sound loud and harsh. “I-“ He pants, his voice strained. “I choose you, pretty girl. Alright?” He reaches over and picks up the phone, putting it up to his ear.
You’re honestly a little surprised. You were certain he was going to pick Sofia. You reach out and grab his free hand, rubbing your thumb against his palm. He’s still wearing that blue sweater.
He swallows, standing up straighter and gripping your hand. “Hey, So-.” He’s interrupted, Sofia’s muffled voice ringing through the phone. She sounds annoyed, maybe even a little angry. Rafe’s expression grows even more desperate as he listens to her talking, his fingers squeezing around yours almost painfully. 
Finally, Sofia stops talking. Rafe’s quiet for a long moment, swallowing hard again as he takes a long, deep breath. “Oh. Um, yeah, Sofia, about that-” He pauses again as she speaks through the phone. He swallows again, his eyes beginning to tear up as his voice breaks. “Actually, I think we should break up, I-.” More talking from Sofia, longer this time, sounding even more pissed. Rafe grimaces, biting his lip as his fingers squeeze yours even tighter.
You step forward, reaching out and wrapping your hand around his bicep, squeezing it softly, a silent sign of support.
Rafe’s eyes flick over to you, a little surprised you’re still willing to be this close to him, but he looks relieved, his eyes growing glassy and even more desperate as he stares into yours. He nods, his voice still trembling as he tries to respond to what Sofia is saying. “No, I mean it, Sofia… I’m serious, it’s over… because I- I’m actually- I’m seeing someone else.”
You squeeze his bicep again.
He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, his whole body tense and on edge. He’s never been in a situation like this before. Sofia says something else, her voice louder through the phone. Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head, trying to keep his composure. “No, Sofia, I- I’m not doing this shit anymore. I’m in love with her, alright? I’ve been seeing her for months now, and I’m in love with her… and I can’t keep doing all this. I’m sorry.”
You hear Sofia screaming at him before she hangs up. Rafe tosses his phone onto the table. A soft squeak leaves your mouth when he suddenly hugs you, burying his face in your neck.
You hug him back, rubbing his back as he starts to cry. “Rafe, honey, it’s okay.”
He hugs you so damn tight. His shoulders are shaking, his breathing shallow and desperate. “Please, god…” He mutters, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Sweetheart, please don’t leave me. God dammit, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I put you through that, please don’t leave me. I need you, sweet girl. I need you.” His voice is soft and trembling into your ear as he whispers.
“I’m not leaving.” You say softly, rubbing his back. “I’ll call JJ tomorrow and let him down easy. I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”
Rafe squeezes you tighter. He’s scared, his breathing still shaky, his grip like iron. “Promise me.” He whispers, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin between each word. “Please, please promise me. Promise me you’re staying with me. Promise me you aren’t going anywhere, that you won’t leave me. Please.”
“I promise.” You say, over and over, as many times as he needs. You gently take his face in your hands, wiping away some of his tears.
He lets you wipe away his tears, the shaking in his shoulders lessening. He keeps his face close to yours, his arms still wrapped around you. He nuzzles his nose against yours gently, leaning his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes. “Thank you.” He mutters, his voice still trembling, barely audible. “Thank you, baby. You’re not leaving me. You’re still staying with me. You’re still mine.” His hand lifts to gently cup your cheek.
You kiss him, gently at first. He lets you lead the kiss. It’s gentle, and soft, and tender, he just wants to feel your lips on his, needs to feel them against his. But after a moment, his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer, wanting more, needing more. His lips move against yours more hungrily now. You eagerly match the hungry pace.
You shiver as his hands travel down from your waist to your lower back, then to your ass, grabbing and squeezing it. There’s a new desperation in his kiss, in his grip, in his whole being. It’s like you’ve finally gotten through to him, finally broken through the bullshit and made him realize just how much he needs you. He eagerly picks you up, and you let him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.
The bed squeaks as he throws you down onto it. Rafe kneels at the end of it, grabbing your ankles and tugging you towards him. He’s quick to remove your tights and your skirt. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna be a good boy.”
“You are a good boy.” You say gently as you lift your hips. He slides the tights all the way down, kissing up your legs.
Rafe groans, loving the way you call him ‘good boy.’ You can feel the smile that spreads across his lips as he kisses along your legs. He kisses his way up your thighs, stopping to bite at your skin, leaving behind bruises.  He reaches your hips, yanking down your panties and tossing them away. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. He looks up, meeting your eyes. “You’re so pretty, baby.”
You bite your lip. "Are you sure you want to do this?”
Rafe nods, moving his hands to grip your hips. “I'm sure. I want this.” His voice is firm, filled with determination. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his lips higher. He nuzzles against your cunt, inhaling deeply. “Fuck...you smell so good.”
He parts your folds with his fingers, revealing how wet you already are for him. He licks his lips hungrily before diving in, his tongue lapping at your slit eagerly. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp and arch off the bed. His hands grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he eats you out like a starving man. “Mmmm...so fuckin' sweet,” he mumbles between long licks.
A moan escapes your lips, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your body. “Oh god, Rafe…” You pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Fuck…”
Rafe growls low in his throat. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, swirling around your clit. He sucks on it gently, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue. His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. He pinches and tugs at the hard peaks, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core as you squeal, squirming underneath him.
“Look at you. So responsive,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Gonna make you come so hard, baby.” His nose nudges against your clit as he tongues your entrance. You squeal, your back arching off of the bed. You reach up and tug on one of your nipples, your pussy gushing on his face.
Rafe laps up your juices greedily, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking your dripping cunt. He moans at the taste of you, more turned on than ever. He reaches down with one hand, unbuckling his belt. His cock throbs in his slacks and he can’t take it anymore, edging closer to your legs. Caught up in the smell, taste, and feel of you, he starts to hump your calf, his thighs squeezing your leg to steady it. He moans into your cunt, pulling away from your little clit for only a second before latching back on.
He continues to suck and nibble on your clit while finger-fucking you roughly, plunging two digits deep into your tight cunt. “You're so fuckin' wet for me, baby,” he grunts, breaking the seal from your pussy to speak. “Love eating this sweet cunt.” 
Your toes curl. “You didn't ask if you could hump me, baby.” Normally Rafe is always the dominant one, using you like a personal fuck toy, but with his face buried between your legs and his cock rubbing up against your calf, you feel like taking charge.
Rafe whines, stopping his hips. “Baby, fuck, please let me hump you! It feels so good, eating you out feels so fucking good.” His breath is hot against your slick folds, his tongue darting out to lap at your juices, savoring the flavor of you. He gazes up at you, sucking your clit directly into his mouth.
Your back arches deliciously, and you nod. “You can hump me, baby. Make yourself feel good.”
With a relieved groan, Rafe resumes humping your leg, his thick cock sliding against your skin through his pants. He rocks his hips faster, the friction driving him wild. His tongue never leaves your clit, continuing to swirl and suckle the sensitive bundle of nerves. “You like watching me hump you, don't you?” he rasps, his voice strained. “Seeing me lose control because of you... Fuck, I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too,” You moan, hips bucking in his face. “Good boy. Keep going.”
Hearing you call him ‘good boy’, Rafe lets out a satisfied grunt. He increases his pace, his hips rocking against your leg even harder. He continues to lick and suck on your clit, driving you crazy with pleasure. He can feel himself getting close, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing. “God, baby, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum!” he warns, his voice shaky with anticipation. “Cum with me, please!”
Rafe's warning turns into a guttural moan as he finally loses control. His hips jerk erratically, grinding his clothed erection against your leg as he orgasms. Thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, soaking through his pants and staining your skin. At the same time, he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue working overtime to bring you to climax alongside him.
As the waves of pleasure subside, he slowly pulls away, licking his lips clean of your essence. He climbs up onto the bed next to you, his eyes glazed with satisfaction and adoration. “I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You're so fucking hot when you cum for me. Such a good girl.”
“I love you too,” You say, grabbing him and pulling him closer.
He looks down at his slacks, soaked and covered with cum. He hums, reaching up and cupping your face. “Do you wanna clean me up, baby?”
You take a deep breath, a small smile gracing your face. “Yeah.”
Rafe grins, climbing up to lean against the headboard as you start to lick the wet spot on his slacks.
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚*:・゚✧
★taglist: @ietss, @loves0phelia, @drewsphswife, @pillowprincess4him, @maybankslover, @theeternaloptimistt, @jumpme300, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @matthewswifeeee, @katekells, @writtenbyhollywood, @starkeyslove, @emluvsbunnies, @bunnystuffsworld, @xbrookxsstuff, @emeloyy, italics mean i couldn't tag you! x
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brattyfics · 3 months ago
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Sins of The Flesh
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]
Wordcount: 3,000+
Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, No physical description of OC other than her being black, Spanking, D/S Dynamics, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), Bratty!OC, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, a tiny bit of Degradation Kink, No P in V, Slight Angst
A/N: Divider by fireflygraphics. Special shoutout to @megamindsecretlair who inspired me to write something for the first time in too long. Thank you!
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Riley was the picture-perfect Southern belle. With a preacher for a father and a teacher for a mother, she always kept up her manners in public. But behind closed doors, she had a talent for getting into trouble—and her relationship with Terry Richmond was no different.
He was her very own Black G.I. Joe—six feet, four inches of solid muscle. Intense, stormy green eyes and the face of an Adonis. A flawless specimen—and completely hers.
That morning, she woke up with a familiar ache in her belly. Terry had been gone the entire week to celebrate his cousin Mike’s homecoming, while she stayed behind due to a special work project. It had been seven long days without so much as a touch from the man who couldn’t keep his hands off her whenever they were alone.
He'd returned late Saturday, slipping into bed quietly to avoid waking her.
It was Sunday morning, and as the preacher’s daughter, she knew she had to be at her best. But sleep had eluded her. The rollers she wore to sleep were uncomfortable, and she never slept well when Terry wasn’t there. She woke up feeling restless, only to turn over and see him.
He was bare-chested, the morning light making his skin glisten. The bedsheets were pushed down to his hips, and the outline of his body was impossible to ignore. Her mouth watered.
When her gaze finally made its way up to his face, his eyes were already on her. Terry was always up by six, but some days, he'd stay in bed a little longer just for her.
She kissed her way up his body, starting from his neck and working toward his lips, straddling him.
“Mornin’, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, making her heart flutter. His green eyes framed by naturally long lashes—lashes she spent a hundred dollars a month trying to replicate—fixed on hers. He pulled her down for a tight hug, his lips finding her jaw. She sighed, feeling his strength encase her. 
“What time did you get in? I missed you,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish. She was a grown woman, had spent most of her adult life without him, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t breathe without him there.
His facial hair, grown in during the week they’d been apart, tickled her skin as he nuzzled into her neck—a silent way of saying, "I missed you too."
They lay there for a few moments before he stirred. One arm wrapped around her back, the other reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “We gotta get up. It’s almost eight.”
She groaned. “It’s too early.”
She was up before sunrise on workdays, but weekends were different.
“Come on, we have to.” He patted her back gently.
“Excuse you…” She sat up, crossing her arms with her legs still draped over his hips. “You just got back and you're bossing me around. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”
He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved how spoiled she could act sometimes. She knew he’d give her the world if she asked, and it boosted his ego to know she trusted him that much—knew, deep down, he would always protect and care for her.
“Oh, you think you’re running the show now?” he teased, raising a brow. She bit her lip, debating how to respond. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man to play petty games with, but she liked to do it every now and then, just to keep things interesting.
“Duh. I thought you knew.”
He let out a deep laugh from his core, right in her face. She huffed and tried to move away from his lap, but in an instant, he had rolled them over, pinning her beneath him as they both giggled.
“Who gave you command?”
His hand wrapped gently around her neck, and the playful moment turned serious. He positioned himself between her legs, morning wood pressed against her thigh, and her face flushed.
“You did.” She swallowed hard, remembering the last time they were in this position—his hand firm around her throat as he took control. The unspoken command hung in the air: tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you want.
He raised an eyebrow, “Me?”
“Yeah,” She smirked, “You disappeared so I had to improvise.” Her voice softened, teasing but with a warmth that hinted she missed him. “Maybe don’t leave me hanging next time, huh?”
He shook his head with a chuckle, then his lips crushed against hers, the kiss demanding, until her thoughts were consumed by him and only him. Her back arched, hips shifting as she sought him out. His hand found her neck again as he slowly pulled away, as if it pained him to stop.
“We gotta get up. I let you miss another Sunday, and your dad will never let me live it down.”
His sudden shift in tone made her scowl, especially as he tapped her legs to free himself from her grip. “Why are you talking about my father right now?”
“Get up.” His tone tolerated no dissent, and she reluctantly allowed him to pull her to her feet.
She followed him into the guest bathroom, where he'd gone to shower in peace. She dragged her soapy hands down his back, teasing him, offering to help him dry off but using it as an excuse to grope him instead. He wouldn’t give in. She spent the rest of the morning testing his resolve, brushing against him as he scrambled their eggs, and bending at the waist to give him a peek under her slip after "accidentally" dropping the house keys.
By the time they reached the church parking lot, a frown lingered on her made-up face, fading only as they approached the church doors, where she transformed into the picture-perfect preacher’s daughter.
Smiling, saying all the right things, all the while thinking about Terry. It wasn’t right, thinking these things in church, but she couldn’t help it. She prayed for forgiveness but couldn’t stop herself from reminiscing about him—the way he drove her to the brink of madness, how good he always made her feel. 
The singing of hymns and the preaching faded into the background as she focused on the analog clock hanging above the pulpit. Church seemed to drag on even longer than usual, as if the universe were conspiring with Terry to tease her to death. He sat there, as tempting as the devil, his button-up shirt clinging to his muscular arms and thick thighs defined even in slacks.
By the time they reached the car, she felt like she was on the verge of catching fire. She’d waved hurriedly at her parents before dragging Terry out the church doors, complaining about the traffic. She was sure her mom would call her and fuss about it later, but she’d deal with that when the time came. He didn’t say a word until they were driving down the main road, his eyes glancing over at her.
“You’ve been acting wild all day. You that desperate for my dick?”
“What?” 
“You heard me. You want it that bad?” He repeated himself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Her mouth hung open as she processed his words. In the bedroom, he was her Daddy—dominant, demanding, intense. A bit of a bedroom bully, but never harsh. She was his princess, and he treated her like one. Terry didn’t usually talk to her like this, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between her legs at his words.
She wished she had something clever to say, but the truth was that her desire for him ran deeper than he could ever realize. “I can’t help it,” she admitted, leaning over the center console to caress his leg. She gave him those Bambi eyes and spoke softly. “I need you, baby.” 
“I get it. I've been counting down the days too,” He promised. His voice was steady and calm—too calm—while she felt like she was on the edge. He had unbuttoned the top of his shirt when they got in the car, and all she could think about was undoing the rest. The way the water had cascaded down his chest this morning was sinful. Her thighs clenched together subconsciously. 
“I need more than just talk right now,” She grumbled, remembering how he had rejected her earlier that morning. She’d wanted him so badly that she dropped to her knees, promising to make it worth his while. But he remained composed, pulling her back up for a soft kiss on the corners of her mouth. “Later,” he had promised.
All week, she had struggled to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed with him. And now that he was back, he didn’t seem in any hurry to change that. He should have woken her up last night, church be damned— The same way he did any other night he wanted to be inside her. Her hand inched up to his thigh and squeezed.
When her fingertips grazed his dick, he gently grabbed her hand and lifted it from his lap. “Relax,” he warned, his voice adopting that stern tone she usually loved. But now, it just grated on her nerves. Terry Richmond—who was always so eager—was telling her to relax about sex. How many mornings had he insisted on having her before he left for work? How many days had he stalked her around the house, grabbing her any way he wanted? How many nights had he promised to “do all the work” if she just let him inside?  
She kissed her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out at the cars ahead. He was full of it.
“What’s this? You got an attitude now?”
She snapped before she could stop herself. “What do you think, Terry?” Aggravation burned in her chest, and his eyes widened at her tone. Apparently, his week away had been too long—she had lost her damn mind. 
“Any other time, you can’t get enough of me, and now you’re acting like I’ve got the cooties. What’s going on with you?”
“What are you trying to get at?” he asked, sounding annoyed, and it was clear on his face. She stared back at him as his gaze flicked between her and the road, as if her eyes could uncover whether he had been faithful. She trusted Terry, but she already knew Mike’s wild ass had plenty of strippers and trouble around. 
What else was she supposed to think? Terry was only a man after all. 
“For real?” he replied, meeting her suspicious gaze. “You think I’d do you like that?” 
Her stomach flipped. In her heart, she felt one thing, but her head was a different monster altogether. She had a tendency to overthink and jump to conclusions. Terry usually made her feel so secure that it wasn’t an issue. “So, just because I’m not moving fast enough for you, I must be cheating, huh?” He looked at her like a wounded lion.
“I don’t know, Terry,” she shifted her gaze away from him, knowing she had overreacted. “I’m just frustrated, okay?” The silence that fell between them felt heavy. She knew she had made a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice softening. “I know you’re not like that; I was just... I don’t know.”
Just like Muni Long, she wished for a Time Machine.
The sting of her accusation settled in his gut. He couldn’t begin to understand why she would doubt him after everything they’d been through.
Terry remained silent for the rest of the ride. Not even when he parked the car, opened her passenger door, and unlocked the house did he say a word. He let her in first, just like always, but the usual kisses to her neck were absent. Instead, he slipped off to the guest room to change while she undressed in their shared bedroom, feeling like a brat. The pretty polka dot dress and brand new stockings he should have been removing only added to her sadness.
She removed her makeup in a somber mood, then finally made her way to the living room when she could no longer put it off. Terry had changed into a T-shirt and shorts, sprawled across the couch while fiddling with the remote, flipping through channels she knew he wasn’t interested in at all.
She settled onto his lap, her thighs gripping him to keep him close. He avoided her gaze until she cupped his face in her hands, gently forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a storm brewing, one that she had caused. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.
She rested her head against his broad chest, cuddling into the warmth beneath her. With her chin snuggled comfortably, she gazed up into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was wrong– so wrong. I know who you are and that you wouldn’t hurt me. Please forgive me. I was trippin’.”
He took a deep breath and ran a hand across his low fade, trying to process his emotions. “You really scared me with that.” He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I need you to understand that it’s not easy for me to shake off what you said. I love you, but I need to know you trust me.”
“I do. I promise I do, baby. I just lost my head for a minute there. You mean everything to me.”
“Okay,” he conceded after a minute, “Just keep your head in the game, alright? Stick with me. We’re good.” Terry’s habit of framing their relationship in sports terms never failed to make her smile.
"You got it, coach," she teased, then added playfully, "Oh wait—Sir, yes sir," as she offered a mock salute.
“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you?”, he asked. “That’s alright, though, because you’re still under my command, recruit.” He delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Riley gasped as she felt the sting of each slap. 
"Terry, stop," she protested, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding.
“Nah, baby,” he whispered against her lips, staring her directly in the eyes, “You got a little too bold and need a reminder of who’s running things.”
Her stomach flipped as she realized what was happening. She had been getting more mouthy as the day went on, testing how far she could go. Now it was time for Terry to put her in her place, and while that was always fun, she knew he wouldn’t go easy on her.
As if reading her mind, Terry pulled back slightly, his gaze fierce and focused. "You know I love you, baby," he uttered softly. “But sometimes, a firm hand is needed to keep us in line.”
She nodded, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. A spanking hadn’t been a part of her agenda for the day. All she wanted was to come home, have him in their bed,  and make up for lost time, then pretend to watch TV for a little before she rode him to oblivion. But she had ruined that by being impatient. She knew that Terry was right – she had crossed a line today, and this was exactly what she needed.
Taking a deep breath, she eased into him, allowing him to maneuver her over his lap as he repositioned them on the couch. The muted sounds of the TV faded into the background as they got comfortable, her shorts rustling quietly as he pulled them down to her ankles. 
“I get that you’re used to having things your way, but that ain't how it works with me,” Terry advised, palming her ass cheeks in each hand. He took his time jiggling the fat there before his hand came down on one side and then the other. Terry was heavy handed, making sure she felt him deep in her soul. She hissed, already reaching back to cover her bottom. 
"Gimme your hands," he ordered, locking both of them in one of his own.
Terry started spanking her in earnest, and Riley felt every bit of it— the sharp sting as his hand met her skin, the heat radiating across her backside, and the firm pressure of his arms keeping her steady. 
“I’m so sorry,” She whined, squirming in his lap. “I didn't mean it!” He took a breath, grabbed her chin, and locked his gaze on her to make sure she heard him loud and clear. “I know you didn’t plan for this, but you still deserve this punishment. You gotta do better, ma.”
He went back to smacking her ass all wild, hitting it from every possible angle. “Fuck!” She cursed, getting lost in the pain and the pleasure. If the folks at church knew she had a mouth like this, she'd be too embarrassed to show her face again. With each smack, her thoughts become increasingly scrambled, swirling in a delicious haze. It didn’t help that Terry was talking her through it the entire time. 
“Remember I’m doing this because I love you.”
“You need to find some middle ground before you take things to the next level. You understand me?”
“Stay exactly like that, don’t move.”
“I know it hurts. It’s supposed to.”
“Here, grab this pillow.”
She moaned and groaned her protests but Terry was too strong and she had earned this ass whooping. She knew there was nothing left to do but surrender. Terry had her and she could let go of all her worries and concerns. She just needed to ride it out. 
As the spanking continued, Riley’s breathing grew more ragged until she was breathless. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She apologized fervently each time his hand came down on her ass, sobbing when he gave her a small reprieve, rubbing her lower back gently. “You’re okay. We’re almost done. Are you really as sorry as you’re claiming?”
“Yes, Daddy,” She whimpered, already imagining how sore she’d be the next day, hobbling into her good government job with a bruised backside. She had bit off way more than she could chew and now needed his mercy.
“Repeat after me,” Terry commanded, his tone leaving room for argument. “Say ‘I’ll be a good girl and listen.’” She immediately complied, her voice shaky but sincere as she echoed his words, fully embracing the promise behind them. “I understand that the next time I do it, Daddy is going to spank my disobedient ass all over again..” She repeated his words like a well-trained parrot, and at the moment, it was all she could manage.
She felt lightheaded by the time Terry finished spanking her, and she couldn’t recall the last thing he’d said. She had hit her breaking point.  
She laid there for several minutes, completely spaced out, and focused only on catching her breath. Terry massaged her scalp with his fingertips as they both came down from the natural high of their chemistry. Eventually, Terry lifted her up to meet his gaze, being mindful not to agitate her already bruised bottom.
“You good?” 
Her head was still reeling. She wanted to shrink into a little ball, but she also wanted to live in his skin. How could she express that to him without sounding unhinged? Terry massaged her back in gentle, calming circles until he sensed her start to unravel. She eventually nodded slowly, acknowledging that yes, she was okay— physically at least, even if her emotions were still in a disarray. 
“I’ll do better,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with exhaustion.
"That’s my good girl," he said, gently wiping away tears from her cheekbone as his expression softened. Despite what she might think, he didn’t get as much satisfaction from spanking her as she believed. It was just something he had to do.
“Come on, pretty. I’ll fill the tub up for you, and then we can order brunch from your favorite spot.”
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Forgive me for any mistakes. I had to post this before I lost my nerve, lol. This started as something completely different but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think! For more Terry Richmond fics by other amazing young ladies, please check out my Terry Richmond fic rec tag.
Part 2
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taintedcigs · 1 year ago
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even if it’s a false god — e.m.
part two; we'd still worship this love
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pairing: modern!college!fboy eddie x fem!reader
warnings: smut!!!!!!, 18+, MINORS DNI or ill bite u. p in v, cr*ampie, kinda br*eding kink, unprotected s*x (wrap it up irl angels, this is fiction.), angst angst angst, ASSHOLE FBOY EDDIE!!!, drinking, degrading, swearing, praises, nicknames, vv slight ch*king kink if u squint, some rough stuff.
summary: in which you are friends with benefits with modern!fuckboy!eddie (wc:4.1k)
a/n: i was def thinking of a pt.2 for this while writing it tbh. mr asshole munson needs to repair some hearts!!! also i made the pic in the middle bc i couldn't find a fitting picture w this lyric lmaooo!! did not proof-read!! ignore any mistakes AND PLSS send me ur thoughts ily xo, em
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“It was fun babysitting you, sweetheart, but I have to dip,” Steve whispered in your ear with a sympathetic smile, his hand pointing toward the blonde who was impatiently waiting for him. 
“What?” You asked, baffled. “Steve, you fucking promised!” You groaned. 
“Jesus Christ, do you not have any ounce of self-control?” He asked, and you gave him an intense look.
“Obviously not!” You huffed, arms crossing against your chest, causing Steve to chuckle. 
“Robin will come back eventually! And in the mean time, just stay the fuck away from him,” He warned. 
“Now, I gotta get laid.” He winked. You tried to open your mouth, but he interrupted. “I swear to god, Y/N, I don’t wanna hear another word from you, you’ve cockblocked me enough this week.” He said, annoyed.
You rolled your eyes, huffing as you stood straight, “Fine! Have fun.” You exclaimed, and Steve grinned, “I will, sweetheart. And you, just... hide from him or something.” He shrugged as he guided the blonde girl out of the door. 
Jesus fucking Christ.
You were pathetic, asking for Steve and Robin to babysit you, so that you wouldn’t end up under Eddie again, so that you could at least save some of the self-respect that you were sure probably didn’t exist at this point. 
They knew each time you said you were done with him, it was a lie. They knew you’d go back for more, but now it had been two weeks—two whole weeks—where you managed to stay away from him, blocking him for good. 
And you could feel yourself cracking; you wanted—needed—him with every fiber of your being, and it was driving you crazy. 
He drew you in with whatever he did, like a magnet always pulling you toward him, making you need to be around him, at all times.
You missed the way his hands grazed your thighs, the way he fucked you so rough and senselessly, but also so gently. The way his pretty mouth framed compliments so fucking sweetly, but turned dirty the moment he was pounding into you, praising you but degrading you at the same time. 
He was so good at fucking, but was shit at everything else.
Just like you.
So the idea of being friends with benefits sounded like heaven when you first suggested it. No feelings attached, no exclusivity, just fucking each other's brains out while also having someone to chat with afterward.
It was supposed to be simple—so fucking simple. 
But the moment feelings got involved, it turned out for the worst. Jealousy was a bitter monster that gnawed at the insides of the two of you, and it had turned into something so incredibly toxic that you knew you had to end it. Your friendship was long gone now, turning into a bitter competition where you either fucked or argued.
Exclusivity was not something the two of you ever discussed, you knew you were bad at relationships, and Eddie knew he wasn’t good at feelings, so it was a topic you always danced around. Arguments ensued the moment one of you fucked someone else, and bitterness was present in your veins like it had always been there. 
When Eddie decided to fuck another girl two weeks ago, you decided you were done. This wasn’t good for the both of you, and you needed to stop it as fast as you could. 
You knew the emptiness you felt right after you fucked was not worth it, no matter how good Eddie was.  
You were tired of sobbing into Steve’s chest drunkenly, confused about what you even felt for Eddie when he was out there fucking another girl. 
It was starting to leave a bad taste in your mouth, and you didn’t want to hate Eddie—not more than you already did at the moment. 
But there stood Eddie, curly hair laid messily on his forehead as a guitar pick adorned his neck, his infamous leather jacket paired with those black pants were your nightmare—dream—combo, he was sprawled on the couch, thick thighs spread apart, you wished you could part them further with your hands, rub him through his pants as you got down on your knees for him, giving his delicious pink-tip kitten licks as you tasted his salty pre-cum—
What the fuck was wrong with you? You shook your head as you turned around immediately, gazing into your empty cup as you hurried off to the kitchen. 
Your cheeks grew hot from embarrassment, you seriously had no fucking self-control or respect. 
“You need any help?” Eddie’s voice rang in your ear.
“‘M fine,” You muttered, voice barely audible. 
“You know I’ve been lookin’ for you.”
“Why? Did you finally run out of girls to fuck on campus?” You said snarkily, a smirk tugging on your lips. 
“Don’t act so fuckin’ innocent now, sweetheart.” He tssked, causing you to throw him a quizzed look.
“Didn’t you go home with Mr. Jock last week?” He was being possessive again, and you hated how it picked up your heart rate, you were stupid.
“So?” You quirked a brow, teasing him, and he gave you a slight chuckle.
That smug asshole, why did he have to always look so good?
“So…how was it?” He asked, and you could feel his jaw tensing as he took a step closer to you, trapping you between the drink stand and his body.
“You’re disgusting.” You groaned as you pushed him away from your face. You were not going to give in.
“That bad, huh?” He mocked, scrunching his nose.
You rolled your eyes. “No.” You lied.
It was bad, really fucking bad; the guy lasted 30 seconds and left you with nothing. That greedy bastard.
But you weren’t going to let Eddie know that.
“He was really good, actually.” You were lying through your teeth, and thankfully, Eddie didn’t seem to notice. An intense rage flashed through his eyes.
“You sayin’ that punk is better than me?” He slurred into your ear, his breath ragged and hot as it fanned against your neck. He smelled so fucking addicting—a mix of sandalwood and nicotine, earthy and making you crave him at the same time. 
You don’t even know how he even came to that conclusion, but it was funny, seeing him like this, nostrils flaring as rage filled his veins, like he was in torture hearing about the guys you fucked, he deserved that.
But your silence at his question meant everything to him; he didn’t need an answer. You knew he was better, and he knew that you were crawling closer to his palm now.
He grew more confident because of the way you stuck to him. “I've seen him in the locker room, sweetheart. He’s not that fuckin’ impressive.” You didn’t mean to gasp, but it slipped past your lips quickly.
“Munson!” You warned, a smile tugged on your lips, and you realized how pathetic you were being again, but it was too late now. 
“Don’t think he can make you smile like I do, either.” He grinned smugly, his calloused hands quick to pull the strand of hair on your face, to see the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, so fucking promising.
“You're a jerk,” You spat, groaning as you turned around, trying to avoid him, but it was no use; the damage was done, and you were putty in his hands again.  
He had a tight hold on your arm, possessive again, and you were sick for enjoying his rough side. He spun you around to meet him, eyes dark, before he held you in place. “A jerk who makes you feel good,” Eddie purred in your ear, fingers tracing toward your exposed skin, one touch from him, and you whimpered, all that anger fading away so quickly.
He chuckled darkly. “Missed those sweet lil’ whimpers,” He whispered in your ear again, fingers quick to find their way toward your panties. 
He drew slow circles with his thumb while you tried to remain tight-lipped, but it was impossible. 
“Jesus—fuck, Eddie som—someone could see...” You didn’t mean to throw your head back against the wall. Your eyes fluttered shut, and Eddie shrugged. 
“Don’t care, sweetheart.” 
“Well, I do.” You didn’t; Eddie could fuck you right here, right now, and you’d be fine with it, but you weren’t ready to admit this to yourself, and you didn’t want to take the chance of Robin seeing you like this. 
He groaned as he dragged you into the nearest room. You would’ve cried at the loss of contact if he didn’t have a tight hold on your body, calloused hands gripping at your curves, and your thighs rubbed together at his touch. 
Eddie was quick to pin you against the door, his hand curling around the back of your neck. He smashed his lips against yours without hesitating, kissing you the same way he made you feel; explosive, hard, and dizzying. 
He pulled back to look at you. 
Sweet Jesus.
His gaze was intense, and it made you feel so fucking exposed that it startled a gasp out of your lips. 
You fisted his shirt when you had enough, yanking him closer to you so that you could feel his body pressed into yours. Everything you felt was pure hunger, craving him deeply.  
Your heart was pounding in your chest when you felt his rock hard bulge grinding against you, calloused hands gripped your ass as you whimpered; you were at his mercy now. 
“What were you sayin’ last time? That this would never happen again?” He mocked, whispering against your face, his gaze never leaving you. 
Your eyes narrowed, but it was impossible to keep up your act when his fingers started ghosting over your thighs again. “Fuck. You.” You spat. 
“You don’t have to ask me twice, baby.” He grinned, chuckling when you whimpered under his touch.
“God, I love those sweet noises you make for me…” He murmured, you rubbed your thighs again at his words. “I bet if I flipped that little skirt of yours… I’d find you gushing for me.” He groaned. 
And you remained tight-lipped. God, you didn’t want to feed into his huge fucking ego, and you wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face. 
But he was so right. Your thighs were dampened by how aroused you were. 
He was quick to slip his fingers past your panties, a grunt escaping his lips once he pushed past your folds, your slick covering his fingers. He chuckled darkly. “You’re soaking my fingers, honey.”
“I—Fuck—I hate you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, and Eddie reveled in it, his fingers pushing inside of you while his thumb stayed on your clit. 
“Always sayin’ shit you don’t mean, baby.” He mocked. “Gonna make you beg for my cock, if you keep’ talkin like that.” 
You were panting and head dizzy as he pushed his fingers in and out of you. You were going to lose it, and he had barely started.
When he finally undressed both of you, you were out of it, while his hands were still on your clit as he groaned at the sight in front of him. 
You were perfect. 
His breath was ragged when he traced your chest, eyes bulging when he realized you had no bra on, pleasure ignited in you more and more when he cupped your breasts, teeth tugging your nipple as his fingers still toyed with your clit.
“Perfect tits, just made for me, huh?” He growled, making you mewl; you were putty in his hands, and with each movement, you were getting closer and closer to beg him for more. 
The more you whimpered, the rougher he got with you, curling his finger inside your cunt as he hit that one spot, eliciting a moan from you as you threw your head back.
“P—please.” You whimpered, and Eddie tutted. 
“I’ve seen you do much better than that.” He hummed. This arrogant asshole was going to be the death of you. 
“P—please, Eds, please.” You begged, and your moans died down your throat, before he slowly dragged his fingers out and shoved them back in. 
Your head cocked to the side in pleasure, and he was quick to take advantage of it, licking a path from your neck to your ear, grinning. 
“Mhmm… not good enough, baby.” He purred in your ear as you whined, “Jesus fucking Christ—” Your cursing was interrupted when he yanked his hands away. 
No. No. No. No!
“Shitshitshit—Please, Fuck, Eds...” You murmured, eyes shooting wide open, “Need your cock inside’a me.” You mewled again. 
His dark chuckle reverberated through you, “See, that wasn’t that hard, was it?” He mocked, causing your eyes to narrow. 
“You assho—” He didn’t let you finish as he wrapped his hands around your throat, just enough to punish you but just enough for pleasure to course through your veins. And it felt so fucking good. 
You shut your mouth quickly, “What were you saying, baby?” He purred. 
God, that egotistic prick was pushing you to your last fucking limit; you could do it, you could hold it off. But on the other hand, you could feel yourself pulsing with need; if he didn’t pound into you soon, you knew you would’ve been a pathetic blabbering mess.
“Please, please, Fuck me,” You grunted. “I need you, Eddie.” He didn’t respond as he tapped your thighs, signaling for you to wrap your legs around his chest, and you were quick to oblige. 
Mind spinning before you got a chance to process what happened, he slammed into you with a vicious thrust, he was so fucking thick that it made you let out a guttural scream, tears welled at your eyes as you tried to adjust to his size. 
It wasn’t long before your loud noises turned into incoherent babbles and squeals as he kept his pace.
“Holy shit, baby,” He groaned, watching his cock sliding into you, “Such a warm fuckin’ pussy, and so fucking tight… Jesus…”
You trembled beneath him, tits bouncing up and down as your mouth hung open each time he slid further into your cunt, and Eddie wanted that image etched into his brain forever. 
He tilted you upward, hitting spots you weren’t even aware of. You were quick to wrap your hands around his frame, your nails digging into his back, roughly.
He was the only one who knew you like that; both emotionally and physically, and the same went for you, that’s why the two of you never could truly let each go, clinging to each other like a child did to their favorite toy.
You know no one else could fuck you like he did, and that smug bastard knew it, too.
The way he was pounding into you while uttering curses at your ear, furiously slapping into your body as if you were nothing but his personal fucktoy, truly his.
And you realized how sick you were for liking it, truly enjoying being this way with him. 
“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you take my cock, such a tight fuckin’ pussy and all mine, yea?” He panted causing you to nod, you were barely able hold his gaze, and he groaned before his hands roughly grabbed your cheeks, forcing your head in his direction. 
“Look at me baby…” He purred, “Look, how well your cunt is squeezin’ me. You feel that, peach?” He sheathed himself further into you, and you could feel your walls clench around him, a contented groan leaving both of your lips. 
It was fucking perfect. Everything was rough and messy, there was nothing emotional about the way you fucked. You were both using each other to cum as much as you wanted to, not stopping until you were both sweaty bodies.
He could make you come apart in seconds if he wanted to, knowing your body better than anyone else. And you could make the scary freak Eddie putty in your hands if you wanted to; it was a fucked up game of control that had the two of you going at it for hours. 
Was it fucked up? Yes.
Did it feel good? Absolutely. 
“Would that asshole be able to make you come apart like this?” He asked, fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave a bruise.
This wasn’t the first time Eddie had been possessive; it was a sick, twisted game that you also participated in, almost as if both of you knew that you could never be with anyone else.
You nodded mindlessly, you weren’t going to give into him that easily, again, he grunted at your lack of reaction. 
“Tell me, baby.” He growled, his pounding slowing down to make sure your orgasm was out of reach for you, torturing you until he had you begging under him.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to give up this fast. “Beg me, honey.” His movements picked up, and his hands were quick to toy with your clit, a sharp burst of euphoria rang through your body, leaving you speechless. 
You clenched around him—a big fucking mistake—and he grinned smuggly again. “I know, baby, I know you’re close.” He panted. “I can make you cum, angel.” He promised, “Just say the word.” 
“Asshole,” You groaned between his forceful thrusts, and he chuckled darkly. You rolled your hips against his when his movements faltered, seeking the warmth and the friction when he thrusted into you fully, filling you to the brim.
And that prick was thoroughly enjoying your torture. “Tell me it’s all mine, that you’re all mine.” He purred against your ear. 
You couldn’t. You shouldn’t.
But the way his thumb circled around your clit, so agonizingly slow, and the way his cock was prodding into you so slowly was torture. God, if he just picked up his pace.
Don’t. 
You try to convince yourself, but it's to no avail, you are clenching down on nothing, and it hurts. Your hole is pulsing now, and you need him more than ever. 
“P—please,” You mewled, causing Eddie to give you a slight smirk. “Please what, baby? Use your words.” 
“I’m all yours,” You murmured, “He could never fuck me like you could.” You added, humming contently, when Eddie started to pound into you relentlessly again. 
“Please—I need to—Jesus, Eds.” Your words slurred into a moan as he increased his speed, his finger circling your clit roughly. 
“Oh fuck, fuck, baby. Feels so good.” He panted.  “Please—please make me cum, sir.” You sobbed, unable to hold it back anymore. 
And that was all Eddie needed to hear. “Cum for me, honey.” He pleaded, and you gave him low whimpers as he started fucking you faster again, watching the way his cock disappeared into your gushing cunt.
“Wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby.” He breathed. 
“Shit, feels so good, Eds.” 
“Jesus—Please… I’m going to—” You bit down on your lower lip, unable to stifle the moans leaving your lips as his assault on your clit was enough to bring you over the edge, 
“I’m gonna—I’m…Holy shit, oh god!” You sobbed, whole body convulsing in pleasure as you came around his cock, your vision blurred and mind foggy as you didn’t realize how your orgasm was triggering his. 
Eddie was whimpering for you now, “So fucking good, holy shit.” He panted, movements getting sloppier.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck, baby. My perfect fucking girl, yea?” He heaved a breath. 
“I’m gonna fuck this—Gonna fuck my load into you, peach.”
“Gonna fill you with my cum—Fuuuck.” He growled, animalistic noises escaping him as he exploded inside of you, thick ropes of his warm cum painting your walls. 
He groaned when he slipped out, mouth-watering as he enjoyed the sight of you fucked out of your mind, and his load dripping down your thighs. 
The relief you had was short-lived as that sinking feeling came to you again, the emptiness, the loneliness.
Was all of it worth it?
The two of you dressed in silence; the weight of what you did was hitting you all at once. You did it again. You had sex with him again. You let him use you again—it didn’t matter if you used him too, it meant something different for you than it did for him.
All those thoughts you had about feeling good faded out quicker than you thought they would.
You were so fucking pathetic.
Jesus Christ.
You felt sick, what the fuck did you just do?
As soon as Eddie got dressed, he gave your cheek a sloppy kiss. He was going to leave you all alone again.
You should be fine with this, this is what always happens.
Don’t—don’t say anything, just take your last bit of self-respect that is possibly non-existent and leave without another word—
“You’re…leaving?” You exhale, your mind racing with ideas.
Shit. Just shut the fuck up.
“Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart.” He gave you a slight smile, but all you wanted to do was slap it out of him.
“We both know what this was.” He muttered, that conceited dickhead still had that smile on his face.
“And what exactly was ‘this’?” You pointed to the space between the two of you.
“Fucking, no strings attached?” He added, shrugging. The fact that he had no clue about anything was pissing you off.
“Unbelievable.” You gave him a dry chuckle.
“What?” He asked, baffled.
“Is that all I am to you, just a warm body?” You said, face crinkling with disgust.
“I’m confused.” Eddie said. “You—you were the one who fucking suggested this.” He breathed.
“Well, I’m un-suggesting it!” You exclaimed angrily.
“You—you are so fucking confusing!” He spat. “I told you—I told you we could be more... told you we could try... us.” He stuttered. “You were the one who refused!”
“You were drunk! You can barely fucking say it now!” You spat back.
“What... what do you even want, Y/N?” He asked, holding his gaze.
“Do you want a relationship? Do you want something meaningful?” He pondered, a sarcastic chuckle escaping his lips.
“Is it so wrong for me to want that? To want something real?” Your voice carried so much emotion, and that’s what killed him.
He couldn’t have a relationship with you even if he wanted to; he recognized his own turmoil, and he feared he would drag you right down with him. No matter how similar you seemed to be, he was sure he’d ruin you, completely and utterly. And not in a good way.
He swallowed physically; the lump in his throat wasn’t going to go away.
He couldn’t let you have hope; he couldn’t let you down again—he had done that enough.
''A relationship with you is the last thing I see myself doing.'' He almost whispered, but you heard it loud and clear.
Your brows were quick to furrow, and your jaw was was set in a tense manner. The lust in your gaze was long gone by now, containing only rage while you glared at the source of your pain.
“Fuck. You.” You spat, tears threatening to spill but you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction
“You are a sadistic fucking asshole, Munson.” 
“Jesus… I think we should stop—whatever the hell, this is.” He exclaimed.
“Fine by me!” You exclaimed back cheeks heating up from anger.
“I really am done with you, this time.” Despite the intensity of your gaze, he could sense the subtle vulnerability in your eyes. The subtle pain that was fueling your anger
“Oh, I’m sure you are.” He chuckled smugly. This was something you two had joked about before, but it wasn’t funny now.
He saw you in the palm of his hand because you always came back to him, he was right… until now.
The fact that he laughed in your face at the thought of being in a relationship with you was too much, even for your low self-esteem. 
“I don’t care what you think.” You didn’t even hold the rage you held before; only disgust was visible in your tone.
“You’re dead to me.” You replied curtly, your voice distant and chilling.
And Eddie knew how much he fucked up, truly.
There was nothing he could do now.
“I didn’t mean it like—” He regretted what he said immediately, but you dismissed his protests, gathering your jacket in your hand as you slammed the door behind you.
Tears blurred your vision as soon as you left, the lively sound of the party clouded your mind as you silently sobbed, trying to find Robin.
You knew how unattainable he was, and how much he truly hurt you, and as fucked up as it was, that's exactly why you loved him; led by blind faith that it would be different.
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