#i decided to work extra hours at work to pay for it

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The Weasley twins Christmas headcanon

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I thought I’d write a Christmas headcanon since I didnt last year. I hope you all have an amazing holiday and New Year. Enjoy the fic, my horny devils.

SFW

~ The build up to the big day would be pretty hectic considering you worked at the shop with the twins

~ A constant cycle of customers asking if you had extra stock or if they could pay less was a nightmare, but it was all worth it when the twins shut the shop late Christmas eve

~ They love the idea of buying matching pyjama sets (matching is all they really know)

~ If you’re a muggle born or a half blood, you’ll show them classic christmas films like Home Alone or It's a Wonderful Life on the tv that you convinced them to try out

~ Christmas baking is a necessity

~ It doesn't even matter that the twins are terrible bakers. Magic does it for you

~ Christmas day at the Burrow is unlike anything you’ve ever known

~ Molly’s cooking definitely gets the chefs kiss award

~ Christmas is the only time you get to meet Charlie and see Bill and Fleur

~ The house is packed (Molly likes to joke that grandbabies would top things off)

~Fred and George decided to try out their new product, a small marble sized ball that grows into a snowball when combined with the engorgement charm

~ Instead of bursting into snow upon impact, they disintegrate like flakes of ash

~ This quickly leads to a snowball fight on the surrounding Burrow land after Molly threatened the ginger flock about getting any ‘snow’ inside the house

~ Ginny wins this fight after hiding in one of the bedrooms and catapulting the ‘snowballs’ down from the window

~ Molly and Arthur always include you in presents, even though you aren't officially a Weasley they still treat you like you are

~ After about half an hour, the floor is covered in wrapping paper and everyone is wearing a new knitted ensemble courtesy of the matriarch herself

~ And by the end of the night, moving has become impossible from the amount of food that has been served and eaten

~ It’s times like this where you appreciate floo travel instead of a several hour car drive

NSFW

~ The Twins didn’t realise that you had one more present in store for them

~ It was only when you called them into the bedroom that they understood why you needed time to ‘get the gift ready’

~ The gift consisted of lacy lingerie and a plastic bow that sat on your head

~ Although this was a gift you gave them often, they were very grateful nonetheless

~ The twins loved their gift so much that they decided to unwrap it immediately

~ It took you more time to get the ensemble on than it did for them to tear it off of you

~ But it was worth it to see the look on their faces, and for the wild ride that came with it

~ The twins pounced on you, breathing in your new perfume that they bought you and the feeling of your soft skin

~ Their hands roamed over you, tugging until the lingerie was discarded on the floor and their clothes followed suit

~ One held you in his arms while the other pushed into you, they made you cum at least twice before switching

~ They only wish they had gotten creative with the mistletoe

~ They would have made sure to kiss you everywhere (not that they needed mistletoe to do so) ~ Lets just say that boxing day was a day spent in bed recovering, and giving a few last christmas presents ;)

[moneygoblin04]

I kinda feel like I'm falling apart

[prozach27]

.

[prolibytherium]

Guy at my job has a one sided beef with me and now my emails are a war zone. Trench warfare in the emails. Fire and screaming and etc.

[mieczyhale]

it's just me and my cake vodka & pepsi against the world

[gentlethorns]

that's it i'm quitting ooooooh i wanna quit so fucking bad

[clockmax]

CRAZY, SEXY, HOT !

JJK MEN AND THEIR PUSSY EATING HABITS

! FT toji, sukuna, geto, gojo, choso

WARNINGS: this is all just freaky. dumbification, dry humping, fingering, overstimulation, yea you get the point here.

A/N: LMAOO freakbob milk server saw during gojos part he just started playing on his laptop mid-eating you out. anyways. im gonna make a pt2 for this. MDNI. 18+ pls leave requests or just spam my inbox i wanna talk to you guys!!

Toji

He’s the nasty type with it. Like a freaky type. Toji’s the kind to eat you out from the back, making sure your pretty lil’ ass is up in the air when he's got your face pressed down, tongue licking up long stripes against your folds, collecting your juices before spreading them all over your pussy.

He’ll bury himself between your thighs from behind, hands firmly planted on your ass to spread it open, getting the most out of your cunt. He makes sure it’s nice n out there, teasing you before he’s eating you out in no time. ANd when he eats, he eats.

FInger rubbing on your swollen, throbbing clit as he tongue fucks you, letting out groans from just how good your juices taste coating his tongue and lips like that.

He knows he’s overstimulating you, rubbing your clit through each orgasm that rips through you, but he just keeps going. 

“ C’mon, pretty girl, just one more f’r me. Doin so good for me, let me j’st finish my meal, baby.” Which promptly turns into him eating you out for nearly another hour. Tongue flat as he drags it up and down, paying extra attention to your clit; sucking it as his fingers replace where his tongue once was inside of you, tongue flicking the bed up and down, just until he’s got you moaning into another orgasm.

Toji who loves how your thighs start shaking with each orgasm, each teasing movement, each assault done on your poor pussy. He’s practically  dazed with how delicious your cunt is to him, talk about a free meal for him.

Sukuna

Lowkey mean with it. I mean it’s not that he’s too harsh, but he will literally overstimulate you to no end.

He’s not focused on  how much you’re cumming, but rather satisfying himself by enjoying how sweet you taste. It’s like watching a starved man, he wont lwt up until he decides he’s satisfied, which could be hours of him between your thighs.

Sometimes he has you on the brink of passing out, sometimes he’ll edge you until you’re nearly crying to cum. 

He gets real handsy when eating you out too. Traveling up your thighs, holding your ass, fondling your breasts, he’s really just teasing you more and more, trying to get you to that breaking point where you start begging.

Maybe hes just a freak, sure. But he eats pussy for his own pleasure. It’s something to keep him busy so he’s not sitting around doing nothing.

If eating you out until you can only think about his tongue against your clit is a past time, he’s more than willing to partake in it. 

Maybe he just wants to see you wiggle around in ecstasy and bliss as he keeps abusing that one spot that has you nearly squirting all over.

Or maybe he’s just mean! :3

Geto

Geto’s a very attentive lover. He doesn't skip a beat when it comes to you. It’s no difference with sex, he might just be even more attentive, putting your pleasure before his.

Especially with eating you out.

He’ll take his time, not too fast or too slow, getting you nice and worked up before he gets himself to the good part.

He’ll make sure you’re wiggling around as he kisses your thighs and rubs your sides, hands going down to cup your ass before pulling you to his face. 

He’s all up on your pussy in no time. He’ll have his tongue buried in you, eyes watching at every single reaction, hands holding your hips to keep him still and let him take his time. 

Or when he moves his tongue out to flatten it against your pussy, moving up and down in long stripes. 

Sometimes he’ll eat you out with his tongue piercing, pressing the metal against your clit. Letting it sit there, the smooth, cold metal reacting with hot, swollen clit. 

He’ll kiss your thighs, praising how beautiful you look as his fingers pump in and out of you, curling up at the right moment to prod against your g-spot, egging you on closer to the edge. 

He’s just so attentive to every reaction and what gets you worked up, using all those little mental notes for each time. He’ll have you moaning his name like a melody in almost no time.

Gojo

Gojo seems like the type of guy to eat you out in the way he knows best, edging you until you're withering and begging to cum.

He loves you, he really does, but he loves the face you make when his tongue is all up on your cunt, watching your eyelashes flutter, pretty nails grabbing at his hair to pull him closer.

Oh but the moment he thinks your about to cum? He pulls away, giving kisses and hickeys to your thighs. He teases the crap out of you for it too.

“So sexy when you’re all pent up like that.” He’ll teased, before diving back to lapping up your juices, tongue parting your folds. He’ll keep his hands pussy, one circling your clit, the other kneading the fat of your ass. 

He loves it especially when he presses his nose against your clit, watching you desperately rub against it for even the slightest friction. Just eating you out and listening to your pleas and moans could get him to pretty much burst in his own pants. His arms hook around your thighs, pressing you closer to him, eyes fluttering with the contact, how much deeper he can get his tongue, prodding it against that spongy spot to make sure you see stars.

And when he does let you cum, he’s fingering you right through it, huffing out air before inhaling, lips shiny with your juices. He really just can’t help himself when it comes to your pussy, it’s like candy for him. 

Choso

Choso does it desperately. I refuse to fight anyone on this. He may be inexperienced, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. Hes almost frantically lapping up at you. Hands feeling all up your thighs and body, eyes shut. 

Choso who moans and whines into your cunt, just so desperate for more of its taste, slightly humping into the sheet for friction. Anytime you’d pull away, he’d look at you. Soaked chin, shiny lips, panting slightly, was the only sight you got before he pulled you back to him, wanting more of your taste.

It’s like he’s trying to attach himself to your cunt, making out with it in such a sloppy manner, drool and juices dripping onto the sheets. He’d lick you through the entire orgasm, letting out moans at how your walls tighten around his tongue, feeling your sweetness gush around. 

Your pussy might just be his favorite treat. Stressful day? Licking your pussy. Bored? Probably licking your pussy. It quickly becomes one of his favorite things, loving each time you moan and praise him, feeling himself get harder than a rock. 

The look of bliss on his face when he’s done making out with your cunt, oh it’s just so beautiful. Panting, lower face drenched, the way his eyes look down at how swollen your cunt is, how sloppy it is after he ripped nth orgasms out of you. He didn’t mean to make that much of a mess, but he really can’t help himself when it’s his new favorite thing.

[faeriekit]

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

The whole fic on ao3

[queercatboyrights]

anyone got any tips on getting art industry jobs w/o a college degree bc holy fuck this shit is horrendous /oAo;\

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?

EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brother’s post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate who’s telling the truth after hearing both sides.

I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.

I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasn’t for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.

When it came time for my younger brother, “Steve,” to get his money, he didn’t tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed he’d either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.

So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.

Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldn’t buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didn’t, we’d more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.

He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.

Steve thought they were. When his company didn’t pay him back for his body modification AND didn’t promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didn’t have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when he’d go on these long tirades about his former company.

I could tell Dad wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he’s never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.

About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasn’t working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since I’d done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.

Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.

Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said he’d bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since he’s a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. It’s a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.

Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.

I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brother’s hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.

After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and “meeting quota.” She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldn’t respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.

(Yes, Steve’s always been the golden child.)

I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancé “Reginald” while catering an event at Dad’s old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and he’s the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that can’t be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but he’s got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that he’s happy being the “janitor” and happier being with me 😊

Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didn’t bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I weren’t on good terms, I was still hurt when he didn’t show.

When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that he’d been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.

I pointed out that he couldn’t be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own “Monster” (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESN’T make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.

When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his “territory.” He offered to talk to Steve.

We went over to Mom and Dad’s house together to confront him. Dad didn’t know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you aren’t born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).

The conversation didn’t go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginald’s health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.

All this to say that I didn’t expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.

Reginald and I weren’t planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.

That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasn’t invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasn’t happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.

Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.

Steve, however, was NOT helpful.

He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. I’m PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.

Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dad’s voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though he’s a Cryptid.

Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didn’t need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.

I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. That’s when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.

I’ll never forget the look on Reginald’s face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.

That’s when Steve started laughing.

I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, he’d just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginald’s heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancé in our own house.

He said he didn’t mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.

I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.

Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.

Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.

Steve said, “For what? It’s not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch can’t take a joke.”

Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldn’t use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didn’t matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.

Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasn’t welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.

I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasn’t good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.

Things could have ended worse, but they didn’t end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after they’re born (and now I STILL don’t know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).

Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.

So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being “proud” of scaring my fiancé into a heart attack at our baby’s gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and/or see these stories a week before I post them here, please check me out on Patreon (X)!

See you next week!

This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[aidenwaites]

I'm so nervous about this week's paycheck dbdhsn

[amoeganism]

PROJECT PARTER HCS (he wants you so bad) haikyuu

ft: aran, kita, atsumu, osamu, suna

ATSUMU:

HES TRYING!!! but is it successful? (no)

literally cannot shut up the entire time you two meet up but it's ok because he's funny

"hey you wanna see pictures of my teammates" "yeah sure" he pulls out a blurry .5 of suna's nostrils

offers you protein bars and osamus leftovers as snacks

compliments you on literally everything

you wrote two words? he starts cheering and clapping his hands like you're shakespeare presenting a new play

loves pretending to be your strict teacher whenever commenting on your work

makes up for his lack of preparation by making you laugh and flustered

"i think you can add a little more to this part" "you look so sexy calling me dumb"

if you two meet up at a cafe he ALWAYS!!! pays for you

started off as a mistake because he asked you for your order in front of the barista

but he thought for a moment and decided you're worth an extra $5 out of his wallet

always loses his pencils but has dozens of erasers?????

SWEARS by wooden pencils. he sees a mechanical pencil and jumps 5 feet into the air and starts screaming

last few days of the project he looks constipated every time you two are together

"do you need a diaper" "I WANT YOU"

you accept his confession because you unfortunately like him back and because you want a good grade

also because you don't want him pooping his pants

ARAN:

the sweetest!!

always asks how you're doing before pulling out his notes

digital note taker 100%

loves loves loves writing with erasable pen and only uses pencils for exams

is a "let's work on everything together" kinds guy

he says it's to make sure there aren't any disagreements in content and aesthetic (he just wants to talk to you)

if you guys aren't at your house, always offers to walk you back!!!

great academically but if you're making a poster or slideshow do NOT let him decorate it... pls watch out

"does this look good!" "i'm gonna hold your hand when i tell you this..." "omg you want to hold my hand 😍"

starts giggling to himself in his head whenever you guys accidentally touch

you catch him staring at you one day and you don't know what to say so you just stare back

he thinks its so romantic

you're just confused but go along with it

after presentations you think you guys are gonna go back to being friendly classmates but he finds you after class and asks you out :)

KITA:

ACADEMIC WEAPON TEACHERS FAV EVERYONE LOVES HIM

"do you want to read my notes?" he pulls out 5 notebooks with everything color coordinated, sticky tabs, perfect handwriting, and factually correct

he can sit and work for 5 hours straight and still somehow have perfect posture

first time you asked him for help on something you were about to piss yourself because you thought he would call you stupid and send you to hell

he gave you a small smile and started walking you through it with an unmatched level of patience

that was the moment you folded and had to physically restrain yourself from grabbing his cheeks and kissing his face

always offers you tea when you come over and brings out a small tray of snacks

"are you comfortable? do you need any help?"

is suuuuper meticulous but kind with his 739273 different corrections

he swears by the sandwich method of compliment-critique-compliment

"your analysis is amazing in this section but i think you can expand a little bit after because..."

you're the one who confessed first because you thought you would explode from cuteness aggression if you didn't

and also because you thought even if he did reject you, he'd do it in the most painless way

was super happy and bursted into a bright red face but shy smile!!

still told you to go back to the assignment though...

SUNA:

menace i hate him (no i don't)

literally doesn't understand anything that's going on and probably doesn't process what you're saying at first

realizes you're serious about this assignment and forces himself to lock in

asks a BUNCH of questions and jots them down on a google doc

loves to make random conversation when you two are working

actually insane gossiper

nosiest birch you know

allergic to minding his own business that mf has shit on everyone

are you slightly scared of what he has on you? yes. do you still want to hear everything he knows? yes

"i'm taking this info from page 175 of the textbook" "got it, but did you hear that kato is trying to get with his exs best friend??"

leaves notes on your project that are both unserious and encouraging

"omg u are literally einstein"

folds origami when bored

will give you paper cranes, frogs, foxes, and cats whenever you see each other

you discovered that there's small doodles in the posts it's he uses to make them

one day there's your name and his surrounded by hearts like the corny mf he is

confronted him and it and he was just like "oh you found that? well, do you want to go out with me?"

he was NOT SLICK with the way he skipped home and whistled to himself that day after you said yes

OSAMU:

HES TRYING HIS BEST!!! (pt. 2)

can only meet up after school because of volleyball so he offers to cook for you before starting to work

takes notes in class but doesn't understand half the stuff he jots down

writes actual bullshit but half a page in decides to abandon his pride and ask you for help

leans in a little too close whenever listening to what you're saying

tries to make sure your knees are touching and that it's all an accident when your fingers brush (he prepared each scenario in his head before sleeping the night before)

down bad LOSER

spends his time doing his portion of the project while sneaking glances at you

doesn't know how to decorate presentations for the life of him so he is on doodle duty

gives surprisingly good suggestions and takes your corrections to heart

one of the best project partners because of how willing he is to learn and contribute!!! (also because he wants to impress you)

talks shit about his brother to you

atsumu has walked in while osamu was telling you an embarrassing story

they start fighting

osamu gets super embarrassed when you laugh at him

then gets overly confident when you tell him you were rooting for him

will not stop dumb smiling whenever he sees you after that

asks you out after the project is turned in with his hands in his pockets with how they're shaking so much

[ncroissant]

HEAR ME OUT ON SUB! HUSBAND! FRANCIS AND DOPPELGÄNGER READER I BEG OF YOU AJAJSHSBDBJSEHE

sub! husband! francis mosses x dom! doppelgänger! gn! reader

summary: phone sex with needy francis mosses (pt. 2 here)

wc: 1.6k

content warning: nsfw, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism kinda (security camera on him), slight nipple play, masturbation

author's note: thank u for the great ask anon :) i had so many ideas with this one, but this one stuck the most hehe >:) sorry for literally taking so long on this, writer's block is a bitch!! hope you guys enjoyed this one !! not proofread, minors pls dni !!

it was just a quick one-two, in and out of this man's apartment.

you just needed a reason to stay in this person's apartment until you established your place. you'd act like his loving, doting partner, working their job then living their best life. that was the plan.

but here you were, complaining about their life like it was yours.

things were getting boring in the security office. there was no one to deny because you let your fellow doppelgängers in. plus, it was a weekend so no one wanted to be home today.

in contrast, something you did like about living your copy's life was your new husband. he'd come home earlier from deliveries just to wait for you to come through the front door. dinner ready, table set, plants watered. he was such a sweetheart, always tending to your needs.

unexpectedly, as domineering as he seemed, he was actually more needy in the bedroom. always needing guidance, extra attention and someone to boss him around. that's what got his dick rising.

so when you decided to phone his apartment, knowing it was off day, he was quick to pick up.

"hi dovie! how's work?" he had a little lilt in his voice, acting like he didn't stamper to the phone, knowing it was you. he wasn't one to give out his apartment number.

you chuckled at his speedy response, leaning back in your chair. "hi lover boy. it's going..." you trailed off, checking the window for any customers. "you miss me?"

"mhm. always miss you," he nodded, holding the phone tightly in his grasp. "when're coming home, hm?" like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

"miss you too, honey. my shift ends at 6. three more hours to go!" you cheered sarcastically, staring at the clock as you watched the hands tick. "you alright all by yourself?" you asked, pulling out a notepad.

you had a habit of doodling when francis spoke, he always loosened up when it came to you. "kinda. i miss you lots though. think 'm gonna read a book later," he rambled, though there was a distinct sound of rustling on his side.

"is that so? what book where you thinking of reading?" you placed the phone between your chin and shoulder, trying to find a pen. it was silent for a bit, but the rustling persisted. "francie? you still there?"

"oh, sorry," he cleared his throat, almost as if he was snapping himself out of a trance. "mmm, i-i don't know..." he was huffing softly, you could almost feel him breathing in your ear through the phone.

you were quick to put two and two together. "francie...are you doing something you shouldn't be doing?"

he almost let out a whimper, the rustling making much more sense. "'m sorry..." he sighed, the noisiness of his end coming to a full stop. "i-i was touchin' myself..."

as if it wasn't obvious already: his panting, his rustling. "'s okay, honey. do you need help?" he flushed at your suggestion, toying with the zipper on his slacks.

"b-but you're at work. don't wanna distract you," he mumbled, his thighs squeezing together at the thought of you guiding him to an orgasm.

"work's slow today. entertain me, honey," you chuckled, your laugh making his ears tingle. "want me to help you cum, hm?"

he nodded, forgetting that you couldn't see him. the blush on his face travelled from his ears to his cheeks, down to his neck and back. it was a sight you'd pay to see. "is your cock still in your hand, honey?"

"no, i was just rubbing through my pants..." he shyly confessed, feeling his bulge throb.

"m'kay, take off your pants and underwear and hold out your cock," you instructed, completely abandoning your doodles. "tell me what you were doing to yourself while i was talkin' to you, honey."

you heard shuffling against, fabric against skin. "mmm, well, hearin' y'r voice made my tummy feel funny. then i felt my cock feel tight in m'pants, hngh," he explained, his zipper quickly freeing his cock.

"s-so then i jus' started touching myself a lil'. just through my pants 'n shirt, nothin' else!" he defended himself, but his revelation made you smirk.

"playing with your chest too, hm?" you repeated, a wide grin plastered on your face. "is your cock in your hand now?"

"mhm!"

his hand was gripping at the base of his cock, squeezing it to get some sort of friction. he was kneeling on the couch, legs slightly spread, his balls rubbing against the cool leather underneath.

"why don't you start making yourself feel good, honey? stroke it nice and slow for me, yeah?" you cooed.

he did as you said, no questions asked, stroking at his already hard cock as slowly as he could. "'n then why not you keep playing with your chest for me too? since you had no problem doing it earlier."

"mngh...o-okay...!" he squeaked, his hips rutting into his hand. he quickly placed a hand on his chest, rubbing his nub with a waving hand motion. "o-ooh! 's so-"

"you really like that, huh? like when people play with your perky chest," you taunted, feeling your own chest feel heated.

you almost wanted to join him, but the security cameras in your office made you think otherwise. "i wanna go up there and fuck you, honey. you like that too?" you whispered, making him moan.

"mhm, mhm! c-come up, hn, please!" he begged, his hand picking up its pace. his slick was sticking to his hand, slowly gathering at the tip of his cock. "miss you, dovie! miss you lots, aagh!"

you could only imagine how pathetic he looked. legs spread, weeping cock in hand, nipples poking through his shirt. he would be waiting for you so patiently, waiting for you to come home with his cock rubbing against the carpet floors.

you felt yourself leaning too far forward, accidentally pressing a random button on your panel. francis' moans filled your ears, but a certain image popped up on the security camera feed.

your husband on full display.

"francie, can you look to your left a little?" you ushered him to look towards the camera in disbelief at your discovery.

he obeyed your orders almost instantly, making you smile. he was in the direction of the camera, but not looking at it directly. he was completely unaware of the it, as much as you were.

but despite the strangeness of it all, you wanted to use it to your advantage.

"lay on your back f'me, honey. make sure your legs are spread wide open," you instructed, watching him meekly get into position. "i want that shirt unbuttoned and your pants to your ankles."

he hastily got undressed, his hand cupping his left breast. you wanted to cum at the sight of your pretty husband all open up from you, waiting for your next command.

"what's next, dovie? what do you want to do to me?" he innocently asked, his freehand hooking under his thigh to pull it up to his chest.

you grinned evilly, looking at the lewd position he was in, fantasizing what you should do next. "i want you to keep stroking at your cock, and playing with your chest."

and he followed instructions so well. he'd stick his fingers in his mouth before rolling his spit covered digits around his nipple. then he'd stroke at his cock, the desperation to cum more evident on his face.

the way his brows knits and sweat rolled down his temples made it clear that he was close. all this while the phone was wedge between his shoulder and ear, making every moan very audible.

"don't slow down, honey. i need you to keep stroking until you cum." you scolded, seeing how tired his wrist was getting as he got closer.

"o-oooh 'kay! 'm t-tryin' my best, haaagh! hand's getting a lil' tired, dovie, mmngh!" his lewd moans slipped out, as his hips shook from the speed he was stroking at.

his eyes were screwed shut, drool dripping down his lips at the thought of you praising him. "'m cumming soon, dovie! h-have to cum soon, unngh!" he panted, fucking into his fist.

you chuckled at his desperation, closely looking at your husband squirming on the couch, curtains wide open for the world to see the little slut you were hiding away.

"'m not seeing you pinching your nipples, honey," you scolded, making him tense up.

he did what you asked for, tugging at the tips of his nubs, but your comment made his dick tighten. "hnnnghh! y-you can see me?" his back arched against the couch, the view of his dick getting closer to the overhead security cam.

"o-oooGHH! c-CUMMING! cumming, dovie! 's coming out, hnnnghhh!" he exclaimed, cum shooting out of his tip, staining the entirety of his face and the couch.

although the feed was in black and white, you could see the splotches of cum that coated your couch and the way his clothes darkened from the wetness.

"such a good boy, honey. did so well f'me," you praised, chuckling at the way he twitched in his spot, unmoving. "you g'na wait until i get up there and fuck you properly, huh?"

he nodded mindless, huffing loudly into the phone.

suddenly, someone walked up to the window. "entry request and id, please," you disregarded the lewd image in front of you, returning back to your job.

he felt himself cum again just from the sight of your professionalism. you were so sexy when you were on the job. his orgasm came too quicky, his cock throbbing at the loss of cum.

"n-need you to f-fuck me, dovie, hn..." francis moaned into the phone, making you blush. you mindlessly looked through the person's papers, paying no mind to accuracy.

you let them through with no questions before gripping at the phone. "'m leavin' early. just for you, francie," you growled into the phone, feeling yourself get worked up.

"be ready in 5. i'm comin' up."

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

----------------------------------------------------------

You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

“𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15K - dropping daily

6.8K <- the first chapter is the longest 🩷

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

*grammatical errors in the text chain are intentional

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart!Reader isn’t from the OB. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She’s a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She’s hard to read regarding her sexual experience—her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn’t pay their way out of.

Reader’s POV:

“I thought he was on archery duty,” Kie mumbles as you look down from the lifeguard tower on the 6’2” nightmare of a man strutting toward the water. He sets the whistle in his mouth, hands resting on his toned hips, his stupid backward cap on his perfectly quaffed head of hair. Rafe motherfucking Cameron.

“Him and JJ wouldn't stop arguing… Mrs. Mazie was worried one of them would…” You let your voice trail away as you mimic drawing the bow back, shooting and arrow straight at Rafe.

“Fair. That tracks,” Kiara laughs weakly—nothing surprising either of you anymore.

This is where I go to find peace. Where I go to make a little extra cash for the summer. Camp Salem is mine, and it always has been. Rafe’s whistle screams through the noise, making all heads turn to him just like he likes. Always and forever the center of attention. “No roughhousin’. Aight? I’m not gonna rescue your ass. If you drown, you drown,” he barks, fishing a fresh spliff out from behind his ear, replacing it with his whistle.

“What the hell is he doing?” You scoff in disbelief as he lights up a smoke in front of the kids. You hear a wolf whistle come from the woods. Rafe turns over his shoulder with a smile, ignoring the swimmers as he watches Kelce and Topper hike toward the shore with a cooler.

“What do you think’s in there?” Kiara groans, but you both know the answer. Beer.

“Rafe, are you kiddin-”

”Shut the fuck up,” he stops you before you can even start chewing him out, pointing his big fingers and lit joint up at you before taking another drag. “M’fuckin’ thirsty. Okay? It’s 100 fuckin’ degrees, princess. Have some goddamn compassion,” he taunts through a thick cloud of smoke, catching a beer as Kelce lofts it in the air, the brunette quickly cracking it open.

“Isn’t this the kinda shit that got him in trouble in the first place?” You backchat to Kie, catching Rafe’s ears as well.

“The fuck you talkin’ out of your ass for like you know me. Huh?” He spits.

“I was talkin’ to Kie.”

“If you've got shit to say, you can say it to my face... Ya know, scratch that. I vividly remember tellin’ you to shut the fuck up.” Your mouth falls open in disgust, the sour expression on your face making him smile smugly. “You hear me that time, or are you hard of hearin’, sweet cheeks?”

“Loud n’ clear,” you sigh and roll your eyes away, returning your attention to the water to do his job.

“Rafe,” Kelce calls out, taking a few steps back with the football. Rafe runs closer to shore, right in your line of sight, slamming the rest of his beer as he runs. He crushes the can in his fist before catching the ball, making the two boys whistle and cheer.

“Your can, Rafe,” Kiara scolds pointing to the litter wedged in the sand.

“Think you got it, Kie,” he taunts, leaving it behind for Kiara to clean up out of spite. She flips him the bird, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, grumbling something about him being a useless asshole.

Why is he so fucking awful?

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀…

"Do you know where you're going?" You whisper out of the corner of your mouth, grabbing the door for Kiara. The two of you press through the university doors, walking with the flow of traffic.

"No fuckin' clue," she chuckles. "I don't remember shit from orientation."

"Neither do I," you sigh, adjusting your book bag strap nervously.

"Hi, y/n." The sound of his voice sends you into a tailspin. Your breath hitches; heart, racing wildly.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Relax. Just relax. "Hi, Rafe," you smile, looking toward his deep voice, but he’s already down the hall, lost in a crowd of frat boys, vanishing behind the lecture hall doors.

"That was... Well... Umm-" Your roommate teases.

"Shut up-”

"Hard to watch," Kie continues mockingly. "You know… I know Rafe all too well. That's Sarah’s older brother. He’s a mess, y/n. A literal walking red flag: drug dealer, cliché frat boy douchebag, daddy issues up the ass, sex addict… A fuck boy, at the very least. Are you sure you even wanna mess with that?” She looks back at you in disdain that you even showed the slightest bit of attraction in the first place.

“All I said was ‘he was cute,’” you correct her, ambling toward the same lecture hall as Rafe, feeling your excitement rise.

"Yeah… Sure”

“What does that mean?” You scoff.

“You gave him “the eyes”,” she knocks. “You like him, which is fine, I guess… He’s just gonna be a fuckin’ problem for you. A big problem. HUGE. Mark my words. You did not choose an easy one.”

“I didn’t choose anyone…”

“Yeah? Well he chose you,” she adds cautiously as you walk through the doors, the two of you matching Rafe’s baby blues—the man clearly waiting to catch your eye again. The two of you walk toward the group of frat boys sprawled out in the back. Rafe slaps the guys next to him, whispering something that has them pushing down a couple seats.

Rafe’s gaze trails up your body as smirk rolls across his lips. Holy shit. You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks warm up. “Hi, Rafe," you breathe.

"Hey, Y/n," he welcomes you warmly.

"Can I sit here?"

”’Course you can,” Topper jumps into your conversation, speaking before Rafe can. Rafe furrows his brows, his glare cutting over to his friend. Jealousy? Maybe he’s interested. You take a seat in a desk, Rafe quickly adjusts to move a little closer, his muscular arm skimming yours.

“You settling in, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Me? Rafe gives you a sinful smile before wetting his plump bottom lip. He shifts slightly, letting his knee-graze yours as well. You hadn't seen him in a week. He was on campus helping his sister move into the dorms, sweetly offering to help you carry in your largest box when he saw you struggling in the stairwell. It was a small gesture, but honestly you've thought about it ever since.

“I am. Thank you,” you smile, going to speak again but you’re cut off by your professor's voice booming through the room.

"Oh, hey," Rafe whispers, not the least bit concerned about class starting. You look over at him, catching his flirty smile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Before I forget again. Can I get your number?”

“Mhmm.” is all you can manage as you fumble for your phone and your words.

"You comin’ by the frat on Friday?"

“Friday? Yeah. Sure… Is there a party?”

“Yeah. First week of school. Of course, there’s a party. We should get together before then, though. What are you doin’ tonight?"

Tonight? "Oh. I-”

"I can stop by your dorm?" You feel his touch again as his rough finger brushes your thigh ever so slightly. “Just to hang out. We can relax, watch a movie, get to know each other better," he rasps. “Nothin’ more. Aight? I can tell you’re nervous, princess. I don’t wanna make you nervous,” he assures. Damn, that sounds like a lie, leaving his lips. His perfect fucking lips.

Damn… I'm in trouble.

“I’d love that.”

Rafe’s POV:

Atta girl.

Fuck, she’s hot. And she knows it, too. Those legs, that dress, those fuckin' tits… She sneaks little glances at me out of the corner of her eye, positioning her body to get even closer. She’s a good girl. So damn good. I can tell she's a sweetheart. She’s gotta be a virgin… Or is she? Either way, I can’t wait to show her a thing or two. I’m gonna ruin this girl. It’s been a week since I saw her last. I was hopin’ I’d see her on campus, get her number, set somethin’ up. Shit… This is the best case scenario.

Finally… I look up at the clock as it ticks to the top of the hour. I watch as she stands up from her seat, her little dress catching on her upper thighs. “I’ll see you later, Rafe,” she coos. “Nice to meet you, Topper.” She brushes her dress down, skirt shifting over her ass as she walks. Ugh, she's fuckin’ mine.

“Nice meetin’ you too, sweetheart.” Topper calls and I roll my eyes.

“Can you not read the room, Thornton. She’s taken,” I gloat as I watch her and Kie walk toward the steps. She glances back at me, giving me a wordless invitation. You want me to chase you, princess. I can do that.

“Taken? By who?”

“By who?” I mock him, scowling in disgust. “You that dumb?”

“Damn, she’s sexy,” Topper sighs blissfully, ignoring me completely, just provoking me. I throw my elbow at him, catching him in the gut.

“The fuck did I say?” I snap through a raspy laugh letting only a fraction of my annoyance bleed through. “Stop pushin’ me, Top.”

“M’just sayin’,” he laughs as he gathers his things too.

“No shit she's hot.” I scoff as I stand up, heading out before any of the boys can catch up with me. “Stay in your fuckin’ lane, bitch.”

"Where are you off to, Cameron?" Topper yells through the lecture hall.

"Guess, buddy,” I smirk at him before passing through the doors. Y/n seperates from Kiara. Thank, god. She looks from the left to the right, settling on the right. "Wrong way, sweetheart," I call. Y/n turns on her heels, the corners of her pouty lips curling into a smile. "You're looking for your next class. Yeah? Freshman math?”

"Mhmm. Yeah... Will you help me?" She questions. "I don't remember anything from orientation."

"Of course," I smile warmly as she looks up at me. "You know the professor’s name?”

“Shell-Shell something….”

“Shellenberger.”

“I think so.”

“Well, sweetheart. I think you're right. Stupid fuckin’ name. How are you supposed to remember that shit? Huh?” I laugh lightly, making her return a giddy, nervous giggle in agreement. She pulls out her schedule and I bite back a smile as I watch the paper quiver slightly in her trembling hand. “Mhmm… Over here." I rest my hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction.

"Shit," she grumbles, tossing her gaze down in defeat. "I'm such a freshman.”

"Nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll figure it out," I breathe, brushing my hand lightly over the top of hers. Y/n takes a little breath, biting her glossy bottom lip between her teeth at the slightest bit of contact between the two of us. Shit. She’s stunning…

We round the corner, stepping toward her next class. “Well thank you, Rafe,” she smiles as she steps away again but I reach out for her hand, leading her back to me.

“You got a few minutes?” I ask, my question making her beautiful eyes sparkle as her body pulls closer and closer as I take the opportunity to lead her away from the crowd. "It’s been like, what, a week? I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot,” I mumble. She takes a little breath, trying to think of something to say but she’s a little too flustered. “You're beautiful.” I lose her completely as she glances away bashfully before returning her eyes to mine.

"Thank you, Rafe," she murmurs. Shit. I can get used to that... My name sounds so good on her lips.

"So, am I gonna get you alone tonight?" I ask, making her eyes widen and flutter.

“Oh. Umm… Yeah. I think I can talk Kie into leaving,” she whispers delightedly.

"That’s great news, sweetheart. Just perfect," I smile as I rest my hand against the wall, moving nearer, giving us a little more privacy. “I’d ask you to come to the frat house but it’s pretty crazy right now. And I think Top has a crush on you too. Can’t have that...”

She scrunches her cute nose, clearly uninterested in him, still playing sweet regardless. “I think he was just bein’ nice.”

“Nah… You shoulda heard him talkin’ about you when you left. I mean he’s my buddy, but the guy’s a dog. Ya know?”

”Really?”

”Mhmm… Don’t worry. I had your back. Thornton’s a dick… I set him straight.”

”Thank you,” she smiles sweetly.

“‘Course. Well, I’ll see you tonight. Hmm?” I ask, watching as her smile creeps a little wider as she hugs her books a little tighter.

“See you tonight.”

Reader’s POV:

Your mind starts to race as the movie continues, each passing minute drawing the two of you closer and closer. Rafe smirks down at you, watching your cozy shorts ride up on your thigh as you move your leg just over the top of his. His large, ringed hand traces over your skin, gripping you tight.

The night’s played out like a game of checkers; Rafe, waiting on you to make your move before he made his next, careful to not skip ahead or go too far. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, but that hunger inside you wishes he would just push all that aside. Should I just go for it? I can’t help but get caught up staring at his lips. Kissing on the first night… Is that too forward? Damn. I don’t think I’ve focused on a second of this movie.

The scenes blur together, your thoughts flurry your mind as your heart pounds louder than the sound of the movie. The rapid beating thumps in your ears, embarrassingly so. You look up at him, wondering if he hears it as well, but he smiles at you sweetly. “You alright, princess,” Rafe asks, his voice deep and husky, making your stomach flutter at the sound. Just go for it... If you don’t do it now, you'll regret it. I’ve heard the way the girls on campus talk about him—seen the way they look at him. If I sit here and do nothing, he’s gonna find someone who will…

You sling your leg over fully, taking a seat on Rafe’s lap as your sexual tension boils over. It’s like he was already waiting, his large arm quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, his other hand drifts into your hair, twisting in your strands, taking you by surprise when his lip crash into yours. You gasp; lips parting slightly, letting Rafe’s tongue slips between, making all your tension melt away.

You match his pace, slowing down with him, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. A low groan escapes him, landing on yours lips, sending chills down to your spine, straight to your throbbing core. Rafe pulls back slightly, leaving you panting, searching for him. “Fuck, Rafe," you breathe in a voice you've never used before as he latches onto your neck; sucking, licking, bitting, making you tilt your head back. He chuckles sinfully against your skin, lighting you on fire before softening his touch completely, working his way back up to your mouth. His kiss-swollen lips ghost over the top of yours, brushing softly.

"I really like you," he hums. “Fuck. I like you a lot, princess.”

"I like you too, Rafe."

”You do?” He croons, the timbre of his voice torturing you.

”I do,” you whisper as you fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly pulling him in but he hangs back.

"It’s late. What is it? 2 am?" Rafe smiles against your mouth, teasing you shamelessly. He knows exactly what you want but he’s holding true to most of his word from the earlier in the day. “I said we were just hangin’ out, baby. We already went too far…”

“You’re teasing me,” you whisper.

“What? Did you want more?” He asks as his big hand slips under your sweatshirt, tracing your lower back.

“I do,” you whisper needily.

“Mmm’guess, we’re just gonna have to get together tomorrow. Huh?”

“No. I-” You answer quickly. “No…”

“No?” He bullies you, giving you that old money laugh. “You don’t wanna hang out with me, sweetheart?” Rafe whispers warmly against your hot skin.

“You know what I mean,” you sigh, finding yourself at the crossroads between frustration and lust, completely dizzy with the thought of him. Fully consumed in Rafe Cameron. Every part of you wanting every piece of him.

“Tomorrow?”

"Tomorrow," you sigh.

It’s only been a month but, fuck, it feels like longer. I’ve gotten to see him interact with his frat brothers and other girls and it just feels different. He’s so cold and gruff but when he’s around me it’s like that icy exterior melts away. It’s addicting getting to see this side of him— like it’s reserved for me and only me.

There are moments, though… moments where I question if I’m all he wants. I mean, I can tell he likes me, but it’s almost like he’s keeping other girls on standby just in case. Whenever I see him in the hall, he’s always stepping away from a conversation with a different girl or setting his phone face down on the desk before I take a seat… And, it’s moments like that where I get more and more unsure…

Rafe can see it too. I swear he can hear what I’m thinking because he’s quick to assure me I'm way off the mark. He says all the right things, swearing up and down that he’s only interested in me. It’s hard to deny that way he looks at me—the way he touches me: tender and rough, ebbing and flowing between the two leaving me like putty in hands. It’s hard to deny that fact when our talks get deeper and deeper. He confides in me. He tells me things I have to promise not to tell anyone else. I can see him letting his guard down. He’s a very different Rafe than the world knows. He’s my Rafe.

I don't want to be casual. I don't want to be one of “his girls”. Kie said he has daddy issues… Maybe that's why he’s too afraid to commit to us—to me.

Every night I’m pulling myself away right before I take it any further just waiting for his actions to match his words. But it’s getting harder… It’s next to impossible to push aside my urges. I've touched his body; felt the deep ridges of his abs under his shirt, the muscles of his broad chest pressed against the palms of my hands. I've stroked his thick cock over his grey sweats, sucking his tip through the fabric, getting us both off just grinding on his lap alone.

Maybe that next level of intamacy is the connection we need. Maybe sex is all it’ll take. I'm not a virgin. What am I holding out for anyways? Maybe if I give him what I know he wants he’ll be all in. I want him—but I want to feel secure. I want his eyes to stop wandering. I want to be everything he wants. I just don't think I am.

BEEP. BEEP.

You look out your dorm room window as Rafe leans out of his truck with a smile, beckoning you to come outside. You gather your things, running down the stairwell, before making your way out the front door. Rafe’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the view as you walk toward his ride.

He hops out just before you make your way there, pulling you into his arms, looking down at you with a smile. “Damn, you look so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises breathlessly, leaning in for a kiss, claiming your lips. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, tummy fluttering with excitement. You smile against his lips, breathing a similar sentiment against his, praising how handsome he looks in his crisp white shirt and jeans. “Thank you, princess. You ready to get outta here?” He asks, popping open his passenger’s door, taking your overnight bag off your hands, helping you inside.

His smile widens a little more as you silently set the plans, you, having no intentions of going home as you usually do. He trots around to the driver’s side, a little more pep in his step, tossing your bag in the back before turning the key. “You stayin’ with me tonight, princess?” Rafe asks, through a boyish smile he’s trying his best to contain. Your heart sings seeing him this excited. Maybe I was right.

You roll up to the frat. The large mini mansion flooded with people inside and out, music pouring from the windows and open doors. It’s a madhouse. Rafe chuckles, looking out onto the mess. Just another weekend… “You ready?” He asks as he turns his head to the side, tilting it slightly as his smiles.

“M’ready.”

Rafe helps you out of the car, walking hand-and-hand with you inside the space. Cigarette and weed smoke hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the sticky sweetness of cheap liquor. Rafe walks through the party, greeting the masses as he passes brother after brother, the two of you moving deeper and deeper into the party. He lifts your bag by the strap, gesturing to ask if you want to put this in his room. You nod and smile knowing that there’s no chance you’re leaving if he gets his way.

The two of you walk up the stairs, stepping down the hall, excitement rising as you get closer and closer until he pushes through his bedroom door. As soon as it opens, it shuts again; Rafe backing you against the entry, slamming his lips against yours, wanting nothing more than his mouth on yours. He lifts you into his strong arms, deepening the kiss; the two of you quickly finding your tempo.

Rafe pulls you off the wall, walking with you to his bed, laying you down on top. He grabs the back of his baseball cap, pulling it off his head before tossing it to the side, quickly tearing his shirt away. Your eyes widen at the sight of his broad, bare chest, fully exposed. His gold chain glints with his quickened breathing—his toned abs, and deep v-lines kiss the band of his Calvin Klein boxer, poking out of his jeans. He crawls toward you, rolling his big body into yours, crushing you under his weight as he kisses you again, grinding at the perfect cadence. You whimper into your kiss, making him moan into your parted mouth.

DING.

Rafe pulls away from your kiss, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the screen before setting it down on his nightstand. You look back up at him, Rafe not missing a beat, his lips quickly greeting yours again. His tongue slides between your lips, reeling with yours, making you feel like you could float away.

DING. DING. DING.

You're pulled back to reality, stomach plunging as Rafe gets back-to-back notifications. He starts to kiss you a little deeper, your attention obviously getting pulled elsewhere, going out of his to bring your focus back to him, biting your lip and squeezing your hip, whispering sweet-nothings to cloud your thoughts.

DING.

“Rafe…” You sigh, unable to concentrate.

“Just frat stuff, princess. M’sorry,” he mutters. “Just focus on us. Yeah?”

DING.

“Can you at least put it on silent?” You clip as you grab for his phone, catching a name.

Jilly Tate

Jillian? As in Delta Gamma Jillian? You look up at Rafe uneasily. He takes his phone back, flicking the device on silent before returning to your lips.

“Stop,” you whisper.

“What? Why?” He asks dumbly, like he doesn’t already know you know something’s up, continuing to kiss the corner of your lips and cheek as he reaches over, setting his phone down. Without thinking you reach for it, snagging it off the nightstand before opening up his messages. “What are you doin’?” He huffs like he’s got something to hide.

And he does.

Jilly Tate: Rafey

Jilly Tate: Are you partying tonight?

Jilly Tate: Rafe Cameron??

Jilly Tate: you better not be busy again

Jilly Tate: I’m gonna need you to convince me to get out of bed

Jilly Tate: you better make it worth my while?

Jilly Tate: Maybe you need some motivation.

You look up at him as he looks down at you uneasily, not knowing what you’re reading, just knowing who it’s from. He can see the sadness in your eyes, letting him know that it’s most likely not something you weren’t meant to see. You flick your franic finger fast scrolling a little higher, catching pages and pages of messages populating from this week and last

"So, are you… Are you hanging out with Jillian too?" You force the words past your lips, trying to remain as unbothered as possible.

"Yeah, Y/n. Nothing there. Just friends. I swear." Just friends... That doesn’t look like just friends. "Y/n... you okay, baby?" He asks, knowing full-well you aren’t.

"Uh, yeah-yeah. I'm alright," you lie as you look at his phone, watching as three little dots appear, a new message forming from Jillian.

Goddamit, Rafe. You shut your eyes softly, doing your best not to cry as you see the image: blonde curls, piled in a messy bun, pouted lips, and bedroom eyes. A mirror selfie on her bed. Just Rafe’s oversized frat T-shift and a barely-there thong swallowed up by her perfect ass. "Sweetheart?" He asks again, his voice a little more unsure than the first time.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

Fuck off... Absolutely not. Yet another message rolls in. Rafe’s eyes tighten to yours. "Calm down, Rafe. It’s Topper," you mutter.

"He’s probably just wonderin’ where I’m at, baby.”

Fuck that. You open the message, typing a ‘call me’ reply before taking it off silent, setting it down on the bed before looking up at Rafe; your frusterstion peaked. The tears you’re trying to contain haze your eyes. Rafe clearly has something going on with Jillian. Even if I'm somehow mistaken, he's still getting text— still getting together with her, still getting sexts.

RING. RING. RING.

"Take it,” you whisper.

"I'll talk to him later, princess."

"Take. It."

"Y/n. I-"

CLICK.

Rafe’s eyes double as you make the decision for him, hitting the accept button, putting it on speaker as well. You lift an eyebrow in his direction, challenging him to speak.

"Uh... Umm. Hey, Top."

"Yo. You comin’ or what? Where are you?" He yells over the party downstairs.

"M’up in my room. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I gotta go, man."

"Wait a second... Are you with Jillian?"

"Holy shit," you respire, pinching your eyes shut. A few stray tears fall. You lift your finger fast, brushing them away before he can see.

“No.”

"Bullshit, man. I hear her. Hi, Jilly." You reach up, shoving Rafe off you before crawling off the bed, gathering your things on the floor before bounding toward the door as those same tears stream down your cheeks. Goddammit. Rafe reaches out for you, hauling you back in; his cheeks, flushed; eyes darting frantically.

"Let me go, Rafe.”

"Y/n, please. I can explain.”

"I'm so fuckin' done, Rafe. Just - Fuck! Just leave me alone!" You hiss.

“Shit, y/n. She’s - She's just a friend, baby. Yeah, we fuck. But, she means nothing to me. Nothing. And, I mean nothing to her I swear. C’mon. You're my girl. Just stop.”

"All you do is fuck? Like you’re fucking her still?" You ask as you step toe to toe with him, looking up at his flustered face, silently pleading he isn't doing just that.

"Y/n..." He is… Oh my god. “Baby, please.”

"I'm not your fuckin' baby, Rafe."

"It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You're joking… What are you doing? Why are you playing me?”

”I’m not playing you?”

”Yes you are!”

”Fucking how? How the hell am I playin’ you. Huh? Been hanging out with you all month. Asked you to come here didn’t I? I’m in here with you right now. Not her. Didn’t even tell her we were havin’ a fuckin’ party. Alright? How am I possibly playin’ you?”

“Why are you gaslighting me? You’re acting like I didn’t just read those fucking texts, Rafe? You said I was the only one you wanted but you were obviously still talking to her; fucking her. If I couldn’t come to this fuckin’ party would you be doing this same shit with her?”

“No! The fuck are you even sayin’ that for? Fake-ass scenarios. Throwing a bitch fit about ‘what ifs’. I'm here with you. I only want you-”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” he booms. “I like you. Okay? Tate and I haven’t fucked in days. You and I finally started gettin’ serious. I told her I was done. I suppose you read that too though. Right?”

“Days? Days, Rafe? How many?”

“I don’t know…” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, stepping away but he tugs you back in again.

“Finally started getting serious? Did you actually say that, Rafe?” You soften your voice in sadness. Rafe looks back at you dumbfounded as tears of frustration pool in his eyes too.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I know we're serious, baby.”

“I don't think you do, Rafe...” Rafe puffs out a deep, vexed breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs off his sweaty forehead, either stalling or trying to calm himself down but regardless he's at a complete loss for words. “Nothing? Seriously…”

“Don’tchu think you're overreacting a little bit?” He drawls. His question setting you off further.

“Overracting? Because if roles were reversed and I was fucking Top it would be “nothing”?”

“That’s not the same and you know it, y/n.”

“So after you left my dorm you were just going and getting pussy from her because you weren’t getting any from me?”

”What?” His voice comes out breathy and hoarse at your accusations. He lifts the collar of his shirt, wiping the tears from his eyes.

”Did you leave my dorm and come back here and fuck her?” You speak slowly, asking him a simple question there was no way he couldn’t understand. He hangs his head, sniffling pitifully. “I can’t believe I wanted to be with you. I can’t believe I wanted to fuck you. Jesus, Rafe. I’m a goddamn idiot.” Rafe’s eyes snap to yours, his gaze wild as he takes in your words.

"Please. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'll change. I swear. I-"

"I’m done, Rafe. I don’t trust you. How can I trust you. You said ‘you liked me’, you said ‘I was the only one’. You lied about Jillian… You couldn’t even tell Topper that you were in here with me. That’s so fucking embarrassing.”

"Shit! Fuck. Just stop. It’s not all my fault. Okay? You - You can’t keep acting like you’re acting either. I had no clue if you really liked me or not. I didn’t think you were actually gonna fuck me. You’re teasing me, you're a fuckin’ tease, y/n. Always keeping me on the edge. I have needs-”

“What? I’m not teasing you, Rafe. And needs? We’ve only been talking for a month. A MONTH! I know you have needs. So do I. But it’s hard to let myself go around you and take it to the next level when you’re always looking around for the next best thing. Because if you were all in, Rafe, your needs would have been met week one.”

“I am all in!"

“You’re not. You just want me ‘cause I said I wanted to fuck, Rafe. I’m not dumb,” you grumble. “You’re just a fuckin’ douchebag,” you spit yanking your arm away before starting down the hall. His heavy feet tromp after you, following you close.

“You’re not listening to me, Y/n. Do you even hear what you’re sayin’ to me. You’re actin’ like such a victim but you were feelin’ insecure all fuckin’ month and you weren’t tellin’ me. Just holdin’ out on me because you thought I wanted other people; ‘always looking for the next best thing’ or whatever the fuck. You’re takin’ your insecurities out on me.”

You turn around fast, pushing your finger into his chest roughly. Looking up into his pathetic, tear-stained eyes. “Was I wrong, Rafe? You gave me reason to worry and I was fuckin’ right,” you scold as you jab your finger into his heart, punctuating each word. “How do you think that feels? Huh? Then you stand here trying to turn the blame on me. You’re not a fuckin’ man… You’re a boy.”

“Yeah? Well, you're actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch.”

“I’m acting like a bitch?” You ask weakly, watching as Rafe’s bottom lip trembles. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

You move to the staircase, pushing through the party as adrenaline and fever courses through your veins, your tears making it impossible to see. Fuck this whole month. Fuck this night. Fuck Rafe. You run your hand across your eyes, collecting tears as you pull out your phone, scouring for an UBER. I just need to get home. I just want to forget this ever fucking happened. But how am I going to forget about him?

I fuckin’ can’t.

Rafe’s POV:

”You were up there with, Y/n?” Topper asks in disbelief. “You two together?”

"Nah. Not anymore." I lift my beer to my lips as I scan the thick crowd gathered in the frat house.

"Not anymore?"

I can hear the judgment laced in Topper’s voice. I roll my eyes in annoyance. "What’s it matter to you"

"Y/n is a dream. I know you're incapable of playin’ the long game, but Jesus Christ,” he snickers drunkenly.

"She's not doing shit with anyone... anytime soon. She said she was ready, but she was lyin’. I know she was fuckin’ lyin’. Just putting me on a guilt trip. Just sayin’ that shit to make me feel bad. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”

"You don't know that."

"Fairly fucking sure." I plop a joint between my lips, lighting it up. "She's fair game, Thornton. Have at it. Good luck gettin’ your dick wet in this century."

"You're unreal, Cameron," he scoffs and laughs. "But, yeah… Shit. I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer."

"Fuck you. You won't."

"Why do you care? You said ‘she fair fuckin’ game’, asshole."

I chuckle with annoyance, shaking my head in disbelief. "Where's the loyalty. Huh? Have my sloppy seconds, Top. It suites you.”

"Not really sloppy if you didn't fuck."

"I fucking tried."

"I've known you too long for you to bullshit me, man." He bullies before draining the rest of his White Claw. "You didn't. I can tell you what you did do… Hang out with her, fuck Jillian on the side cause you weren’t getting any pussy yet. Yet!” He puts an emphasis on that point, twisting the knife in my heart. “And you got caught.”

“Nah.”

”Yeah,” he laughs. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“You’re just yappin’, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

“She's the prettiest girl here, hands-down; funny, sweet, smart, loyal. You didn't even give her a chance."

I swallow thickly, taking in every word, all of which couldn’t be more true. I did exactly what he said… I messed up. I lost her. I’m a goddamn mess. I crack open a beer, draining it fast enough to drown a thought or two, quickly grabbing another, trying my best to forget. It’s so much deeper than just messing up. Y/n didn't feel safe around me... I made her feel unsure. She made me feel safe. Me… ‘You’re always looking for the next best thing’. She is the best thing… She made me feel something for once. She cares about me. Well, cared… "I mean I could still try and apologize or whatever," I mumble.

"She's too smart, Rafe. She's done with you."

"Fuck you, Top."

"Nah, fuck you."

"You're a dumbass, Rafey. Like painfully dumb,” Kelce pipes in for the first time.

"Yeah? N’what should I have done? Huh?" I spit.

"Literally, the opposite of that,” he laughs, making Topper do the same. “I agree with everything Top said, bud. You ruined a good thing. N’for who?” He adds in a condescending tone, referencing the girls I usually bag—a direct shot at Jillian Tate.

"So it's done then. No hope? Is that what you're telling me?" I scoff, my eyes cutting between the two of them.

"That is exactly what we’re tellin’ you,” Topper adds.

"Screw you, Thornton... That's just because you want her."

"Obviously."

I let out a loud, frustrated growl, popping open the beer bottle with my ringed finger. "You're a dick."

"I'm just speaking as your friend. I'm being honest. And, honestly, I'm going after her the first chance I get. Just lettin’ you know. So we are both clear." He taunts through a thick cloud of smoke. “And you better stop drinkin’, Cameron. Whiskey dick’s gonna getcha. I'm sure you're gonna fuck the first thing you see with a pulse, Rafey. You're a fuckin’ dog. We all know it,” he stammers, his voice barely audible as his words slur together. “Guessin’ you got Big Titty Tate on speed dial.”

"Fuck you, Top.” I steal an extra beer off Kelce’s hands for myself. “You better stop drinkin’. Turns you into a fuckin’ asshole with an actual spine. Keep runnin’ your mouth. I'll gladly put you in your place,” I laugh, only half-kidding, glaring at him, challenging him to keep going. He puts his hands up as a truce— his heavy-lidded eyes letting me know he’s seconds away from a blackout.

Fuck this fucking night.

It’s done… She’s done with me. I lived up to every one of her assumptions. I was the man Kiara warned her about, I'm sure. I’m fucked. I look up from my beer, watching as a beautiful blonde struts across the party— legs for days, fake tits, a deep spray tan that I'm forever bleaching out of sheets after rough night. Her bleach blonde curls bounce with each steps she takes, walking up to my room no less. Jillian Tate…

I got nothin’ to lose anymore. Got no self-respect anyways. The fuck does it matter?

I don't deserve y/n, and I never have. I fuckin’ hate myself.

Reader’s POV:

You take the quizzes in your hands, passing the remainder to Rafe, keeping your eyes glued on the front of the lecture hall.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he whispers, turning your stomach. You feel his leg graze against yours as he slides a little closer. Seriously… A set of two eyes catch yours, not looking at you, their attention given to Rafe.

"Hi, Rafey,” Jillian mouths the words from a few desks ahead. He lowers his gaze to his test, scribbling his name on the side of his scan-tron messily.

BUZZ.

Rafe slips up, leaving his phone face up. You sneak a glance at the message on the screen.

Notification: Jilly Tate - You ignoring me?

Rafe opens his messages, glancing at the screen before fumbling to lock it; just another glimpse of her, her blonde curls laying on his plaid pillow, Rafe’s large hand wrapped around her slight throat. His signature gold ring hugs his pointer finger—that same stupid, pink entrance bracelet looped around his wrist from the dive bar the night before. He catches your focus, putting the pieces together that you saw the exchange, further piling on his guilty conscience. "Y/n?" You hear Rafe’s gravelly voice in your ear. "I can explain."

Seriously… More tears. Fuck. You snatch your stuff, forgoing the test all together, quickly moving to your feet, pressing toward the door, pushing out fast, before weaving through the hallway gridlock.

"Y/n? Hey... Wait." You hear Rafe calling from behind you, the pounding of his steps, nears. "Hey, bab-"

"Stop, Rafe," you weep.

"C'mon. It's just I-"

"Honestly, Rafe. Just stop!"

"Let me explain."

"Explain what? We broke things off and an hour later you were with Jillian."

"Yeah. But we didn't do anything."

"'I saw the picture, Rafe? Are you that dumb?"

”That’s an old picture-”

“Stop lying… I saw your bracelet. Show me some fuckin’ respect and save your excuses for someone else.”

“I was angry. She was just there. I'm sorry. I-”

"Just there… Just there? Why her Rafe? Why Jillian? You ruined everything. You're a fucking trainwreck, Rafe.”

"We weren't together, Y/n," he adds in frustration. “You left me. Remember?”

"Yeah... And, you didn’t even try to get me back. You didn't even come after me. You just went for the next best thing.” You emphasize your words, making his features sharpen.

"That's not fair."

"For who?”

"I was going to try… I was gonna try to make things right today. I just needed you to calm down. Jesus. You’re not even givin’ me a chance"

"Was that your plan that night, Rafe? To let me storm off and calm down so you didn't have to deal with me and my drama, fuck Jillian, and make up with me on Monday, and act like nothing happened. Just act like you didn't bang the girl in the same bed we were kissing in. Like you didn't just fuck the girl that you said I didn't need to worry about.“

"You’re bein’ dramatic"

"Bye,” you scoff annoyedly. “Just, Bye Rafe." You spit, pressing through him, checking his shoulder as you walk past, heading back toward the lecture hall to finish your test. How could I be so stupid?

His hand wraps around you arm a little tighter, pulling you back. “Just stop. Please,” he begs. “I wanna fight for you. Please. I like you, y/n. I like you a lot. More even-”

“More? What the hell, Rafe? How can you sit here and tell me that when you clearly don't? You didn't call or text me to see if I made it home that night. That's the bare minimum, Rafe."

"You're right."

"Jillian... still?" Your voice comes out smaller than before, breaking with emotion as he moves closer, backing you into the wall that he had you on on the first day on class. Now everything’s different… Those same thoughts you had about how sweet he was tarnished completely.

"She means nothing to me, y/n," he assures, soft and slow.

"Rafe… You and I, that meant everything to me. I really liked you. I didn't want anyone else.”

"Me too. I promise. I swear. Alright?”

"Then how could you ruin this over someone who means nothing to you? How?" You ask as you look up at him, watching his eyes shift a lighter shade of blue, tears glistenen and gather on his lashes. He lifts up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, rubbing them away.

"I don't know, y/n. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Even after everything, your heart breaks seeing him this way. His cheeks flush with embarrassment for his actions and his blatant vulnerability. He looks around, letting out a shaky breath, checking to see who’s watching, but the coast is clear. He hangs his head, letting a few stray tears fall to the floor. “Let's just finish the test. We can talk later. Okay?” Rafe looks up at you, his beautiful eyes glinting with a sliver of hope.

“Thank you.”

You reach for the door handle, giving it a twist.

BUZZ.

You step back, pulling your phone out of the book bag instead. Rafe glances at your phone, catching the name of the sender as well—watching the final nail lodge in his coffin.

Messages; Maybe: Jillian Tate; iMessage

The phone trembles in your hand as you open the message. A video? You click onto the little screen watching the scene play out right in front of you. Rafe wraps his large hand around Jilly’s throat, thrusting into her again and again. Just a short video from just above her tits, letting you watch the pleasure on her face as her eyes roll back. The clapping of his skin against her fills his room. Three little dots form below the video, followed by a new message from her.

Jillian: I’m coming to you as a women.

You look up from your phone, the end of the two of you crystal fucking clear.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹…

Damn, he's infuriating... But, fuck, is he's handsome. Rafe holds the football in his hands, falling back, his big biceps flex, sending the ball spiraling to Top. Your eyes fall down his perfect body: a loose cropped frat tee showing off his toned abs and deep v-lines. His thick thighs hugged with short Champion shorts. He takes off his hat, running his fingers through his carmel-coloured locks before tugging it on again. His sun-kissed skin glistens under the high-noon rays, highlighting his muscles perfectly.

He smiles at you sweetly, making you turn toward Kie with unease. Rafe grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to wipe off the sweat on his face as he walks closer, his shorts hang dangerously low making you hurt with need. His smile morphs into a smug smirk. Your body tenses up as you just wait for his mocking comments to stab you right through the heart.

"Still staring. Huh?" He taunts, causing Kelce and Topper to laugh in agreement, feeding his ever-growing ego. He catches the football from Top, twirling it between his large fingers as he looks up at you from the sand below. "Kie's in her swimsuit, honey. M'sure you got some tits and ass under there to show the boys. When are you gonna stop dressing like a teenage boy?" His voice oozes with condescension, just quiet enough that you're unsure if Kelce and Topper heard or not. You look at the two, none the wiser; your decision is obviously the wrong move, giving Rafe more ammo. "Scared they heard? Aww... M'Sorry, sweetheart. Did I strike a nerve? C'mon, pretty. It's my last day. Leave Daddy with something to keep in the spank bank. Huh?" He rasps.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe. Can you stop being such a dick?" Kiara snaps, looking down at him in repulsion.

"I can," he breathes as his eyes move from her to you. "But, why would I do that? Hmm?" You turn your eyes away, focusing on the water ahead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention he so desperately craves. "Here," he smiles cruelly as he balls up his shirt, lofting it to the lifeguard tower, landing damp on your chest, cotton mixing with hot sweat. "I'll give you somethin' to put around your pillow when you're humpin' it later." Kelce and Topper laugh louder, catching that part of his dig. Rafe shuts his eyes, letting out his own name in a raspy whine. "Oh, Rafe. Fuck. Just like that, baby."

"Pass it here, Daddy," Kelce piles on, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"You're such a fucking ass, Rafe," you mumble through gritted teeth.

"What's that now?" He gasps dramatically, turning on his heels fast, looking at you wide-eyed. "You want me to fuck your ass, princess?" His sleazy frat boy laugh fills your ears. "Didn't see that comin'. Did you, Kelce?”

"Nah," Kelce chuckles as he catches the football.

"Nasty little thing, aren't you?" His tongue pokes through his perfect teeth, pleased with himself as you flutter your lashes, trying your best not to cry with frustration. "Aww, don't cry, angel. M'sorry. Boys will be boys."

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