#it's always good to look out for yourself even between a group of friends

[howisjoostfanfictionforfree]

Three Times as Many ///// Longer Nights

Real person fiction! Joost Klein x vampire!reader

CW: 18+, MDNI, RPF, brief reference to past murder, cannibalism if you squint, smoochin, dry humping, oral sex, light bondage

Reader: vampire!reader, cisfemale!reader, not too descriptive with readers appearance, implied to be smaller than Joost but by an unspecified amount

Notes: Read part 1 here. Sorry for how atrociously long this part took! Vampire Joost in the Why Not??? mv helped give me the inspo to finish. I hope you guys like it because I can’t tell if I do or not. Thanks for reading!

Gargantuan kudos to @joosthead for being my inspiration and my support as always! Also huge shoutout to @catholicfacade and @tkomptgoedluv for your kind words that have driven me onwards with this fic! My tumblr homies on god

Words: ~11,600

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You're not sure why you left Joost standing there. 

Why you ran away. 

Again.

Things were going so well. You could have kissed him. Could have done all sorts of things. It's not like he wasn't into it.

Maybe it was just to get a reaction. Joost is so expressive. The way he looks at you is already something you crave and you've really only just met. Maybe, it’s because as much as you want to believe you overreacted that first night, you're still not really sure you did. Nothing has made you lose control like that since the time you literally ate someone.

The doubt tickles at the back of your mind but it’s also hard to pay it too much attention when the insistent pressure of Joost’s cock against your ass is seared so clearly into your memory. It’s hard not to want to see him again. 

Still, if you’re doing this, you’re taking no chances.

Joost is expecting you at his studio tomorrow, so tonight, Melkweg is the place to be.

Tickets to actually see a show are too expensive when you're not there to enjoy yourself so the cold evening is spent against the even-colder cement wall of a movie theater across the street. Wedged between gently lit ads for Bones and All and Puss in Boots you watch those who have partied too hard trickle out of Melkweg’s ever-revolving door.

Each is more than drunk enough to suit your needs, but tonight they are all in groups. So responsible. So unhelpful. When one guy finally stumbles out sans-friend you let yourself follow, slipping into those same shadows that are deeper than ever. 

Fall is well underway and nights are only getting longer.

A few streets away the lamps are sparse enough and he goes down easy. His blood is hot and sharp and everything it should be, but it’s hard to miss how unmoved you are by the man beneath you. He tastes good, it scratches an itch, but your attention is divided and the whole process somehow feels clinical.

Even now you're thinking of Joost. How you wish it were him. How he would moan when your teeth slide in deep. Deeper than he expects. Would he still be so happy-go-lucky then? Or would he claw and beg? You don’t even know which one you prefer. The man groans and you realize you're biting way too hard.

It was a good idea to do this tonight. 

You try to drink your fill, as much as you suspect the poor guy can tolerate, and release him. He nearly stumbles into the canal in his panic, but rights himself before you have to make a watery rescue. His hot blood simmers in your veins, warming you against the evening chill as you watch him stagger down the street and disappear.

Hopefully he can find his way home on a cold night like this.

Anti-murder  insurance measures complete, you head for your own home with what you hope is a full belly.

The morning doesn't bring the rain so typical of your new favorite city, but instead a creeping mist. Almost as thick as the shadows that multiply with each passing night, the tiny droplets obscure the neighborhood as you stand on your balcony ruminating on how very in-control you will be today. 

The address Joost gave is surprisingly close to your own apartment. The brisk ride on your shabby bike that may or may not have originally belonged to someone else lasts only ten minutes.

16 Schimmelstraat is like much of Amsterdam. One of many brick row houses lined up one after another, complete with compulsory loading beam and hook jutting out above the top window, leftover from when the street was once a canal. There are a few small shops tucked in at ground level but most of the buildings appear residential.

Few people are on the street and with the way the sun can’t quite penetrate through the murky whiteness, the world almost seems to stand still.

Joost stands on the stoop at the end of the row in what looks like at least three hoodies. He’s still so beautiful it’s shocking. Leaning against cold whitewashed brick, much as you did last night, he smokes lazily. The tendrils curl up and away from perfect pouty lips to join with the mist and you can imagine the city is enshrouded all because of him. 

You see Joost long before he sees you. Hard not to spot a glowing head of hair like that even in this murkiness. Here in the Netherlands it shouldn’t stand out, but it did in the club and it does now too. You’re sure it’s just the almost-mullet. Nothing to do with the way his features are imprinted on your hindbrain.

When he notices you coming down the street, his face lights up just like before. He can barely stub out his cigarette as he keeps looking up like you’ll disappear. Bounding down the steps on those long long legs, Joost skids to a halt mere inches away, nearly bowling you over and flooding you with his scent.

“Heyyy!” Joost looks so excited it's almost embarrassing. Hands flit around at his sides like he wants to touch but in the sober light of day he can't seem to find an excuse. It doesn't keep him from standing way too close for sanity. Already, your preparations are threatening to become useless as you fight the tug behind your eyes and the pit in your stomach yawns.

“I’m happy you came!” He blurts, giddy. “I didn't know if you would really come in the middle of the day.” 

You squint. He can’t be serious.

“I’m not nocturnal, I just prefer the club at night!” 

He giggles nervously “I wasn’t sure. Everyone knows vampires burn in the sun. Or sparkle. Looks like you don’t sparkle either.” 

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

He smiles so sweetly at that. “You don’t. I’m glad you came. Still want me to show you my stuff?” There's the eyebrow waggle again. You didn't know someone could look so tender and so unrepentantly horny at the same time.

“C’mon, it’s just upstairs.”

Opening the door, Joost lets you through before following you inside. Immediately faced with another door you try the handle, but before you can budge it there is a jingle and he leans past with a key. It’s obvious Joost is making a move when he lets his chest press against your back as he all but pens you in, breath fanning over your neck. It’s more than welcome, but in the tiny space trapping every molecule of his scent, it nearly makes you do something terrible. 

“Wait, wait, hold on.” You whip around and press flat against the door to regain some space, trying desperately not to get riled. No matter your preparations, Joost is an assault on the senses. 

“Sorry!” he pulls away quickly, big blue eyes searching you from behind thick black frames, eyebrows inching upwards. “Sorry. Was I reading this wrong?”

Holding your breath would help, but he's asked you a question and you can’t imagine ignoring a face like that. “No, you just..you smell too nice…and…I really need to get a handle on the eyes. Just…hold on one sec.”

Joost absorbs that for a split second before melting back into a smile. “Oh, but we're alone, it's okay right? I like your eyes.” 

Such a flatterer. And he’s kind of right, it is good that you're alone for this. It’s a goddamn miracle no one noticed your eyes at the club. Here, you almost want to take advantage of the opportunity to relax around such an unusually accepting person. Still, you know Joost is also an unusually slippery slope. 

“No- I’m trying not to-” you can’t even finish.

He waits patiently while you fight it but the memory of him hard against your ass in the club makes a timely reappearance and the eyes snap into place. 

“Fuck.”  You cover them quickly. 

He brings a hand to your wrist. “Let me see.” So gentle and so shameless, he convinces you easily. Dropping your hand, you meet his eyes and he holds them, just as mesmerized as before.

 “That must be a huge pain in the ass.” 

Your confusion must show because he clarifies “Hiding that all the time I mean. I’m glad I didn’t just buzz you in, Tantu might have been the one to get the door.” 

You blink. “I don’t think Tantu would have been a problem.” 

It’s his turn to look puzzled.

“I mean, this isn’t usually a problem. You just smell so much better than anyone else.” Now that you’re past pretending to be human you can’t find it in you to be anything other than blunt. 

The gears turning in his head are all but visible as he swallows thickly, face pink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Well, just give me a minute, I think I’m almost there.” something about what you say makes his stunned look slide into a smirk but you ignore it in favor of focusing on slowing your heart and pretending you don’t smell the spike of arousal coming off him. 

You’re definitely not wet. Nope. 

After another minute you take a deep breath, and even though the accompanying wave of pheromones makes you want to punch the wall, you manage to keep your eyes normal. “Okay, let’s go” He obliges, and you give him room to unlock the door.

Turns out, Tantu is the DJ from the club. One of the many of Joosts friends that had been there that night. You step into is in fact a very real studio full of very real equipment you couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of.

Tantu daps Joost up with noticeable warmth and welcomes you into the space without fuss. It’s clear any friend of Joost’s is a friend of Tantu and soon he leaves you to return to stabbing at his computer. Joost shows you to his own in the opposite corner. 

Right off the bat, you realize any assumptions you might have had about Joost had been wrong as he hands you the most expensive looking pair of headphones you've ever seen and proceeds to play you his entire studio album released just over a month ago.

At the club he had said ‘huge artiest’ so jokingly, so flirtatiously, somehow managing to be modest mid-brag. You hadn’t known whether to believe him. You had hoped it would be true, but you hadn't really expected it. 

Here, now, in the span of fourteen songs it becomes abundantly clear he’s not just some soundcloud rapper, not a wannabe star. He’s a real one. 

He tells you a little about each song before he plays it. Who helped him the most in the end (mostly Tantu), where he was when he started writing it (so many places, he travels a lot), how he sampled this for this song and this for that song. He is deeply proud but you can tell there is also a layer of nervousness, like he truly wants you to like it.

You sing along to Fryslan Bop, the one from the club, and he laughs hysterically as you try and fail to imitate the sound of Dutch lyrics you can’t understand to the best of your memory. 

Finally, you finish and he seems to be waiting for a review.

“I couldn’t understand almost any of that, sorry to say. Only fuck, the handful of other English words, and Joost Klein. That really is your favorite lyric isn't it?” He shrugs happily. “But I didn't need to. I liked it. It made me feel… things. You have a lot of range in your sound. All the festivals I went to this summer and nothing sounded like this.”  

He’s grinning ear to ear. “Did you go to Pinkpop? I got to play this year!”

“Yes! I definitely didn't see you though, I would have remembered.” 

He nods sagely. “Must have been a different day.” 

You want to ask about the sad song in the middle of the album. Florida-something. So different from the upbeat tracks before and after. Somehow though, it feels like you can’t, like you shouldn't, and you let it lie. 

“All right! What’s next?”

Joost remains flirtatious over the afternoon but it’s dramatically toned down compared to your last encounter. Maybe it’s just how he behaves normally, without the booze and the high of the club. Maybe it's shyness given Tantu within earshot. Either way, you have no such reservations.

“Y’know, I was half expecting it to be all talk. Like, I wondered if ‘come to my studio’ was code for my place or yours?” Tantu coughs in the corner and a blush creeps up Joost’s neck. His scent kicks up and you're reminded why flirting right now isn’t actually a good idea.

Still, getting reactions out of Joost is a wonderful pastime and you can't help yourself. “This is so much better, this stuff is amazing, I’m serious. I think I’m gonna join the groupies.” From the corner of your eye you can see Tantu put on headphones. Joost looks rightfully smug. 

Hmm, not shy then. Smug is good too. 

After another hour of poking around in the files, you propose early dinner. Joost seems kind of surprised but suggests a few spots nearby. Maybe he expected you to bail again. To be fair, you’ve never stuck around this long before.

Tantu declines to join, citing too much to do. A suspicious answer, but you won't complain if he wants to let you be alone with Joost.

Joost leads you to an Italian restaurant of all places. It’s a short walk but from the corner of your eye you catch him almost reach for your hand no less than four times. You don’t reach back, pretend not to notice. He hasn’t touched you since this morning when he crowded you against the door and you wish he would again but watching him squirm is so much fun.

The October sun has already gone down and the neon sign for Antonio’s glows like a beacon on a street with few other lights. Joost stops to stare up at it. “Can you uh…can you eat garlic?” 

What are you gonna do with this guy? 

“No, I'll die.” He whips his head around. “Really?! Fuck, sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I know another place-.” You can’t keep a straight face. “No, I’m kidding. C’mon I’m hungry.” He follows, sputtering.

They must peg you for a couple because they automatically seat you at a table in the corner away from other customers. As you peruse the menu, Joost is unusually quiet. His eyes keep flicking up to you as you read. The waitress comes to take your order and his eyebrows disappear into his bangs when you ask for pasta. He’s still staring once she leaves and you can’t stand it any more. 

“Dude, I can't drink blood all the time.” 

He chokes on his water. 

This is apparently the permission he needs to unleash the legion of questions that have been brewing since the fateful moment you rubbed up on his dick and disappeared into the night. Joost proceeds to take inventory of your personal brand of vampire with a thoroughness you did not expect. You really should have, considering the way his heart picks up every time anything vaguely vampiric takes place. 

He’s a bit of a nerd about it actually. 

“So you eat regular food?” 

Yes. 

“Do you have to drink blood?” 

Yes.

“Do you have fangs?”

Yes.

“It doesn’t look like you have fangs.”

They’re retracted.

“Re..tracted.”

Not full length right now.

“Oh. Can you turn invisible?”

No. 

“Can you brainwash humans?” 

No. What? 

“Can you turn into a bat?” 

No!

“Okay, okay! How often do you have to drink blood?” 

You tell him what you’ve found to be true over the years. 

Blood doesn’t seem to be necessary for actual nutrition, but the longer you go without it the more you crave it, and ultimately the more forceful you become when you finally take what you need. It makes you feel healthier, it gives you energy, but beyond any of that it’s just an urge you always have.

Abstaining for very long only leads to bad times for your unwilling donors when you finally give in. Indulging about twice a week seems to be the best for keeping people out of the hospital. 

By the time the food arrives, Joost is looking suspiciously horny. Smells like it too. Resisting the tug at the back of your eyes is already becoming a practiced routine. He doesn’t seem the least bit deterred by the casual mention of violence and you wonder if you could ever tell Joost about that night. 

The thought gets flicked aside as quickly as it came. 

No one can ever know what you’ve done and it’s honestly crazy to be letting him in at all. Everything you have come to accept can’t be part of your life, everything you left behind, it was to protect you- you did it to survive. 

With Joost, it’s almost like those rules have gone out the window. You don’t know what about him has you wanting to be so honest. He may be unfairly hot and the only person who has never freaked out on you but where is the self preservation? 

You’re probably going to have to move again. 

Joost has more questions but you’re curious about him. He’s Dutch, he’s beautiful, he’s not actually a poser, he clearly has a danger kink, but who is he?

Somehow, though he’s bright red again, the first thing out of his mouth is that he is not Dutch. He is from Fryslân! Joost tells you a little bit about where he grew up, when he first moved to Amsterdam, how he used to do Youtube and how he first met Tantu. You let him talk and set to work making a dent in your noodles. 

Everything Joost tells you helps paint a picture, but to your curiosity, he is quick to skate over most of his past. Anything more than a handful of years ago gets more and more vague and it becomes clear there's something he’s avoiding.

You don’t see why he would be holding out on you, it’s not like you haven’t been telling him all your secrets. Well, maybe not all of them. Whatever. 

The Florida song tickles at the back of your mind and you don’t press it. 

“I’m down to one noodle, wanna Lady and the Tramp this shit?” 

Sadly, though he accepts with enthusiasm, the noodle breaks and you don’t get your arrabiata kiss. He checks his phone while you wait for the bill and curses under his breath. “What is it?” you mumble through your napkin.

“Tantu was just being polite earlier. He wanted to work on more stuff after dinner but I didn’t see the message.” You begin to wonder what that means for your evening but Joost is already smiling again as he slips the phone back into his pocket. “Oh well, Tantu always forgives me. We’ll do it later. Wanna go through the park on the way back?”

Your stomach gives a little flip. “Yeah.”

The last vestiges of the sunset are long gone and the park is deathly quiet. The fog has been so thick for so long that the grass is soaked, glistening under the lamplight and stretching out on either side of the path to form dark fields of glitter. 

“So, is it a date this time?” He asks innocently.

You try not to trip over nothing.

You want it to be a date. It really shouldn't be, you shouldn't let people know you, but for so long it hasn’t even been an option and Joost is so much more than an option. You’ve never met anyone like him.

“Yes.”

He grabs your hand and every hair on your body stands on end. It’s an innocent touch, all things considered, but you know where this is going and finally, finally, something is happening. It’s a wonder you didn’t end up in his bed that night at the club. He so clearly wanted you, and you were just as ready to let him hit it against the wall in the alley if he’d asked. This time, you're not running.

He swings your hands as you walk, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. Every ounce of your attention is zeroed-in on the way his big hand curls around yours, but it’s also becoming impossible not to notice the emptiness around you.

The surface of the pond is mirror-smooth and the trees stand lifeless as you wander deeper into the park, like everything is holding its breath. You are utterly alone and the crunching of your shared footsteps seems to echo. 

Forgetting you're an apex predator, one would almost worry about what is lurking in the shadows. It’s fun to suspend your disbelief, let the atmosphere affect you and pretend that Joost is your only hope against the creatures of the night. You grip his hand tighter and he grips back, giving a little squeeze then lacing his fingers between your own. 

The path continues along the water and under a bridge. Low but wide, the street that goes over must be a main thoroughfare yet not a single car can be heard. Joost’s puffs of breath are all the more audible as you enter the void of the tunnel underneath.

The shadows are deep, unnaturally so, and you can only half make out the patchwork of graffiti. The lamp at the exit seems farther than it should be and it gives you a thrill, still indulging in your supernatural fantasy. You press your side up against Joost, letting the closeness be a comfort even though you are nothing but excited. 

He stops in place suddenly, catching you by the hand, and pulls you to his chest. He wraps an arm around your back and squeezes. “Why are we walking so fast?”

The light is so low but you can still make out his features, pink, golden, and perfect, looking at you bemused. “It’s spooky out here, don’t you think?” You half-whisper. “If I’m out here, who knows what else is too.” It’s said with a smile and Joost grins right back. 

“Don’t worry, we’re safe if we’re together.” His eyes dart to your lips and back up before he speaks again. “Slow down for me?” In the stillness of the night, his heartbeat is deafening. His normally crystal eyes are dark, pupils dilating more and more with his climbing pulse. It’s a shame he can’t hear yours. A feeling you refuse to name pricks at your chest and you crane your neck up. 

He beats you to it. 

Your mouths meet and color explodes behind your lids. If his scent was powerful, the taste of him is something else entirely. Joost groans against your lips and releases your hand to wrap both arms around you, crushing you close.

When he has you where he wants you, one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and he licks at the seam of your mouth. You open for him and he licks further into you with a sigh.

It’s hard to keep up. Now that Joost finally has you in his arms he is greedy and the hot wet of his mouth threatens to eat you alive. 

You don’t think you would mind if it did. 

Joost is forced to pull away first, his laboured breath visible in the cold. You whine at the loss and his eyes widen. Need for air forgotten again, he peddles you backwards until your back hits the wall of the tunnel and he’s on you again. Joost kisses you deep, hard, pressing you into the concrete like you’re laid flat on a bed.

The kisses make their way down your neck and when your eyes open as he sucks at your collar bone, it is to see that the passage and all its vandalism register in perfect detail. You never even felt the tug but your eyes are fully shifted. 

He lifts his head to capture your mouth again and you can’t mistake the infatuation in his eyes when he notices your own.

It ruins you. You could never say no to a face like that. What’s more, you don’t want to. His devotion is so apparent and this is only your first time together. If he weren't pressing you into the wall, it would have you on your knees. 

You kiss back, hungry. Maybe if you swallow him whole, you can keep him forever. It’s hard to ignore how good he smells. His arousal has been simmering all day but now it’s kicked up to a thousand and every inhale sends a pang to your cunt. Your panties are toast. 

The hand cushioning your head from the wall comes around to cup your cheek as Joost tries his best to drink your little noises. He has plenty of his own. Words too. Little yes’s and encouragements when he slips his knee between your thighs and you grind down. 

His length is hard against your tummy, bigger than you realized when it was against your ass before. 

The rush of blood under his skin is almost tangible- so quick with the frantic pace of his heart. The hot length of his throat is flush with it, and the most mouth-watering aroma curls lazily from the neck of his hoodie. 

Your core throbs. Your teeth ache. 

Joost’s fingers start to curl under the edge of your jacket, fumbling to get under the shirt. The cool air and his cold hands make you moan and he whimpers in response, grabbing you hard by both hips and grinding into you firmly. It turns your legs to jelly, and you have to break the kiss to catch your breath against his chest. 

Too overcome to focus on a rhythm, he thrusts mindlessly every couple beats as his lips make their way slowly down your temple. Even through all the clothing, the hot length of him is like a brand over your navel. He licks over your ear and all the air you managed to recover whooshes right out again.

Joost’s shameless enthusiasm, his desperation, has your head spinning. His scent has enveloped you completely- arousal so thick you can almost taste it with his throat so close to your face. You want to taste it. He nibbles at your earlobe tenderly and your stomach swoops. 

Spit pools on your tongue and it’s dawning on you that there might be a problem.

His lips start to travel down your neck a second time. Open-mouthed kisses and tiny nips followed by the flat of his tongue laving over each mark, soothing each time it makes you grip him tighter. Then, without warning, his mouth drops to that same spot on your shoulder- the same as in the club, and he bites down.

The thrill it sends through you ricochets down to your pussy, clenching around nothing, and back up again in a split second. Your fangs drop. 

You lunge forward before you can think.

You can’t think, actually. Joost is on you, around you, and he might as well be in you with the way he fills up every corner of your awareness making higher functions impossible. He jerks back, surprised at the speed of the movement, and your teeth sink into three layers of hoodie. 

It tastes like the pasta sauce he dripped on himself at dinner.

Your gut swoops in an entirely different way as your head clears all too suddenly and you unlock your jaw and shove him off you, hand slapping over your mouth. Joost staggers back a few steps at the force, nearly falling on his ass. He looks petulant, big eyes pleading like you’ve just taken away his favorite toy. 

“What's wrong?” He huffs, already closing the distance again. You lurch away to maintain the space and confusion twists his brow. Joost tugs at the neck of his hoodie, tucking his chin to look at it and finding two jagged holes and a patch of dampness.

His brow goes slack in understanding. “Oh, it’s okay, come here.” He reaches for you again. “You know I want you to bite me right?” 

Your eyes widen and you dodge his grabby hands. You don’t dare remove your own hand from your mouth to speak. Really, you should have known. In retrospect, it was obvious. Should have known from the moment he bit you the first time in the club that he really did want you to bite him back. Fucking vampire kink fucking weirdo.

Not that you’re entirely complaining.

Finally Joost stops reaching for you, pouting, and waits. You don’t trust yourself to speak for several minutes. It would be better if you left, ran away again in case the sanity doesn’t hold. You don’t want to do that to him again though, not a third time. You have to get a grip.

Slowly, you remove your hand and he perks up. “Sorry, about your hoodie. I- , We- , We shouldn’t do that. You won’t like it.”

“What, why not? I think I would.”

“Believe me, it hurts.”

His trademark blush and grin combo is firmly back in place. “I don't care, it’s kind of hot.”

You pause, unsure how to counter without laying out the details of how you don’t want to commit murder a second time. “It’s like with the eyes. With you, I can’t really help what I’m doing, can’t control myself. It would probably be rough. I might hurt you. I mean, it always hurts but I think I might hurt you for real.”

He looks contemplative, though you notice the blush hasn’t diminished. “Is it really that different with me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I think- , I think I just need to get used to you. I probably can’t ever bite you, but if we’re gonna get cozy without me flipping my shit, then I think we might need an adjustment period.” You immediately realize what you said. “That is, uh, if you want to keep doing this sometimes.”

He doesn’t leave you hanging. “I do! You said this is a date, I want more dates.” His earnest expression becomes immediately suggestive. “If I have to wait to show you my stuff, that's okay. Can’t help it if I drive you crazy.”

Oh, he’s a bastard. “Whatever you say, spaghetti shirt. You’re gonna need to stop biting me too, I can’t be held responsible for what that makes me want to do to you.”

“Noted.” He chokes through a laugh.

“Alright, let's go back. I’m fucking cold.”

The second Joost had kissed you, all fantasies of supernatural ambiance were forgotten. Now that you're separated again, they are at the front of your mind once more. The shadows look like more than shadows and the density of the fog feels designed to conceal something lurking beyond. You feel the need to protect Joost, probably from yourself, but it’s nicer to imagine something else so you let the fantasy reform.

The twinge of unease from the misty morning on your balcony is back and you do your best to stomp it out. You just need to take it slow. You can still do this if you take it slow and let yourself get used to him. 

The walk is mostly quiet. Joost seems thoughtful and you try not to hold his hand too hard. When you make it back to the studio, you unlock your bike and try not to imagine the night swallowing him when you go your separate ways. When you turn back to him, Joost swoops in again for another kiss.

It’s only a peck, he’s giving you the space you asked for, but then his hand grabs your own and brings it to his mouth. It seems like he's going to kiss that too, goofy as he is, but quick as blinking he gives your knuckle a nip and winks before doing a one-eighty and starting down the street. 

You clutch your hand to your chest like you’ve been burned.

He bit you!

Again!

He keeps biting you and now he's walking calmly with his back turned like it doesn’t make you want to chase him down and pin him. Like it doesn't make you want to take him there on the pavement and tear into him.

Is this his idea of compromise?

“See you later!” He waves before disappearing around the corner.

It’s hard to decide whether to blush or go pale. 

You wonder, not for the last time, what the fuck you are doing. 

There's no chance to stew too long because the very next day Joost is already taking up all your attention. He hits you up at ten. You're naked in front of the mirror brushing your teeth when he calls. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” So chipper. 

You spit into the sink. “Just work, was gonna go to a cafe.”

“Can I come with?” He is possibly the most distracting person in the world for you, if last night was any indication, but he sounds so eager you can’t find it in you to say no. 

Joost meets you at your usual cafe down the street. A place you often find yourself working these days when your cozy apartment, though a good refuge from the persistent rain, becomes just a little too monotonous.

There is another moment of acclimation when you meet him out front, but you manage to keep your eyes from changing. You lean into him, forehead against his chest to keep anyone from seeing in case you can’t keep a handle on it while he smooths a hand down your back, heart noticeably fast and scent stirring at the closeness.

Anyone bothering to pay attention would think you were any normal couple embracing. After a few minutes when nothing happens, you straighten. Joost almost looks disappointed. 

He swoops in rather dramatically to pay when you order at the counter and you let him, bemused. He wants to know whether you’ve ever tried poffertjes and when the food arrives he feeds you one off his plate, looking only vaguely horny when you wrap your lips around it.

Joost asks you how you like the Netherlands and you find yourself telling him how long you really haven't been here. Before you know it, you're telling him all the places you've lived over the past few years, distracted from your work already.

He has so many questions and he drinks up your stories eagerly, relays some of his own about some of the same places. He really does travel a lot.

You get so caught up that you retrace your journey all the way back to your home country. When you pause, he notices you’ve exhausted your list. “That’s where you're from, right? You have the accent.” 

You hesitate, but telling him where you're from won’t actually bring him any closer to knowing what you did. “Yeah, that’s home.” 

“Why did you leave? Why so many places?” 

Fuck. 

“Is it because-” he pokes at his canines with the tips of his index fingers “vampire?” Relief washes over you. It’s the truth technically, more than he will ever know, and you don't really have to explain it. He’s filling in the gaps himself.

“Yeah, got too hard to hide.” 

When you part after many hours and little work, he gives you the tiniest, softest kiss, takes your hand, and brushes his mouth over the same knuckle before gently biting it once more.

The cafe becomes a pattern for the two of you, him showing up more often than you would have thought he had time for. He’s better at letting you work after that first day. Often brings his own things to work on, mostly concert visuals, and becomes deeply immersed in editing and drawing when he isn’t serving as your unwitting tech-support. 

When you’re not working, he takes up your time all the same. He texts you constantly. A stupid picture of his dog, of Tantu, an edgy meme.

You're not used to it. It's been years since anyone has texted you at all. Even your boss just emails. Most often, the texting is to suss out where you are and if you're busy.

He seems determined to take you to what you're realizing is every place he usually spends his free time. His favorite restaurants, his favorite parks, his favorite bars. He's so bright, so gleeful in almost everything that he does. Joost shows you things just to see if you like them too.

One night he shows up at your door, six-pack in hand.

 “Hi! …How do you know where I live?” 

He stares back with eyes that look huge through the black frames slid low on his nose. “You sent me a pin? I thought you wanted me to meet you.”

 A glance at your phone reveals the sent pin and several highly enthusiastic reply texts that you very much had not noticed. You meant to send him the link to the place you were meeting tomorrow. Fuck your life. 

“Uh, I didn’t mean to. Hope I didn't make you drop anything to come here.” 

“No, you didn't! What are you up to? Wanna hang out?” Joost almost talks like a kid. The bottles clink at the way he wiggles while he speaks and it only adds to the effect despite the way he towers over you like you're the child.

That night you proceed to have the first of many regular movie marathons with Joost. Keeping your hands to yourself is hard with him on your couch all cozy and warm, oozing pheromones, but he mostly behaves and so do you.

Another night, he takes you to his favorite skate park where you don't do any skating. You just sit and watch everyone else and eat ice cream that melts way too fast while he tells you about someone named Nathan. 

Another night after that he brings you to his place where you play COD until he gives up trying to teach you and you talk until the sun comes up. It's more difficult being in Joost’s flat, everything smells like him and it was fucking mean of him to wear grey sweatpants the first time you come over. Still, he gives you space, not pushing like you can tell he wants to.

It’s kind of sweet actually. This stranger you met at the club, grinded on at the club, trying to work with you and be delicate like being delicate matters. It all felt like some kind of weird extended hook-up at first, but the longer this goes on the more it feels like Joost wants to know you.

No one has been allowed to know you in a long time. 

You want to know him too- know more of his favourite places, his favorite movies, his favourite foods. Know what it is he isn't saying every time you talk about the past.

It’s beginning to feel like you will. Like this thing you have going isn't so crazy.  

Seeing Joost starts to fill your days, replacing the sporadic trips to the club that filled the human-shaped hole in your chest with a companionship that made you forget there ever was a hole. You didn’t realize how much of your time was so empty before. 

Of course he isn’t always around. Often disappears for days on end to the studio and long weekends away for concerts. But, he always comes looking for you when he’s done and no matter what else you get up to together, you always find yourselves back at the cafe. You’ve carved out your own territory there, a table where no one else ever seems to sit as if they know it's meant for the two of you. 

One morning you sit at it, waiting for Joost.

He strolls in later than usual, humming what sounds a lot like Numa Numa as he approaches with an extra spring in his step. He plops down unceremoniously in his usual seat across from you, fishes around in one cavernous pocket, and deposits a steel ball-gag in front of your croissant and coffee with a clatter.

“Hey, good morning. What’s this?” 

He rubs his hands together like some kind of cartoon villain. “Good morning! I’m so glad you asked! I was just thinking since, y’know, sharp teeth problem, you could wear this and then we could do whatever we want!” His eyebrows wiggle furiously. “Well, I guess we wouldn’t be able to kiss, but you know what I mean.”

“Uhhhhh.”

“I know you said you just need to get used to me but this way you don’t have to!” His giggly, somewhat bashful self of the first few weeks knowing him has melted away to leave a Joost with honestly very little shame. It was gradual, and he was never too reserved to begin with, but these days he is incorrigible. You must be rubbing off on him.

Sadly, this one isn’t up your alley.

“I’m gonna be real, that’s not happening.  Have you ever tried one of these? It’s a good idea but I can’t handle that much drool.”

“Come on, please? I won’t laugh at you I swear. And honestly-” He leans in close. “I needed to eat you out like yesterday. Can we try it?”

As much as you don’t care that everyone in the cafe has been looking at you since the second Joost whipped out a ball gag, you also don’t want to get kicked out. This is your favorite spot.

“No, put that away!” 

Joost takes it in stride but as the days pass, you can tell he’s far from done with his scheming.

At the movies and the automat and everywhere else he takes you, at his apartment and at yours where you’ve both started expecting each other, he is always nudging. Tempting you more and more while still following the rules. Little flirtations and kisses and those goddamn tiny little bites you never quite get used to. The tender press of his canines around your knuckle make your stomach swoop without fail.

You're sure Joost knows what he’s doing, what with the way he smiles that same little smile every time. 

Bastard.

It’s not like you can blame him for any of it. You want him too.

One day though, less than a week before Christmas, Joost is forced to pause his efforts. It’s a cold and gray afternoon, and though there’s no snow on the ground, every shop and every home has wreaths and candles on doors and in windows. It’s impossible not to notice what time of year it is.

When Joost comes knocking, all bundled and breathless and confused why you aren’t at the cafe, he can tell immediately that something is wrong. 

It’s a bad day, really no other way to put it. Today is your little sister’s birthday and for the third time ever, you won’t be there. 

She was a brat really, but you loved her and she is one of the few things that always makes you think of home.

That wasn’t true at first, when you spent the first few months missing all your friends and family something awful. But after you literally killed and ate someone, the fear of discovery and the fear of hurting them drove your travels farther and farther until before long, you felt like you were doing the right thing. 

Besides, the world was too big and too detailed to miss out on. Too vibrant in all of your new senses to spend your time sulking over what could never be. Most days now, home was just a passing thought.

Still, your sister never fully left your mind, and on this one day every year you have been gone, you can never help but let your mind drift over what is and what could have been. 

Joost can tell the second you open the door. You let him in without fuss, but when you answer his probing questions with little more than noncommittal grunts and squeeze him far too tight when he goes in for a hug, he starts to adjust his demeanor.

He follows you into the kitchen and you shut your laptop, still open with the work you had been using for distraction.

“So, you don’t usually pass up the gift of my presence, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I’m good. I just have a lot going on with work. Sorry I forgot to tell you I wasn’t gonna be there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

A pause.

“I've seen you stressed about work. Usually you’re asking me to help you find a file or proofread an email…”

“Yeah, okay, yeah. I’m a little distracted.”

“With what?”

“With-” you allow yourself to lean against him. He’s saddled up behind you as you finally come to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. His arms come around your waist and you let out a bone-rattling sigh.

There’s few places you’d rather be than in his arms, but the knowledge that even that is something you're still trying to allow yourself to have makes it hard for it to feel like a comfort right now.

“-with things at home. There are things I left behind that I can’t go back to.”

“You wish you could?”

“Sometimes.”

“You miss someone?”

“Yeah.” 

Fuck it. There’s so much you’ve already told him. Why not this.

“My sister.”

His grip relaxes slightly. You didn’t realize it had become tense. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a sister too. I don’t see her very often but it’s not because I can’t or anything. I don’t know what it would be like to not have the option.”

“Yeah.” You sniff. It seems to be the only thing you can say.

He squeezes you tight again when he hears it. “Wanna…talk about it?”

“No, not right now. I’ve been thinking about it all day and there’s nothing I can do so I might as well stop.”

“Okay. Wanna do something with me? Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, how about Spiderman?” 

He knows you so well by now.

Joost coaxes you back to his apartment. Away from your work and to what you have to admit after many movie marathons is a home cinema setup superior to your own. The perfection of the couch-pillow-foot rest-cup holder placement leaves you unable to turn down the journey when the ride is only ten minutes.

Tonight, you watch Far From Home. Though you always cycle through the the Spiderman movies, it’s the one you saw with your friends the night you turned, and somehow it's the one you always come back to.

You’ve never told Joost you prefer it but he’s noticed anyway. Tonight, he pulls it out before you can ask.

By the time Peter Parker gets knocked out by Mysterio and accidentally arrives in the Netherlands via train, you're in Joost’s lap, clinging on with arms slung around his neck and face pressed into his chest, barely watching. Being sad does wonders for not being riled by his closeness. 

He holds you right back, hands at your waist, occasionally pressing light kisses to your hair as he comments on the inaccuracies of the movie’s Dutch portrayal.

“Y’know we do love soccer but honestly, no one is so super happy like this, especially not if you’re stuck in jail.”

You just hold him tighter. It’s been hours now in Joost’s presence and finally, you feel yourself unwinding. Just like always, Joost is the best distraction you’ve ever encountered. Your teeth itch of course, what with your face so close to his throat, but you ignore it so you can savor the feeling of him wrapped around you.

Joost is sweeter than you could have ever asked for. So often wants to know about your problems and offers up his time to solve them. Provides his presence and his affection when he can’t. 

Not that you have many problems. Your tech issues present the majority. 

Still, here and now, he's trying to fix everything just like he always does and it is with a deep shudder from yourself that he starts to rub your shoulders. His hands smooth down your back to your hips and back up again, reminiscent of the moments in front of cafes and shops where you always have your moment of initial acclimation.

Now, there is no pressure to the moment, no rush to get yourself under control. All you have to do is relax further into his hold and let his big hot hands melt sensation into your flesh. 

A sort of tingle accompanies his hands wherever they go. Up and down and up again. They knead at the muscles of your lower back before working their way up either side of your spine with gentle compressions of his knuckles. One big palm cups the back of your neck when his ministrations make it to the top and he takes a moment to inhale deeply from your hair.

The motions repeat over and over, up and down and back again. You would be letting him know exactly how much his efforts are appreciated if those efforts weren’t completely melting your mind.

Lingering in that liminal goo-brain space for what feels like hours, it occurs to you that every pass over your hips is gradually getting lower. Every time he works his way down your spine, his thick fingers splay just a little further over the swell of your ass.

You let him do it, fully on board with the feelings it’s inspiring in your core and too strung-out to think of why there might be any reason not to indulge. 

Before long, his hands are fully cupping your ass with every pass. Each time he spends a moment squeezing lightly before continuing the cycle. After a couple more circuits, he finally breaks the pattern and stops to hold each cheek in one huge hand, pulling back from your hair to make eye contact, asking silent permission.

You hold his gaze, unable to think further than the lazy, slow, creeping want he inspires. He made you so comfortable, so pliant and soft, why would you ever do anything other than what he wants?

You slump forward to mouth at his jaw, forgetting yourself, and his heart stutters.

His hands slide lower to the back of each thigh and his fingertips brush over your slit. It’s the first time he’s ever done anything quite so direct since that moment under the bridge and it makes you moan so loud that he pulls back once more to get a read on your face.

“Is this okay?”

“Mmm, yeah.” It’s hard to remember why such a question makes sense. His fingertips, so close to where you need them, make higher processes a herculean effort. Still, your brain is the stuff of legends, and you pull it together to consider what he means. 

“Fuck, uhhnh, gimme a sec.”

His hands don’t leave their precarious position, but make no further move. In the meantime, his mouth fills in the gap.

‘You know I bought something else. After the ball gag I mean. I was thinking handcuffs kinda do the same thing but, y’know, less drool.”

He smiles sheepishly.

“We don’t have to use them, I just wanted to tell you. It could keep your mouth away from me if I stayed down here.” he squeezes with both hands for emphasis.

“Oh.” With the strong departure from the sadness that had been consuming you and the reminder of all Joost represents, you are quickly coming back to awareness. Your gums ache in a way they haven’t for quite a while now, the tug behind your eyes making a return. “I- how would that work?”

“If I cuff you to the headboard and stay down here-”

Another squeeze for demonstrative purposes,

“-then your teeth will never come near me. We can’t kiss, after a point, but we can do other stuff. There are a lot of things I want to do to you.”

“Okay, I’m with you, but you would need like a steel headboard or something. I’ve seen the IKEA particle board slats you have going on.”

“I may have- uh, I may have bought that too.”

Oh he is a freak.

Your smile is all Joost needs to scramble to shut off the movie and scoop you up like it’s nothing, mouth on yours like a man starved. You cling to his shoulders as he slowly walks you back through the apartment. It’s a miracle you make it when he can’t be bothered to look where he’s going. 

Somehow, he neither bangs your elbow nor your knee on a door frame and all of a sudden the world shifts as you are deposited onto his bed with a bounce.

True to his word, it’s a new bed. Same dark blue comforter and faded Minecraft bed sheets but a new frame with solid metal bars. He lets you look while he fiddles with something on the bookshelf before turning back to you with a ‘clink’. 

The handcuffs, equally metal and solid, glint in the low light of his bedroom. You’ve never been into bondage per se, but just about anything Joost wants, you find yourself wanting too.

His enthusiasm never gets old. Even if the bed and the cuffs are just a means to an end, Joost picked them out for you, he picked them out and bought them because after all this time dancing around each other, he still wants to fuck you so badly. 

The tug behind your eyes is irresistible like never before. This time, you don’t fight it.

Joost takes you in, eyes wide and wanton, fixed on your own dark pools. He gives a shuddering sigh and unclicks the cuffs. “Oh, liefje, let’s start with this.”

The simple endearment used for the first time short-circuits any intelligent response. There are no words. You scoot up the bed, overcome by the word still bouncing around your skull and the hunger evident in his scent.

Laying back slowly, you lift your arms above your head as he crawls over you. 

Something about the position feels a little strange, but the thought leaves as quickly as it came when you’re distracted by cold metal clicking into place. He adjusts the cuffs gently, one on each wrist with the chain hooked around a thick steel post of the headboard. A good tug proves them to be durable and Joost lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. 

Though the bedside lamp is dim, the blue of his eyes practically glows as he removes his glasses and lays them on the nightstand to admire what’s laid out before him.

It’s obvious all too soon that there are drawbacks to the position. You can’t lean up to kiss him, at least not much, can’t reach out to touch him and tuck a bright blond strand behind his ear or cup a cheek and trace his pouty bottom lip.

You need to, if you're being honest. Need to touch him and hold him and kiss him and tell him there is no one else you would ever want to do this with.

You don’t even know what that means, since there haven’t exactly been other options, but you know it’s true. 

Joost watches your squirming with increasing amusement as you test the limits of your bonds. Finally, mercifully, he parts your thighs and presses flush against you to capture your mouth. Your legs wrap around him immediately, holding him the only way you can. His scent is just as potent as it was that night under the bridge and quickly becoming stronger. It’s a good thing you’re cuffed because your willpower is already softening.

As overwhelmed as you are already, your teeth haven't dropped yet and you're thankful as he all but steals the breath from you. The increasingly desperate press of your mouths is all that's keeping you from begging him to get on with it.

You never thought you would be one to beg, but here with Joost above you, presence all encompassing and hips slotted into the cradle of your own like he belongs there, you think you would.

In the end, you don’t have to. Joost pulls away all too suddenly and the hands braced at either side of your head come down to toy at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

“Please!”

The transparent need in your demand short-circuits him for a moment. He says nothing, huge pupils unblinking for several long seconds before they snap down to fix on the stripe of skin that gets wider and wider as tattooed fingers slowly peel the shirt up your stomach. It would have been smart to get undressed first, but you’re both a bit beyond reason and you do your best to help as he drags it up above your head to tangle around your wrists.

He pauses again to drink you in, more bare skin than he’s had the opportunity to see yet. So much of the past months has been little more than kisses. His hands trace their way back down, over your sternum and your belly, ignoring your bra for now, until they reach the hem of your lounge pants.

Joost doesn’t ask this time, just meets your eyes and takes the nod you give without words. He removes them much easier than the shirt and whips them away to land somewhere to be found later. Hot palms smooth up your thighs and a single finger hooks into the elastic waistband of your panties.

The whine you let out as soon as he does it sends him scrambling and they are quickly tossed away to join the pants. 

Huge hands brace themselves against your inner thighs and you're made to bend your knees up to accommodate. It spreads you wide, everything on display. It’s been so long since anyone has seen you like this it’s borderline embarrassing. The way his scent picks up and his pupils nearly eclipse their blue border makes it all worth it.

He crawls forward to give you a single deep kiss.

“All good?” He breathes against your lips.

“All good.”

He shuffles back down and starts laying more kisses against your inner thighs. 

You know exactly where this is going. 

Joost’s overture that day in the cafe never strays too far from your mind. If you were wet before, now you’re positively dripping. It starts to run down your ass and you wonder if he will notice, see your desperation made flesh.

It’s unlikely, what with the way his eyes are shut tight and his brow is slack with bliss. He’s getting exactly what he wants.

Joost laves a hot stripe over the skin closest to the junction of your thigh, pauses for one maddening moment, then turns to lick into where you need him most without warning. 

Your gasp is more of a shout.

He groans in response and hooks an arm around each thigh before you can squirm away, the wet, slippery friction on your clit so intense you almost try to. He starts out with deep, long licks directly over it before he goes anywhere else, straight to the punch without teasing.

After what feels like far too much and nowhere near enough, he gives one long lick through your folds and shifts his focus lower. He lingers over your entrance, the flat of his tongue seals tight to the rim, textured buds undulating against the delicate skin making you writhe. He does it again and again, taking breaks to pull back and run the tip around the edge, tracing and circling before latching to it yet again with a wet ‘smack’.

Normal breathing is becoming impossible and when your thighs have been tensed so long they start to shake, he dips it in. 

There’s no telling what undoubtedly guttural noise you make because you are too busy wrestling with the sensation of blood blooming across your tongue and iron filling your sinuses. Every teasing nudge inside your pussy sends your fangs digging deeper into your lip. 

The brief agitation from earlier has returned, but now you know what it is. There’s nothing actually wrong, it’s just so much harder to bite lying on your back. The urge you usually manage to suppress is now front and center of all thought. As always, pleasure seems inextricably tied to predation.

You need to pin Joost and bite him and feel him struggle but you also need his delicious weight on top of you and his hands around you and his tongue inside you and you can’t have both.

You feel insane.

Joost’s groans are heavy, the vibrations rolling through you as he lazily pumps his tongue deeper, nose grinding into your swollen clit. He settles into a pattern. Deep, languid tongue-fucking followed by licks to either sider of your bud, close but not close enough, before directly grinding the flat of his tongue into it a few times and then starting the process all over again. 

The cuffs are fighting a battle of their own above you. Every time Joost switches targets the headboard gives a heavy creak.

You hardly notice. It’s taking all your remaining brain power just to try not to squeeze him too hard with your thighs. Though, it might be okay since every time you do he lets out a groan, far too pleased for what is probably a legitimate threat to his skull.

Blood drips down your chin now, your canines deep in your bottom lip when you hear it:

A shuffle.

A rustle.

A slight sway to the mattress.

He takes your clit between his lips and sucks hard. The bedsprings give a pathetic wheeze as your head slams back and your spine arches as a squeal rips out of you. 

The rhythmic swaying picks up the pace.

When Joost finally gives you a second of reprieve to kiss at your thigh, hot heavy breaths fanning over you, the gentle swaying continues. Puzzled, you find the willpower to lift your head and shakily unlock your thighs from where they have become earmuffs.

It’s hard to place it at first, the incessant tongue back on your skin and sharp iron in your mouth more than distracting, but then you notice. 

Gently, 

slowly, 

almost tenderly, 

Joost’s hips roll down into the mattress.

It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

The way his brow has started to knit as he ruts instinctively, pleasure seeping up his spine as he gets off on your own. The way his hips jerk softly like he isn’t even aware, like his body is just making him do it. The way his sweats have slid down to reveal the dark material of his boxers, snug against the muscles of his ass that are working insistently. 

You can’t handle it. You have to do something, anything. Your hands whip down to bury your fingers in his hair as you grind up into his mouth and lose your mind.

Your fingers in…his hair?

He flinches. Makes a pathetic noise as he withdraws his tongue. The sudden hard stop to the blissful sensation all the more highlights the bright red sheeting from his brow.

In your pleasure, the cuffs ripped like paper. Both loops are still attached but the chain, now broken, swings freely from your right wrist, bloody from where it lanced him deep across the temple.

Oh.

Fuck.

Joost has never bled in front of you before. Not a single scratch or cut, not even a hangnail. 

It's like hearing colors or tasting music. Now that the source of his scent isn’t trapped under his skin, it is so much more potent than you could have ever prepared for. You could never have built a tolerance to this. 

The sudden certainty of a guaranteed meal, the knowledge that your strength is superior, that you've won, it overwhelms you in an instant and the sureness of it almost leaves you calm. You're going to get what you want. There's nothing that could possibly stop you. And why should it? 

The only thing that keeps you from destroying him on the spot is the look on his face.

It’s all happening within seconds. He’s still mid-recoil. His face screws up now that the pain is starting to register, blank confusion twisting to stricken agony. 

It’s nothing like you imagined. 

Those nights alone when you think about Joost and can’t quite control that deep, savage part of your mind, the part that's been there ever since you woke up bloody in the middle of the street all those years ago, you never imagined it like this.

That inhuman part of you was sure his pain would be something beautiful. Even if the logical majority of you protested, somewhere deep down, you always expected it to be true. 

Maybe it’s the added shock of the sudden blow, maybe it’s just the wrong kind of pain, but the hurt on his face is terrible.

Not pleasure-pain like when you press on a bruise you accidentally gave him the day before and he can’t help the way his eyelids flutter, not like when your sharp nails dig into his back when you go in for a kiss and he picks you up and you have to hold on tight as he groans into your mouth.

Just pain.

Your heart folds in.

You’re rolling off the bed and shooting to your feet before Joost can even look at you, too busy staring at the blood on his fingers as he draws them back from his forehead, shaking.

It’s physically painful to turn away. You grab your phone with enough force to rattle the night stand and make yourself walk towards the door. Every sense is cranked to eleven and every reflex and muscle fiber is dialed in, all strength and no precision as you work against your instincts. Every base impulse is screaming at you to turn back and take what is right in front of you.

There’s no running away this time, just brute force resistance.

There’s so much blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna get someone, just stay there. Stay there.” The words are choked as you use every ounce of willpower to force yourself into the hall. You don’t know if he hears you and you can’t afford to look back to check.

His gasps of pain almost sound erotic now without the visual evidence of his suffering and it makes you want to turn around and devour him.

When you recognize the thought, you hate yourself just a little.

You wrestle into your long winter coat and manage not to break the front door as you unlock it. Joost calls out your name just before it slams shut behind you.

Outside in the cold, damp, wind whipped darkness, there is enough of a disconnect from what’s inside that you can feel control come back online. 

You want to run but you make yourself walk, thankful your coat covers your bare ass, as you prioritize sending a cryptic but detailed text to 112 and then dialing the one other person that can possibly help. Tantu answers on the third ring.

“Tantu. I need you to check on Joost. I need you to go over to his place right now and it can’t wait.”

“What? What do you mean? Did he call you?”

“No it’s- Tantu please just do it. Please. Will you check on him?”

“Yes, yeah, I will, what’s going on?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes! I’m putting on my coat! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Please hurry, Tantu.”

You hang up, cutting off what sounds like a curse. 

He’s a good friend, you can tell. It’s a good thing you have his number. You don’t know any of Joost’s other friends. Honestly, you barely know Tantu. Joost talks about them often and with love but you’ve just never met them. 

It’s mostly Joost’s efforts to try not to spook you, to ease you into knowing him without pressure. You let it slip once that you try not to make close connections for practical reasons and he let up on group invites quickly, if a little disappointed. Anything to keep you around and unwilling to gamble with being the exception.

The trill of your phone makes you slow once more. 

It’s Joost.

He’s okay. Okay enough to call at least. Hopefully emergency medical or Tantu gets there soon.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your phone continues to buzz as he calls again. 

And then again.

You wanted to see if this could work, whatever this is. It felt possible once. Felt like one day you would say yes to meeting his friends, like you would feel close enough to ask him about his past and maybe even tell him the full truth about yours, felt like one day you might finally adjust enough to be able to love him properly. 

Because you do love him. 

You’ve known it and denied it but you do.

You do and it didn't stop you. Such a small mistake, made so easily and unconsciously and almost the end of his life.

You love him and that’s why as you walk down the street, completely enveloped in abyssal shadow, no moon in sight, you know that when you get home you’re going to pack your things.

[dailylcy]

A RIBBON TIED WISH 𝜗𝜚

ఌ︎. pairing. idol!bf!wonbin x reader ఌ︎. genre. fluff ఌ︎. warnings. none ఌ︎. word count. 1k

ఌ︎. a/n. woahh park wonbin’s 23rd bday :00 happy birthday binn and happy wonday to everyone celebrating

The soft hum of the city echoed through the windows of the dorm as the members buzzed around, prepping for Wonbin’s birthday party. There were balloons, confetti, and cake — a big, 3 tiers cake with candles waiting to be blown out. The excitement was there, but Wonbin seemed to be in his own world, exposed in the gentle glow of all the attention while trying not to get too overwhelmed.

You had noticed this about him before — how he loved the attention of his fans, how he enjoyed the energy of the stage, but behind it all, he was always so shy when it came to moments like these. Birthday celebrations, the ones where the noise dies down and it’s just him, his friends, and the quiet moments of affection shared between all of you.

“y/n, come on, help us set up!” Anton’s voice called from the other room, his usual burst of energy like a breeze. You smiled at the thought of how excited he was, But right now, it was just you and Wonbin. He was sitting by the window, looking out at the sky that was already dark and full of stars, his fingers lightly on the edge of the table.

You walked over to him quietly, not wanting to interrupt him. He glanced up and smiled that warm, soft smile that you knew was reserved just for you.

“Everything’s ready for the party” you said, taking a seat beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good” he replied, his voice a low hum that seemed to match the calm of the night. “Just… it’s nice to have some quiet before, you know?”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. It wasn’t often that Wonbin got the chance to just sit and relax. The fans, the company, the endless schedules and performances, always pushed him forward, but moments like this — where he could pause — were few and far between.

“I’ll be back soon” you said with a smile, standing up from your seat. “I’ve got to help Anton with the cake and everything. The others are waiting for you too.”

Wonbin chuckled, his voice still warm but tinged with a hint of reluctance. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You made your way to the living room where the others were already gathered, a lot of noise filling the space. The mood was lighthearted — laughter, music playing in the background, and the occasional clink of glasses. Anton was the first to notice you, waving his arms dramatically as if you had been gone for hours instead of just a few minutes.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, “Everything’s ready! Wonbin’s gonna love it.”

You laughed, nodding. “I’m sure he will. It looks amazing.”

As you helped with the last few touches—adjusting the placement of balloons and making sure everyone had a drink in their hand — Wonbin entered the room. His face lit up when he saw the decorations and the table full of gifts and treats, his eyes scanning over the room with genuine delight.

The other members greeted him with cheers, and soon enough, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm, joking and laughing. You watched Wonbin as he interacted with the others, his usual calm and grounded nature bringing a sense of warmth to the whole room. Despite being the center of attention, there was something humbling about his demeanor, something that made him feel approachable even in moments like these.

“Make a wish!” Anton encouraged, practically jumping in excitement.

Wonbin turned to the cake, his eyes flicking from the candles to the faces around him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t help but notice how peaceful he looked, a rare moment of quiet before the world shifted back into motion.

When he opened his eyes again, he blew out the candles in one breath, and the room erupted into cheers. The cake was cut, and everyone grabbed a slice, teasing each other about who got the biggest piece.

You found yourself standing near the edge of the group, watching Wonbin interact with his friends. There lightness to the way he laughed, the way he joked around — so different from the idol persona that everyone else saw.

After a while, the mood began to settle, and the party started winding down. The other members had all retired to their rooms, but Wonbin stayed behind, lingering by the window. You couldn’t help but feel the pull to join him.

You found him still by the window, his gaze lost in the city lights. Without a word, you walked over and stood beside him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah” he replied, his voice low. “I love the view from here. It’s peaceful.”

There was a soft shift in the air, the kind that only comes when you’re standing close to someone who means something to you.

“I’ve got one more thing for you” you said, turning to face him fully. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small ribbon, tied neatly with a little tag attached.

Wonbin raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

You gently placed the ribbon in his hands. “A wish, for you.”

He studied the ribbon for a moment, his fingers tracing it carefully, before he untied it slowly. He opened the small folded note inside, reading the words in the quiet.

I’m really grateful to have you in my life. You make everything brighter, even on the darkest days. I know it’s just a small note, but I hope it means something to you.

There was a long silence between the two of you as Wonbin folded the note back up and tucked it into his pocket. He looked at you, his expression softening. “I..I don’t know what to say..” he murmured. “Thank you.”

You smiled, your heart melting at the sincerity in his voice. “I wanted it to be special, sorry it’s not something valuable.”

Wonbin stepped closer, his presence warm and comforting. “You’ve already made it special, this is the most valuable thing i own now, y/n.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes were full of warmth, like he was seeing something deeper in you than just the surface.

“Happy birthday, Wonbin”

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[lesmiix]

Heyyy, could I have an extroverted reader x Hyung-juu. But they met in high school before her's transition and she always had a crush on him/she and now she wants to get closer? Thank you :33

ONE SHOT: So high school.

Hyun-ju x extroverted g/n!reader.

Summary: You and Hyun-ju met in highschool before her transition and she kinda has a crush on you 🫣

Warnings: g/n= gender neutral reader, pre and post transition, extroverted reader, fluff.

a/n: 💗 HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN 💗 (check the pinned post)

Many people thought he was weird because he was quite feminine. She used to have black nail polish, wear a little makeup with concealer and mascara, and wear girly jewelry. Which the boys at your school didn't like. For that very reason, they used to tease him. But things didn't usually go too badly, just a few taunts from time to time.

(For now Hyun-ju has not come out and people refer to her with "he/him")

You were sitting in history class, without paying much attention to what the teacher was saying. You were looking at the scenery outside the window, admiring the birds flying across the sky, while thinking about your business. Suddenly, you noticed that someone was staring at you. You turned your head and saw that a boy was looking at you. That boy always seemed curious to you, he was always very nice to you, you were friends, not very close, but friends. He had a gentle personality, but not soft either, he had good leadership in group work and in physical education. His name was Hyun-ju. Cho Hyun-ju.

Seeing him looking at you, you smiled at him, but he quickly turned his head away, embarrassed. The bell rang, class ended. You gathered your things and headed to his table.

"Hey, Ju-ju" You used to have that nickname for him.

"Do you want to eat with us today?" You asked, extending your hand to him. He nodded, packed his things and went with you to the canteen.

You had quite a big group of friends, they were nice but you were not too close to you either, you got along really well though.

Everything went smoothly, everyone was very nice to Hyun-ju and the atmosphere felt very comfortable.

So the next few years passed, your relationship with Hyun-ju improved and you became very close friends, she even told you her biggest secret. She didn't want to live like a man, she wanted to live like a woman. You supported her from the very beginning, you were always there for her and you protected her from people's jokes and stood up to them.

All those brave actions for Hyun-ju, made hes feelings for you increase. She always admired your bravery and showed you how much she loved you.

You became inseparable, and her feelings for you started to become more and more obvious. And... You weren't going to deny that you thought she was very pretty. Every now and then you would find yourself admiring her, watching how her eyes sparkled with excitement every time she was happy and how her lips turned into a little smile every time you complimented her.

So, you worked up the courage and asked her to go with you to a secluded spot during recess.

"Are you gonna murder me or something?" She playfully asked, giving you this smirk that drove you crazy.

"I won't be surprised if you kill me instead." You joked back, afraid that you'd lose her for what you were going to say next .

"Why would I? It can't be that ba-" "I'm in love with you" You cut her off.

She looked at you, confused.

"I've been in love with you for a while now, Hyun-ju." Nerves began to control your body and you started to stutter..

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way, I just felt like you had to know, it wouldn't be fair if you told me your biggest secret and I kept mine for myself. I really don't want to lose you, maybe it's stupid, but I-" And then, you felt her lips against yours. Holding you in a soft kiss, between her arms.

"I... I think- I mean, I'm sure that I'm in love with you too." She said once she pulled away.

The nerves once you had disappeared, you hugged her and she kept you close to her. And that's when you realized that was where you really wanted to be, with the only person who truly cared about you.

[boyfhee]

hii, im asking like a bunch of writers for an opinion on this ! im 13 ( ‘10 ) nn looking 2 become a writer on here but i like told one of friends n they were like “ no u probably shouldn't, ure kinda young ” personally i don't see a problem as ill be respecting boundaries of like adults n stuff like that doesn't want minors on their blog, won't be interacting with nsfw works at all nn be in like my own lil corner w ppl that r comfy w a 13 turning 14yro interacting w them and stuff, so is my friend right orr am i able to write nd stuff on here ?

hello ^_^ personally, 13 does seem like a young age for me to be on internet but that's probably because personal experience. truthfully, i have seen even younger people here so i'm just going to let you decide if you want your age to be a factor to decide whether you should be writing online or not.

the same goes with the respecting boundaries and stuff— it's a good thing. however, again, all we can do is warn and block if someone crosses the line because i have seen minors reading nsfw, even writing nsfw and that too for minors. the tags are flooded with smuts, no matter which fandom. i've seen a few people leave before it was overwhelming. at some point, in one of the previous fandoms i used to write for, works stopped gaining much attention if they weren't nsfw and i've had three of 'sfw only' blogs switch to write nsfw. blocking the tags does the work, but the choice is yours. you are your own supervisor.

and here's the worst part— plagiarism and hate anons. you can't do much about plagiarism except cross your fingers and hope it doesn't happen to you. as for hate anons and asks, it's completely unprovoked and baseless ( most of the time ) there have been blogs who got hate and death threats because they didn't like what was being written. there's a terrible habit of some readers feeling they're entitled to works being posted regularly.

i hope this never happens to you, but things get worse and worse and i am saying this from what i've seen here in three years, across three fandoms. not to mention, some people create and drag others in drama, this was so worse during the covids, many people left. mentally, it gets exhausting to see hate and drama in your ask box every day. it doesn't happen to everyone, but you never know who's the unlucky one.

tumblr can be a terrible place but if as a 13 year old, you think you will be able to handle this and deal with it accordingly, though i hope it never happens to you, you're very much welcomed in the writing community and i hope you have a pleasant experience. ( this is so long bye )

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[estaticheart]

ᥫ᭡. THAT’S MY SISTER YOU BITCH

Summary: Despite Sarah and Rafe’s volatile relationship, that’s your sister.

Warnings: Violence, illusions to sex, swearing.

You had a great day so far. You'd woken up to Rafe in between your legs, waking you up in the best way possible before he made you both breakfast as you watched him from the island. Sometimes you just liked to ponder on how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Rafe. To everyone else, you were far from lucky but you liked it that way- knowing only you got the real Rafe Cameron.

Now, you were on your way back from grocery shopping, planning to make Rafe a romantic meal when he arrived back from work. Blasting music from your car speakers, you were completely in the zone. Until you drove up to the City Hall, glancing ahead you saw Kelce's red truck, which you thought nothing of until you saw him and his idiotic friends surrounding John B and Sarah.

Alarmed, you pulled up next to the truck, gathering the attention of everyone. Despite being a kook yourself, you were far different from the rest of them. You didn't care about pogues, to you they were like anyone else, in fact often you preferred the pogues in the Outer Banks to the kooks. Rafe's circle exclusively consisted of kooks, meaning you often received a lot of respect from kooks even though you spent a lot of your time arguing with them. Rafe didn't mind it, you were his girlfriend and lover, so if you wanted to yell he wouldn't stop you.

"Problem?" You asked, slamming your car door shut behind you. Just as Sarah hit the ground. Immediately you rushed towards Sarah. Yeah, Rafe and Sarah had problems they needed to get past but to you, Sarah was still as important as she was 2 years ago. You were proud of her for finding her true love and true friends, and you always let her know that you would always be there for her. And this time was no exception. Putting two and two together, you saw Ruthie standing much closer to Sarah than the other kooks who looked at her in shock.

They all stood stunned at your arrival, to be honest, you were probably the worst possible person to show up at that exact moment. Everyone knew your opinions on the Pogues were far more empathetic than the other kooks. "No, no problem" Kelce muttered, beginning to pull Ruthie and the others back from Sarah and John B, to which they happily obliged. Not on your watch.

"Oh no, don't stop on my accord guys. Please whatever you were going to do next. Do it." Walking over to them, Ruthie stood stunned at your arrival. Since she started dating Topper, you got a lot of joy out of berating her, publically. For once, she didn't back down at your words. "She needs to watch herself. She pushed me first, it was self-defence." Ruthie said, glancing behind you to see John B pulling Sarah to her feet.

Snorting you replied, "Ruthie, I'm not Shoupe. Don't start pleading your case, I don't care." She stalled at your response, for a moment thinking that you were on her side for pushing Sarah before you pulled her back to reality. Walking closer to her, edgingly slow, you pressed, "You think you're all big and mighty for pushing Sarah? She's 19 Ruthie, you're what? 21? Don't you think you should play with someone your own size?"

Behind you, John B and Sarah smirked at the group. Unbeknownst to you, Sarah was pregnant and John B was far too occupied to make sure Sarah was okay than to pick a fight with Kelce and his goons today. But you happily would, and even better so because who was going to fight back against the kook princess? Definitely not these ones.

“Well?” You pushed, as you stood toe to toe with Ruthie. You were growing impatient, Rafe would have finished work by now meaning that soon he’d come looking for you- and you’d rather give Ruthie a good couple punches before Rafe showed up.

“Okay times up.” Before she could even think, your fist sent her backwards onto the floor, just how Sarah had been when when you arrived. Groaning, she lifted her hands to cover her nose, assumably bleeding- hopefully broken if Rafe’s self defence lessons had done some good. “Oh my god- I think you broke my nose. You bitch.” She shrieked, pulling her hands away to reveal blood beginning to pour from her nose.

Ruthie was nothing but a bully, a bully you’d had enough of tormenting the island. Your legs either side of her chest you crouched over her, “Don’t worry you still look just as bad as before.” You muttered as you flew your fist back into her face that she left unguarded. Idiot. Her screaming began again, as you moved off from her, deciding that your two punches had done enough damage. Wow, you’d really have to thank Rafe for those lessons.

“Just wait until Topper hears about this, he will deal with you.” One of the other kooks muttered from behind Kelce. “Yeah I’m sure Topper will be sure to deal with me.” You laughed, Topper wouldn’t touch a hair on your arm as long as you were dating Rafe- everyone knew that.

“You want to fuck with someone, not Sarah.” You spat at them, watching Ruthie sadly pull herself to her feet, with the help of no one. “That’s my sister you bitch. Now fuck off.” At your command, Kelce briskly walked back over to his truck, as the others followed just as fast, allowing you to turn back to John B and Sarah.

You were greeted to their smiling faces, both as grateful as each other. But you noticed, a twinge of emotion still lingering on Sarah’s face. Hearing you call her your sister in combination with her pregnancy hormones, was due to set her off to cry. Before she could get out any words, you spoke for her. “You are my sister regardless of whatever is going on between you and Rafe. You’re family.” Turning to John B, you continued, “That extends to you, hubby.” You winked looking down at the ring on his finger.

With a red blush covering their faces, they praised you in thank yous. “Don’t need to thank me for doing something I’ve been wanting to do for months.” Glancing back to see the red truck had disappeared.

“Now, you can thank me for warning you that Rafe will be here any minute and I’m not sure you want to see him.”

—————————

“Baby, please be more careful next time.” Rafe muttered, as he wrapped your knuckles in bandages. He was more than shocked to find you outside the city hall- alone- but with bloody knuckles. Only with the explanation, that you had an altercation with Ruthie, surprisingly over Sarah. He was confused to say the least, he wasn’t even aware that Ruthie had a problem with his little sister. But the more he thought about it, of course she did- Topper still hadn’t gotten over her.

“In fact, there will be no next time. Ever.” Kissing your knuckles, he pulled you onto his chest as he lied back on your shared king bed. Stroking your hair, he let his mind wonder. Should he have been there to protect Sarah? But they hadn’t had a good relationship in years, he couldn’t just suddenly start caring for her. He also couldn’t let you get into situations that could get you hurt over protecting Sarah.

You noticed his body still and you knew instantly his mind was wondering thinking about Sarah. Without moving your head from his chest you spoke, “Rafe. I love Sarah. I know you have a difficult relationship at the moment and whilst you can’t protect her I will.” Letting the silence sit between you for a moment, you decided to continue.

“She’s our only family, Rafe.” He didn’t move, but you both knew how right you were. She was all you had left. “I know baby, I know.” He whispered, laying a kiss on the top of your head, before he let his mind slip back into imagining how he can rectify this broken relationship with his sister.

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[moonstruckme]

could i request poly!wolfstar or poly!jily where they’re pursuing reader and reader accidentally matches with them (like matching costumes) at a halloween party?

i think the teasing and flirting would be so cute!! 🥰

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, smoking, Sirius makes lame and humorously objectifying jokes

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You arrive to the party late, the Gryffindor common room already bustling by the time you and your friends have finished doing your last-minute costume alterations. There are glowing pumpkins floating on the ceiling, someone has charmed the room so that a thick layer of fog drifts along the floor, and the air already smells slightly of booze and cigarette smoke. 

You lose Lily’s attention immediately, but that’s to be expected. You’re more than accustomed by now to her searching for her boyfriend whenever you enter a room. What’s unexpected, however, is her reaction when she finds him.

“Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh?” You look at her, following her gaze to the couch across the room. “Oh. Oh, no.” 

Lily laughs. “It sort of seems like fate, doesn’t it? I think it’s sweet.” 

Sitting on their usual couch are the marauders. James, predictably, is wearing a costume matching Lily’s; they’ve both come as cowboys. Unfortunately, Sirius and Remus are sitting next to him dressed as pirates. 

You’re also dressed as a pirate. 

“It’s not sweet,” you moan. “If I go back up, do you think Marlene will make me some of her fake blood? I can change and be a vampire instead.” 

Lily hums. “Think it’s too late for that, babe.” 

She’s looking back towards the couch, where the boys have already caught sight of the pair of you. Sirius is beaming something atrocious, and even Remus looks amused while his boyfriend waves you over exuberantly. 

Lily takes your hand in hers, tugging you with her as she goes to them. 

“Howdy, darlin’.” James puts on an exaggerated southern drawl as you approach, opening his arms to his girlfriend. 

“My, my,” says Sirius as you sit between him and Lily, “don’t you look nice.” 

You ignore the warmth that brings to your face. “The point wasn’t really to look nice.” 

Your costume is thrown together from things you already had, the only thing that really distinguishes you as a pirate being the bandana you’ve tied around your head. Remus appears to have gone a similar route, although the white shirt he’s tucked into his pants looks a bit more on-theme than yours and he’s clearly been forced to wear an eye patch which is currently flipped up so that it’s not covering anything. Sirius, of course, does nothing halfway. He’s wearing a billowy black top that’s been unbuttoned nearly to his navel, more belts and buckles than you knew one person could have, and a captain’s hat he surely bought just for the occasion. Altogether, you make a fairly fearsome group. 

“Not sure you can help it, gorgeous.” Sirius winks at you. “You always look nice. Did you plant a spy to find out what you needed to wear to match us, then?” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I should probably be asking you that.” 

“Must’ve just been fate,” Sirius says. It’s so close to what Lily said that your cheeks blaze, but you also don’t know if you quite believe him. Remus, too, turns to give his boyfriend a questioning look. 

Sirius catches it and scoffs, holding up his hands. “I didn’t! Honestly.” 

Remus nods, appeased. In a less booming voice than his boyfriend’s, he tells you, “You do look very nice.” 

“Thanks.” You catch yourself fingering the ends of your hair like a nervous schoolgirl and tuck your hands underneath your thighs. “So do both of you.” 

Sirius grins knowingly, and you have to fight the urge to shove your face into Lily’s shoulder for refuge. He knows as well as you do that for all of his brazen flirting, it’s Remus’ quiet sincerity that flusters you the most. You’re not sure when it started, exactly, but it’s been clear for some time now that both boys are interested in you. You’re not sure in what capacity—they could want to take you to bed for one night, integrate you into their relationship, or anything in between—but as of yet you’ve neither encouraged nor discouraged their advances. 

“Thanks, dollface.” Sirius gives a winsome crack of a smile. “You know, I’ve already acquired some booty, but I wouldn’t mind winning some more.” 

“Sirius…” Remus groans.

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Some what?” 

“You know, like pirate’s loot? My booty.” Sirius sidles closer to Remus, giving his thigh a solid pat. 

Remus’ eyes narrow. “I will leave you here and go back upstairs right now.” It sounds as though this is not the first time this has been threatened. 

“I worked hard for it!” Sirius defends himself. 

You cover your mouth against an appalled giggle. “It?” 

“I toiled, and I fought, and I had to battle many other fearsome ships! It’s mine.” 

“Remus,” you stage whisper, “blink twice if you need help.” 

Remus’ smile blooms, but when he starts to blink Sirius objects, “Oi!” 

“No,” you correct him, “you’re supposed to say ‘arr.’”

Sirius is grinning again, too, clearly chuffed that you’re joking around with them even if it is at his expense. “If I say ‘arr,’ you’ll agree to be my second booty for the rest of the night?” 

“I won’t make any promises. But it would be persuasive.” 

He growls enthusiastically, “Arrrrgh!” and slams his fist down on the table. The sound it makes is enough to tear James and Lily’s attention away from each other. 

“Merlin,” says James. “Did’ya hurt yourself there, Pads?” 

“No,” Sirius replies, but he gives his hand a little shake. 

Remus, rolling his eyes, takes it and kisses the side. He brings it into his lap for safekeeping. Your heart gives a painful little throb. 

You must have some stupid lovestruck look on your face, because Lily peers around James to see you better, a smile playing on her lips. She knows about your crushes on the two boys, just as well as she knows that you haven’t decided what to do about them yet. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to help you along. 

“Come on,” she says to James, standing and taking him with her. “Let’s dance, and I’ll let you pretend to lasso me.” 

James beams. “Yes!” 

You watch them go while Sirius seizes the opportunity to move to your other side, the three of you taking up the entirety of the couch. 

“Phew,” he sighs, swinging his feet over the armrest. 

“You may want to take your legs out of the fog,” Remus suggests, also using the new space to bring his feet onto the couch. “It gets sticky after a while.” 

You frown but do as he says, pulling your feet from your shoes so that only your socks are on the couch. And sure enough, when you touch a finger to your ankle it feels like there’s an odd sort of coating over it. 

“I thought it was just fog,” you say. 

“It was supposed to be,” agrees Sirius, “but James entrusted the task of making it to Marlene, and there are some who think she might’ve laced it with some sort of drink.” 

“I’m some,” Remus owns. 

You smile. “So is the point that you should be able to…drink the fog?”

“No clue.” Sirius leans over the edge of the couch. “Let’s find out.” 

“Sirius, no,” Remus says weakly, trailing off when it’s clear the other boy won’t be deterred. You both watch as he sucks in what fog he can, closing his mouth around it. “That’s disgusting, everyone’s been walking around in it.” 

“I think it might be brandy,” Sirius muses. “It’s faint, though.” 

Remus frowns. “I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth.” 

Sirius grins. “Yes, you are.” 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” 

“Wouldn’t you rather just get your own drink?” you ask Sirius. “Rather than sampling the faint traces of brandy that have been touched by other people’s shoes, I mean.” 

“Oh, rest assured, gorgeous, I’m all covered.” Sirius picks a cup up from the table. He seems to notice at the same moment that you don’t have a cup of your own. “Would you like one, though?” 

You glance to the table cluttered with alcohol and mixers, a throng of students clustered around it. “I’ll get one in a bit.” 

“Let me.” Sirius stands. He edges around the table, stopping to pinch your chin affectionately and give his boyfriend a kiss. “Rem, my love, keep her company, would you?” 

“You don’t have to,” you object. “I can get it.” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous. A pirate has to take care of his booty, hasn’t he?” 

“I never agreed to that!” you call after him. In a quieter voice, you add, “And I don’t think that’s how the relationship between a pirate and their booty works.” 

“Let him go,” Remus advises you. You startle a bit when his hand finds your knee, resting there in fond commiseration. “If he’s going to degrade us like this, he can at least bring us drinks.” 

You feel your lips tilt. “Are you really going to let him call you his booty all night?” 

“Probably.” Remus shrugs, his eyes finding his boyfriend across the room. “Anyway, it’s nice not to be alone in it. As far as he’s concerned, you’re already his as well.”

[braindeadjaidyn]

Rafe following his babysitter into the bathroom

Fucking her against the door, holding her mouth closed with his hand

His family just outside in the living room, while he is fing her as hard as he can

BABYSITTERS CLUB!

summary:..-> reader and rafe always had a thing for each other. everything changes once she picks up a babysitting job, babysitting the one and only kook king.

warnings:..-> smut, p n v, bad dirty words, wards a douche, rough sex, rushed sex, both cum quick:(, sex that could’ve got them caught?? EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!

word count:..-> 2700.

a/n:..-> hello pookie and pookies! okay so don’t be mad….i know I didn’t do the bathroom but I hope this okay! i got tunnel vision and didn’t even realize! im sorry if i edged yall with the constant build up. yall writing sex is HARD. anyway requests are open bye love u. AND BE NICE.

It was almost laughable that Rafe fucking Cameron, kook king needed a babysitter. It WAS laughable. Ward Cameron had contacted you through Facebook knowing of the fact you babysit. Yeah, you did, but not 20-year-old frat guys.

Ward Cameron: Hello Y/n! Your father told me you do babysitting and I’m looking to hire one for tonight! It would be for my son and daughter, it may seem a little odd. My apologies. I will be having some important meetings with a large group, and I don’t trust either to be on their best behavior. Please contact me back so we can discuss further! I’ll pay 500$ for 3 hours.

The message sent you into a fit of cackles, screenshotting the text and sending it to all your friends. The idea was so tempting. So fucking tempting. 500$ for 3 hours was a literal steal…Yet you were going to be in the presence of the insufferable Rafe Cameron. You hadn’t had many interactions with Rafe, he usually just teased you for being the ‘prude good girl’ every time you told him no to hook up. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about letting him fuck the shit out of you, hell you almost did. Every time you’d open your mouth to try and agree he’d open his spewing his bullshit, immediately forcing you to shut your own.

You bit at the soft flesh on your bottom lip, tapping the phone with your eyes trained on the text. Fuck it. 500$ for keeping the cocky frat boy in line sounded so good, so so fucking good. You agreed, and your thumbs moved quickly over the screen. Your lip was still tucked firmly between your teeth as you waited for his father’s reply.

Y/n L/n: That sounds good! Thank you so much Mr. Cameron! I’ll be there. When should I be there and can I have the address?

Ward Cameron: Of course Y/n! My meeting is in about 40 minutes, I would like you here as soon as possible. I will be here the whole time so I’ll give you a rundown of responsibilities and such when you arrive. *address*.

This soon? You immediately scrambled to your feet, throwing on some more appropriate clothes than your lounge ones. You were so quick you thought your heels were on fire.

Soon enough here you were on the Camerons porch knocking on the front door. Jesus, why did you agree to this? Fuck. The only time you ever interacted with Rafe was when you were fucked up, now here you were sober about to babysit the grown-ass man. This is ridiculous. The door swung open, of fucking course Rafe Cameron was the one to answer it. Sporting his stupid handsome smirk and backward cap. “You’re the one who’s keepin’ me on a leash tonight girl?” He drawled, flashing you his teeth.

Goddamn, his fucking fine ass. You tongued the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. With a tilt of your head and a soft huff, you finally met his gaze. “Just shut up and let me in Cameron,” With that Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he moved from the door opening it further. You could feel his sharp stare as you walked past him and into the house. You were a little in awe at the niceness but quickly masked it, tucking your face back into its resting expression. Rafe didn’t miss it as he sidestepped around you, his smirk only growing.

“You never been in a house this nice princess?,” Rafe taunted, his smirk replaced with a smug smile.”Come on, my dad’s in here,” He led you further into the home, and you lagged behind. Cursing him internally at his snarky comments. Why was this dude such a diva? You followed aimlessly looking around at the different decor, this was so different from your own house.

Ward Cameron sat on the sofa, his attention on the laptop resting on the marble coffee table, his fingers working against the keys. He just looked like a dick, great….Rafe cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. You picked up his sudden change in demeanor, his once arrogant self replaced with a look that looked like a kicked puppy. It was sad, actually very sad. But you shrugged off your sympathy as Ward glanced up his face lighting up in foe friendliness. “Y/n my dear. Thank you for coming,” Ward greeted, closing the distance between the three. “Right well, I'm having a large meeting this evening. Lots of colleagues and other investors are joining me today. We will be using the living room, my office would be far too cramped. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on everyone and out of the living room.”

This man just screamed condescending. You nodded, sending him a soft smile. Once again you fought the urge to roll your eyes, how did he expect his grown son to listen to her? He was Rafe Cameron. It was widely known he doesn’t listen to anyone. “Yes sir, I can do that.” You spoke softly and sweetly, it was an act yet you wanted that 500$. Rafe sent you another smirk before he licked his lips to keep his dirty comment to himself. Ward nodded, reaching out to softly pat your shoulder. He quickly pulled away, and you fought the urge to jerk away. “Great! Well, Rafe behave. You’re 20 years old. It’s ridiculous that I had to even hire her.” Ward shot his son a pointed look, which made Rafe emotionally cower. Rafe just firmly nodded, his arms folded over his chest. You had to divert your gaze, your cheeks heating as you noticed how his shirt sleeves were straining against his muscles. Fuck.

A firm rushed knock at the front door thankfully interrupted your sinful thoughts. Ward immediately jerked his head to the noise, moving past the young adults. “Right, that's my meeting. So see you both later.” Ward called as he barely bothered looking over his shoulder at the two. He disappeared out of the living, and you could feel Rafe's eyes on you. Jesus Christ, does he have an off button? You met his gaze, surprised to see it was blank. “What?” You questioned, your face slightly twisted and your eyebrow arched.

Rafe just sighed deeply, running his hand over his cap. “Let’s get upstairs before he throws a bitch fit,” Rafe muttered, his body already moving toward and up the stairs. You followed, your heart beating wildly. It felt weird how domestic? No. Casual. Yeah, how casual this was. His long legs ate away at the distance of the stairs, you lagged behind feeling a little awkward by everything. I mean you’re fucking babysitting Rafe Cameron and his little sister, it was weird. You made your way to the top of the steps, glancing at him awkwardly for his next move. You could already hear the chatter from the men downstairs.

“Quit actin’ all fuckin shy girl, Les’ go Sarah’s in here,” Rafe smirked his head cocking over to a door, his hand pulling the door open. “How’s it hangin’ Sar?,” You were now standing in the doorway of what you assumed was a movie room, you knew they were rich but they were richhh. Sarah barely glanced up from her phone at the duo, shrugging her shoulders in response. Rafe plopped down on one of the sofas, legs spread open as he looked you over. “Sooo, are you always this weird when you're sober princess?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. He was so damn cocky and for what? You scowled at him, your pretty face twisting. “Do you always need a babysitter at your grown age?” You snarked, your hands crossing over your chest and you shifted your weight to your hip. Rafe took notice of that and eyed your hip for a moment, chuckling as he tongued the inside of his cheek.

“Real cute baby, don’t be throwin’ that up in my face.” Rafe rasped, his eyes looking over you cocking his brow at the fact you were still standing in the doorway. He patted the cushion next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t be shy princess, I won't bite.”

You thought for a moment before begrudgingly plopping yourself down next to him. It was a small couch, so small you were brushing thighs with him. You averted your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush at the contact. You knew he was planning something, you could feel it in his stares. Rafe was planning something, more so just thinking about fucking you stupid over the armrest of the couch. He was going to hell for what he was about to ask, especially with Sarah in the room. He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the top of the couch. Rafe's chest was flush against your shoulder, his head ducked down by your ear fanning his breath down your neck. “Why won’t you let me fuck you princess?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath sending your mind into overdrive. You bit your lip, adjusting your skirt to try and compose yourself. You were bright red and you could feel it, you could also feel the ache between your legs at his tone. You had to remind yourself Sarah was in the room. You looked over at him and felt like you could melt when you met his smug gaze. “I mean..I-I would-,“ Your voice was low and quiet, careful for Sarah's listening ears, but before you could finish Sarah's dramatically loud groan and the thump of her phone cut you off. You were so down bad.

“The fuc- The wifi just went out, ugh. Rafe fix it,” Sarah whined, looking at her older brother with pleading eyes. The only issue was the router was in the living room. Rafe sighed deeply at the interruption, glancing over at Sarah with narrowed eyes.

Rafe definitely couldn’t go down there and fuck with the router with his dad having a meeting. It was the whole point why Y/n was there. But he could get her downstairs and alone…So tempting in his pervy brain and worth a shot. “Fine. Come on Y/n. Be my cover.”

Seriously? He was going to go down there, practically asking for a meltdown from his dad. Before you could protest he had you by the forearm and dragged you out of the movie room. “Rafe-“ You went to speak but he cut you off as he pressed his finger to his lips, silently shushing you as the two of you crept down the stairs. You both met at the bottom of the stairs, the living room just around the corner, a wall protecting the view of the duo. The laughs and voices of multiple men were slightly muffled from the distance.

You crept forward, keeping close to the wall not without shooting Rafe a pointed look. You were falling right into his dirty trap, just like he wanted. His mind only focused on fucking that cunt and your interrupted words. Before you could peek over the corner he pressed your back flush against the wall, his body eliminating the distance as he pressed his front to yours. He smirked down at you, his eyes roving over you like you were prey. “Finish your sentence, pretty girl.” He commanded, his voice low, careful to not attract anyone’s attention.

Your mouth opened to speak but the words were lost in your throat. Your mind was spinning at the closeness, your pussy was practically pleading. You could only hold his intense stare, his hand snaking around to grip the back of your thigh. “Say it. Tell me you want this dick baby.” Rafe cooed his mouth coming to your ear, his lips brushing the skin. Fuck this. You were already soaked from his touch, his words only increased the throb. You couldn’t believe what you were about to do, but it was Rafe fucking Cameron…

You nodded weakly, hands fisting his shirt as you lifted the thigh he grasped. “I want it, please.” You wanted to smack yourself for the desperation in your tone, but you never wanted to get fucked like you did now. Rafe pounced, his lips immediately crashing into yours. It was sloppy and full of need. God, he kissed like a fucking whore. You couldn’t help but mewl against his lips, your body felt like it was on fire. His hands were everywhere, leaning his body against yours as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. Which earned him another soft mewl, yet it was muffled by his soft lips. He rutted himself against you, god this was so nasty. So down bad. But you were fucking loving it. So was Rafe.

He pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy deep breaths. His lips were wet, and he looked sinful. You moved your hands to the waistband of his shorts, working away the button and zipper. You couldn't help it truly. Rafe liked your eagerness, his ego inflated as well as his dick. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” Rafe tsked lowly, assisting you as he tugged away down his shorts, his hands moving to the waistband of his boxers, he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the tent in his boxers. Your eyes were wide, pretty lips parted in need. He freed himself from the boxers, fisting his cock as he looked you over. Fuck. He was so hot. You took this as your cue, you moved your panties to the side. This wasn’t the best spot to get caught fully exposed…

“Rafe…What if someone- fuck- mph-“ You whispered, cut off by Rafe thrusting his cock into you his hand clamping over your mouth. He kept his other hand on the back of your thigh, as he pounded into you. His cock was moving in your slick walls at a relentless pace, his fat tip brushing areas you never knew existed.

Rafe had his lips parted, his head hung back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He kept his hand firmly clasped around your mouth, he smooshed the side of your face into the wall, his cock fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your pelvis’s kissing was sinful. “Take it, take this fat dick,” Rafe growled lowly, his eyes glancing to the corner of the wall as he heard a couple of men speak louder.

You couldn’t even muster a response, let alone voice it due to his harsh grip around your mouth. You could only pathetically whine and cry against his palm, as his cock brushed that spongy spot deep into you. Your teeth grazed the flesh of his hand as he repositioned his thrusts, fucking you upwards against the wall. You clawed at his arms, your cunt squeezing tightly around his cock. God, you couldn’t believe how close he had gotten you so quickly. Your lower stomach burned with need, your core aching for release. You could tell Rafe was close, his brows knitted and his lip tucked between his teeth. His cock twitched in your velvety walls, he dropped his hand from your thigh moving his fingers to firmly rub your clit. You bit at the flesh of his hand, hoping to muffle your screams as you crashed over the edge. Your body trembling, eyes rolled back as you made a mess on his fat cock. You clamped down on his cock as Rafe let out a deep groan, planting his cock deep into you as he painted your womb with his warm cum. Your chest heaved with fast shaky breaths, you just let Rafe Cameron fuck you against a wall, while his father and however many men were on the other side.

Rafe pulled out of you, a sly smile on his lips. He pulled your panties back to the side and tucked himself back into his boxers with a chuckle. He held your wide blown-out gaze as he pulled his shorts up. “You’re a shit babysitter princess.”

[ba9go]

(nsfw) friends w/ benefits!bakugou katsuki headcanons

mdni: explicit & implied sexual content. nsfw under the cut

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, friends with benefits, sexual tension, blowjobs in the classroom. definitely not inspired by my ex fwb-turned-bf haha (it is 1000%)

it was written exams season, and you were stressed. you distanced yourself from your classmates, and started ignoring mina's text messages inviting you to momo's room for your usual group study sessions. you felt a little bad, but you've always been more productive when studying alone.

katsuki was stressed too. he sat behind you in class, and over the course of the past week, it was as if his pen-clicking tendencies grew proportionally to his stress. click, click, click, click, click. it didn't bug you, though. if anything, you were worried.

katsuki was usually quiet in lessons, but he'd been sighing more. you don't blame him. there was so much content to be memorised. so many chapter sections and parts.

class had ended, and your classmates were already streaming out of the room, but you were still packing your things up. apparently, katsuki was still packing up too.

"fuckin' hell," katsuki groaned under his breath. you heard aggressive page-flipping behind you. you looked behind out of concern.

katsuki's sharp gaze flickers up from the thick stack of notes on his table. when he meets your gaze, you note that his glare lacks its usual ferocity. he looks tired.

"what?" he snaps at you. a second passes, and you see his glare falter. his brows furrow slightly.

"you good?" you ask anyway.

"me? are you good?" you blink, and then realise that you probably look like a zombie after the all-nighter you pulled.

you try to say that you're fine, but katsuki raises a brow at you, so you shake your head. yeah no, you are absolutely not good right now.

"not really. m'really stressed," you sighed.

"you gettin' any sleep?"

you shake your head.

"you should sleep."

"i know."

"you need rest."

"i know."

you sigh, and you turn away from katsuki to pick up your bag. you should probably head back to your room and continue studying—

"m'stressed too," katsuki admits quietly. he doesn't meet your gaze when you turn to look at him again.

"oh," you hum absentmindedly. you're not sure what you should be saying to him. it was bakugou katsuki, after all. he didn't want or need your pity. what would katsuki want? what could you offer katsuki?

you must be really sleep-deprived and definitely not in your right mind, because you undo the first few buttons of your shirt and start to retie your ponytail.

"want some help?" you ask, sounding a little more hopeful than you'd intended. you hope katsuki got the hint.

katsuki stares at you through narrowed eyes. he's quiet, so it feels like your proposition is just hanging heavy in the air between the both of you. you're mentally screaming at yourself, wondering what the fuck you're doing, but it's too late for you to back out, so you just meet katsuki's steady gaze and pray he doesn't notice the blush dusting your cheeks (he definitely does)

"yeah," katsuki finally says. he drops his notes and one of his hands disappears under the table. you can't help the way your eyes follow the movement, and you watch shamelessly as katsuki unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants.

katsuki looks at you through empty, tired eyes. he knows he's not in his right mind either. he would've never asked for such a thing from you, he respects you too much for that. you're his classmate. his friend, and one of his most trusted ones at that.

but katsuki isn't blind. he has eyes. he knows you're stupidly hot. he'd never admit it, but he's spent a few nights jerking off to the thought of your plush, wet lips around him.

katsuki isn't in his right mind, but even if he were, he's not sure he'd ever be able to turn down such a proposition from you.

katsuki pulls his boxers down, and his cock springs out. it's thick and pink and veiny and you rub your thighs together restlessly.

katsuki shifts his chair back and nods towards the now-empty space between his legs. "c'mere."

you end up on your knees, under katsuki's table, with a mouthful of cock.

"holy fuck," katsuki hisses through gritted teeth when you open your pretty lips and your hot breath hits the head of his cock. there's a bead of precum along his slit, and katsuki lets out a quiet whine when your tongue darts out to lick along it.

katsuki's embarrassed, immediately bringing a hand over his mouth. he moans into his palm when you press a wet kiss on the underside of his cock, right below his head. he wonders where you learnt how to do this, who taught you how to suck cock this, who else had you between their legs like this, when it could've been, should've been him. katsuki swallows his anger and jealousy.

"katsuki," you whisper, and katsuki swears he almost came right there and then. he hums in response. "wanna hear you. wanna know i'm doin' a good job."

and who was katsuki to deny you?

"oh, fuck," katsuki moans, low and guttural, when you finally wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down on his cock. you're so good for him, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself not to nut right down your throat.

katsuki opens his eyes when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. you're deepthroating him, and he thinks he's going insane.

you're looking up at him with your mouth stuffed with his cock, yet you somehow manage to look so cute and almost innocent, batting your lashes prettily at katsuki.

your eyes are teary and you moan something around his cock. you look so pathetic, but you look like you're absolutely loving it. katsuki loves it too.

"so good f'me, baby," katsuki grabs the end of your ponytail and wraps it around his hand and pulls. "wanna ruin you. mess up that pretty mouth. show me how good you are at sucking cock, yeah?"

katsuki almost regrets egging you on, because you start bobbing your head up and down and it feels so fucking good. katsuki throws his head back and moans brokenly, and he's so fucking glad the last person to leave the classroom was smart enough to close the fucking door. you both sounded filthy, with your wet sloppy slurping and his loud ass moans.

"shit, fuck," katsuki feels his dick throb at the sensation of your tongue against his cock. "slow down, fuck, m'so fuckin' close, fuck—"

you ignore him. your jaw hurts like fuck right now and your legs are so sore, but you love this. love sucking katsuki's cock, love making him feel good.

so you bob your head up, down, up, down, until katsuki spills into your throat with a cry.

"cumming, fuck," katsuki squeezes his eyes shut. his hips stutter as he rides out his orgasm, fucking into your throat and forcing his cum down your throat.

you keep katsuki in your mouth until his dick starts to grow soft and he whines at the overstimulation.

"feel better?" you asked, voice fucked raw.

"yeah," katsuki reaches down to pat your head affectionately. "thanks."

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s @deimosjay @iguanahykhv @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 4.5k words)

summary: After 8 beautiful months tangled up with the richest man on the island, your trist comes to a screeching hault when it's time for him to find a girl more suited to his lifestyle. Even though you tried to move on, a photo of a new girl on his arm sends you both into a spiral that ends with him back in your bed.

content: angst/smut, drinking, smoking, what could be perceived as infidelity but technically isn't. this story is 18+ minors do not interact.

You met him in September, at a nightclub on the mainland. You had been dancing with your girlfriends all night, celebrating your best friend’s bachelorette party. It was the fourth bachelorette you’d been to in a year, now at the age when all of your friends were settling down and getting married. There was no ring in sight for you, though. Your friends would laugh and call you the wild stallion, a running joke among the group that no man could tame you. You never saw the point in marriage. You were stubbornly independent, insistent that you would make your own way in the world, promising yourself you’d never be just someone’s little wife. 

You knew this choice meant you’d struggle a little more than your friends, most of whom ‘married-up’ financially. You didn’t grow up with money, and you didn’t have any now. You had spent your whole life on The Cut and you had no problem spending the rest of it there. If the trade off for living your life however you wanted was hustling and jumping between dead-end jobs, so be it. You were much more interested in collecting stories anyway, always looking for wild nights and strange characters to fill your life with, briefly, not keeping anyone around for too long.

You went out every weekend, no Monday 9-to-5 looming over your fun. You’d brought many guys back to the little shack by the water that you rented, your barely-one-bedroom, as you called it lovingly. All the other bachelorette parties ended up with you bringing some guy back to your apartment for some pretty good sex and a completely ingenuine “I’ll text you sometime.” So when you stepped off the dance floor, sweat making your silk-slip dress cling to your curves, and the bartender handed you a drink that was a gift “from that guy over there” you smiled wide, knowing this night would go exactly as planned.

You smiled slyly at the tall blond in the corner as you took a delicate sip of your drink. He was gorgeous, eyeing you up and down like he was starved for you. His large frame was crowding the booth of the VIP section as he winked and lifted his glass to you in salute. 

This time, there was a problem. This time, the sex wasn’t pretty good. This time, the sex was earth shatteringly incredible. You genuinely didn’t know sex could be that good, that a guy you met at a bar could ever be capable of making you feel so euphoric, or come so hard, so many times. You didn’t know your own body was capable of the things he got it to do. You didn’t think you’d ever want to stay up talking and laughing with one of your hook-ups like you did that night. You didn’t think you’d ever wake up disappointed that the guy from the night before wasn’t in the bed next to you. And you definitely didn’t think you’d ever be the one to pull out your phone and text him first.

After that night, you saw each other regularly. It turned out he lived on the island too, though his estate was on the rich side of town. That first night, he only told you his first name. But when he had you put your number in his phone and text yourself so you’d have his, a note popped up at the top of the text thread that said “maybe: Rafe Cameron.” You recognized the surname immediately, it was everywhere on this island. After he left the second time, you googled him. Thousands of hits came up, articles about his family, pictures of them at their estate, on their yacht, at charity galas and property groundbreakings. Even though you knew his drive back from your place was only a couple of minutes, every night when he snuck out into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel like he was retreating to a completely different universe.

After a few weeks, Rafe’s late night visits started getting longer and longer. After he’d fold you into shapes you didn’t know you could make and fuck you breathless, you’d lay in your bed, his head on your chest, smoking a joint and talking for hours. You talked about everything, the conversations weaving between casual chats about your common interests, to deep talks about purpose, values, and trauma, to joking around and teasing each other until you were giggling below him and he was smiling into the skin of your neck. 

You’d tell him about your plans to never settle down and keep chasing the next adventure. He’d tell you about his asshole of a father and the grand plans he had for him. Neither of you ever acknowledged how antithetical your life plans were. The truth that nothing real would ever work between you would hang in the air everyone once in a while, but you’d just push away the tension with a joke and fuck again. 

Even though your nights together would bleed well into the early morning, Rafe never stayed over. It was an unspoken rule between you, he never told you he wanted to stay and you never asked him to. You told yourself it was a good thing, exactly what you wanted, as you shivered in your empty bed and cursed the loss of his warmth.

One night, that May, you and Rafe sat on your bed, eating the take-out he had ordered to your apartment after you’d finished fucking. He was quieter than usual, distracted. Just a little earlier, he had gone down on you for longer than he ever had. Taking his time, praising every inch of you with kisses. He whispered little nothings into the soft skin of your inner thighs before devouring you. “So beautiful” and “so good to me, baby” and “all I can fucking think about.” He always talked to you sweetly, saying the nicest words while doing the filthiest things to you, but this time was different. Typically he was rough, which you loved, but this night he moved slowly, without his usual urgency. He brought you to orgasm on his tongue twice, before fucking you in missionary, his forehead against yours as you came at the same time. Since that moment, he’d barely said anything to you outside of asking what you wanted for dinner.

You sat in silence and picked at the Chinese food he’d gotten from your favorite place. You watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and twirled a chopstick between his long fingers.

“You don’t like your food?” You asked him hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, no it’s fine, it’s good.”

His smile was tight as he set the containers on your nightstand, out of the way.

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t eat any of it,” you pointed out. You hoped your teasing would loosen him up a bit, but he just sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked quietly, your hand reaching out to gently pat his leg. You had never seen him like this before and had no idea how to proceed.

He looked up at you and leaned back against the headboard, biting the skin around his thumbnail. You were getting nervous.

“Rafe?”

“I, uh, had a talk with my dad today,” he muttered.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “And how did that go?”

“About as good as you might think,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

Even though you didn't know his dad, after the many stories Rafe had told you about his father’s temper and general disapproval of him, you hated him.

You sat in silence, hand still on Rafe’s knee, as you waited for him to tell you more.

“He said, uh…” Rafe stalled, like he was struggling to find the right words.

“He said what?” Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, the unfamiliarity of his tone throwing your thoughts into chaos.

When he still didn’t answer, you whispered, “Rafe you’re making me nervous.”

He responded to this, clearly feeling bad when he realized he had you on edge. He placed his hand over yours and finally made eye contact with you. You tilted your head and tried to read his expression with no luck.

“He told me he wants to make me the VP of Acquisitions at Cameron Development,” he finally said.

You shook your head slightly as a big smile of relief spread across your face.

“Oh,” you half-chuckled. “Well, Rafe, that's great! That’s what you wanted right?” You placed your other hand on his forearm and shook him playfully. “That’s good news, why are you acting like someone died? Jesus, you scared me!” 

He smiled at the gesture, you knew he liked the way you’d mess with him. But then he straightened up more against the headboard, pulling away from you slightly.

“That’s not all he said,” he explained.

“What else? He’s going to give you a million dollars?” You joked.

“No,” he said sternly, making the smile fall from your lips immediately. “He said if I want this promotion that I need to get my shit together and…settle down.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed as you considered his meaning, not quite understanding at first. When it hit you, you pulled your hands away from him completely. “Oh.”

“Y/n,” Rafe whispered, observing the way your lips curved down slightly.

“You’re ending this,” you said flatly, gesturing between the two of you.

“I didn’t say that,” he winced.

“But you are, though, I mean you have to,” you had steeled yourself into an impassive tone, trying to come across as unaffected.

Internally, you were on fire, feeling so foolish for how happy and giggly you had just been, oblivious to the fact that you were essentially being dumped.

Neither of you had ever said this was exclusive, you weren’t a couple, there was no commitment made. Still, the way he’d talk while he was inside of you made your head dizzy with the possibility of it all. There was an alternate universe out there somewhere in the cosmos, where he made you his for real, claimed you in public, put a ring on your finger. Sometimes, when he was so deep you were seeing stars and telling you how much he “loved being inside of his girl” you’d allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy, just for a minute.

Then you’d wake up alone, still poor, still a pogue. You’d light up a cigarette and let the smoke engulf your delusions.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He made it very clear that he expects me to find someone soon, to get married and start a family. I can’t do that with you, obviously.”

Obviously. Your throat tightened at the hurtful assertion.

“Right, obviously,” you agreed. “I mean I’m just a pogue who lives in this shithole and you should be with someone more worthy of you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tight in frustration. “I meant, ‘cause you know, you don’t want all that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay, Rafe, I get it,” you scoffed. “This was never meant to be a long term thing anyway, we’re just fucking.” 

It was such a ridiculous assertion, your trist had gone so far past just fucking, but you needed to convince yourself it was true otherwise there was no way you’d make it out of this unscathed. 

Rafe just blinked back at you for a minute before standing from your bed. You were grateful he was moving quickly, the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you cry.

“Right, just fucking,” he agreed. “And I need someone who can run a house and have a family, y'know, and understands my world.”

Every single word felt like a knife in your gut. You nodded like you couldn’t agree more, shuffling down in your bed and pulling the covers up.

“Okay then,” you fluffed your pillow, as if it was any other night and you were just getting ready for bed. “I hope it all works out. This was fun, though. Lock the door on your way out?”

Rafe looked down at you for a few seconds, your back to him as you settled into your pillows. 

“You got it,” he answered. 

And then he was gone. And for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep.

It was June now, a month had passed since the night you last spoke to Rafe. You had started going out even more than you were before you met him. You friends joked that you were alive from the dead, since you had chosen nights in with Rafe over social events for so many months. 

You were dancing at the same club where you met Rafe so many months earlier. You joined a few of your girls at the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink. 

“...posted on her story,” you leaned in to catch the end of your friend’s sentence. The girls were all leaning over to look at something on one of their phones.

“What are we looking at?” You slurred, already a few drinks deep.

The girl holding the phone told you they were looking at the instagram of a local influencer you all knew of.

You made a fake gagging noise. She was one of the richest girls on the island, infamous among you and your friends for her obnoxiously lavish lifestyle and her overly edited social media pictures.

“Ew, why?” you questioned them, accepting your usual drink from the bartender with a wink.

“Look at what she posted tonight,” your friend holding the phone showed you the screen. 

You studied the photo, your grasp around the cold glass got tighter as you took it in, your knuckles going white. It was a selfie - the girl you couldn't stand all done up in diamonds and red lipstick, gazing up lovingly at Rafe Cameron.

There was no caption, just a little heart-eyes emoji and his instagram tagged.

You never told your friends about you and Rafe. You felt strangely protective over what you had with him, not willing to hear any negative feedback about fucking around with a Kook prince. You knew they wouldn’t understand how perfect and intense your nights with him were. They wouldn’t believe that he was funny, sweet, tender. No one would ever know him like you did.

Like you used to know him. 

You took a sip of your drink and tried to act unaffected by the picture. In reality, your world was crashing around you. You knew he’d find his perfect Kook princess eventually, but you didn’t know it would be so soon, or that it would be her. You half-listened as one of the girls explained that she heard from a mutual friend that they weren’t official yet, but you knew they would be soon enough. Everything would go to plan for him, he’d get everything he ever wanted and you’d just watch through a screen. 

After telling your friends you had a headache, you took a ferry back to the island and walked to your apartment in the dark. It was a questionable choice in this part of town, but you needed the early summer night air to clear your brain. By the time you got back to your apartment you were sober, and yet you still felt like you might throw up.

You ran the shower in your tiny bathroom, letting the steam fill up the space and sink into your pores. The hot water turned your skin red and blotchy, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your eyes flew open and you turned the faucet off quickly, hands shaking in panic. It was nearly 2 a.m. and someone was pounding on your front door. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded lightly over the front door. 

“Who is it?” You yelled, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“It’s me,” a deep voice answered from the other side. You peered into the peephole, even though you didn’t need to see him to know who the voice belonged to.

Rafe stood on the other side, his white button up untucked and his tie loosened. It must be the same outfit he was wearing in the picture.

Your body and brain both paused, unable to process the shock of seeing him standing under your porch light.

“What do you want?” You questioned.

“Can I come in please?” His voice was strained, weak even.

“Why?” You said with a guarded edge to your tone.

“Y/n…” Rafe pleaded.

Despite every instinct you had, you opened the door.

He looked frenzied, his hair tousled, and the hem of his suit pants splattered with mud. He still looked fucking hot, his sleeves rolled up a bit, revealing his muscular forearms.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

“I walked here.” His eyes flickered up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in just a towel, licking his lips.

Your stomach tightened at the hunger in his eyes, but the pain of the last month burned fresh in your mind. Getting over him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the long, painful process wasn’t even over yet. Seeing that picture tonight was just another sharp spike in the barbed wire he had wrapped around your heart.

“She couldn’t have given you a ride?” You spat at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to ask who you were referring to.

“I asked her not to post that picture, I didn’t want you to see that,” he huffed.

“Why not? I knew it was coming." You summoned the same unbothered tone from the night he left you.

“We’re not-” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. “She isn’t my girlfriend…”

“Yet." You jumped to the end of his sentence for him. His eyes flew up to yours. “But she will be,” you surmised with a sad smile.

He doesn’t disagree with you.

“She’s perfect,” you continue. “Gorgeous, rich, part of your world.” 

He sighs regretfully, both of you recognizing the words he said to you a month earlier.

“I know,” he agrees.

“Then why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t answer you, just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes firmly locked to yours.

“She’s everything you wanted,” you point out. 

He nods his head in agreement again, “you’re right.”

“So then why are you here?” You repeat.

He cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto your lips.

“‘Cause she’s not you.”

You wish it didn’t make your heart race, wish it didn’t make your stomach flip, and you really wish it didn’t make you let out a small, nearly inaudible gasp. His heavily lidded eyes fogged over with need as he studied your face intently. Your gaze dropped from his eyes, to his lips, to his heaving chest, to his wringing hands. He flexed his fingers anxiously, and you wished you didn’t know what they felt like buried inside of you.

Your mind was racing, a million thoughts and most of them were warnings. You knew how this ends, the morning would come and he wouldn't be there. And a year from now they’ll be married and you’ll be haunted by this night. Every self-protective instinct you have left screamed in your head, pleading with you to make the right choice.

You were ready to appease the voices, about to close the door in his face, when his fingers reached towards you and just barely grazed the seam of your towel, tugging slightly with the most restraint you think he’s ever shown. All the noise in your head just stopped. Suddenly there was nothing in the entire world except for the man in front of you.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathed out hard and fast before grabbing his face in both of your hands and crashing your lips into his.

He lost it at the sound of his name on your lips and the taste of you on his tongue. His hands landed firmly on your waist, squeezing hard. His lips parted yours and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot and greedy. His hands slipped to your lower back, caging you into him with a flex of his biceps. You let out the sweetest little grunt as you jumped up, your arms and legs wrapping around him so he could carry you.

With you in his arms, he walked into your apartment. Still kissing him, you reached out and slammed the door closed. He let go of you with one hand to reach back and turn the lock, a sign of strength as he held up your whole body with one arm like you weigh nothing. He walked you both through your small apartment, not needing to look where he’s going to find your bedroom.

He bent low to drop you on the bed, you released your grip around his shoulders just long enough for him to roughly rip his shirt open and pull it off. He was back on top of you in seconds, lifting you up to scoot you both up to the top of the mattress. 

As his lips moved to your neck, you realized you’re already falling back into your old patterns, with Rafe controlling the tempo and doing most of the work. The familiarity made you anxious, you had gotten so addicted to the way he commanded your body and you weren’t sure you’d survive another detox. When he started rolling his hips against you, you could feel how hard and ready he was under his slacks, and made a decision.

You reached up behind his head and laced your fingers through his hair, tugging hard to separate his lips from your skin. A gasp passed through his lips at the sensation.

“You want me, baby?” You purred.

His brows furrowed, but he was too desperate to play games.

“So badly,” he admitted.

“You want to be inside of me?”

His eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your dirty words. When he didn't answer, you arched your back and pressed up into his aching cock, letting the towel open just enough to expose your bare core, your wetness soaking into the soft fabric of his pants.

“I need it,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy around me again.”

At this confession, you released his hair and pressed against his chest to roll him onto his back, straddling him. You kissed him again, just as fevered as before. While your mouth clashed with his, your hands undid his belt and he lifted his hips to allow you to pull his slacks down, leaving him in his snug briefs. You bit his lip, smiling smugly when he moaned. You licked a stripe up his neck, loving the salty taste, Rafe already sweaty from how worked up you’ve got him.

You kiss up his neck, until your mouth is pressed into the shell of his ear.

You whispered, “Does she feel as good as me?”

Rafe said your name in warning, clearly not wanting to talk about her while you were on top of him like this.

You pulled his earlobe between your teeth and bit down, making him wince, pleasured by the pain.

“Answer me,” you demanded.

“N-no,” he stuttered as you pressed your hips down hard, your now dripping pussy sliding over the outline of his cock. 

You sat up straight, and he tried to follow you, his head lifting from the pillow, but you laid your hand softly on his chest and pushed him back down.

Rafe watched as you slowly open the towel and dropped it to the floor, revealing yourself completely. He lifted his hands subconsciously, reaching for your tits. You grabbed his wrists and held his hands back, just inches from your skin. 

“Does she make you as hard as I do?” You said with another circle of your hips.

He shook his head back and forth rapidly, relenting to your game. You lowered one of his hands, raising your hips off of him slightly, one more question in mind. 

He inhaled sharply as you dragged his hand against your pussy, his fingers instinctively rubbing with the perfect pressure.

“Does she get this wet for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “No.”

You leaned back over him, lips hovering over his, your breath intertwined.

“Then fuck me like you’ll never be able to fuck her.”

Rafe’s restraint snapped in half and he flipped you on your back. He ripped his briefs down with one hand, while the other ran over your calf and brought it to his shoulder.

He filled you like only he can, like he was tailor made for you. You clenched around him hard as he pounded into you, eventually lifting your other leg so you could dig your heels into his shoulder. No more words were exchanged, the ecstasy and exertion and emotion all too intense for either of you to form words. 

This is it, you told yourself, tomorrow he’ll belong to her. 

The tops of your thighs pressed into your stomach as he bottomed out over and over again. You hoped he would think the water in your eyes was just a result of the pressure. He must've noticed it though, because he threaded his fingers with yours to soothe you, pressing his forehead against your temple, and panting desperately into your ear.

It only took a few more strokes for you both to come. The last time you heard his voice, he was crying out your name. He filled you completely, and you were still dripping with him when he climbed off of you, pulled his clothes on wordlessly, and left.

You laid still for a long while. No tears came to you this time, a bitter acceptance washing over you. 

He’s gone for good now, leaving you with another wild story to tell and freeing you to throw yourself into the next adventure. And he’ll have a picture perfect life, with the perfect girl.

You both got exactly what you wanted…

…right?

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

part 2

[mehiwilldoitlater]

When you were taken by your original world and sent into some kind of ancient China, full of demons and monsters, you weren't exactly sure why you were supposed to assist the "Destined one." Damn, you didn't even know how this.

When you find out that this destiny one was some kind of successor of Sun Wukong, saying that you were surprised was a joke.

His eyes scrutinized you; they were dark with a tint of gold when the light stricked them. He silently circled you, creating some distance between you, himself, and the other monkeys, curious about the mortals that presented themselves on their mountain.

Every time you tried to keep some distance, he was ready to close it enough to never leave his sight. What a strange situation, and what strange creature was sent to him just at the dawn of his journey.

The stories portrayed Wukong, as the name says, as a monkey kind of guy: cheerful, ready to make some jokes, who liked to make fun of people and laugh. And yet, the destined one was nothing like this trope.

He was composed, serious, and always straight forward. It was like he decided to expel every fun side from him in order to fulfill his duty.

Despite that, he showed more side to you: he was caring, trying to understand your confusion and fear while in a new world, always remembering to keep your peace while walking to make sure that you didn't get lost around. He was your protector, always ready to strike at every danger, and a good friend in the moment of agony.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry for these things, but... I'm sorry, so sorry."

You missed home. You never could believe yourself, but you missed your monothone and unsavory life. You missed waking up, going to walk, listening to endless hours of your boss rumbling—you missed even the crappy food of the cafeteria!

Everything seems so far away, without hope of reaching it. And you felt like trash because he was the one that was there to listen. You felt ashame, ashame of the fact that you were there complaining about what you lost while he was there fighting for both of you. You tried to cover your eyes, holding your breath to calm down, but nothing worked at all.

A stream of tears keeps on crashing down, hiccups escaping your lungs without stop.

Then, you felt his arms—two pairs of strong and soft arms, protecting your now vulnerable state from everything and everyone. His tail followed his gesture, keeping you in place and warm—so warm.

"Please." His high peech voice is now reduced to a whisper. "Don't hold it. Don't hold the pain. I can't see you like this. Please, whatever cloud your heart, speak to me."

Soon, you both became inseparable. You followed him like a shadow, carrying pills and balms, making plans with him for your next move. Damn, even Bajie couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you behind the monkey, a little afraid of the newcomer of the group.

You weren't anymore just some random mortal the Destined one had found and kept at his tail; now you were the Destined done caompanion and trusted friend. His journey became your journey, and his task your task. You both became bound by a silent vow.

"Say...why don't you choose a name? A real one this time."

"I never thought about it." He started to play with a leaf fallen from the nearby tree, thinking about your new idea.

You reached his side, holding his hand in yours, caressing the black claws on it. Once those scared you, now you wonder if a nice manicure could make them look prettier than now.

"Well, you can't let me call you Destined One or Monkey forever! You need a proper name! Something nice! ...umm...how about... Yuánfèn?"

"Um? Since when can you name people here?"

"Well," you continued, "it's destiny in Chinese, no? Like..fate!"

He looked at you, then laughed between his teeth a little. "There's no difference in how they usually call me then!"

"Yes, but...this is how I call you! So is different!"

Soon, you start to not miss home that much. You start to hope to be closer to him—to not go back. You hope that, after your honeymoon, you can stay together and that, despite all, there can be a happy ending for both of you. And silently, in his head, he hoped that too.

"May i?"

He gave you his silent consent, allowing you to caress his cheek with your so small fingers. Your lips met his own, your gesture so timid and gentle that you ask yourself if it's still a small image in your mind instead of something that you're actually doing now. He hasn't moved an inch; confusion starts to come to him and yourself, to the point that you need to stop. Now you just feel ashamed; you felt that you crossed a line, and now you don't even know if you can even go back.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

A small shush from him, his finger holding your chin and guiding you against him. This time, he's trying to mimic your gesture, a blush forming from his face to the visible part of his ears. His kiss is trembling but fierce. He waited long enough to see your still puzzled face.

"I...may don't get how you did it...Can you show me...again, please?"

You don't need to let him ask again; soon your lips smash together again, showing him exactly what's happening.

Your fate is sealed with that kiss, and there's no force on heaven and earth to undo it.

@sun-jglim

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅

synopsis: (Matt x Reader x Fem!OC) where Matt wants to help satisfy you with some help.

warnings: SMUT, threesome, pussy munchin, unprotected sex, bisexual fantasies

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

Matt’s heart hurt watching you shrink into yourself. Your group of girl friends were more than supportive when you came out. A lot of them were part of the community themselves. 

“NO, SAME! Eating a girls pussy really is fuckin’ amazing, man.” 

Your attentive boyfriend sees your face blank with a dissociative look. 

He knows. 

He knows you feel left out. He can see the tortured look behind your eyes. But, he also knew you loved him and you’d never cheat on him. In fact, he even knew you would never even admit to wanting something—something he couldn’t give you—in fear of hurting him. 

That’s why when the group of girls left, he had sat you down on your shared bed for a conversation. 

“Baby, talk to me. I can tell something is wrong, let me help you.” he encouraged.

You were dismissive and unresponsive as he tried to push the truth out of you. He never needed anyone else to bring life into the bedroom with you, but seeing the longing on your face as you listened to your friend’s experiences changed that. 

“Listen….I’m so proud of you for coming out, baby—I really am. But….I can see that you want more—”

“No! I want you, I—”

“I know, I know, you’re never losing me. Don’t worry about that—I just, just listen, okay?”

You heard him loud and clear as he suggested the idea to you. 

A threesome.

He told you to pick out the girl. There was no part of him that cared for the woman besides if she could please you. But, you were already overwhelmed—you were shocked at the idea and your brain wanted no part in seeking the third member. 

Matt has always been stepping up and helping you out. This was no different. He took all your boundaries into consideration while looking around. Rachel, your best friend, had even received a phone call from him, with your permission of course. 

Learning any information he could from her, he found the girl. It was one of Rachel’s other friends, a girl you had both met briefly at the club and really hit off with. However, she was never in town too often. 

But, Matt didn’t see that as a problem. 

Discussing boundaries and relaying the information to her was easy. The girl was respectful and mindful as she talked to Matt. 

“I….I’m just gonna be blunt with the boundaries if that’s okay….” Matt trails off, slightly unsure as he bites his tongue. 

“Hit me, Matt. I’m down and it will honestly be better to know everything crystal clear.” Avery remarks. 

So, he did just that. He explained every boundary, repeating words when lost in translation.

Which all led to now. 

The night had started off with a couple of drinks to loosen up as well as a high tension. With each sip, the tension faded to an aura of excitement.

Now, you were laying on your’s and Matt’s bed. Your head rested on Matt’s thigh as he brushed your hair out of your face. He watched hungrily at your face contort into pleasure with each nibble Avery left on your skin. 

“That feels good, baby huh?” he perks. 

You nod, your head throwing back further as Avery gently clamps her teeth around your nipple, massaging the other one between her fingers. 

Your body rolls between the two. Matt’s attentive pats and her warm mouth make your cunt throb. Nude skin all touching and brushing together drives you insane. The only remaining clothing left on was Matt’s briefs. 

Avery’s kisses trail up as she pins your wrists down on Matt’s thighs on either side of your head. You get a quick glimpse of Matt’s intense eyes analyzing your expression before shutting them to embrace the feeling of her lips crashing against your own. 

Her lips are passionate, slow and sultry. Each motion leaves your gut fiening for relief. She scoots further up, kneeling one leg up and brushes the top of her thigh against your pussy. You break the kiss with a shriveled moan. 

Avery laughs against your skin as she trails downward with her mouth, wet and sloppy kisses reaching down to your navel. Peeping open your scrunched eyes, you see Matt watching her hands as they slide up between your legs. 

Gentle and softly, she spreads your wet heat to expose the hood of your clit. Toying with the sensitive bud, you let out a shriek. Your knees clutch inward, being stopped by her shoulders. 

“God,” she laughs, amused at your reactiveness. “---you’re so sensitive, baby.” 

You squirm as Matt soothes his hands on top of your arms, comforting you as Avery spits a large wad of salvia down your cunt. A light slap to your pussy makes you jolt and let out a cry. Avery laughs out, pushing her fingers hard around your clit to tease you. You can feel the liquid seeping out from your hole from the tense fever waving over you. 

Repeating the action, you squeak and let out a strangled cry. She pins your hips down harshly, biting onto the top of your thigh. 

“Play nice, Avery.” Matt warns. 

They had gone over boundaries. A simple ‘no’ or ‘stop’ would elicit the end of all wandering hands. He was stern, but he wasn’t upset. 

He just wanted you to feel good. 

And he was able to tease you like how she was—-you didn’t need Avery for that. 

“Jealous? C’mon, look,” she rubs slowly onto your clit. Your hands grab onto each of Matt’s knees as your mouth draws in a wide circle. “---she’s such a fun toy. Could play with her all day, yeah?” she teases, licking a stripe up your thigh with her fingers circling around your pulsating nerves. 

Matt licks his tongue over the bottoms of his teeth. He’s not jealous because he fears she’ll make you feel good—he’s jealous because he wants to be the one doing it. He wants your pretty moans and tight cunt to be plundering whimpers and whines to him. 

As Avery lets her hot breath fan over your wet folds, you shiver in delight. She teasingly prods her tongue through your slick, her lips curling as you whine. Looking upward, she sees Matt watching her intently as he continues caressing his hands up and down your arms. 

“Go ahead.” he grits, a slight pride overcoming him as she waits for his permission to dive through your pussy hungrily. 

It was all part of the deal. You were his—-she had to get permission from him before doing anything to you. She knew she had limitations, and honestly—she was more than willing to compromise—even more so as she licked through your cunt. 

She teases you with a light pressure, prying your thighs apart and letting her manicured nails dig into the soft flesh. Shaking her head back and forth, she lets her tongue roam and wander, smoothing over your pussy and taking notes of where her mouth suctions that makes your moans louder and higher in pitch. 

Matt can’t help it. His cock strains in his briefs, poking the side of your head as you become consumed by pleasure. You already looked so fucked out and they’ve barely even started. He imagines how warm and wet your pussy is gonna feel around him as you rock your hips in Avery’s face. 

Watching you feel so good makes him feel good. 

“C’mon, baby. Doing so good for us, so good.” he praises.

Avery feels you clench around her tongue as she presses her nose to your clit. Matt hesitantly wanders his hands down, grazing lightly over your hot skin. 

You jump at the suction of Avery’s lips around your clit, her teeth resting to prod at the sensitive bud lightly as she sucks hard. Matt stops his finger along your tits, his fingers swirling and pinching delicately on your nipples. 

It all feels so good. Attention from both sides drives you insane. Your legs tense around Avery, quivering as you let out a screech. The pit of your gut clenches as your entire body shivers from the white, hot bliss. 

“That’s it, good girl.” Matt praises. 

You gasp for air as Avery lifts herself from between your legs. She wipes her mouth, smirking devilishly at Matt. 

“You gonna fuck her or what?” she taunts. 

Matt knows she’s pushing his buttons on purpose. Avery had expressed how she was dying to see your face as he pounded into you. But, despite that—it was working. 

“Baby, can she sit on your face, hm?” Matt asks, ignoring Avery as he stares down at you softly. 

Blissed out, you nod. Your hips are still swiveling the bed from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Avery and Matt switch, her legs straddling on either side of your face. Matt adjusts the pillows behind your head, brushing the slightly damp hairs out of your face. 

Turning to Avery, he gives a harsh glare. “Don’t hurt her, I’m serious.” he points. She rolls her eyes, ticking off his buttons more. He shifts his gaze back towards your ogling eyes as you pant looking at Avery’s dripping pussy in front of you. 

And fuck. 

Something about your hungry eyes makes his chest tighten.  

“Gonna eat her pussy real good, huh sweetheart?” he taunts. 

You nod, fighting the urge to dig in as they both stare down at you intensely. 

“Make her cum and I’ll fuck you, m’kay? Can you do that, baby?” he asks. 

“I—yeah, yeah—I can do tha—”

Your words are swallowed into Avery’s cunt as she seats herself on your face. You moan into her, your hands grasping around and onto her hips. 

“Mmmmm, yeah she can—look how good she is for me, Matt. My—fuck—my hungry girl, huh?” she whines out, letting out a hiss as you work against her pussy. 

Matt huffs, walking around and climbing in between your legs on the bed. He kicks off his boxers, licking over his lips. You're too distracted to realize the shift in the bed, too consumed in the addiction sour of Avery’s slick coating your tongue. 

It’s almost like rubbing wet sand into your skin at the beach—-it feels addicting. Your tongue against her soft pussy lips making Avery shriek from above you. She grasps onto the headboard of the bed, her legs starting to tense on either side of your head. 

“Oh my—fuck yeah, baby. You’re doin’ so good, huh?” she praises. 

You gain confidence and more friction as she chases the knot building in her stomach. Matt can’t help but spread your legs further apart and admire your cunt pulse around nothing. He watches as your previous orgasm squeezes out of your tight hole, licking his lips as he grazes his hand teasingly up your thigh. 

“Matt, look—oh my—-she’s doing so good. All for me, huh?” 

His frustration from Avery’s relentless taunts makes his fingers dig into the thick skin between your thighs. Staring at Avery’s marks littered on your skin—he devilishly leans his head down to kiss over the marks. 

Avery’s whines get louder and louder. The bed starts to shake as she grasps onto the headboard for dear life. Placing a soft kiss on your sensitive pussy lips, Matt grins as you whine into Avery loudly, causing her to scream out as her body tenses.

“---cumming, holy fuckin’--’m cumming,” she rides her hips out slowly on your face as she hunches over to catch her breath. 

Matt stops Avery by the hips with his hands as she tries to lift herself from your face. “Uh-uh,” he tuts, “---you’re gonna sit right back down. Be good for my girl, yeah? She doesn’t sound like she’s done.” he slurs with a pronounced dominance. 

Weak from the previous orgasm, Avery only nods before letting herself fall limp on your face. You moan as you taste her yet again, completely drunk on the way her cum slowly dribbles down her walls as you prod your tongue in as deep as it can. 

Avery whines and hisses from the overstimulation, but she’s not alone. You yelp into her as you feel Matt sliding his cock along your lips, teasing your entrance. 

Crescent moons peirce into her hips from your nails as you cry out from Matt thrusting his cock into you slowly. 

“Fuckkkkk, so good. You fuckin’ squeeze my dick so goddamn good, sweetheart. Look at that….” he mumbles the last part to himself, staring at where your bodies meet. He watches as your hole stretches around his length as he slowly starts fucking into you. 

Reaching a hand down, he spreads your folds to reveal your clit. He teasingly rubs the tip of his finger on the swollen bud, moaning as you clench around him harder. 

Pressing completely down, he drags his thumb along your clit in slow circles as he starts gathering a decent pace. Each thrust of his cock combined with the euphoric touch of his thumb sends your noises directly onto Avery’s cunt, overstimulating her further as she pushes her weight forward, desperately holding herself up as her legs vibrate. 

“Oh–!” Avery comes to a high, riding out yet another orgasm as your tongue darts in and out of her hole, the tip of your nose buried against her nerves pulsing by her hooded clit. 

“My god—you eat pussy fuckin’ good.” she pants out. 

Matt huffs in between quickening thrusts. “Yeah—she, fuck, she sucks cock like…mmmm—like no other.” he remarks. 

Avery sits beside your head, her hands toying with your perky breasts as they bounce with each thrust. She mocks your facial expression as your eyebrows furrow, your mouth hanging open wide. 

“Fuck her better, Matt.” Avery grits maliciously. 

Matt is too far gone to care as he abuses his frustration from the relentless girl onto your puffy and pulsating cunt—his cunt. Your tight hole swallows him, milking him as slaps echo through the room. 

“Oh my—-” 

Your boyfriend struggles to contain the impending orgasm as you clutch him in deep with your legs around his waist. His pounding is buried deep in your gut. Avery notices this, reaching down to press on the bulge prodding with each thrust. 

A piercing scream scratches through your throat. Everything feels so good. Your chanting and moaning both nonsense and Matt’s name. Your hands desperately search for something, clutching onto Avery’s wrist as she pushes harsher with her palm on your lower stomach. 

“I’m—--I—--oh,”

You're unable to get the words out through the mind numbing pleasure. Matt’s hard cock is slapping into, hilting to create a pressure between your hips. 

“You gonna cum for me, sweetie? Yeah?” Avery pats your cheek with her free hand, sliding her thumb between your lips. You suck on the finger, nodding helplessly as your body rocks and vibrates. 

“No—fuckin’---she’s cuming—-cumming for me. Isn’t that, ugh god—right, pretty girl?” You clench around him harder at his words. “Mhm, that’s right. Fuckin’--suckn’ me in it feels so good, huh? My cock fills this pretty pussy,  baby? Tell me.” he directs. 

Avery shoots him a playful glare. “She’s busy with her mouth, Matt—”

“Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Let—god, let her talk—or I swear,” he puffs against your skin between hard strokes of his cock pushing into you as his thrusts deepen with passion. “One more word—you’re gonna, mmmm, you're riding that pretty little face again, you hear me?” he warns.

Avery pops her thumb out of your mouth, her pulsating folds aching beyond any craving for stimulation. She lazily drags the fingers down your body, groping your breasts as she tweaks the nipple.

“Baby, tell me. Who fills this pussy so good, huh?” he rushes out, straining his sentences in a slur of pure ecstasy. 

“I—you, Matt, you!’ you whine out. 

“That’s right, that’s right,” he praises, dropping his head as he feels you start to convulse around him. Your broken moans stripped by your raw throat tip him over the edge. The tightness of your walls milks his pearlescent cum deep inside of you, messily forming a ring around the base of his cock as you both ride down your highs with lazy thrusts.

“Can I make her cum again?” Avery asks jokingly. 

Matt laughs, slowly pulling out as he glances down to your blissed out expression. He brushes sweat soaked hair behind your ear, your hooded eyes lazily blinking up at him. 

“No,” he says, kissing the side of your head as he caresses your cheek. He slurs his words with a dry chuckle.“---think she’s satisfied.” 

[monolotus]

to be loved is . . .

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒

includes: reader gets referred to as a girlfriend, seventeen adores you so much

When seventeen adores you so much that they can’t help but make you feel so loved even with the smallest gestures

Scoups ⨾ ﹙ to be able to take care ﹚

Scoups, the good leader. He’s always taking care of everybody around him- the staff, his family, his members. He will neglect himself in order to help somebody else, no matter how big or small the help may be.

So, when is late at night, and he allows himself to ask you to help him, you can’t help but smile softly, pulling him closer to your body as you comfort him trough his crying.

He allows you to help him.

When he comes late after practice, he knows you will prepare a tasty dinner for him, with a warm bath afterwards. You will help him with his clothing, as he is ever so tired to change into his pajamas. And you’ll cuddle, and he will be the one being hugged, you all over him｡

Jeonghan ⨾ ﹙ to be childish ﹚

You can’t help but to be yourself around him. How could you not? If he is so unapologetically himself. Your love for the silly games and pranks can’t help itself when you are around your lover. He created a space where your childish jokes can be heard, a space where no matter how dumb the hobby may seem, your lover is always ready to support you｡

Joshua ⨾ ﹙ to be soft ﹚

Ever the gentleman, Joshua can’t help but see you as the most sweet thing in the entire world. He encourages your aftercare routine, doesn’t matter the time nor the problem- you had a fight? a bad day? you stressed yourself out? He’s already in his pajamas, ready to help you with your aftercare routine.

Whenever you feel the world’s expectations on your shoulders, too heavy to let your walls fall, he’s already there: ready with a warm smile, and sweet words towards you.

When the worlds feels like too much, he’s ready to help｡

Jun ⨾ ﹙ to be seen ﹚

You said once you hated the world’s view on you- how people could perceive you wrongly. Since then, Jun has taken it as a full time job to learn you; your hobbies, your freckles, your expressions lines and even the colors that you think makes your eyes pop.

He’s ready to show you that, even if the world has a wrong perception of you, he’s had taken his time to see you for who you are. Not your money, connections, friends or anything alike. He will take his time to know why you frown when you listen to good music, or why you are so scared of cockroaches｡

Hoshi ⨾ ﹙ to be too much ﹚

Too loud, too emotional, too soft, too impulsive. There’s nothing wrong with being too much, that’s something that Hoshi made sure you’d understand early on your relationship.

You are being too emotional? fine! he’ll cry with you while watching the final episode of your latest favorita k-drama. You can’t take Jeonghan’s teasing today? Fine, he’ll shield you from the eldest jokes! There’s nothing wrong with feeling too much. You two take pride in creating a space where both of you could be too hyper, and nobody would have the right to say anything about it｡

Wonwoo ⨾ ﹙ to take space ﹚

Always making yourself feel small. You would physically make yourself smaller when two members would sandwich you, you would lower your voice whenever someone else spoke while you talked. That’s something Wonwoo couldn’t take lightly.

He would encourage you to speak louder when someone would interrupt you, he would make himself look even bigger just so you wouldn’t feel bad about taking even the smallest space between members.

He doesn’t allow his partner to feel small, not when she is full of good things to showcase to the world｡

Woozi ⨾ ﹙ to take time ﹚

“Good things take time” That’s what he said when you couldn’t stop complaining about your assignment taking too long to be finished by your group.

He explained, slowly and surely, how the other groups had their own times to work on their assignment- Everybody had their own schedule, yours been as busy as ever.

He made sure, after this, to encourage you to take time to do your things- your homework, your hair, your night routine.

Without realizing it, he started to take time to plan his own schedule. Sure to say, you made sure he also took time to eat and cuddle with you｡

Minghao ⨾ ﹙ to being taken cared of ﹚

To being able to love, you have to love yourself first. How can you take care of Minghao, if you neglect yourself so much? How could you learn about which herbs can help the stress you both go under, if by the smallest mistake you are trowing hard words at yourself?

He didn’t complain when his tea (made by you) was slightly sour. He didn’t complain when he got sick after taking care of you and your fever. And he would never complain about helping you through your meltdowns.

Why? Because he loves you.

Why would he complain about taking care of his partner? He knew you would drop everything for him if he called you sick, so why wouldn’t he do the same for you?

He did｡

He poured his favorite tea, his most fluffy blanket and pulled his best recipes from Mingyu. He took care of you, even when you wouldn’t stop complaining about it.

Easily, and without thinking too much about it. Because he loves you｡

Mingyu ⨾ ﹙ to be spoiled ﹚

You can’t look at something twice, say “it’s pretty” or even send him a new caffe than opened downtown, or he would be taking action into buying everything that you could lay your eyes on.

Oh, you liked a new foundation at Olive young? Good thing he’s ambassador of the brand! Craving something sweet? Snickers are right there!

There is no need to worry about your plate being nothing short of delicious: he cooks just the way you like it- the meat, the veggies, even the side dishes. He doesn’t mind eating a little bit less meat if that means you get to enjoy your food for a little longer｡

You complained, once, that you didn’t really like your work’s lunch. You bet he took matter into his own hands to learn how to make cute lunch boxes, always sending it with a cute note (“Missing your smile”; “hope you miss me as much as i miss you”; “listen to this song, it made me think of you”)

Seokmin ⨾ ﹙ to be a part of ﹚

Game night? Late after-work-drinks? Behind the scenes of a photo shoot? He makes sure you are included. Let it be through pictures, messages, video calls or even inviting you to the place.

He loves getting a picture of your lunch, a short OOTD video or even a complaint of the weather- it makes him feel part of your daily routine, even when you are in different continents. So, he does the same.

He sends a selca when is late at night and he has just gotten out of the shower, or when the boys decided to order some chicken, or even when he saw a CD of your favorite band while taking a walk with his friends: he makes sure to send a picture, to make sure you know you’re always on his mind｡

Seungkwan ⨾ ﹙ to be emotional ﹚

Growing up you didn’t let many things affect you, you couldn’t cry easily.

Until you met Seungkwan, who would always talk sweet nothings to you “i love doing nothing with you” “i appreciate you doing this for me” “it means a lot that you took time to help me”. His tongue would held so many sweet words towards you, that it was only a matter of time until you started to imitate him.

When he would stay awake to wait for you on a friday night, you would drop a “it meas a lot that you decided to wait for me, that’s why i love you” and he would be shocked, not used to you saying things like that.

He didn’t push it, not at all.

He was his emotional self, and with that, you learnt that being outspoken and letting people around you know how you felt for them, meant a lot.

How could you not? If it was so easy for him to cry out of pure love for his fans, for his friends, for his family｡

How could you not have your eyes filled with tears, as you mumbled about your love towards him?

Vernon ⨾ ﹙ to be shared ﹚

“Yeah, my girlfriend really likes that band” “Have you seen this movie? My partner is the biggest fan” “You know, my girlfriend told me how they did this scene…” Are some common phrases when it comes to Vernon.

He is a little nerd when it comes to his favorite niches, and so are you.

It slipped from your tongue before you could stop yourself “You know, they were actually drunk when filming this scene…” And, later, when a carat would ask about a TMI, he would answer with a fun fact you told him about a movie, a record, an artist.

More often than not, he would make a new playlist inspired by you. He has multiple by now.

In letterbox, he has a watchlist named “to watch with her” And another, called “Her watch” As you don’t really use the app. He rates the movies for you- mamma mia having a 5/5 star｡

Dino ⨾ ﹙ to be heard ﹚

Always the youngest, the overlooked. He can’t bare the thought of not hearing what his partner has to say. Let it be the dumbest opinion in the entire world, he would look at you with big eyes, waiting for you to finish your train of thought.

When you pause the episode of the latest drama you two are watching, he looks down, ready to hear your opinion on how the plot could be resolved.

When you send an album to his chat, with the text “Wait a sec”, he knows he is in for a rant opinion about each track, talking about how you would change it, or why you loved it so much.

You’re first person he sends every draft to: A cover, a coreography, even the instagram pictures. He values your opinion, and he hears it.

He doesn’t just listen, he hears it. He takes his time to process your words, even if it cuts the flow of the conversation, as he really wants to make sure he understands you｡

–sorry for any errors, first time writing long paragraphs for a fic! lol. let me know what you think. Xoxo, gi

– requests and asks are open!

[alwaysmoncheri]

summary: no one makes james potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it

cw: female!reader, cheesy writing, lots of fluff, sunshine!reader, james is whipped for the reader, based on my girl, by the temptations, implications of wolfstar, pda, not proofread, 1.1k

<3

You’re James’ sunshine, you’re his bundle of light and happiness on a cloudy day, and you’re all of his favorite things mixed into one beautiful girl. To James, nothing can ever compare to the way you make him feel. Every time you look in his direction with those captivating eyes that always sparkle with love—love that you constantly spread across the school like it’s your only goal in life—to make people feel loved, special, wanted—unlike so many—your contagious smile that makes him feel all giddy and causes his stomach to flutter with excitement.

Everything you do, everything you are, makes James feel like one of those special recipients of all the love you have stored in your overflowing heart. James feels like the luckiest guy in the world to have the privilege of holding you in his arms during the cold winter nights spent in his dormitory, the early spring mornings strolling through the flower meadow the two of you found in the outskirts of Hogwarts, the hot summer days spent in the backyard of the Potter residence, and the cool autumn evenings feeling the cool breeze blowing the fallen leaves past your feet.

Even now, you stroll through the doors to the common room and look so effortlessly breathtaking. The elegance you seem to carry with you to every room you enter makes James’ heart race because you’re his girl and no one else can take you away from him.

Yours and James’ friends always know when you’ve entered a room, not just because your presence is enough alone, but because James always seems to have an absolutely stunned expression dancing across his face, almost as if his heart has stopped beating—this time it leads the group to tease the love sick boy.

“What’s got you all smiles, Prongs?” Sirius asks curiously and with a teasing smile he playfully nudges his best friend’s shoulder, earning no reaction from James—who seems to be mesmerized, by your presence, “Is it that girl of yours, again?”

“Is that even a question?” Lily scoffs lightly and with a dramatic roll of her eyes she gazes past the small crowd of people also entering the common room in an attempt to spot your radiant figure, “Of course it’s (Y/n).”

“Let’s ask the lover boy,” Marlene suggests with a sly grin and points the book she's currently reading towards James, before calling over to him teasingly while tilting her head to one side, “Oh, lover boy?”

“Yeah?” James responds without tearing his gaze away from you and when your eyes finally meet he can’t help but let out a captivated sigh, his eyes screaming his absolute admiration for you.

“See, here she comes now," Lily smirks, gesturing in the direction of you, as you continue to make your way towards the group, who are casually sitting in their respective spots around the room—Lily and Mary are sitting together on the couch closest to the blazing, however warm fire, Remus and Marlene are reading on the couch across from them, Sirius is comfortably situated on the floor between Remus’ legs, and finally James is sprawled out on a lounge chair angled directly towards his lovely girlfriend—you. 

“Good morning, everyone.” You greet your friends with a loving smile, plop yourself down on James’ lap, and finally turn your long-craved attention toward your favorite boy, “Hey, Jamie.” You add sweetly and swiftly lean over to plant your soft, addicting lips upon his flushed cheek.

“Good morning, love.” James replies, adjusting his hands on your hips in order to pull your back flush against his chest—something you shamelessly lean into. As James wraps one of his arms around your waist and nervously fidgets with the hem of your shirt, you wrap your own arms around his shoulders, place your hands at the nape of his neck, and begin to twirl the ends of his curls (that need a trim, you notice) around your fingers—something you know he’s obsessed with.

You then glance around the room at your friends as they engage in each of their preferred activities on this peaceful and quiet evening. Your face transforms into a content smile, reminiscing on what your life might be like when you and your friends all leave Hogwarts. A day where all of your friends come over to the Potter resistance—you and James’ house, and spend the day around the fire, warm cups of tea within reach, silent communication being shared between you and James before the two of you sneak away and up the perfect wooden stairs to your bedroom, where laughter and secrets are shared under the sheets.

“Prongsy here hasn’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door.” Sirius smiles causally, leaning further back against Remus’ legs as the sandy-brown-haired boy nervously shifts in his chair and swiftly runs the hand that isn’t holding his book through his hair. Sirius’ comment is directed towards you, and you finally snap back into reality when you notice that knowing smirk plastered across Sirius’ face.

James lets out a dramatic groan while throwing his head back against the chair that the two of you continue to sit in. Your boyfriend’s reaction to Sirius’ constant teasing causes a quiet giggle to fall from your lips. The sound of your contagious laugh makes James’ stomach swoon with love and his face visibly lights up after lifting his head back up off of the chair. James can’t help but stare at you even when you’re sitting right in his arms. You look so sweet, radiating with love and warmth. At this moment, James can only imagine what those lips of yours might taste like. And that’s when he kisses you.

James can’t control himself and for valid reasons. You taste just the same as you always do—like honey, sweet as can be. It would be impossible for the bees not to be jealous of him. James could never get tired of kissing your lips and he’s not ashamed of it. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life with you then he’s always going to express his everlasting amount of love and affection for you.

The kiss catches you off guard, not expecting such passion and aggression in front of your friends, but you instinctively kiss James back. Your hands tangle through James’ hair while his grip on your hips and the waist tighten ever-so-slightly. This earns him a surprised squeak from you, and causes a boyish grin to form on James’ face as he kisses you.

“Get a room!” Sirius shouts jokingly from his spot on the floor which causes you and James to pull away with love sick grins consuming your expressions.

“You’re my girl.” James whispers into your ear and affectionately bumps his nose into the apple of your cheek, tickling your sensitive skin. A soft giggle bubbles into the air when James begins to pepper kisses all over your face.

“And I’ll always be your girl.”

<3

masterlist . james potter masterlist

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