#just a dumb fucking thought i had TWO days ago that i think was really funny TO ME its wenclair OBVI

[shepardyke]

*gets high to write stoner enid*

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[reidrum]

all yours if you want me | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: i think i really like this but if i proofread it one more time im gonna hate it so im just putting it out now lol. this is the full version of the sneak peak i posted last week woohoo ! also this is my first time writing smut so im sorry if it sucks but i hope y'all like it <3

summary: bau's got their first day off in weeks, and you're heading straight to the club to have some fun, you just didn't expect your coworker/crush to also be there while you're trying to forget him.

cw: 18+ minors pls dni, smut, p in v (dont be silly wrap ur willy), munch!spence, lowkey softdom!spence, suggestive dancing in public spaces, minor insecure reader, reader is afab and wears a dress and heels

wc: 4.6k

pls let me know if i forgot anything and let me know your thoughts pleaseee xx

it was the first friday night off you and any of the team members of the bau had in a long time, and you all were determined to spend it well. jj and hotch immediately went home to their families, penelope and emily decided they were going home to get some well needed rest, rossi went to a cigar club, not really sure what derek and spencer ended up doing, but you knew what you were doing tonight.

you’d had a long standing invitation from one of your college friends for a club night, and at first you’d decline because you’d get swept away on a case, and because you were hopelessly pining after your hot nerdy coworker dr. spencer reid.

spencer was smart in many ways, three PhDs, countless published papers, not to mention that eidetic memory of his. there was one thing that spencer was just fucking dumb at, and it was your shameless flirting at him.

like it annoyed you how clueless he was. you’d bring him coffee in the mornings with hearts drawn on it, fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet rides back, even complimenting his outfit or looks which made him flustered, but still nothing. your harbored crush seemed to stay just that, a crush. and while you’d hope he would get the hint he just hasn’t.

so you pull out your phone to text your friend. 

“barry’s at 9?”

“oh my god FINALLY. i’m there i'll pick you up at 8:30.”

you grin to yourself, this was good. you needed to get out and unwind for once.

you drive home quickly to hop in the shower before your friend comes to get you. throwing on a silk slip dress as your outfit of choice, you slipped your heels on and met your friend in the car.

walking into the club, you’re met with the thumping bass of the music playing and the staunch smell of alcohol, sweat, and sex.

it made you think about the last time you got laid, which was a really long time ago. and honestly you wanted to sleep with spencer so bad you hadn’t been making advances elsewhere. but that was going to change tonight, you were determined to have good slutty fun, and hopefully get laid.

your friend grabbed your hand and beelined to the bar, ordering two tequila shots each. once you downed them you moved to the dance floor and started preying for a target. as you’re scanning the room, you notice a familiar looking mop of brown hair standing next to bald headed man. a combo you knew all too well.

-

derek morgan was a player. and before he’s a player, he’s a damn good friend. which was his reasoning for dragging spencer out of his apartment to come out to the club and have fun.

“but i can have fun at home by myself morgan.”

“kid, you need to let loose once in a while. you are young, i’m just helping you take advantage of it.”

-

so now spencer’s at the club (a sentence he still struggles to believe) wearing trousers and navy button down shirt to which morgan had popped the top buttons open because ‘it gives the ladies a sneak peek’. he just rolled his eyes and went with it. he’s nursing a shirley temple at the bar, perusing the environment when he comes across a pair of eyes he knows like the back of his hand.

when you recognize the amber eyes you couldn’t believe your luck. of course, on the one night you’d decided to explore other options he shows up in the least expected place for him to be. so much for getting over him, you think. shyly raising your hand to wave, spencer returns the gesture. morgan takes note, “who are you waving t- oh, pretty girl is here huh pretty boy?” he nudges him.

a blush raises on his face. spencer thought you were attractive, like really attractive. you were a great addition to the bau and he admired your work ethic a lot, the day you walked into the bullpen wearing a fitted pantsuit had his own pants growing real tight. he still remembers when you introduced yourself and he couldn’t even get up without exposing himself. you thankfully didn’t think it was weird, and spencer was relieved when it was finally time to go home. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have nights where he wished you were the one finishing him off and not his rough hands. he didn’t think you’d like someone like him, and took all of your ‘advances’ as morgan calls them, as acts of kindness.

morgan laughs as he watches spencer’s iq deteriorate to below 50 staring at you, “do you what you gotta do man. but you better be going home with someone tonight okay?”

spencer nods and nurses his drink a bit and looks back to morgan to realize he’s already off dancing with some girls in the corner. damn.

after your distanced encounter with spencer, you decide it’s time to move on and have some fun on your own. you couldn’t be hung up on him anymore, at least not tonight. tonight was for bad decisions.

good thing bad decision walked up to you asking to dance, whatshisname leads you to the dance floor and puts his hands on your hips, swaying to the beats of t-pain and pitbull.

you didn’t know, but spencer was watching every move you made. he watched you get led to the dance floor, the way he placed his hands right on your ass and squeezed, and how he turned you around so you were dancing on his front with your back. he gripped his glass so tight the bartender had to tell him he’d have to pay if it breaks.

he gets it, you’re attractive. this is the kind of thing that happens to people who look like you. who wouldn’t want you? but then he watched it happen a second time. and a third. and a fourth and fifth, till he just stopped counting at nine for his sanity.

spencer was not used to the green monster taking over him, but oh god was he fucking seething with jealousy.

you realized spencer was watching you by whatshisname number five. he hadn’t moved from his spot and he was constantly staring in your direction. deciding to do a little experiment, you played up your dancing a lot more, acting more flirtatious, dragging the guy’s hands further down, and letting out open mouthed moans that you knew spencer couldn’t hear but could definitely see. you watched as his jaw shifted and his knuckles turned white as you danced with each guy, realizing the growing effect that you now had on him.

by whatshisname number nine, you casted your hook. making sure to face spencer and meet his eyes, you watched as they darkened when he realized you were looking right at him. spencer might’ve brushed it off as a coincidence, but then you winked at him. and he realized what you were doing—you were taunting him, and fuck was it working for him. the bulge in his pants grew uncomfortable that he had to stand up to not draw so much attention to it under the bar lights. 

you watched him stand up and adjust himself and you threw your line. when he looked back up at you, you made a come here motion with your index finger and a bite of your lip. spencer’s eyes darkened impossibly more, he paid for his tab and strode over to you.

sinker.

he pulled you from the man behind you, who muttered a ‘what the fuck’ and moved away. spencer pulled you flush to his chest and with a low voice in the crest of your ear he whispered, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about dr. reid, could you explain it to me?”

spencer tightens his hold on you and ghosts over your ear once more, “this is a dangerous game you’re playing, sweetheart.”

“a game you joined the second you walked over here.”

he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and matched the small smirk on your lips. game on.

the song changed to something with a more sultry beat, and you used the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck and let his hands guide your hips to the music. while he wasn’t much of a dancer, he could definitely keep a beat. it didn’t prove to be so difficult when your chest was pushing up on his own that he was just waiting for them to spill out. he realized he could feel your hardened nipples through your slip, the nubs rubbing friction through the fabric of their clothes. he moaned internally while he gripped your hips to pull you even closer. it was clear spencer seemed to be getting comfortable with moving your body and holding you close, but you couldn’t let that happen.

before the second chorus you turn around in his arms so your back is pressed up against his front, and you start dancing on him.

spencer’s taken by surprise, something you felt when his hands faltered the confident rhythm it kept up, and while he watched you dance just like this with all those guys it’s like his mind is blank now.

you recognize the song playing, collide by justine skye & tyga, and use the sultry beat to your advantage. you move your ass hard on his front, feeling his length pressed between your cheeks. you gesture for him to lean his head down and he lets out a low groan as you whisper in his ear, “all that for me?”.

a primal instinct starts to take over spencer’s being, and he grips your hips to meet his rutting from behind. spencer was desperate for any friction that could soothe the growing ache in his pants. you grinned as you felt take what he needed from you. it was quickly wiped off your face when you felt his hands inching dangerously close to where you really wanted him.  you place your hands on his with surprise and look at him, “what are you doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he threw back at you, “but if there’s something you’d like me to do, i’m all ears.” spencer grazes his fingers under the hem of your dress, toying with the lace band of your panties and slipping his fingers below it to stroke your inner thighs.

fuck. he turned it on you so fast it almost gave you whiplash. the provocative dancing was something you could handle, hell everyone on that dance floor was doing the same thing as you both. what you weren’t sure you could handle was him about to touch you in a public space. but, your body betrayed you as it turned you on to another plane. you look up at him with lust filled eyes and let out a breathy moan of his name. spencer collapses internally and stands his ground, “if you want something, beg me.”

spencer thinks he’s won the upper hand, and he’s feeling so smug behind you. he still thinks he has the upper hand until you reach down and place his middle and index finger in your mouth, circling your tongue around the digits.

“touch me.” you moan out, releasing his fingers.

spencer is dumbfounded how he’s the one about to burst out his pants when he made you beg for him. it should make him feel embarrassed at how close he was, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. not when you in his arms pleading him to do something. you sounded so pretty, and who was he to deny a pretty thing like you?

his fingers continue their journey down, outlining the lace trim resting on your thighs. he hooks his fingers on the fabric to pull it aside and slips into you, going at an aching pace to gather the wetness and groaning out, “jesus, you’re so wet, was this all for me? you needed my attention that bad, baby?”

you whimper and grip his hand even tighter because you’re not sure if your legs are holding out any longer. it’s all so overwhelming—having his hands down your panties in the middle of the dance floor, the lewdity of the noises in your ear, the hard length pressing desperately on your ass. this is all you’ve ever wanted from him, to want you. and now it’s happening, and your brain can’t fire the neurons fast enough to process the moment. instead your body responded with your skin heating up with anticipation, heart beating out as much adrenaline to keep up. the daze is getting foggier by the second as he trails his fingers up and down your slit, spreading the wetness and circling your clit on the way up. and you think you’re about to get accustomed to the pace he’s set, when he delves between your folds and you moan out loud so abruptly that the nearby patrons looked around wondering where it came from.

you can feel spencer’s shit eating grin behind you as he moves his head down to leave love bites on your neck. if he can feel your bluff dissipating, he’s not saying anything. his fingers set a painfully slow rhythm, and you grind down trying to get any more friction to reach your peak. he’s hitting you in all the right spots that make you see the stars and beyond, leaning your head back on his chest as you barrel towards your climax. you feel yourself mere seconds away from reaching, and spencer suddenly pulls his fingers out, making you whine out in protest, “wh- what are you doing?”

spencer grabs your wrist and starts dragging you through the sweaty bodies surrounding you, tightening his grip with a small smirk as he passes a few of the guys you were dancing with earlier. suckers.

he pushes the doors open with a force and while the cool air is attempting to return your body to homeostasis, the anticipation of where he’s going overtakes you, “spence, where are we going wh-“ you cut off your sentence with a gasp as he handles you flush to the door of his car. then it’s just silence for a few moments. no loud bass or weird dudes, just the two of you. the only sound that can be heard are your breaths competing for prominence. you look up at him and focus on the details of his face illuminated by the moonlight, trying to read his expression. his honeyed eyes have fully darkened to a lustful hickory, and suddenly you felt like a gazelle being preyed on by a lion.

he reaches into his pocket and unlocks the car with a soft beep. it’s the focused eyes on you that drive you to open the door, but it’s the subtle silent nod of his head towards the car that makes you move inside waiting for him to join you. he climbs in after you, shutting the door and locking it.

spencer moves to the middle seat and allows his legs to spread open, he taps his thighs and faintly says, “come here.”

you shuffle closer and swing your legs over him, your dress rising up a little as you fully sit on his clothed crotch. and now you realize the corporeality of the moment. it’s like, really real now. all this time pining after the boy genius with no luck and now he’s got you in the backseat of his car and your panties crooked, waiting for you to move. the bravado you wore and so tightly held onto for a majority of the night comes crashing down like a shattered vase, and you’re not sure if you have any more in you to salvage the pieces. you may be a profiler, but try as you might you are not a mind reader, yet you so desperately want to know what he’s thinking. is it too much to ask what this means? will it overwhelm him to say you’ve dreamt about this moment for many nights, and how those dreams went on till the early morning when he’d stay and brush your hair back with a temple kiss. the whispers of sweet nothings sticking to you like honey as you got ready for the day. are these questions you even want to know the answer to?

you may not be a mind reader, but he is dr. spencer reid, who noticed your demeanor change after too long of a silence.

“hey,” he holds your chin delicately to your eyes, “it’s okay if you want to stop, i’m sorry for tak-“

it’s your turn to cut him off, “no! no i, i still want this, i just,” you falter.

“just what, baby?” he coos softly.

it makes tears well up in your eyes, you hope he can’t see them, “i’ve just wanted this for so long, and it’s probably embarrassing that i’m admitting this now of all times, but i don’t know if i can handle this meaning more to me than it does to you.” you confess quietly.

spencer listens to your admission and gingerly resecures his arm behind you, a position he thinks is starting to become second nature. he rubs soft shapes into the small of your back, “what makes you think that?”

“because i basically threw myself at you tonight, and it seems to be the first time you noticed me.” you say halfheartedly. 

“you think i don’t notice you?” he whispers, leaning in to leave soft kisses in the crook of your neck. spencer is dumbfounded, confused at how you reached such a conclusion. but as a man of science, he feels there’s only one way to prove himself. he breathes your name out, “can i show you how much i notice you? please?”

you nod, at least you could commit this moment to memory if it was all you’d have left of him. he presses his lips to yours for the first time that night, your breath faltering as he becomes more feverous with his attacks. slotting his tongue with yours, your hands move up to his silky hair to take purchase in. he lets out a groan as he pulls back from you, “i need to taste you.”

he guides your body to lean back on the center console, the only way his tall figure would be able to accommodate this position. your legs are still split on either side of his legs, using your hands to prop yourself up to watch his movements. he hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties and slowly slides them down, moaning at the way your slick causes resistance as he pulls them off your legs. wrapping his arms under your thighs to lift you up to face level, he places small kisses on your inner thighs as he makes his way to your core. he places a final kiss on your center before licking a long stripe up to your clit. moaning out wantonly, he continues his ministrations and kitten licks all over you, circling back up to your clit after each round.

“spence..” you whine out. he moves his focus to your clit, circling and sucking till you’re squirming in his arms so much has to grip your thighs. your hands are fussing through his hair, gripping and pulling to find something to ground you. spencer then slips his fingers into your core for the second time tonight, and you lose it.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out, that all you can hear is the squelching noises of your cunt. adding another one, you’re unable to stay still anymore, as if you were before.

“oh my fuck, spencer. i’m gonna cu-, cum. please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” you moan out filthy.

spencer unlatches his mouth for a moment, “come for me, baby.”

your orgasm crashes down on you like a wave breaking on the shore. it’s all consuming, leaving you shaking and breathless and he lifts his head from between your legs and you see his chin glistening with you in the moonlight. the sight itself is so pornographic, you can’t help but shuffle back onto his lap to crash your lips back to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. he tangles his hands in your hair as you move yours between you both, unzipping his trousers to palm him through his boxers.

he breakily moans in your ear as you slowly pull back the band to take him out. the sight takes you by surprise, you knew he was big, you felt it on your ass while you were dancing. but seeing how it compared to your hand had you bulging your eyes.

“you’re so big,” you whisper. how the hell was that fitting inside of you?

spencer the mind reader places his hand on top of yours as you lazily stroke him, “we’ll go slow, don’t worry.” he can’t help but feel his ego inflate to the skies, he can’t remember the last time he had someone look intimidated by him.

nodding faintly, you gather the spit in your mouth and let it fall between you both to land on the flushed pink tip. you spread it up and down his length, setting a slow pace that had him moaning expletives in your ear.

“oh-, ohhh, fuck baby. you’re so good at that holy shit,” he says trying to hold himself together. you give him a few more pumps before lifting your hips up to guide him inside you. you move his tip to your entrance, rubbing it teasingly before spencer places his hands on your sides to stabilize you, and slowly sink you down onto him.

the second his tip pushes past your folds, you both moan out in harmony. placing your hands on his shoulders you leverage yourself to sink down further inch by inch, until your core is flush with the base of his thighs.

spencer is a man of many words, maybe too many. but right now the only word he can remember is your name as he watched you take his length whole inch by inch slowly losing any restraint he had left. the pressure his cock had inside of you was heavenly. you’d never felt so full, and you could tell he was trying so hard to stay still as you adjusted above him.

when you bottom out spencer throws his head back against the seat, “oh that’s it, good girl,” you clenched around him. “you okay?”

you nod in response, ignoring the way the term of endearment sent flutters to your heart, and attempt an experimental rock of your hips, causing spencer’s head to whip up and meet your lust blown eyes with his own. he adjusts his hands on the sides of your thighs and starts helping you move up and down on his length, setting a brutally slow pace.

you rest your head and moan into the crook of his neck as he continues his movements, “spencer, please, more, i can take it.”

he still can’t believe what’s happening right now, all those days he spent thinking about you in the bullpen, at home, everywhere really, and here you were begging on top of him to fuck you good.

“you still think i don’t notice you?” he says into your ear, “i have dreamt about what you’d look like bouncing on my cock, and you are blowing any idea i had out of the water.”

you whimper as he continues, “and when i’m not thinking about ruining you, i am in awe at how you walk through life. you bring so much joy everywhere you go, it’s a blessing to be able to experience you.” he says through shaky breaths.

the praise goes straight to core, with some traveling to your heart again, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on before you unravel physically and emotionally.

his hands are guiding you up and down at a harder pace now, “so,” thrust. “you still think,” thrust, “i don’t notice you?” he thrusts into you once more and holds you down, making sure you’re looking directly at him, “it was never an option to brush past you, you are everything to me. i didn’t know how to show that without overwhelming you. i’m sorry.”

tears well up in your eyes again, spencer notices this time and presses a small kiss on your forehead. all your senses feel like they’re in overdrive, unable to comprehend anything right now. your skin feels like it’s on fire as he rolls your hips faster to meet his ruts.

“spence, i- i’m so close.” you whine desperately. 

he slips his hand between you both to rub your clit, “i know baby, i’ve got you. let go for me.”

his words were enough to break the dam, your second climax of the night hurling towards you. the white hot feeling overtook your whole body, shaking and clenching above him. your grip on him was threateningly vicious, probably leaving deep crescent marks in the nape of his shoulders. you wish the euphoria would last forever if it meant having spencer like this. as you came down from your high, the two of you were still moving together, slowly rocking your hips to meet each other. once you were grounded again, you pushed through the sensitivity in your core to rise up on his length, just barely leaving the tip in before you slid back down fast and hard, now focusing on spencer reaching his peak.

“oh jesus, fuck.” spencer moaned out brokenly.

“come on spence you can do it,” you taunted as you clenched down, “come inside me, make a mess of me please.” a rush of confidence flowed through as you whispered into his ear, and spencer held your hips to help you bounce faster on him.

spencer let out a loud groan as you felt the hot spurts coat your insides, he was leaving matching crescent marks on the sides of your hips as the ones on his shoulders, making sure all of him was left in you. feeling him soften inside, you remained on his lap with him sheathed in you. you both are breathing heavily, leaning back to hopefully give you both some relief from the sex filled air. looking around the car you realize that all the windows are fogged up and let out a tiny giggle.

“what’s so funny?” he looks up at you slightly amused and very out of breath.

“no it’s just, the windows are such a dead giveaway for what we just did in here.” 

“eh, i don’t really care what people think.”

“gasp, dr. reid wants to let the world know he has car sex with random girls?”

he leans in to bite your neck playfully, “random? did nothing i said during all that register for you?”

you yelp and attempt to play dumb, “actually i don’t remember a word, you might have to jog my memory. maybe even recreate the circumstances to help with cementing it. i read about situational memorization where certain scenarios are easily remembered when there’s a big event to anchor it to.”

he swears he could’ve melted on the spot at you explaining a concept you’d read about to him, “careful sweetheart, calling it a big event might inflate my ego a little too high.”

“i mean, i can tell it worked,” you tease as you feel him harden inside of you again, “so tell me genius, how many times does a scenario have to happen for me to remember the information?”

“i guess we’ll have to find out, don’t we?”

[whorefordean]

three's a crowd

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: reader wants to have a threesome. rafe doesn't share, but he does have a solution.

wc: 2.1k

cw: unprotected p in v, use of pet names (princess, baby, sweet girl), slight degradation, praise, dvp, use of toys, mentions of a threesome, mentions of anal, "cock" was probably overused?, um I think I blacked out while writing this so probably bad writing/errors (also idc but sorry)

18+ mdni

to be honest, the conversation was over before it ever started. 

“can we have a threesome?” you had asked the question so innocently, so sweetly, that for a moment you truly believed that rafe would say yes. that is, until his head whipped around, and he glared at you like you’d just told him you committed arson. although, he probably would’ve agreed to arson. 

“what the fuck did you just say?” rafe asked so quickly, you had barely caught it. you wanted to laugh at the look on his face. his eyes were wide open, despite him just waking up. it’s barely nine in the morning, and rafe had just finished pouring a cup of coffee. what a way to start the day.

“i said, can we-” 

“don’t start with the dumb shit this early,” rafe scolded before you could finish repeating yourself. you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re not sure why you even wanted to have a threesome. maybe you’d read one too many why choose novels. maybe it had been the wet dream you’d had a few weeks ago. who knows, but a part of you is slightly upset that rafe wouldn’t even entertain the idea. not that you would either, if the roles had been reversed. 

“rafe, come on! it’s not even that serious! i think it could be fun, and you could even choose the guy,” you try to persuade him with puppy dog eyes. rafe stares at you for a minute before scoffing and leaning closer to you.

“the only cock you’ll have inside that greedy little cunt of yours is mine. got it?” rafe growls lowly as he grips your chin. you pout up at him, and rafe rolls his eyes. 

“well, unfortunately for both of us, you don’t have two dicks, rafe!” you argue pathetically, throwing your hands up in the air. he releases your chin and moves back to his previous position at the counter. the room is silent for a few minutes while you glare at him. 

“not even, like, barry?” 

“drop it.” 

so you do. 

nearly three weeks later, you’ve resigned to the fact that you don’t really wanna fuck another dude. nobody could give you the pleasure that rafe can anyways. but a small piece of you wants to know what it would feel like. maybe you’d suck rafe’s cock while riding another. you gnaw on your cheek at the thought, clenching your thighs together. 

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when rafe waltzes into the living room with a smirk on his face. he’s holding a plain brown box under his arm that he promptly drops onto the coffee table. 

“what’s that look for?” you ask him, staring at him suspiciously. rafe licks his lips, tipping his head towards the box. 

“open it,” rafe tells you. you squint at your boyfriend but lean forward and grab the box anyway. you pop the lid open and furrow your brows. slipping the item out of the box, you gape at rafe. 

“rafe, is this what i think it is?” you ask breathily, wetness pooling in your panties as you look at the toy. rafe grins proudly, nodding. 

“you said you wanted two dicks, baby. now, you’ll have two of mine,” rafe says, puffing his chest out as he crosses his arms. the toy in question is a perfect replica of rafe’s cock. you stare up at him from your spot on the couch, trying to find any words to describe how fucking badly you want him in this moment. 

“rafe, sit down,” you say quietly. rafe quirks his head, still grinning at you. he watches as your eyes glaze over with need. 

“why?” rafe teases. his hands grip his biceps, and you can already see the tent forming in his jeans. his hips jut forward as he adjusts his stance, and if you weren’t already on your knees, you would’ve been in an instant. 

“please, rafe. let me suck your cock,” you beg him softly, standing up to slip out of your panties. the shirt you’re wearing belonged to rafe at one point, and it tickles at your thighs when you kneel back down in front of your boyfriend. rafe’s sharp inhale sends a wave of pleasure rolling through you, and he nods before sitting down on the couch. 

before you can do it for him, rafe is slipping his cock out from the restraint of his jeans. you whimper when he starts stroking himself, spreading the pearls of precum down his shaft. he groans, making you pout. 

“rafe, please,” you beg him, shifting your thighs trying to alleviate some of the frustration building inside you. 

“just a second, baby. think it’s okay to think about some other guy using that sweet pussy? you can watch me feel good without you for a second,” rafe groans, squeezing his dick just a bit harder. you whine and when he pays you no mind, you glare at him. rafe’s head is tossed back in pleasure as you reach behind you to grab the toy from the table. you slip it into your mouth, still glaring at rafe. he finally looks at you when your nails dig into the fabric of jeans. 

“so fucking impatient,” rafe rolls his eyes, watching as you suck on the dildo. your tongue swipes at the vein the same way it does on rafe’s real cock. he leans forward, gripping your throat. 

“you said you wanted to get used, baby. i’m still a little offended. maybe you should try to make it up to me,” rafe tells you condescendingly, releasing your throat as he leans back against the couch. you release the toy with a pop before suctioning it to the floor. you hover over it as you finally touch rafe. you stare up at him with wide eyes as he spits, the thick glob running down the length of his shaft. you inhale sharply, lowering yourself onto the toy as you wrap your lips around rafe. 

you moan at the feeling. being stretched out by rafe was the highlight of your life no matter which way he was using you. being able to suck him off and have his cock inside you at the same time? heaven. rafe hisses when you take him deep into your throat. his hand tangles into your hair, holding you there. 

“feel good, princess? hm? everything you wanted?” he snarks, clenching his jaw. you moan against him in agreement, but rafe pulls you off his throbbing dick. 

“wanna hear you say it. tell me how good it feels to be filled up with my cock inside your cunt and that smart mouth,” rafe commands. 

“feels so good, rafe. thank you,” you blubber as you sink further down onto the dildo. your hand finds your clit and you drop your head to rest against rafe’s thigh while using your free hand to stroke his wet cock. rafe’s warm hand rests against the side of your head, playing with your hair, as you bounce on the toy in front of him. 

rafe tsks, “thought you wanted me all over, princess. open your mouth.” you comply, lifting your head up to cover his cock with your mouth again. tears burn your eyes as you take him deep. you shift your hips slightly, and the replica of rafe’s dick drives deeper into your cunt. you whimper against rafe as you rub your clit faster, searching for release.

you slow your hips, bobbing your head to pleasure rafe. swirling your tongue over his pink tip, rafe groans again. you watch rafe through teary eyes. 

“look at you, baby. doin so fucking good for me. just me. ain't that right,” rafe asks rhetorically and you nod slightly. rafe smirks, thoroughly enjoying seeing you filled with him. not that he’d tell you that after the hell he’d almost raised over the situation. rafe wasn’t good at admitting fault, but seeing how blissed out you look in this moment had him second guessing your proposal. 

rafe pull his cock out of your mouth. you whine at the removal, watching as your saliva connects the two of you. you drive your hips down harder, hitting the sweet spot inside of you that only rafe had managed to do before. god, he feels so fucking good. why had you ever even considered adding anyone else to this when rafe has the perfect cock? 

your hands grip rafe’s thighs as you continue to fuck yourself onto the toy. rafe watches in awe, stroking himself. 

“rafe, please,” you beg pathetically. rafe watches you, biting his lip. 

“please what, baby?” he cooes. you dig your teeth into your lip, throwing your head back with your eyes squeezed shut. 

“need you,” you mumble breathlessly. rafe shakes his head in a teasing manner. 

“you have me, princess. taking my cock right now,” he says almost sarcastically. you shake your head quickly. 

“mm, no. need you, rafe,” you beg again. rafe grins widely, pushing your hands off his thighs. you huff at the loss of contact but continue riding the dildo. you’re too lost to realize that rafe is standing now. 

“stop,” rafe tells you lowly. you move to shake your head, but rafe catches your jaw. your eyes snap open, and rafe is glaring down at you. he looks both horrifying and delicious like this. 

“stop and get on the couch. or i’ll fuck you on the floor. your choice,” rafe shrugs. you look down at the carpet, fully aware of how painful the rug burn had been last time, and stand up on shaky legs. 

rafe pushes you down until your head is buried in the couch with your ass and pussy high up on display for him. rafe drags his ring clad fingers down to your dripping core. you hiss when he fully seats himself inside you. 

something warm drips down your slit, and you realize that rafe spit on your pussy. 

“spit on this for me, princess,” rafe tells you before positioning the toy in front of you. he’s leaned forward, chest pressed against your back while he waits for you to listen. you mewl as he drags deeper inside you. you let out a shaky breath before spitting onto the toy. rafe pulls it away from you, but you’re too far gone to piece together why. 

rafe slips a finger into your pussy alongside his cock. he thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the minor stretch his finger added. 

“think you could take two of my cocks inside your pussy, princess?” rafe asks gently as he slips in another finger. you moan at the pleasurable pain, dropping your head back down to the couch while you try to angle your hips better for him. 

“it’s so much,” you whisper, tears brimming your eyes already. 

“i know, sweet girl. but you’d look so pretty with your pussy stuffed full with two of me,” rafe says lovingly. your mind whirs at the mental image of being completely stuffed with rafe. 

“o-okay,” you say quietly. rafe hums. 

“use your words, princess,” he tells you, teasing your clit slowly. 

“i can take it,” you nod along. rafe clicks his tongue in approval before readying the dildo beside his own cock. you hiss at the drag of another cock filling you up. it hurts. then, it doesn’t. you gasp when rafe pushes the dildo in to match his pace. your eyes roll, and you go completely silent as you take whatever rafe is willing to give. tears brim your eyes as you reach down to rub small circles against your pulsing clit. 

“right there, rafe,” you moan. rafe groans as you clench around him. 

“keep doing that, and i’ll have to fill this greedy cunt up with something else,” rafe threatens. you clench again just to spite him. though, you hope he’ll make true on his threat. 

“fuck, you would want that, huh? greedy little cockwhore,” rafe grits, pumping harder into you. you cum with tears streaming down your face, calling out to rafe. rafe cums with a groan at the sight of your tears and the way your pussy is stretched around two cocks. you whine as he finally pulls the dildo out of you. louder when he pulls his own cock out. cum leaks from your used pussy, and rafe reaches down to force it back into your drenched hole. 

“don’t ever ask me for a threesome again, princess, or i’ll fuck that tight little ass, next,” rafe threatens in your ear. 

suddenly, the idea of a threesome is even more appealing. 

[girlokwhatever]

✵✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩⊹ ⋆｡˚⋆ she loves me, she loves me not,,

part one ; beginning of the end

next part

paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)

you didn’t care when you found out your ex got a new girlfriend. you were completely over her and her antics, realizing in the last few months of your relationship how utterly exhausting it was. it wasn’t until you found out that her new girlfriend was the girl she cheated on you with that you cared.

it was stupid really, the whole situation. your ex girlfriend, bianca, cheated on you whilst out at a party, you hadn’t gone, opting to instead watch one of paige’s home games with her team. you met paige your freshman year, instantly growing an inseparable bond with her. she was absolutely your closest friend, much to bianca’s disliking. you chopped it up to the fact that bianca wasn’t a fan of any of your friends and left it at that.

when bianca tried justifying her cheating on you because of your close relationship with paige, it took you off guard.

2 MONTHS AGO

you were waiting for your girlfriend to show up. your heart was racing and your breath uneven but honestly, it was long overdue. it had been months since you actually shared a happy moment with bianca, easily able to find more enjoyment in your friends.

you’d found out from a close friend that she had cheated on you at least once, maybe more. your friend spotted her at a party with a girl, kissing and grinding on each other. it was all making sense to you now. the way she was almost too close, too clingy. as if she was overcompensating for a mistake. a huge mistake.

“babe? what’s up?”

“why’d you fuck another girl at a party two weeks ago?”

she went silent, eyes wide with shock. her face spoke for her, affirming that what you thought to be true actually was. even though your relationship had been rocky, especially towards the end, it still broke your heart. she was your high school sweetheart. she even committed to uconn just for you.

it meant fuck all now.

“don’t act like you’re so innocent, princess.”

she doesn’t even try to deny it, immediately spitting back at you. you’re not even sure what she’s referring to, but it looks like she believes it.

“what are you talking about?”

“really?!” she scoffs, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about. i know about you and paige, how you’ve been sneaking around behind my back.”

“are you fucking dumb?! paige and i are just friends bianca! oh my god- even when you know you’ve done something wrong you can’t admit it.”

you were walking around the corner of the counter when she grabbed you hard. her aggressive behavior was nothing new, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. part of you was wishing it would work out, but a greater part of you was glad she’d finally pushed you over the edge.

“let go of me and get the hell out.”

“excuse me?!”

“i said, get the fuck out, and don’t fucking come back.”

PRESENT DAY

you, paige, and some of your mutual friends were out at your favorite bar. it was a friday night and none of you had anything better to do.

you’d done some rotations: drinking, dancing, singing, sitting down, dancing again, but now you were back to sitting. you took a seat next to paige and she was thankful for that, but you hardly acknowledged her.

after bianca’s excuse for cheating on you being your close relationship with paige, you had distanced yourself considerably. you stopped showing up randomly to her dorm and practices, stopped calling, and stopped asking to hang out too. paige knew you and bianca broke up and kept telling herself you were just trying to get over that. occasionally she’d reach out to ask you if you were doing okay, sometimes it’d take you more than a day to answer.

it hurt paige more than it should’ve and she knew that. for years, ever since she’d met you, she’s had feelings for you. even when she tried to avoid them, you were all she could think about. it was difficult considering you had a psycho girlfriend that you refused to let go of until recently. even now that you were single it was no use, not if you were going to treat her like she didn’t exist.

you hadn’t noticed bianca and her new girlfriend walk in, too enamored by the bubbles in your drink. paige noticed though, watching the way your ex’s eyes scanned the room. paige looked away before she got caught staring, settling her elbows back on the bar.

“have you been having a good night?” paige asked just to get some conversation flowing with you. she missed being so close to you, even if she knew she always wanted more. she’d rather settle for a friendship with you than have nothing at all.

“s’been good. might go home soon though,”

“want me to take you home princess?” it was a teasing nickname that she called you, an old inside joke. when bianca heard it she decided to start calling you that too unironically, completely unaware of the joke.

“i think-”

“princess.”

bianca’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a sharpened knife, offering a completely different tone than the way paige said it. her new girlfriend must’ve run off somewhere, seeing as it was only her that had approached you. she took the barstool next to you, sliding her chair to face you. she looks unimpressed and expectant, not surprised to see paige lingering by your side.

“i need to talk to you.”

“talk to your new girlfriend. y’know, the one you cheated on me with.”

“she’s not my girlfriend” —another toxic lie “i just want to talk to you.”

“no.”

“princess-”

“fuck you.” you seethe out a her, hoping it’s enough to keep her quiet. unfortunately though, it isn’t.

“don’t talk to me like that.”

you try avoiding bianca, turning to paige and muttering a quick ‘can we go.’ it’s difficult to hear you but she does, standing up and pushing her chair in. bianca loathes paige, always has. as soon as you met paige all you wanted to do was talk about her, hang out with her, study with her, and bianca couldn’t stand it.

“and you tried calling me dumb when i found out you two were hooking up behind my back,” she scoffs as if it’s obvious.

paige’s eyebrows knit in confusion, you never mentioned that part. paige doesn’t know what made bianca think that, but she secretly wishes there was some truth to it, as bad as it may be. even when doing something she knows is wrong, paige has never regretted a second spent with you.

you knew you were probably too drunk to make a decision this big. as soon as the thought popped into your head you favored it, wanting to get back at bianca for all she put you through. you didn’t even give it a second thought, your mouth running faster than any of your cognitive abilities at the moment.

“guess you were right, but hey— she treats me better than you ever did.”

both bianca and paige are shocked, completely taken aback by your statement. what were you getting at?

“so what- you’re dating now?”

“yep. thanks for helping me realize i could do so much better.”

before you have time to show your fleeting confidence and the fact that you just lied straight through your teeth, you grab paige’s hand and walk off. you’re honestly not sure how she’ll react or how you’ll move from here.

either of you say a word until you’re in the silent safety of her car. she turns to face you, a blank expression written across her face. it makes it difficult to figure out what’s going on in her mind. you wish you could tell, it’d probably make things easier. you can tell that she’s a bit flustered, but maybe that’s just because of how hot it was inside.

“paige?”

“yeah?”

“i know this is probably going to be a really weird question and maybe the question itself is too late because i’ve already dug us into this hole but i swear you don’t have to go through with it..”

“okay..”

“will you, um.. will you be my fake girlfriend?”

she’s conflicted, torn between her better judgement and overall feelings for you. her body surges with anger at the way bianca talked to you tonight. but her body also swells with pride and attraction after hearing you say those things about dating her, even if she knows it’s not real. she wants it to be real so desperately and she’s knows she’s already made up her mind without needing to think it through.

one hand is on the steering wheel and the other drags itself down her face, questioning internally if she’s really going to go through with this. her silence settles on you, panic rising as you realize maybe you’ve just ruined your friendship. or what was left of it.

“you can say no obviously-”

“i’ll do it.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟׂׂૢ

UMMM i’ll spell check this tmr

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

i kinda don’t.

THIS IS A SERIES YALL

[solitaryearthperson]

Infatuation

Summary: What is it about you that has Homelander so infatuated?

(The reader is gender neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

Why you?

That was the million dollar question that kept going through Homelander's mind. There was nothing truly special about you. You were nothing like him and his teammates. You were - he couldn't help how hard his face cringed at the reminder - human. No Compound V or Temp V. Only regular red human blood coursing through your veins with no harmful or life-changing chemicals. Just human. Sure you were good-looking. Sure you were smart, and polite, but so were many of the other dumb, cocksucking fans he had to smile for and pretend to give a fuck about. So what made you different from them?

When did this even begin?

He couldn't really pinpoint the exact date that your beauty, poise, and civility had caught his attention. He thinks maybe a month or two ago. He could distinctly remember how pissed off he was at Ashley, not because she had did anything herself, but because she was the one delivering the bad news to him, and how that was the first day, you had spoke to him.

"What," he asked, his voice low and strict, while dripping with disbelief at what Ashley had said. He tried his hardest to keep facing the large windows of the Seven's meeting room, and keep a cool composure, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Um-um," she repeated, her mouth opening and closing, almost resembling a fish. Her green eyes widened in fear at what the Supe in front of her may do.

"Ashley," he said, his irritation at her hesitance to speak was making him even more angrier by the second. "Say that again."

"Well, I-you,...uh," she gulped and tried to speak again, her words coming out easier this time. "Your points has gone down significantly, by at least 60."

Hearing it repeated made his crystal blue eyes become engulfed in ruby red and he kept his gaze towards the windows, already sick of hearing and smelling the rank fear that was emanating from Ashley, and not wanting to make the smell worse. "How the fuck are my points down that much?"

The calmness of his voice made Ashley want to hurry and leave the room, but instead she nervously gulped down some of her fear again, and spoke, "People have not truly forgiven the Stormfront situation and the civilians that you accidentally lazered in half on the last mission made it worst. Their families and friends are all in mourning and sharing their grief online."

"Oh come on," he yelled, finally turning away from the window and seating himself in his usual seat at the large table, his face frowning in irritation. "Both of those things were fucking accidents! Stormfront is dead and those people have been dead for, what, weeks now. Almost a fucking month!"

Ignoring the harshness of his raised voice, Ashley continued, "Vought thought it could really help if you made an apology video or interview to get people back in your favor-"

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for argument. "It was a fucking accident and they need to get over it already." The rage inside him was rising higher and higher and he knew that more redness was coming to his eyes the more he listened to Ashley and the bullshit that she was spouting. He was sick of having to apologize for who he is and how powerful he is.

"Mr. Edgar thinks that-"

At the very mention of his name, Homelander's fist quickly connected with the surface of the table, leaving a large crack in the glass. The sound of his fist hitting it made Ashley quickly quiet and she instantly took a deep breath in, waiting for his next words.

"Get the fuck out," he told her, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the chair.

"Yes sir," Ashley quickly replied, rushing out.

At the time, she had quickly forgotten that you were with her, and had left you alone with the most dangerous Supe of them all.

"Mr. Homelander, sir," your voice, while small, had still interrupted the quietness that had taken over the room and was beginning to calm Homelander, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked to you, his red gaze freezing you in place.

"Who the fuck are you," he asked.

"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, nervously holding your folders and documents close to your chest. "I'm Ashley's assistant."

"And...?" Every part of his body language screamed that he was ready to murder anything right now.

"I was just gonna say that I'm sorry that you're under so much pressure," you told him, your voice still meek, but a little more confident as you see that you have kept his attention. "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, it can be hard to be like others and make mistakes."

"Exactly! Fuck! Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, making you slightly jump, but you quickly hid it, and returned the wide smile he threw to you, happy to see the redness from his eyes finally cool down to blue again. "No one gets how hard it is to be me. No one is ever truly grateful for what I do. Right?"

You silently nodded your head, happy to see the Supe no longer angry.

"I have to pretend to like and listen to these fucking idiots and apologize to them for helping them!" He let out an incredulous laugh at the thought of apologizing to the public again.

An idea came to you when he said that, and you quickly voiced it, "Maybe you can get their favor again without having to apologize for it."

He quickly furrowed his brows at your idea and quickly gestured for you to continue.

"Plenty of celebrities make apology videos and people always know that it's fake. Maybe you should donate money to the families of the victims instead. You won't have to make some embarrassing video or do an interview."

"A donation?"

"Yeah. Fans love when famous people donate something of theirs. Money, clothes, cars. You win the favor of fans you lost, and more."

He was silent for a second, his face full of contemplation and for a second you were scared that you had gone too far, proposing an idea like this. He might see it as an insult that an assistant was giving him advice on how to get fans. You had sworn your heart was about to beat out of your chest by his silence, but a suddenly growing smile on his face quickly calmed it.

"That is perfect! No having to grovel to those idiots."

"Would you like me to get Ashley to help set everything up?"

"Yeah! Do that! Now!"

You made your way to the door and was about to leave the room, when suddenly his voice made you stop. "Hey! What's your name, again?"

"Um, it's (Y/N)," you told him.

"(Y/N)," he repeated, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Thanks."

You quickly left the room after that and went to get Ashley to tell her about the idea, and you didn't know it, too naive to realize it, but Homelander had already began making a plan in his head to see you again.

That was it. That was what caught Homelander's attention. Unlike other regular people, and even other Supes, you were the one who understood the pressure he was under, who understood how great he was, how better he was. Soon after that he began making an effort to talk to you. After Ashley would report things to him, he made sure to pull you aside and make conversation, and he surprisingly found it addictive to hear your voice, whether you were talking about your day, your favorite meals, current shows you were watching, he needed to hear your voice. Every now and then, he could hear the tremble in your voice as you spoke to him, fear still running through you at the fact that you were speaking to him of all people. That tremble did things to him. He disliked hearing it as he wanted you to be comfortable around him and trust him, but at the same time, he loved hearing it, reminding himself of the immense power he had over others even when he doesn't do anything.

It wasn't long before he used this power to find your address. He found himself relieved that you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, not wanting anything to happen to his favorite person. HIS? Yes, HIS. Just the thought of you accepting his affections, a life of being with him, of coming home to finding you ready to hear about his day and please him was already making him loose his already deranged mind, but he knew that you needed time. You needed to still be fearful of him, but at the same time, realize that he would be the best partner for you. And now as he looked at your sleeping form, he listened to the soothing beat of your heart, wishing he could lay his head upon your chest and take a deep slumber with you. Wishing he could wake up next to you, and make love to you first thing in the morning. Make love to you at Vought. Make love to you when he comes home from work. Make love to you before going to sleep. But he knew he needed to wait just a little bit longer. Not too long or else, some dumb imbecile will think they have a chance with you and he'll have to take care of them. But soon you would realize you belonged with him and no one else.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VAMPIRE!HAN, HUMAN!READER, SOMNOPHILIA, CONSENT JEWELRY, IMPLIED FREE USE, UNPROTECTED SEX, NO PREP, SMUT W/ LITTLE PLOT, ☾ ━━━ WC: 1k ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Jisung loved his girlfriend with all his undead heart. He just didn’t like their sleep schedules. His was pretty unavoidable. Yeah, he could walk in the sun, but night was when he was most active. And it’s not like he needed sleep to get his energy back like humans. That’s what blood was for. 

     So while he was up all night doing whatever, his pretty girlfriend was fast asleep. It had started taking a toll on their sex life. He didn’t want to complain much to her. He was centuries old, and he knew humans couldn’t go for hours nor did they often have the drive supernatural beings did. He only said something when she brought it up.

     “Do you know the last time we had sex?” Y/n asked randomly

     “Fifty-four days ago. I don’t know the hour and minutes to but—”

     “Were you counting the days?”

     “Yes…?”

     “And you didn’t bring it up to me at all?”

     “I wanted to after the first week but I didn't want you to think I was that needy.”

     Y/n sighed and walked over to her boyfriend, cupping his cheeks, “Ji, sweetie. I’ve told you my sex drive is high. You can always talk to me if you need me. I didn’t realize how long it had been.”

     “Everytime I want to though your… it’s going to sound dumb.”

     “No it won’t. What is it?” Y/n asked 

     “Everytime i’m in the mood you're always asleep and I don’t want to wake you because I know you need sleep.”

     “Then,” Y/n tried coming up with a solution. She knew it was hard with their occult difference.

     “See. There’s not really —“

     “Just fuck me when im asleep.”

     “Huh?!”

     He couldn’t deny he had thought about it a few times. Just pull back the covers and slip into her. Something about how pretty she looked when she was peacefully sleeping did something to his brain. 

     “Fuck me when—“

     “I heard you the first time, baby. But, are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you like that. Because if I fuck you, I’m going to want to bite you.”

     “You always want to bite me.”

     “I always want to fuck you.”

     “You can fuck me whenever you want.”

     “What if you’re not in the mood?”

     “What if we have a code word or something? Something for me to tell you, ‘I’m not in the mood today’ or ‘I’m in the mood today’? Would that help you?”

     “Yes. A lot,”

     The couple sat on the bed and brainstormed some ideas. Searching the internet a bit for ideas as well. Finally the settled on a piece of his jewelry. A necklace, easy floor him to spot since the camper may not always pay attention when he was focused on something and her neck was something his eyes always focused on. 

     He found an old necklace of his he had completely forgotten about. Nice enough that it could go with anything she wore. Y/n took the necklace from him and pecked his lips. She didn’t put the necklace on yet. She waited till she was getting ready for bed. She finished her skin care and clasped the necklace around her neck, making sure it was visible over her sleep shirt. 

     Jisung had zero clue. Forgetting a little about it and focusing on a track he was working on. He got pulled out when she kissed his cheek, “I’m going to bed,” Y/n told him, smiling a bit 

     “Have a good night,” Jisung said as he turned and pecked her lips. He saw the necklace but didn’t think much, again already having forgotten about the conversation a bit. It wasn’t until a few hours later he suddenly remembered. He froze at his computer, Eyes darting to the clock in the corner. Two twenty-nine in the morning. He didn’t know when she said goodnight to him so he didn’t know if she was asleep or not. His eyes needed a break anyways so he got up and walked down the hall to their bedroom. 

     “Baby,” he called a couple of times, no responses. He walked in, double checked and was wearing the necklace, and checked her  pulse. Both her pulse and her breathing were even and slow. She was asleep. 

     His cock sprung up at the thought of acting on things he’d thought about for so long. He walked over and pulled back the covers. He didn’t catch much of what she was wearing to bed at the time but boy was he happy to find his girlfriend in just one of her large t-shirts and nothing else. Making it easy for him. 

     “Fucking hell baby,” Jisung groaned then turned her onto her back. 

     The vampire put her thighs over his easily. He pulled down his shorts and boxers enough to get his dick out. He could see her folds glistening. He really wondered how long she was waiting in anticipation for him. 

     He pressed his tip into her slowly. Watching her to make sure she didn't wake up. Slowly pushing in further when she didn’t wake. He let himself get used to it. Feeling like he could cum from just the thrill of the action alone. He gave himself a minute then pulled back and thrusted into her. 

     His pace started slow. Careful to not wake her up but his pace picked when he realized she was sound asleep. Grabbing her thighs and pushing them up towards her chest. He pushed deeper into her, cock twitching inside her. 

     He tried keeping his voice down. Trying to swallow his groans as best he could. Gripping her thighs tightly as he frantically thrusted in and out of her. The thrill of what he was doing catching up to him and coming out inside her. Filling up her womb and burying himself into her. Grunting as he rode out his high. 

     Jisung took a moment to regain his clarity and pulled out. Amazed she managed to sleep through it. He grabbed a warm washcloth from their bathroom and cleaned her up. Kissing her neck before sinking his fangs into her. Drinking her neck, hands holding hips. 

     He pulled his fangs out of her neck and laid down beside her. Pulling the blanket over them and holding her close. Whispering an ‘I love you’ into the back of her head

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[grimesthinker]

Hey, I LOVE your writings 😍

I was wondering if we could get another stepdad, Rick?

the reader's mom married Rick ( I'm picturing it in Alexandria)

Rick and The reader have had little moments like him brushing past her so he could touch her

and one day she gets a boyfriend and Rick does everything to make them break up and it doesn't work so one day he has enough and he just fucks her!

STEPDAD!RICK x FEM!READER ౨ৎ ♡₊˚⊹

you like him, you really do. well, you tell yourself you do. because you should. he's perfect, right? he's safe and he's cute and he's actually your age. problem is, the guy can't fuck for shit. your sweet boyfriend, who can't please a woman to save his life. you tried, a couple times, but he fumbles with your bra strap and struggles to find the right pace to rub your clit. thing is, you don't even care as much as you should. every time you're around him, your mind floods with thoughts and daydreams of your step father, rick, who fell in love with your mother months ago. it's fucking antagonizing, walking past him every day, feeling his calloused hands on your waist for a split second just so he could move past you.

unbeknownst to you, rick can't stand your little boyfriend. he watches him with a deep scowl as he stands on your porch, waiting for you to come outside in your skimpy skirt and tank top. that boy is so entitled, rick thinks. walking around with his head held high because he has the hottest piece of ass in alexandria. it's not right, goddamnit. you belong to him, not that asshole. he purposely touches you any chance he gets, imagining what it'd be like if he moved his hands just a little lower, just enough to play with that sweet cunt.

one hot july day, your mother thinks it'll be a great idea to host a barbecue. you oblige, of course. the community was doing well and you were grateful for it. you invite your boyfriend, only subconsciously wishing it might make your taut stepfather jealous. brat. you coat your lips in sparkly strawberry lip gloss and put on a sweet dress that leaves little to the imagination. people begin to arrive and your mother welcomes them with a smile. you make sure to be the first one to greet your boyfriend, and you also make sure that rick is watching when you kiss him with way more heat than usual.

the barbecue is going good, everyone's happy. everyone's content. except you and rick, of course. you sip your lemonade and he sips his beer, eyeing you from across the backyard. no one else cares to notice the excruciating tension between you two. eventually, you excuse yourself from some insignificant conversation and head into the house, up to the bathroom. you shut the door behind you, not bothering to lock it. you're washing your hands when rick barges in, glaring at you with darkened blue eyes. "what the hell was that?"

you turn the water off. "rick-"

"-bet you didn't know he was down there, braggin' to his buddies about how good he fucks you. about how fuckin' tight you are?" he shuts the door behind him, locks it. god, he's close now.

feeling brave, you cross your arms and taunt him some more. "yeah? what's it matter to you? jealous or somethin?" yeah. you're feeling brave, alright. deep down, you're pissed that your dumb 'boyfriend' is lying to his friends about how good he gives it to you. but with the way rick is looking at you right now, like he wants to rip that tiny dress off and bend you over the sink, you didn't even care.

in a swift motion, you're pinned to the marble counter, rick's fingers digging into your waist. he chuckles lowly, making you immediately drop the big and bad act. your heart pounds, cunt aching for something, anything. he pries your legs apart, gripping your thighs.

"he gives it to you good, huh? then why are you acting like a bitch in heat?"

you shudder at his words, making a soft whimpering sound, fighting the urge to roll your hips and beg him for anything he'll give to you. he peels your panties down your thighs, swiping a thumb over your clit. "ah- look at that." he coos.

minutes later, his cock is buried deep in your pussy, making you feel better than you ever could have imagined. he's anything but gentle, as if he's reading your mind. "fuckin' slut." he grunts. "feels so good, huh, baby? yeah, i know. take it, honey."

[itneverendshere]

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (three) (+18)

pairing:: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: smut.

part one; part two

Rafe rarely ever fought with you. 

Sure, he’d thrown his weight around with just about everyone else, but with you?

He’d dropped the whole tough-guy bullshit months ago. Hell, he’d even cried in front of you, ugly sobbing and all. He didn’t let himself be that vulnerable with anyone else, but today... today he felt like his skin was too tight and he was two seconds away from losing it.

He didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard. You kept going, saying the same things over and over, and he was trying so damn hard to stay calm, but every word you said just felt like gasoline on a fire.

He wasn’t even mad at you, not really.

He was mad at everything else—at himself, at how nothing ever seemed to go right, at how he always felt one wrong move away from everything falling apart. And now you wanted to talk about it again, like you didn’t see how close he was to just snapping.

It felt like you didn’t get it. No matter how many times you two talked about it, you still thought there was some perfect world where you could just be together out in the open, like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal. A huge fucking deal.

He leaned against the wall of the shed, arms crossed, just watching you. You looked so damn hopeful like he was really about to show up to your graduation party and stand next to you like some lost puppy. You had this big party planned at your place. Parents, family, all your Kook friends. The whole scene. And you wanted him there. Like your parents weren’t gonna lose their minds if they saw him anywhere near you.

He could practically see your dad’s face already, that look of disappointment or disgust or whatever the hell he’d call it.

Rafe wasn’t dumb. He knew his place around here.

And sure, you knew the basics too: you were heading off to college soon, your life was on this perfect, shiny path, and his...well, his was a whole mess in comparison. But it was like you couldn’t see the bigger picture. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

You acted like everything between you two would stay the same, like you could just waltz into your new life with him still in it, like he could just follow you there. But Rafe knew better. You were leaving in four months, and that thought sat heavy in his chest every time he was around you now.

And here you were talking about the party again, like his presence there wouldn’t blow up everything.

He wanted to be there for you, more than anything, but not like that. Not surrounded by your perfect little world while he felt like an outsider, waiting for someone to call him out. It was like you didn’t even see the bomb that was about to go off if he stepped foot into your life like that.

“Are you listening to me?”

He ran a hand down his face, trying to hold onto whatever thread of control he had left. “I am listenin',” he muttered, though his voice came out harder than he meant.

“No, you’re not,” you said, a little firmer this time. "You’re shutting down again, like you always do when I bring this up."

He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want this to turn into some big blow-up. But damn, why couldn’t you just drop it for once? Why did you always have to dig, always push when he was hanging by a thread?

“Are coming tonight or not?” you asked for the millionth time, like it was no big deal. Just a party. “It’s nothing crazy.”

He let out a short laugh, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. Yeah, right. “Like your dad’s not gonna lose his shit the second he sees me?”

“Rafe—” you started, but he already knew where this was going. Same conversation, different day.

You were standin’ there, looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes and it killed him. You were always calm, always trying to make sense of shit when sometimes there just wasn’t any sense to be made.

And right now, he didn’t have the patience for it.

He cut you off. “You really think it’s that easy? You think I can just show up, grab a drink, and blend in with your crowd like we’re in some damn movie? Tell everyone how ‘m your homeless boyfriend?”

You looked frustrated like you couldn’t wrap your head around why this was such a big deal. He wished you could see it from his side, but how could you? You weren’t a pogue.

You didn’t know what it was like being the guy no one wanted around anymore. Hell, he barely had anywhere to crash before you helped him out. And now, what? He was supposed to show up to your graduation party and pretend like he belonged?

He was getting worked up now. He knew it. But damn, how was he supposed to just walk into that house, standing next to you while everyone whispered about how he would be dragging you down?

“It’s my party,” you said, taking a step closer. “I don’t care what they think. I want you there.”

He clenched his jaw and looked away. You didn’t get it. This wasn’t just about your daddy or your friends or even you. It’s about the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he was always gonna be that guy they look at sideways like he wasn’t worth a dam.

“Yeah? And what happens when they start askin’ questions?” He asked, voice low, trying to keep the edge out of it. “When they find out we’ve been sneakin’ around for months? You think they’ll just be cool with that? You wanna throw all that away, for me?”

Your face tightened up, hurt showing in your eyes, and damn if that didn’t make his chest twist up inside. He hated seeing you like that.

“I’m just tired of pretending like I’m ashamed of you.”

That one hit hard, harder than he expected.

He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like he was about to lose it. “M’ not doing this to hurt you,” he muttered, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m doing it ‘cause I care about you.”

He was protecting this.

You shook your head like you didn’t believe him. “No, you’re doing this ‘cause you think you’re protecting me from something that doesn’t even matter. None of this—my parents, the Kook bullshit—none of it matters to me.”

You didn’t curse often, but when you did, he knew you were upset. Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at his boots, the ones you’d bought him a month ago, kicking at some dirt on the ground. He hated this. Hated how you made it seem so simple. Like you could just snap your fingers, and everything would fall into place.

"Doesn't matter to you," he muttered, shaking his head. "But it matters to them. It matters to the people you gotta see every day. Your parents, your friends... hell, half the damn island. You think they won’t care? That they won’t look at you different if they see you with me?"

You were right there in front of him now, reaching out to touch his arm, but he tensed up, not ready for the comfort. Not when his head was a mess.

“I don’t care what they think. Why do you?"

That question. That damn question. It was always the same one, and he never had a good answer for it. He didn’t care what they thought, not about him.

But you? You deserved better. And even if you didn’t see it that way, he did.

“I care ‘cause you’re... you’re better than all that, alright?" His voice was gruff, trying to keep from saying too much, but it was getting harder. "You got your whole future lined up, you’re set. College, whatever the hell you wanna do. And then there's me, dragging you down with all my bullshit. You deserve—"

“I deserve to make my own choices,” you cut in, stepping even closer, so close now that he could feel the warmth of your skin, hear the frustration under your breath. “And I choose you. I don’t care about any of that other stuff. I want you there tonight. With me.”

The way you said it, it almost made him want to believe it. Almost.

Rafe clenched his jaw, eyes drifting up to meet yours. You really believed it, didn’t you? That this could work. That you two could just show up, be together, and it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought. Part of him wanted to grab onto that same hope, hold it tight, and say “fuck it” to everything else.

But the other part—the part that had seen how the world worked, how Kooks looked down on Pogues like him—knew better.

"Just 'cause you want it, doesn’t makes it real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Like we can just walk in there and no one’s gonna give a shit that you’re standing next to me.”

You crossed your arms now, jaw set in that stubborn way that usually meant you weren’t backing down. “I don’t care anymore, Rafe. I’m tired of living by their rules. This is my life."

He felt a flare of anger burn in his chest. Not at you, but at the situation. At the fact that he couldn’t just be the guy you wanted him to be, the guy who could walk into that party and not feel like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah?” he snapped back, voice rough. “And what about next time, huh? What about the next party or when your dad finds out and says you’re not allowed to see me anymore. What then?”

You stared at him, eyes hard, like you were daring him to say more, but there was something else in your expression, something that made his throat tighten. "You’re just looking for an excuse," you said quietly. "You’re scared."

Maybe you were right. Maybe he was scared.

Scared that if he let himself believe this could work, he’d end up losing you in the end anyway. Scared that the moment you really saw how different your lives were, you’d leave, and he’d be the one standing there, broken.

“Can’t you just drop it?”

“You’re being mean.”

He wasn’t trying to hurt you—not really. But he didn’t know how else to get through your head, how to make you see what he saw.

“So what if I am. Maybe I need to be. You’re not listening to me.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, and that just pissed him off more. You should be mad. You should hate him for not just going along with this, for making it all so damn hard. But there you were, looking at him like you still believed in him. Like he was worth it. And fuck, that was the hardest part.

Your eyes were glassy, and he could see it—the hurt. The way you blinked fast, your lips pressed tight, like you were holding it all in, it killed him.

“You’re pushing me away,” you said, voice shaky as hell. “And I don’t get it. You’re actin’ like I’d be better off without you.”

He clenched his fists, feeling that familiar burn of frustration flare up. He didn’t want to yell at you.

Hell, he never wanted to make you cry, but you didn’t get it. Part of him wanted to shake you, make you see things the way he saw them. The other part? The part that hurt every time you talked about leaving, about how you had this whole future ahead of you... that part just wanted to pull you in and hold on tight.

He laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Yeah? Well, someone needs to. 'Cause you’re blind if you think this ends with us living happily ever after.”

You flinched, like his words had hit you straight in the chest. And then, the tears came, and he couldn’t stop them this time. You wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but he’d already done the damage.

He was falling apart right in front of you, and he hated that you had to see it. Hated that you were the only person who ever saw him like this.

He hated himself for saying it, but he couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t stop the truth from comin’ out, no matter how much it hurt. “You’re leavin’ in four months, and I’m still here. Still... me. And I’m not draggin’ you down with all my crap. You deserve better than that.”

You reached out, grabbing his arm, and the way you touched him made somethin’ inside him crack. “I don’t want better, Rafe. I want you.”

“Yeah?” He barked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. “And what happens when you’re gone? When you’re off at college, livin’ your life, and I’m still here, stuck in this place? You think this... whatever this is, is gonna last?”

Your voice broke a little when you spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doin’ it ‘cause I care about you,” he said, voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “More than anything. But you... you got a future. You got everythin’ ahead of you. And me? I ain’t got nothin’ but a one-way ticket to nowhere.”

You were cryin’ now, and that damn near killed him. You never cried, not like this. “That’s not true. Why can’t you see that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rafe finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and he could see it—could see how much you meant it.

And damn, he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But he’d been around long enough to know how this world worked, and it never worked out for guys like him.

“I can’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said, stepping back, pulling away from your touch even though it felt like it was tearing him apart to do it. “I won’t.”

“Rafe,” you whispered, voice broken and pleading, but he shook his head.

“Just... let it go,” he muttered, turning his back to you. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle seeing you hurt, knowing it was his fault. Knowing he was the reason your heart was breaking.

"Fine," you choked out, voice only just holding steady. "If you don’t want me there, then I’ll stop trying.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, but not before he saw your shoulders shake. 

Fuck.

That shit crushed him, but still, he didn’t move.

Just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the ground while you walked away from him. He knew he’d ruin the best thing that ever happened to him, he just didn’t expect it to happen this soon. He wanted to go after you, and say something to make it right, but what was the point? 

He always fucked it up somehow.

He leaned his head back against the shed, staring up at the sky, feeling like an absolute waste of space.

You had everything going for you—family, friends, a future—and what the hell did he have? Nothing but bad luck and a reputation that dragged behind him like a chain. He didn’t even know why you bothered with him sometimes. You were too good, too kind.

And he? He was the definition of a screw-up. Always saying the wrong thing, always ruining the good moments before they even had a chance to get started.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, head in his hands, wishing he could just be different. Wishing he didn’t care so much about what your dad thought or how your friends would whisper when you weren’t around. He wished he could just be the guy you saw, the guy you believed in.

Hours later, the party at your place was in full swing, and he knew you were there, trying to have a good time without him. He hadn’t shown up, of course. Just like he said he wouldn’t. Rafe stayed back, back in that stupid abandoned house, trying to tell himself this was for the best. 

He could hear the distant sound of music coming from your house, the laughter of your Kook friends echoing through the night air. It was the kind of party he never really belonged at—one where everyone showed up in their clean-cut clothes, fresh haircuts, and fancy cars. The kind of life he never had a shot at, not really. And here he was, stuck in the dirt, hands covered in grime, still trying to figure out why the hell you kept fighting for him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was what was supposed to happen. You deserved to be there, with your people, not hanging around with someone like him. You’d be fine without him weighing you down. Hell, you’d probably be better off in the long run. He’d hurt you. He knew it. Saw it clear as day when you walked off, tears in your eyes, but he didn’t go after you. He didn’t know how.

But then his phone buzzed—the phone you had gotten him—and he looked down to see your name flashing on the screen. He stared at it for a second, his gut twisting, then picked up.

“Yeah?”

All he could hear on the other end was you crying. That soft, broken cry made his chest feel like it was caving in.

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, standing up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, just kept crying, and that was worse than anything you could’ve said. His heart was pummeling to the ground, and he was already on his feet, ready to head over before you even asked.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, trying to keep himself from sounding as panicked as he felt. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You sniffled hard, trying to talk through the sobs. “Rafe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your voice all shaky and broken.

He couldn’t stand to hear you like that, not when he knew it was his fault. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, feeling like a total jackass.

“Stop crying, darlin’,” he muttered, voice softer now. “I hate when you cry.”

“I’m just so upset,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “I didn’t want us to fight like that. I just miss you.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, feeling like shit. He could hear the party still going in the background, but all you wanted was him. He knew that, but somehow he’d still managed to mess everything up.

“Where are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“My room,” you muttered, “I couldn’t stay down there. I feel so stupid.”

His heart twisted, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was throwing on his jacket, heading out.

“I’m coming’ over,” he said, his voice firm.

“What?” you sounded surprised. “Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I’m coming’,” he interrupted you, his voice low but serious. “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few.”

Twenty minutes later, he was sneaking around the side of your house, ducking behind bushes to avoid being seen. The party was still going, people everywhere, but all he cared about was getting to your window. He knew how to sneak into your room like the back of his hand by now. Too many months of practice.

He climbed through, landing quiet as a mouse, and saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at your hands. Your eyes were red from crying, and he felt that familiar guilt twisting in his gut.

When you looked up and saw him, you stood fast, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there.

Before he could say anything, you were in his arms, holding onto him tight, like you were scared he might disappear. Rafe held you, his chin resting on top of your head as you pressed into him, your fingers clutching at the back of his jacket like you didn’t want to let go. He knew he'd screwed up. He always did. But when you were there, clutching him like he was the only thing that mattered, it made him question everything he'd told himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face buried in his chest, your body shakin’ from the sobs.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, like he was trying to make up for every shitty thing he’d said. “You don’t gotta apologize, alrigh’?” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “This one’s on me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, tears still in your eyes, and damn if it didn’t make him want to punch himself.

“I don’t care about the party or the people,” you practically whimpered, “I just want you, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, feeling’ that knot in his throat. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. But here you were, saying you wanted him anyway.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” He exhaled, “I just... I don’t know how to do this right. I’m scared I’m just gonna hurt you.”

You shook your head, your hands resting on his chest. “You don’t have to protect me. I just want you to let me in.”

He swallowed hard. You were all he wanted, but damn if it didn’t scare the hell out of him sometimes.

Still, he wasn’t about to lose you. Not like this.

The warmth of you against him, the way you fit so perfectly into his chest—it made him feel like he might just be okay. Like maybe, for once, things didn’t have to be so damn complicated.

But that didn’t mean the doubts were gone. He pulled back just a little, enough to see your face, brushing a tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

 “You know I’m not good at this, right?” His voice was low, rough, like he was almost ashamed to say it. “I don’t wanna screw things up, but I don’t always know how to… be better.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still watery but soft, full of that same stubborn affection you always had for him. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to let me in when it gets hard.”

He let out a slow breath, trying to wrap his head around how you could want him—still want him—after all the times he’d messed up. “I’m tryin’, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t wanna push you away, but sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing I know how to do.”

You gave him this sad little smile, like you knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t care if you push sometimes,” you conceded, “Just—don’t leave. Don’t make me feel like I’m in this alone.”

That hit him harder than anything.

He realized then, as much as he was scared of dragging you down, you were scared of him disappearing. No matter how fucked up things got, no matter how much he doubted himself or the future, he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

You bit your lip, like you were debating whether or not to say something, and for a second, Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, Rafe.”

Those three words hit him harder than anything ever had. Harder than all the fights, the doubts, the shit he carried around like it was glued to his skin. His heart just about stopped in his chest, and he just stared at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

“What—what did you just say?” His voice came out hoarse like he didn’t trust what he heard.

“I love you,” you said again, a little more sure this time. You smiled, but your eyes were still searching his, like you were waiting for him to say something back.

Like maybe he wouldn’t.

His head started spinning, like the room had just tilted sideways.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was about to pass out or just drop to his knees. How the hell were you standing there, looking at him, and saying that?

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He felt his knees wobble for a second, like his legs were going to give out. Jesus Christ, get it together, he thought, trying to pull in a breath, but it felt like the air got stuck halfway down his throat.

“You love me?” His voice cracked, and he hated how insecure he sounded, how unsure. But it was like his brain couldn’t process those words coming from you.

You nodded, stepping closer, your hand slipping back to his chest, right over his heart. “Yeah. I love you.”

Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard now, he thought it might actually explode. He blinked, then swallowed hard, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe you—it was just, how the hell did he deserve that? Deserve you?

“Shit…” He whispered, almost to himself, and suddenly his legs felt weak again. “I... I—fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

But he did.

He needed to say something, anything, to let you know what that meant to him. His throat felt tight, like he might choke if he didn’t get it out.

 “I—I love you too.” It came out fast, like he was scared if he didn’t say it quick enough, you might take it back. "I love you, too. So fucking much, I don't even know what to do with it half the time.”

He looked down at you, and for once, he didn’t care if he was being soft or vulnerable or any of that shit that scared him before.

He just wanted you to know how much he needed you, how much you meant to him.

And as soon as the words were out, you smiled, this big, radiant smile that lit up your whole face, and Rafe felt like he might actually faint this time.

His heart was gonna burst wide open. He pulled back a little, still holding onto you, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he muttered, “I’ve never—no one’s ever...”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, and it was so gentle, so full of love, that it almost knocked him off his feet all over again.

“You deserve it,” you reminded him again, “You deserve to be loved.”

There you were, always telling him of what he was deserving of. 

“I love you,” he whispered again, just to make sure you knew. He buried his face in your neck, his arms enveloping you tighter than before.

You loved him. You loved him. And he loved you.

It felt like the confession had lightened up something inside you.

He’d thought about how it would go, the first time you two would be together like that. In his head, it was always this big moment, something special. 

He was rough around the edges, sure, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect for you. He'd even thought about planning something out—candles, a slow build, maybe a weekend when no one was around.

His breath was ragged as he felt you pull him closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He’d thought about this moment a thousand times—hell, probably more—but never like this.

Not rushed, not with everyone downstairs, and definitely not with you looking at him like you couldn’t wait any longer. You kissed him like you couldn’t stop, fingers already slipping beneath the fabric, making it hard for him to think straight.

“Sweetheart...” his voice was low with that familiar southern drawl, like he was trying to hold it all together. “You sure ‘bout this? We got a house full of people downstairs.”

You kissed him harder, pulling his shirt over his head, and he nearly lost his mind right then and there. He wanted to slow down, make this moment perfect for you, but the way you were all over him? It made him forget every plan he’d ever had. He let out a shaky breath, his hands settling on your waist, trying to ground himself. 

Jesus, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it.

He wanted to slow down, wanted to make this moment last, but you were already working your hands up his chest, and it was driving him insane.

“I don’t care,” you muttered against his lips, your breath hot and all desperate.

Damn, if you weren’t the most stubborn, determined girl he’d ever met. But he loved that about you. Loved how you always knew exactly what you wanted. And right now? It was clear you wanted him. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the curves he’d been dreaming about for months.

Rafe let out a groan, trying his best to keep it together, but you were making it damn near impossible. “I was... I was tryin’ to be romantic for once,” he mumbled as he looked into your eyes, practically begging himself to slow down, to make this right. “Was thinkin’ candles, music... not with your whole damn family downstairs, baby.”

You laughed, breathless, and pulled him even closer, your body against his. “You don’t want me?” There was a hint of challenge in your voice like you didn’t believe him.

His blue eyes went wide. “What? ‘Course I want you,” he said, almost shocked you’d even think that. “‘I’ve always wanted you. You gotta know that.”

You looked up at him and he nearly came on the stop, “Then stop holding back.”

Every last bit of control he had glided right out of his hands. You were there, right in front of him, pulling him into you, like you didn’t care about anything else. All his plans, all his ideas of some perfect first time? Out the damn window.

 “You... you look so damn beautiful. This dress— I can’t get over how good you look in it.”

You giggled, and for a moment, the heat between you two softened into something tender, something that made his chest ache.

He loved that sound. Loved the way it lit up your face, like you had no idea just how much you meant to him.

He kissed you again, slow at first like he was trying to be a gentleman, but the way you kissed him back, so eager, so damn hungry—it broke whatever restraint he had left. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, feeling the soft fabric of your dress against his skin, and it sent a jolt through him, making him lose track of everything but you. The room felt too small, and all he could think about was how long he’d been waiting for this—for you.

His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of your dress, hesitating for a second before pulling it up, revealing the soft skin of your waist. He was trying to stay calm, to keep his mind from racing, but it felt damn near impossible with the way you were looking at him.

You were everything.

He swallowed hard, “I... I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, like he was scared he’d crack the spell between you if he spoke too loud. His fingers brushed over your skin, gentle, as he lifted your dress the rest of the way, eyes flicking up to yours, searching for any sign that you wanted him to stop.

You didn’t.

If anything, you moved even closer, your breathing coming out in quick, giddy breaths. There was something endearing about it—like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but you both wanted it so badly. You were learning together.

Your dress fell to the floor, and he just stared for a moment, blue eyes all wide, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Goddamn..”

His hands hovered over your skin, like he didn’t want to rush, but you were yanking him impossibly closer, urging him on. He began to move again, gliding slowly over your bare skin, every touch reverent, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful enough.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands still roaming over your body, savoring every inch of you. The soft sighs you made only pushed him further, made him forget everything except how much he wanted to make you feel good, how much he needed this to be good for you.

His was light-headed as he whispered your name, “God, I love you— I don’t think you even know how much.”

“I think I do,” you whispered back, lips brushing his neck. “Show me.”

He reached for the delicate straps of your bra and pulled them down your shoulders, like he was unwrapping the most precious thing in the world.

He paused for a second, looking into your eyes, making sure you were still with him, still wanting this as much as before.

You nodded softly, your lips parted, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. His fingers found the clasp, fumbling slightly, and he cursed under his breath with a rough chuckle, “Sorry, baby… it’s just—damn, I’m mess right now.”

You beamed at him, all the tension melting away, “You’re doing’ just fine,” you whispered, urging him to keep going.

With one final tug, the clasp gave way, and your bra slipped off, falling to the floor. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his mouth going dry. He swallowed hard like he couldn’t believe this was real.

His hands moved steadily, fingertips grazing your bare skin as he lowered them to your waist, where the last piece of fabric still clung to your body. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes coming back to yours, silently asking for permission.

 “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down, savoring every inch of you as you were revealed to him. He let out a low groan, as he finally saw you—all of you.

He needed to remind himself this was real. That you were his. “Fuck,” His voice was filled with awe. "You’re perfect.”

Your fingers drifted lower, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and you felt noticed how his body tensed under your touch, his muscles rippling as he tried to keep himself calm.

“C’mon,” you purred, just teasing as you pulled at the button, “I think it’s your turn now.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that cocky grin he knew you loved, "You sure ‘bout that, sweetheart?" 

You nodded, small hands already working to unbutton his jeans. He almost let out a prayer, biting his lip as you slipped them down, his body shivering as your fingers brushed against his skin.

His jeans fell to the floor, and you took a step back, admiring him like he was worth all that staring. Rafe stood there in nothing but his boxers, chest heaving with all that uncontrollable love he felt for you.

His eyes were locked on yours, full of that same intense need, but there was something tender in them too, he still couldn’t quite believe you were here, undressing him like this. But you were real, standing there with him and undressing him like you wanted every single piece of him. 

With a soft smile, you reached up, fingers twitching at the waistband of his boxers, your eyes never leaving his. The way you looked at him as you slid them down slowly, revealing every inch of him? He was never letting that go.

Rafe just stood there for a moment, completely bare, his body a little rigid with anticipation, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you took him in.

"You're perfect too," your eyes roamed over him, taking in the sharp lines of his body, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

When you stepped closer, hands touching his hips now, dragging him towards you, his fingers found your hair, tangling in it as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that kiss.

"Jesus," he whispered against your lips, eyes closing as he tried to breath through his excitement, "You're drivin' me crazy.”

You just let out soft little laugh that made his stomach flip, your fingers mapping over his jaw, keeping him close. His whole body was buzzing with need, his skin burning wherever you touched him, but there was something else in the way you were looking at him—a kind of trust that he wasn’t sure he deserved but fuck if he wasn’t going to do everything to live up to it.

His hands skimmed back down to your hips, your bare skin against his, and for a second, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe right. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you, trying to calm his racing heart.

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, "I want this to be good for you— I’ve always wanted this to be good for you."

You tilted his face down, your lips brushing against his “It already is, Rafe. Just...just be with me."

That was all he needed.

Rafe’s hands touched all over you like he was trying to memorize every part of you, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him have this.

He kissed you, slow but needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and the way you responded made his entire body shake. His hands ended up back in your waist, thumb brushing the skin, lifting you just a little and guiding you to the bed, where you both sank into the mattress together.

His weight settled over you, your bodies fitting together in this perfect way that made his head spin. He leaned down, kissing your neck, your collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach.

Your breath came in short gasps, your hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed his way down your body, and Rafe swore he could die.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse with emotion. "You don't even know... how long I've wanted this. How much I want you."

His fingers moved down, brushing the inside of your thigh. He hesitated for a moment, eyes searching yours, needing that confirmation one more time. You nodded, biting your lip.

His fingers slid between your thighs, slow at first, the warmth of your skin making him shudder. He exhaled sharply, opening you up to him, feeling how ready you were, and it nearly drove him insane. His fingers moved carefully, testing the waters, the softest groan escaping his lips as he found that sensitive spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe the way you felt under his touch.

Your breath caught, hips shifting toward him, a soft moan breaking loose as his fingers pressed against you. The sound of your voice, the way your body responded to him—it drove him wild. He wanted to make sure you felt good.

Two of his fingers slipped inside, careful, tentative at first. He watched your face, making sure you were okay, his other hand resting on your hip, steadying you as they curled slightly, finding a rhythm that made your body arch into him.

“Rafe…” you breathed out, your voice wobbly, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation overwhelmed you.

He worked a little faster now, getting even harder as he felt you tighten around him. “Like that, baby?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle another moan, your hands latching on his shoulders as your body quivered under his touch. He groaned softly, his lips finding your neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin there as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. 

Your body curved toward him, every nerve ending tingling as his fingers moved deeper, curling just right. He swallowed hard, his lips brushing against your ear, "Is this okay?"

Your heart thumped against your rib cage, every movement of his fingers making you gasp softly. You managed to give him a small nod, barely able to find your voice. "Yeah, Rafe... it's perfect."

His breath came out a little less unrestrained, clearly relieved, and he continued, the pace slow, testing. The uncertainty in his touch was endearing, but you wanted more—you needed more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, biting your lip as a rush of heat stretched through you, “Maybe… one more?”

He froze for a moment, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

Your heart swelled at his concern, and you gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m sure. Just take it slow."

Carefully, he pulled back just a little, his fingers slipping out before he added a third finger. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flicking up to yours, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

The sensation was different, intense, but not too overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, your body adjusting to the new pressure as he filled you more.

“Does it—does it feel good?” Rafe asked, his face inches from yours, vulnerable.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “It feels amazing.”

His lips parted, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I was worried I’d mess it up.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer, your hand twisting in his hair. “You're doing great.”

He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing a little as he found a rhythm again. His fingers moved more confidently now, more certain, his jaw falling slack as he watched you react to him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Rafe muttered, eyes glued to your face. “You feel that? You’re taking me so well.”

You whined at how deep his voice sounded, your body buzzing as his fingers worked in deeper, the pressure mounting with every movement. Your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of him inside you.

“God, yes,” you breathed out, the pleasure building to a point where it felt like you might break apart.

Rafe's pace quickened, as he pressed his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. 

"Come on, baby," he practically begged you, voice hoarse. Your breath came out in short, shallow gasps as you felt yourself creeping toward the edge, every movement of his hand bringing you closer. His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as the tension snapped, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you.

His eyes widened in awe, his fingers slowing as he watched you like he couldn’t believe what he’d just made happen. He groaned softly, feeling you pulse around him, "You did so good," he murmured, lips brushing against your temple. "So perfect."

You felt a shiver run down your entire being as his hands glided up your thighs, spreading them gently as he settled himself between them. He was shaking a little, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes—the nervousness that came with doing something for the first time, not wanting to mess it up.

But when he leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, all the apprehend melted away. He couldn’t help but take in every detail—the way your lips parted as you breathed him in. He felt like he was drowning, but in the best way possible.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You looked up at him, your own breath uneven, eyes wide and the way you saw through him—it was like you were giving him the world. His hand was still shaking slightly as he reached down, lining himself up with you, taking his time, not rushing even though every fiber of his being screamed to.

"I wanna make this good for you," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "I don’t wanna hurt you." 

There was a hesitation, a vulnerability that he only showed in moments like this. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you felt nothing but pleasure. You gave him a small, reassuring nod, your hand finding his, fingers slipping through his, squeezing. "I trust you.”

He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself as he eased into you, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time, making sure you were still doing okay.

The sensation overwhelmed him, the warmth of your body, the way you welcomed him so completely. He groaned, low and deep, knowing he could do this for the rest of his life. You were so fucking warm.

"Fuckkk," he moaned, "You feel so fuckin' good, darlin'."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as he sank deeper, the feeling of being inside you nearly sending him over the edge. He wanted to take it slow, to savor every moment, but the way you clenched around him, the way you whispered his name like it was the only word you knew—it made it impossible.

Your eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against flushed cheeks, lips parting in a soft gasp that made his heart skip a beat. His hips moved on instinct, slow at first, testing, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he tried to hold back. "Tell me if it’s too much," he managed to say, his voice strained.

“It’s p-perfect.”

His hips snapped forward, the movement more sure, more confident as he lost himself in the moment. A low groan escaping his lips as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he moved faster, harder, the need to be closer to you taking over.

You mewled pathetically at this point, nails digging into every bit of skin you could get your hands on, body arching beneath him as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he was a natural.

The way you responded to him, the sounds you made—it had to be the best day of his life.

“Touch me.”

He cupped your tit, thumb brushing over the hardened peak with a gentle touch that contrasted the desperate way his hips moved against you.

His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of emotion as his hands explored you. "Like this?" he murmured, his thumb circling again as his hips moved deeper. The way your body reacted—sucking him in like a goddamn vice—it nearly undid him.

“Mmhp—Fuck. J—Just like that.”

He leaned down, like a man possessed, lips brushing the soft skin of your tit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His mouth found the hardened peak, lips wrapping around it with a low groan, and his tongue flicked over it slowly, teasingly. You gasped, your hands entangling in his hair, holding him there as he sucked harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

He hummed in satisfaction, feeling the way your body responded to him. His tongue circled slowly, drawing out every sound you made, savoring each gasp, each moan as he lavished attention on your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips trailing over your heated flesh. “You taste so good.”

You couldn’t help the way your body responded, pressing up against him, your hips rolling to meet his. The dual sensation of his mouth on you and the deep, steady thrusts left you tingling all over, beneath him, completely dazed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Rafe—" you huffed, the word barely more than a breath as your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth latched on harder, sucking with a fervor that left you breathless.

He pulled back just slightly, lips wet and swollen as he looked up at you,“I could do this all night,” he whispered, “You like that, baby? You like how I’m making you feel?”

He didn’t know where these surges of confidence kept coming from, but he never felt so relieved. It felt like his body knew exactly what to do when it came to yours.

His hand skidded between your legs once more, fingers finding your swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his hips and mouth. You could barely think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought.

When his lips finally crashed back into yours, the taste of him overpowered every sense as his hands pulled your hips tighter. His kiss was messy, all spit and need, like he couldn’t get enough of you—like he needed to feel you, taste you, breathe you in all at once. His tongue slid past your parted lips, slow and teasing at first, then deeper, as if he was trying to consume you whole.

He groaned into the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging on it softly, then harder as he swallowed the sound of your whines.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to press wet, fevered kisses down your jawline, to your neck, leaving a trail of spit and heat in his wake.

“I love you,” he muttered against your skin, his lips latching onto your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive spot just below your ear, biting gently, “So fuckin’ much.”

“I love you,” You breathed out between kisses, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass and pulling you flush against him, the hard line of his body pressing against yours in a way that made you gasp, “Never g-gonna s-stop,” you whispered back, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as he kissed you harder, rougher, swallowing every sound you made.

"Fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to hold back, to make this last, but you could feel him losing control, feel the tension coiling tight in his body. His hips moved with a relentless, desperate need, his breath broken and uneven.

“Rafe—” you nearly cried, your body shaking beneath him. Every thrust, every touch, every breath was pushing you closer to the edge, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Let go for me, baby,” he encouraged you, two fingers still rubbing teasing circles over your sensitive clit, “Come for me.”

Your body tightened around him as you came undone with a cry of his name. Rafe groaned as he felt you clench around him, fluttering so perfectly.

His release was not far behind as he thrust into you one last time, before pulling out with a strangled moan, his body shuddering as he came all over your tummy, his head falling to your shoulder.

Rafe stayed there for a while, catching his breath, his body still shaking like a leaf as the tremors of pleasure coursed through him.

Taking his time, he lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. "I love you," he said it again, as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your flushed cheek. "So damn much."

You never looked so heartbreakingly beautiful. Like a fucking painting.

You grinned from ear to ear, your heart swelling with affection as you held his face in your hands, pulling him for another kiss. "I love you too," you murmured against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair, "Always."

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against yours, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were his, and he was yours—completely, utterly, and without question

[bahrtofane]

in which jude is your best friend, or well, was. hes much more now

word count - 1.3K

watch it - arguments, yelling. happy ending tho hehe

------

“Can you grab my purse? I left it in the back seat." 

Jude looks up from his phone at the doorway and gives you a nod, “Yeah gimme a sec, i got it.”

You send him a smile and thanks before taking your shoes off and relaxing on his couch. Today was an impromptu hang out, practice ended early and the personal trainer was out, so this was one of the few days Jude had to relax.

He still wanted to spend it with you, even after you told him he should use the opportunity to nap or just relax in his room. 

'What's the point if I can't bother you at the same time ?' was all he said. 

so you caved and got ready for him to pick you up, soon to raid his fridge or find another movie to watch. (which you always end up talking over but that's okay. It's the thought that counts. you even have your own Netflix profile on his tv !)

Your phone goes off and you're pleasantly surprised to find it's the man you met a few days ago. You caught his eye and he politely approached you while you were on a little coffee run. a treat after a bad few days. 

You smile when you text your date back confirmation. Dinner date this Saturday how exciting !

Jude comes back with your purse in hand, sliding it on the table your way before crashing into your side. 

"Jesus Jude- my god- you're too big to be doing that. you're gonna kill me someday." you sputter.

"no, it's good to keep you on your toes." he giggles while smothering himself into your side

you groan trying to get him off before resorting to kicking him off with your legs. 

he yells before hitting the ground, "Im worth too much for you to be throwing me around what the hell."

"you started it! you're so annoying, oh my god."

he narrows his eyes before getting up and sitting a far distance away from you, for safety. 

he puts on a movie and continues to sulk while you roll your eyes. 

‘Oh by the way I'm gonna have to cancel saturday. “ 

“What, why ? What happened?“ 

“I have a dinner date that day ! isn't that exciting.’

Jude only scowls at you, unimpressed. “You're canceling, over a man. First of all, why is this the first time I'm hearing about this guy. And why didn't you tell him you were busy and just pick a different day.”

“Saturday is his only day off. I don't know why you're so mad.” You frown. 

“Saturday afternoon is my only afternoon off.”

“Jude. Why are you being so childish?”

“I don't know because you're putting some guy you just met before me, your best friend.”

“He's not just some guy I think we could really be something. Why do you have to be so protective of me? I'm not 5 oh my god.”

“It's not just that it's that you're canceling our hangout for him.”

“We always hang out-”

“Exactly so I don't know why you're jumping so quickly to change it over some dick.”

“Im not like that and you fucking know it. You of all people should know that this is a chance I don't want to miss out on just because we order food and stare at a tv for hours on saturdays.”

“Oh so that's all it is to you. Staring at a tv.’ Jude rolls his eyes.

“It's not like that, I love hanging out with you. "

" I just don't understand why you're suddenly so eager to see anyone right now . I can't make any plans with anyone without you storming down here and telling me it's a waste of time. " He sighs 

You stare at him in disbelief. “Because you have a career ?? i don't give two shits who you talk to, but I can't let you make dumb decisions. I will always be your best friend, that's my job and nothing more."

"That's why this is so frustrating,” He waves his hands in the air aimlessly, “Do you even know what you're saying to me?"

"You're not making sense." You shake your head. 

 “I don't want to fight with you, I just don't understand why you're acting so selfish.”

“That's your problem, you act like I'm doing something wrong instead of being happy for me."

“You dont fucking get it do you oh my god I dont know how to be any more clear with you so you can get It.”

You don't say anything, choosing not to read any deeper into his words and instead watch the rest of the movie in silence. You don't have it in you to argue with him anymore. You care for him, truly. He's your best friend and you couldn't be happier or more proud to be able to have him by your side. 

But there's always that prickle of feeling that lays within you. A prickle of yearning, a wanting for more. You're not blind by any means, Jude is a handsome man and he's grown into his features better than you expected. 

You don't know if it's just delusion, but there's always a base layer of tension between you too. Always a second away from something going too far and it leading where it probably shouldn't. 

But you know it's deeper than a what if for you. You've found a good friend in him and somewhere along the way you've drifted to less than only platonic feelings. But you also know the way Jude is, the way he acts and talks is just that. Not meant to be read deeper and you dont let anything get your hopes up anymore. 

It's the reason why you said yes to that guy in the first place, so you can hopefully stop crushing on your best friend and move on.

Your over-thinking soon passes the time and you find yourself in an awkward quiet that neither of you want to break in fear of more arguing. But Jude takes the risk.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"For what Jude? "

"For how I acted, and what I said. It was an asshole move to assume you're only gonna meet him for dick when I know you aren't like that. And for acting like you can only hang out with me. I'm sorry.”

You sit there silently, not saying a word. 

He turns to face you almost desperately, “You're my best friend you really are. I care about you, more than anyone else. And i just- fuck it. You’ve given me some of the most precious moments of my life, but I think I’d be a better boyfriend if you’d let me, friends just doesn’t do justice to what I feel for you anymore.”

You stand up and walk over to him, standing between his legs and placing his hands in yours, gently smiling.

“Please say something.” He whispers. 

“I can't think of anything I want more than for you to be mine Jude.”

He jumps at that, bringing you flush to his chest, “What about the guy on saturday?’ “I'm obviously going to cancel and tell him I'm no longer available.”

“Good.” He smiles. There is a moment where his gaze focuses on your lips and you can feel your face blush at the newfound attention.

“Can I, kiss you ?” He breathes

You give a nod, and no sooner do his hands gently cup your face, his lips meeting yours.

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey��s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[taylormarieee]

Stalker Thomas Webb

Summary: Your the new girl and you've just moved into this apartment in New York to get away from your parents and it seems you have a cute stalker...

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Thomas Webb x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Thomas being a stalker, confrontation, suggestive throughout the entire fic, reader being a tease, Thomas being a needy boy, Thomas playing dumb/ hard to get, Mimi being jealous, almost smut...tehehe maybe part 2?

You were so happy to finally be free of the toxic relationships in your life. Your mom, your dad, and even your ex boyfriend. You were free, finally free.

You loved reading and writing and you felt as though you could achieve your passion, your goal to be a writer here in New York. Your mom never accepted it, a small town girl could never possibly make it big.

But you wanted to prove her wrong. You wanted your name in the paper and to be in interviews and to finally show them at you did mean something, that you had talent, that you actually had what it takes to be successful.

Yea, you were a small town girl but you were going to show them that small town girls can make it big! You finally got an apartment. Your apartment number was 2c. You were so happy.

You even made a friend. His name was Thomas. He lived in the Apartment two doors down from you. He was like you.

College dropouts, suckers for writing, lovers for books, you guys were destined to be friends.

But Thomas wanted something more. Even if he did just meet you 2 days ago, he wanted to feel every inch of your body on his body. He wanted you so close that your souls were touching.

He craved you, needed you. So whenever you went out, he went out as well. Constantly stalking and seeing what you were up too. But what Thomas didn't notice was that he wasn't exactly being sneaky or discreet about his stalking.

You constantly saw him and at first you just thought you guys were in the same place coincidently but then you started noticing him everywhere. Places he usually wouldn't be.

You found it quite cute because you wanted to be more than just friends with Thomas too! Yea, you guys have known each other for like 2 weeks now but he was incredibly attractive and you just wanted to suck the life out of him.

Prune him of every last drop of cum he has in his body. Make his dick twitch with overstimulation and anticipation. You wanted it badly but when was the right time?

Eventually when his stalking decided to get more frequent, you decided to confront him. You hid behind a wall waiting for him to turn the corner. When he did you jumped out with a "Boo!" and he stumbled back.

You began to laugh and his face got red. "Hey Thomas... why you stalking me, hmm?" you asked in the sweetest voice.

He's blushing heavily now, 'dammit you knew, he's screwed'.

"W-What do you mean y/n? I wasn't f-following you." He falters and you find it kinda cute. You smile at him and get closer to him. "Oh really? You've been following me for 2 and a half weeks now baby... why deny it? I'm not mad...I find it adorable actually."

He gulps and you can physically hear his heart beating. You get closer to him and your eyes rake up and down his body. A smirk creeps it's way onto his face as he questions, "Your not mad?" He asks.

You shake your head 'no' and he smiles even wider. "that's good. Was planning on doing it a lil longer." He says.

"Why stalk me when were neighbors. If you wanna fuck me just ask." You respond. His eyes grow wide at your statement. 'You caught him' he thought.

That's exactly what he wanted. For some reason he couldn't verbalize it with you. He wanted to make sure you weren't seeing anyone and now that his fear has been denied, he can have you all to himeself.

"What makes you think I wanna fuck you? Hmm?" He asks with a smirk on his face and it only grows wider when yours falters. You look around and shuffle nervously but then as you opened your mouth to say something, some girl turned the corner.

"Thomas, what's going on here?" She asks. She's short but maye the same height as you. Short black hair and melanin skin that glowed in the sunlight.

"Oh hey Mimi." He says breaking his eye contact away from you to face her. 'So this was mimi... the girl that couldn't get her fucking feelings straight,' you thought. She was pretty but Thomas deserved better in your opinion.

"Who are you? and Thomas what the hell!? You were supposed to meet me today at the cafe. I saw you walk by but you didn't come in so I decided to follow you." she says looking between you and Thomas.

"This is my new friend," he says introducing you by your name. "I'm hanging out with her. I totally forgot about the cafe today, my bad." He says.

You scoot a little closer to Thomas to let a woman pass by she mutters out an 'Excuse me' and you smile and gladly move out her way. You grab Thomas' hand to make sure that the lady didn't have to say it again.

Mimi's line of eyesight drops down and you notice your still holding Thomas's hand. You let go of his hand and smile at him. "Me and Nick broke up. Wanted to tell you that today..." She says looking everywhere but Me and Thomas.

"Did you?" He says looking dead at her. She looks up and makes eye contact with him. "Your supposed to be more excited than that. I broke up with him because I got into Croatia and I want you to come with me!" she says as we stand there.

You can tell she's fuming. It's like right out of a forbidden love story except there usually standing in the rain. Shes mad at you. feels as if you are taking Thomas away from her when he was her's first.

But she can't be mad when she blew it, she is the cause to this whole situation. Thomas wanted her. Badly, and she blew it.

"I have a confession to make." Thomas says. You are looking at Mimi but realize he's not looking at her. He's looking at you.

"I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you walk into your apartment. Since the first time we made eye contact I knew. I knew I needed to be with you. So I followed you. Everywhere. More than 2 and a half weeks. I followed you to find out what you liked and what your routine was." He confesses. Your heart swells and you smile.

"I know I seem weird and out of place and I probably sound like a complete creep but, I really do love you. I'm so in love with you that it hurts." He finishes his confession with a sigh and your smile only gets wider.

"I love you too Thomas. I've loved you since I first saw you grabing your mail and talking to that nice old man in 2b. I'm in love with you too Thomas Webb. So much I might cry cuz I felt like I couldn't have you because of her." You say motioning to mimi.

Mimi drops her head as she realizes she's too late. She confessed to Thomas and he found someone else. He really was a good man, guess it was just the right person at the wrong time.

You hug Thomas not wanting to kiss him in front of Mimi to make her feel bad. She says goodbye to Thomas before getting a cab.

He feels bad now but if she’s leaving she most likely won’t come back. He grabs your hand and you both start running towards your apartment as it did start to rain.

When you both got inside the apartment complex, you both laughed as you were both drenched due to the rain.

"I need you... god I've waited so long." Thomas confesses. Your eyes twinkle and you smile.

But you realize that this is all happening a little to fast. As much as you wanted to give into the throbbing between your legs, you needed a tiny bit of time to think.

Before you could answer he kisses you and pushes you against the door. Your hands find purchase on his chest. his muscles and abs being see through because of his wet shirt.

You kiss him back eagerly as you taste cherry on his lips. You break the kiss and suck on that sweet spot on his neck and jaw. Marking him as yours.

He moans in your ear as he lifts you up to straddle his waist. You lock lips with him again before realizing what you were going to say to him.

"T-Thomas baby, wait... wait a second." You say out of breath. He hums and looks at you. "W-What? what's wrong?"

"This is going a little too fast hmm? Lemme just think about this cause mimi is still plaguing my mind and I feel bad. I want you so badly but let's freshen up and come over later tonight yea... to finish what we started ok?" You say with a little smirk on your face.

You kiss him one more time before adjusting his glasses and kissing his nose. He smiles and slaps your ass before he makes his way to the door.

"Your lucky I love you... I'll wait just a little longer for you." He says before smiling and closing the door. You giggle to yourself and make your way to your bedroom.

Oh how you longed to see him again... feel him just one more time...

Taglist: @emmaafinchh @dustbunniess @willyoubemycherryy

[2chopsticks2eyes]

Don't Play Dumb

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader

Themes: Shameless smut

Word Count: ~3.3k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Vaginal Sex

Summary: Minho and Jisung were living their best lives to their gayest potential. Well, at least that's what they thought before you moved in next door...

Author’s Note: This story was inspired by a request from my girl @lyramundana. I had to physically restrain myself from making this, like, 20 pages more than it is just because I told myself this was only going to be a short one-shot to put out there while I write my main stories. 😅

__________________________________________

Jisung always knew he was gay, he was vibing too much babygirl energy to be otherwise. Minho always knew he wasn't attracted to really anyone, however, he always had a thing for a nice set of pecs and a nice, perky ass. That is until he met Jisung and realized his 100% attraction towards the man. And the biggest plus was Jisung had a really nice ass AND pecs. Like. DAMN.

But I digress. Neither believed in love at first sight until they first locked eyes on each other. 

That was YEARS ago, and they were still as in love (if not more) as they were before.

But then one hot summer day, you moved into the flat straight across from theirs.

The two were just coming home from a romantic brunch and were already a couple of horny dogs before noon even hit. However, when they saw you struggling to move in by yourself, all it took was one look at each other and they immediately rushed over to help you despite your ramblings that you could do it yourself and weren't some damsel in distress.

They respected that, but still insisted on helping if not to speed up the process so you wouldn't turn into ashes in the summer heat and, if you were being honest with yourself, it sounded particularly preferable. So after brief introductions, the three of you set to work.

So, after these two Greek gods of men finished helping you move everything up, all of you were drenched in sweat from head to toe.

"I'd offer you something to drink, but I think I only have tap water..." You explained meekly, trying not to focus too hard on each drop of sweat that ran down their tanned skin.

They were in a similar situation.

They had watched you lift those heavy boxes like they weighed nothing and they soon found out that you were more than capable to do this yourself. But with the sun blazing and heavy lifting up two flights of stairs, they couldn't help but notice your... attributes.

You had worn just a thin tank top and some breezy shorts due to the weather, and the more sweaty you got, the more they clung to you, and the more the boys couldn't help but have their eyes wander.

They giggled and reject your offer. "Do you want to come and have a drink at our place instead?" Jisung offered sweetly.

"No no no! It's totally fine! I have to start unpacking anyway and, besides, you two have helped me out plenty today..." They couldn't help but notice the blush blooming on your cheeks as you looked down with a small smile, biting your lip to contain your shyness.

Minho wanted to coo at you for being so damned cute, but he was afraid that it would make you uncomfortable, so he refrained. 

Once Minho and Jisung returned to their own flat, Jisung turned to Minho. "Okay hyung, I know this is going to sound super weird, but was she not absolutely drop-dead gorgeous or what?!" 

"Holy shit, I know right?! Am glad I'm not the only one who noticed!" 

"Like, shit, I'd fuck her stupid if I wasn't the gayest bottom bitch there is out there!" They laughed heartily and Minho playfully swat his arm with a loud cackle.

This was why they loved each other so much, they could be completely open and honest with each other and they knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they’d still live and die for each other.

"Speaking of bottom bitch, I believe we had some plans once we returned home if I'm not mistaken?" Minho gave Jisung a wry smile as he moved closer to place a sweet kiss on the edge of the younger man’s jaw, instantly reminding Jisung how stupidly horny he was.

Instead of answering, Jisung just decided to strip naked and get on all fours for the man right in the middle of their fucking living room carpet.

Weeks went by and, what started as simple greetings as you occasionally passed them coming and going, turned into the three of you spending time at each other's places every week for the designated 'movies and margaritas' nights.

"Okayokayokay, Ji! Truth or dare?" You questioned the round-faced man. After your third round of drinks, you all had foregone your attention to the movie on the screen in favor of playing the classic game for drunks.

"Truth..."

"Don't be such a pussy, Sungie!" Minho complained loudly.

Jisung shoved his face in front of the elder’s line of sight in retaliation. "Get over it! My answer remains the same!"

You giggled wildly even though the situation was not nearly as funny as you thought it was, but they had endeared expressions on their faces as they looked at you cackling like an idiot.

"Okay *ahem* Ji. Have you ever topped Minho?" You knew the question was pretty bold, but you had quickly become extremely familiar with these men. Besides, neither reacted poorly to the personal question.

"Sweetheart, hyung and I have been together for AGES. Do you seriously think we haven't already tried everything in the slutty book?"

"They have one of those?" You asked while giggling into your drink.

"Yeah, we wrote it," Minho smirked and winked at you while you cackled.

"Well, at least now I know that Ji knows how to fuck." You taunted said man with a wicked smile. 

"Oh, I can do a lot more than fucking, sweetheart," Jisung said in a sultry tone with a wink thrown at you. This was a common occurrence between you three, they would flirt with you while your heart was being suffocated knowing they were gay.

You visibly shivered with a blush and Minho narrowed his eyes, taking a mental note of it. "Okay, little miss dirty mind, your turn. Truth or dare." You could already see Minho brewing up a storm in his head, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

"Dare. Hit me with your best shot, pussy cat." You said with a challenging grin on your face.

"Oh no. You shouldn't have said that. Minho's the devil incarnate. He'll seriously fuck you up." 

Minho answered his boyfriend with an amused hum. "Hmm, let's see..." He made a show about thinking about what he wanted to say as if he didn't already know. "I dare you..." Both you and Jisung waited with bated breath for the hell that was about to be unleashed. "...to french kiss both me and Sungie."

"WHAT?!" Both you and Jisung exclaimed in tandem.

"You heard me, bitches. You have to kiss these gay boy lips like you mean it, now pay up!"

Jisung breathed out a disbelieving laugh as his slack jaw hinted at a shocked smile. He turned to you to gauge your reaction, only to see that you had completely frozen in place. Their smiles instantly dropped. "Aw shit, I'm sorry, love. I was just teasing. If that makes you uncomfortable I can--" 

"No!!" You shouted, covering your mouth immediately afterward. "N-no! A dare's a dare! I'm no pussy..." At least that's what you told yourself.

Internally, your heart was racing at a thousand miles a minute as you scooched closer to Jisung. You took a deep breath and cupped his cheeks, watching his beautiful eyes go wide and his moist, plush lips part. Before you could doubt yourself any further, you dove in and planted your lips on his.

You had instantly melted as Jisung tentatively placed his hands on your waist and you furthered the instructed 'french kiss' by tangling tongues with him.

After a moment, without waiting to check their reactions, you pulled away and lunged at Minho to do the same, drinking in the taste of the alcohol on his lips. When you felt his strong hands smooth over your shirt and around to your back you slightly whimpered.

You flew back while covering your mouth and saw their wide eyes and dumbfounded looks on their faces. "Oh-oh, my god!" You scrambled to stand up. "Shit guys, I'm so sorry. I..." You couldn't stay with the humiliation any longer and, without another word, you fled from the apartment.

Jisung and Minho looked at each other with equally shocked expressions. "Are you as turned on right now as I am?" Jisung said breathily. And Minho just dumbly nodded. "Do you think she would... or would you be down for...?" There was an unspoken question there, but his soulmate already knew.

"Fuck yes." Minho threw himself on his boyfriend like a hungry wolf and proceeded to fuck him over the back of the couch until he came with a cry on his lips.

Okay... they were definitely, infinitesimally homosexual but... they never met someone like you…

Maybe they had some talking to do.

When they knocked on your door unannounced the following evening, you were shocked to say the least. "Minho? Jisung? What are you--?"

“Can we come in?” Jisung cut to the chase rather quickly and you could see the determination in his eyes. You nodded shyly, still not able to get over the fact that you made an ass of yourself the night prior.

As soon as they came in, they bracketed you and you looked up at them like a frightened animal. “G-guys… I-I’m sorry about yesterday… I didn’t mean to and we had a lot to drink and–”

“Do you like us?” Minho cut in this time and you sealed your lips. You felt a shiver run down your spine and, even though you were sure he meant it in a different way, you answered respectfully.

“O-of course I like you guys! We’re friends!” You sounded shocked that they even had to ask.

“No…” Jisung brazenly stepped closer and swept your hair over your shoulder to speak low into your ear. “Do you like like us?”

Minho moved closer on your other side as well, however, he bent down to eye level with you “Don’t play dumb baby girl. Do you have dirty little thoughts about me and Jisungie? Hm?” He tilted his head and you looked like a deer caught in the headlights as they both stared you down. “Do you imagine what it would be like having two men fuck you stupid? Is that why you asked Sungie that question?”

You didn’t know whether to tell the truth or lie out your ass but, eventually, you could only reply with a shy nod directed at your own bare feet, not trusting your mouth to be able to form words.

With your shameful face still directed towards the ground, you peeked up at their expressions. Your eyes widened when you saw identical Cheshire grins on each of their faces. “Well then, I think we should assist her with that. Don’t you think, hyung?”

“I agree wholeheartedly Sungie.”

You whipped your head up and stepped back a hair. “Woah woah woah! No need to stoop to that level, guys!  I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually!”

“Well, you see sweetheart, we've been thinking an awful lot about this. Hyung and I are in it for life, but with you…” Jisung said as he stepped an inch closer to you. “You’ve got us questioning what it would be like with a woman.” He gently trailed a finger down your arm, inducing goosebumps that they could blatantly see.

“We want to know what it’s like to make you fall apart. We want to see how to make you scream. Make you beg.” Minho trailed his gaze languidly over your body with each word and you felt like you were being crushed with all the tension in the air.

You involuntarily gasped when you felt Jisung’s soft lips press against your cheek. Soon enough, he was whispering in your ear. “That blush on your cheeks is really pretty, should I deepen it?” You felt the wet heat of his tongue press up against the tender skin under your ear and you quietly whimpered.

“It sounds like you are more than willing to experiment with us, honey. Tell us, baby. Do you want to play with us?” Minho wrapped an arm around your waist and began kissing your neck to drive his intentions forward. Also to inform you that “playing” didn’t mean you’re going to play fucking Jenga or some shit.

Instead of using words, you let your hands do the talking. You tentatively grasped their wrists and slowly led them further into the apartment. You made your answer clear enough when you brought them to your bedroom and turned around to silently face them at the foot of your bed.

Your eyes were glued to the floor and Minho cooed at you. When you looked up, the two gorgeous men were looming over you with hungry eyes. Unable to look directly into their intimidating eyes, you stared at your feet while saying, “I usually use the traffic light system…” You peeked up at them to make sure they understood. “I-is that alright for you guys?”

“Fuck yes…” Jisung said with an airy tone and stepped closer to grab the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off, sweetheart?” Instead of answering, you removed said item and chucked it across the room, face getting hotter by the second.

“You guys can do whatever you want… I trust you…” You bit your lip but made sure to look them in the eyes as you said this. You wanted to make sure they knew you wanted this.

“You might be regretting saying that later, baby girl.” Minho groaned in a wicked tone.

Before you could prepare yourself, Minho had moved around behind you to hold your arms in place while Jisung stepped in front of you, slowly gliding his fingers over your exposed skin. “Shit, she’s gorgeous. Isn’t she hyung?”

Minho hummed low in his throat and then you suddenly felt his warm tongue glide up the side of your neck. “Tasty too.”

You didn’t know why, but the fact that they were talking about you like you weren’t even there turned you on even more. “Hmmm, where should I start?” Jisung rhetorically asked as he examined your body. Your breathing picked up when you felt his soft hands move up to slide one of your bra straps down. “Here?” You whimpered as his fingers glided over your nipple through the thin fabric.

You heard a chuckle come from beside your head where Minho had begun lazily kissing your neck and shoulder. “I think you have your answer, jagi. Go on, show us what a bottom bitch can do.”

Jisung bit his lip and gasped at his boyfriend’s provocative words, but when he looked back at you, he looked absolutely sinful. “Of course, hyung…” 

Jisung was an enigma. He was both equal parts submissive and domineering while Minho was a born and bred master. Created to have both you and Jisung on your knees for him with little to no effort.

They ravaged you properly. They kiss, licked, and sucked on almost every inch of your body except where you were aching the most for them. However, kissing them was almost just as good because those boys had an amazing set of lips on them.

When you all eventually stripped with an insane amount of teasing from them, Minho sat up against the headboard while you faced him on all fours, Jisung just behind you looking at your dripping cunt in awe.

Minho leaned forward to kiss you once more before leaning back and holding his oozing cock in place. “Suck.” He commanded, and you complied eagerly. As you took him in, you heard a low groan in his chest. “Sungie. Show me what you can do to her, yeah? Make her scream on my cock.” Minho said with labored breaths.

You weren’t able to see him, but you felt chills wrack your body when you felt the man behind you blow his hot air on your folds. You whimpered but continued on your mission to suck the life out of the man in front of you. You felt gentle fingers glide through your hair and felt Minho slowly begin to guide your head to bob on his dick.

You had to stifle a moan when you felt Jisung drag his tongue over the entire length of your pussy and then heard the smacking of his lips. “Wow, that’s a lot better than I imagined.” You squeaked when you felt a finger plunge inside you, pumping a few times before pulling it out and holding it up to Minho’s lips. “Hyung, taste her.”

You looked up at him from an awkward angle, not allowing your mouth to release him for a single moment. You whined when you watched his tongue slide over the digit before sucking it into his mouth. “Hmmm such a pretty and tasty girl, aren’t you?” 

You felt his hips slightly buck up but you refrained from gagging, instead, doubling your efforts. It was right as he let his head fall back against the headboard that you felt more fingers enter you, thrusting and moving in you at an unforgiving pace until you came violently and unexpectedly. 

When you pulled off of Minho’s cock to cry out your ecstasy, they watched you wide-eyed and hungry before you desperately fumbled for the bedside drawer to pull out a couple of condoms. “P-please fuck me… I need you inside me, Ji.”

Both of the men muttered expletives before you wrapped your mouth around Minho again and Jisung hastily opened the condom wrapper. You saw stars when you finally felt him enter you. “F-fuck, hyung…” Jisung whined as he bent over you to kiss him. “She’s so tight…”

“Fuck her real good, jagi. Open her wide for me.”

And without further ado, Jisung did just that. He grasped your hips and roughly slammed his cock inside you until he was whimpering with every breath. When he had fucked you long and proper, you came once again and Jisung was at his breaking point. “F-fuck… can I cum on you, sweet thing?” Jisung asked while smoothing his hand over your dewy back.

You released Minho’s dick, although he was also close, and you replied. “Fuck you guys can cum anywhere you like if you can fuck me this well.”

With an airy chuckle, Minho flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you. He and Jisung had traded spots so now Minho had on a condom, poised at your soaked entrance, while Jisung stood next to the bed with his now bare cock aimed at your face.

They didn’t pause for a single moment, Minho ramming you full force, devouring your neck as you quickly pumped Jisung’s cock in time with his boyfriend's thrusts next to you. It almost felt like fate when all three of you came in tandem and you held your mouth open to catch every drop of seed that Jisung had to offer you. 

Then, as if all the life was drained from the room, you all collapsed.

You all laid there in the mess for a moment to catch your breaths before they made a move. They were proper gentlemen, cleaning you and handling you with care as they tucked you in bed. “Guys?” They smiled at you with their full attention. 

“What is it, beautiful?” Jisung as he laced his fingers with yours.

“I know we need to talk and all, but can you guys just stay tonight and talk later?” You looked at them with pleading eyes and they smiled in adoration before plunging under the covers on each side of you. 

Yeah, Jisung and Minho knew they were gay, but after that day, they could confidently say they weren’t opposed to the opportunity when it was you they were considering…

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If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This is why it takes me so long to write my stories! I always want to make it into a fucking full-length book! Let me know how you liked it!

Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Hello hope all is well! I was wondering if you could write something for blood of Zeus. I’m not sure if you do platonic for it but if you do and want to, could you right some fluff where reader is like a son/daughter figure to a lot of the gods? Like Hermes, Apollo, Aries, and others as well? Like I think it would be funny if everyone is warned to not to bother Aries but he has a clear soft spot for reader. and maybe could you include a scenario where reader is maybe hit on/flirted with in front of everyone and some of the gods get all protective. If you are able I would love to see how you would write this! If it could be gender neutral that would be grand but if not female pronouns are fine!

A/n hi I'm so sorry this took a while this was requested like a month ago I'm so sorry

Family

Platonic Olympians x sibling reader

Blood of Zeus Fandom

Trigger warnings Zeus cheating on Hera, Ares being violent at first (not towards the reader)

Ares might be OOC

You were enjoying your time on Earth away from Olympus while it had only been a few hours it was amazing. You love your family you really do sometimes you just needed time away from them and their drama especially when you're father was constantly cheating on your mother. Fun times. Well you were enjoying it until you felt a gust of wind.

Wooosh!

Hermes! Y/n yelled as Hermes once again stopped right in front of them reaching his hand up to ruffle their hair.

"Awwe come on man what is this pick on your younger sibling day?" Y/n asked in a sarcastic tone as Hermes chuckled Hermes ruffles your hair again as he smirk “It’s always pick on your younger sibling day, you should know this now” Hermes replied

How'd you even find me so quickly? I only left a few hours ago .... Y/n asked

Hermes shrugs “It’s not hard to find you, just look for the person who’s being a pain in everyone’s ass”

I mean it's not that hard when he's standing right in front of me. Y/n replied

Hermes laughs as he ruffles my hair again “Damn you’ve gotten snarky”

Honestly sometimes it felt like you're siblings and half siblings were your parents instead of Hera and Zeus

" Ok ok I get it dad." You said teasingly

Hermes was about to say something but there was a loud crash in distance then a whining noise

Wait here. Hermes said

Wait Her!!!! And he's gone. You muttered to yourself

"Of course he is because why would he even listen to me?" You asked yourself. No you didn't in fact wait there instead you wandered around until you came across a cute little village . However as you were exploring the small little village a particular creepy looking elderly couple kept following you around. Your dumb ass thought hey maybe I can loose them in an alley way. Nope that didn't work at all they followed you.

Although you were already 90% sure that wouldn't work you did it anyway but you still decided screw it. Now you were screwed. The lady opened her mouth you saw something big and metal. You smirked and took a few steps back the old couple looked confused wondering why you stepped back. "We're not going to hurt you." The elderly lady said. "Oh I know you won't." You replied as a spike hammer hit the elderly couple in the back of the heads.

" Come on Y/ n you're smarter then going into an alley way. " Ares said.

" Yeah I know I know I wasn't thinking clearly. " You replied. You swear his eyes softened for a moment.

"Are you alright?" Ares asked

"Awwwe are you worried about me big brother?" You asked in a teasing tone big mistake .

You and Ares had a sparring match and you are now incredibly sore.

When you arrived back to Olympus with Ares you were tackled into a hug by Hermes.

"Where were you?! I told you to stay put but you didn't!" Hermes exclaimed.

You were extremely grounded by litterly everyone in the room.

" Ready for round two Y/n?" Ares asked.

"Fuck yeah!" You replied

"None better disturb our sparring or you might just find yourself on the wrong side of my fist ." Ares said

After the second sparring match you two sat down and told stories well Ares told stories about war and blood shed you fell asleep exhausted from the days events.

[judeyswife]

not what i’m looking for. — jude bellingham x reader. II

genre : angst

word count : 928

note : hii lovies, this is official part two of the series not what im looking for !!! (part one) please let me know of what yall think in the comments! there will be a part 3 guys so don't worry, but it'll probs be a wrap up for this mini series since i want to get started on some other fics too + made a few format changes and writing from author's pov this time -- but thats it! enjoyyy! requests box always open !!

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"i'm sorry"

it's horrendous how fast people switch up. or i'd say men, in this case. it's been roughly about six months since that conversation had happened. it was honestly one of the worst days in your whole life. i mean, yeah you'll get through it. but why? every once in a while you think about what did she have that you didn't.

but this is a topic that hasn't been brought up in about a month. and a certain individual isn't mentioned anymore in your life thank the lord.

you have gone to a beach house near where you live with a few of your best friends, layla, jess, and liv. yall needed this vacation after months of torture. or studying.

they've been with you since day one. truthfully you'd say who needs a relationship when you have your homegirls?

"Y/N, come here right fucking now." -- layla screamed from our room in the house.

you could literally think she had been getting murdered with the way she was screaming honestly.

"oh my god what!"

"whats his name posted a fucking video of missing someone LOOK."

who? jude.

you sit next to her curiously taking her phone from her hands in order for you to take a look at the tiktok she was trying to show you.

( for the sake of the story, jude has tiktok xoxo )

you were shocked. who genuinely who would've though that he'd actually miss us? it didn't even sound right thinking about it.

"maybe it's about her layla" you shrugged getting up to grab your water bottle from her desk.

"are you stupid girl, he's obviously thinking about you, i mean look at his caption." - 'didn't think a situationship could hurt more than an actual relationship' don't be a fool y/n"

liv and jess had entered the room a few minutes ago listening to the conversation making liv enter the conversation.

"ain't no way he has the nerve to do that bullshit on social media"

you stood there listening to them diss jude for about 5 minutes straight. but your lost in your thoughts. i mean, why would he ever miss something he supposedly never had? it's genuinely so draining and confusing.

"guys just drop it, its whatever. lets just go hang out at the hot tub, i really fucking need it"

your friends just looked at one another not saying a single word. they knew better. not to make you sound like a maniac or anything, but they knew how you were with bottling up your feelings. jude was a sensitive topic for you. they didn't want to be the cause of ruining your vacation over some dumb tiktok captions. they simply agreed with you and started getting changed to go out the the hot tub.

•

it had been a few hours since you last seen your phone and you're now inside getting ready to have dinner with the girls and settling down. so you took these few moments, unlocked your phone and checked out what you had missed.

you furrowed your eyebrows trying to figure out who this number could possibly belong to. since you and layla are sharing a room for the trip, she was getting ready at her vanity and noticed your confused expression.

"y/n what's up?" -- asking you meanwhile putting a face mask on.

"i don't know, this random number just texted me with my name i'm just hella confused"

"that's weird. ask who it is obviously"

you nodded listening to what she had advised you to do.

you had this conversation silently without saying a word to layla about who this "mystery person" was. mainly because you wanted to fight your own battles. i mean you basically already had jess and liv involved. not that your mad at them or anything, you know they want what's best for you. clearly they're on team jude. those girls.

"who was it?" layla said getting up from her chair to grab her phone from the charger near her bed. "no one important, they got the wrong number and person" you honestly don't know how she believed you. you hate to admit but you were feeling jittery after having that conversation with jude after so long. even if it was barely a conversation.

you hated that you needed to lie to layla, but you truly believed it was honestly for the best. when you and jude were talking, they knew every single detail about the relationship you had with jude. and by they i mean your friends and his friends. always involved. one of the main issues why miscommunication was lacking horribly in your relationship. so that's why you want a new beginning. not just to "lie" to your friends but to feel the sense of control in your life. even if tomorrow was the last conversation you had with jude, you wanted to keep the moment to yourself.

•

without saying a word to anyone, you and jude had been chatting it up all night. just a catch up with each other. you guys went from telling every detail of your day to each other, to not saying a single word for months to each other. it felt nice being able to slowly regain that comfort you once had when you guys would text or facetime all night long.

you were honestly praying for the best in tomorrow's conversation, you had no idea what it could lead up to.

but the overthinking was done on your pillow all night long, plus his texts of course.

[steveslevis]

Thinking about Steve finding you getting yourself off after making a promise that you wouldn't....

He walks into your shared apartment to find it empty. Thinking you were out running some errands, he goes to settle in on the couch to relax after a long shift. Before he can, his attention turns to the bedroom, where he hears a faint whimper through the door.

Upon further investigation, he can hear you whining his name over and over again, a constant chant falling from your lips that gives away exactly what you were doing in the bedroom.

Steve is tempted to just leave you to it, to let you finish and find him out in the living room after, but decides against it. He decides against it once he remembers the specific conversation the two of you shared just a few hours ago, before he left for work.

———

Your arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, refusing to let him get up from the bed as you peppered desperate kisses along his bare chest, neck and jawline.

“Just call in, Stevie,” you plead in between pecks, “wanna stay in bed and cuddle with you all day.”

“Do you really wanna cuddle all day?” he chuckles incredulously, raising his brow as he tugs your chin up so you lock eyes with him, “or do you want me to fuck you all day?”

Your cheeks flush red immediately at his blunt statement, you’ve been caught.

“I—I want you, Daddy.” you start, poking your bottom lip out to form a pout, “want to cuddle and want you to fuck me all day.”

“That’s what I thought,” he sighs, kissing your forehead. “I can’t call in today, but I’ll make a deal with you. If you behave all day, which means no touching yourself and no calling me to tease me, I’ll reward you tonight. Deal?”

You grin up at him, nodding feverishly as you do, “Deal!”

———

“So much for our deal today, huh?” Steve calls out after quietly entering the bedroom and closing the door.

You nearly fall out of the bed when you hear his voice, eyes wide as you prop yourself up on your elbows. There’s a look of feigned disappointment on Steve’s face as he looks over at you.

“Stevie—“

“I don’t wanna hear your excuses, baby.” he says as he holds up a hand and steps towards the bed, “I get it, I really do. You’re just such a horny little slut that you can’t wait a full eight hours for me to get home to get off. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t say anything as he reaches the bed, eyes wide as you watch his rake over your naked figure. A yelp falls from your lips as he suddenly grips your hair from the base of your scalp to tilt your head back.

“I will say, I am disappointed.” he continues, his free hand reaching for your throat to squeeze it tightly. “I am very disappointed that you couldn’t hold out, because I came home early to reward you for being a good girl. But you proved yourself to be nothing but a dumb little cockslut.”

A whimper escapes your lips as he crawls onto the bed, pushing your arms from under you so you’re laying flat on your back. His hand is back to squeezing at the sides of your neck once more, pulling your face close to his. He hooks his other thumb between your lips, pulling your mouth open.

“Since you wanted to cum so badly, I’m gonna make you cum until I’m satisfied.” he snaps, releasing your neck after spitting onto your tongue, eyes wide with lust as he watches you.

Before you can say anything, he grabs you by the hips roughly, flipping you onto your stomach. Quickly, he pulls your hips up, leaving your face shoved into the duvet below you as your ass hangs in the air. He pushes your legs further apart with his knees, settling between them as he tears off his belt.

Instead of following the action with taking off his pants, he pulls your wrists behind your back, wrapping them in the belt with one swift motion.

Steve reaches for the dildo you had discarded next to you on the bed, lining it up with your dripping cunt. He doesn’t give much of a warning before he plunges the toy into your heat, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“Oh, the little slut likes that, don’t you?” he coos in a mocking tone, already picking up pace with the dildo as he chuckles at your desperation.

“F—Fuck, Daddy,” is all you can sputter as he thrusts the toy into you ruthlessly, hips rocking in sync with the rhythm he created.

“God, you’re such a dumb little cocksleeve, can’t even think or talk straight when you’ve got any cock in you.” he teases, smacking your ass before snaking his hand around to your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Want you to cum all over this dildo, just like you were gonna do before I got here.”

“‘M close, Daddy. S—So close…” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the heat in your core increases.

It doesn’t take long for you to be pushed over that edge, the coil in your stomach snapping as he pushes the tip of the fake cock deeper than before as he swirls his fingers on your clit. Your legs nearly give out as your vision blurs, a string of nonsense babbling falling from your lips as you come undone beneath him.

The toy slows after you finish, and you’re given only a second to recover before he pulls it out abruptly. Without warning, he flips you onto your back once more, a wild smirk on his lips.

“Look at you, all fucked out over a pathetic little dildo,” he laughs, shaking his head while working to unbutton his pants, “can’t wait to see how you look split open on my cock.”