#just got around to watching this and it's actually even better than i thought it would be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justarkive · 3 days ago

Text

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

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You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

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strangemaleswaps · 21 hours ago

Text

Strange Double Dad Swap

Hunter:

It was a regular day. My boyfriend, Quinn, and I were hanging around my house on a Saturday. We had just finished breakfast and were deciding what to do.

“Man it's way too hot today. I don't feel like doing anything,” Quinn announced. It was true, there was definitely a heat wave going on or something. Normal people would stay inside, but a certain someone had other plans.

“Hey boys!” My dad walked into the room with a determined look on his face.

“Hey dad. What's up?”

“I'm gonna go fix that hole on the roof. The neighbors paid for the damages their kids did to it, but somebody’s still gotta do the work.”

“Today?” It's too hot out.

“Well,” he said with a laugh. “You can't stop progress!”

Once he walked out to the garage and was out of earshot, Quinn spoke up.“Your dad is like the biggest workaholic ever.”

“I know right.”

“Better than being lazy…like you,” he teased.

“Hey!” We laughed and then decided to watch a movie.

Quinn:

A few hours later we were talking in our group chat with a couple old school friends. Somehow the topic got to Hunter's dad and how hot he was. He looked at me with a confused face.

“My dad?”

“You gotta admit. He's pretty hot.”

“What the hell? No way.”

“Well of course you would say that. He’s like…your dad. Duh.”

“Well what if I said your dad was hot? He really is actually.

”Ew. He did not just go there. The idea of my dad being considered hot by anyone, was an unsettling thought. Who could like a guy like him? He was always supportive of me and all, but tended to be overly formal in casual situations.

“My dad? Gross. He's like…all traditional and stuff.” He laughed.

“And how does that affect his looks?”

“It doesn't. I mean…well he's fat and has had the same ugly mustache since the 90s.”

“Well I happen to think the chubby mustache combo is pretty sexy…”

“Gross! Stop! Your dad is the sexy one! Those piercing hazel eyes…that fit bod…”

We got in each other's faces and after a couple seconds of silence, we flopped back onto the couch and started laughing.

“If anyone heard us just now, they'd think we were nuts!” Hunter said between laughs.

“True!” I replied. “Well whatever. What are we gonna do now? I'm still bored.”

“I have an idea,” he scooted closer to me and began stroking my pants.

“But your dad's home.”

“Yeah, but he's on the roof. He's such a perfectionist with all his projects; he'll be there all day.”

“Yeah I guess.” I let out a laugh. “Well then…shall we head over to the bedroom?”

Hunter:

As Quinn sucked my dick, all I could think about was his dad. How hot it would be to fuck him, and watch him cum. Man, that would be amazing. But it was only a dream. It would really make things awkward between Quinn and I, even if it somehow did happen. I guess the only thing I could do was close my eyes and pretend he was his dad. I leaned over and kissed him, pretending he had that sexy mustache.

“I'm gonna cum!” He said between breaths. He got onto his back and jerked while I did the same, sitting on top of him. My last thought was of his dad before I closed my eyes and came; The sound of Quinn’s moaning meant that he finished too - the same time as me. It was so intense that I started feeling a little lightheaded. Before I knew it, I blacked out.

Quinn:

I opened my eyes to find I was outside. What happened? The last thing I remember, we were messing around and I came. I've been known to get so exhausted afterward that I want to take a nap, but that was just straight up blacking out. Was this a dream? I looked around and realized that I was outside my dad's restaurant. What was I doing here? It was then that I noticed it was extra hot and I found that I was wearing long sleeves. I examined my clothes to see I was wearing a tie with a black shirt and vest combo. No wonder I was sweating my ass off. But I think I recognized the outfit. My dad's? That couldn't be…

I walked inside and scanned the area. I spent a lot of time at this restaurant as a kid so I knew the layout pretty well. I would probably get an explanation by talking to my dad, so I headed for his office, but was stopped by one of the waitresses.

“Hi Mr. Rivera! How are you today?” I had no idea who this waitress was but I didn't want to be rude so I greeted her back.

“I'm good. Thanks.” My voice came out raspier than usual. A little deeper too. What was going on?

I tried the door handle. Locked. Great. What was I supposed to do now? I took a seat on the nearby bench and it felt like I sat on something, but nothing was on the bench. I searched my back pockets and it was almost like my butt was bigger somehow. I grabbed a pair of keys - my dad's pair of keys. Oh god. What if…?

I quickly turned the keys and closed the door behind me. I felt around my front pockets and took out a phone - his phone. I opened the front camera and found his face staring back at me. Fuck no, this couldn't be happening! How did I switch bodies with my dad? What was I going to say to Hunter?

Hunter:

What happened? I opened my eyes to the blue sky, but looked down to find I was on the roof! What the hell?! I scanned the area and noticed that I was home…on the roof. Did my dad bring me up here somehow?”

“Hey dad! Where are you?” I said, but my voice came out weird. Deeper somehow. I caught sight of my hands and found I was wearing gloves that had some dirt on them. My dad's gloves? What was going on? When I noticed that I was wearing his clothes - the same clothes he was wearing earlier this morning - it suddenly hit me.

“What the hell! I'm my dad!” I screamed.

How did this happen? What was Quinn going to think? And how do I even get down from the roof…

Quinn:

I held the phone up to my ear and anxiously waited for my dad to pick up. I realized that if I was in his body, he must be in mine right? After a few seconds, it went to ringtone. I couldn't wait any longer so I decided to go there myself. It wasn't too long of a drive to Hunter's house at least. I walked through the restaurant, (thankfully no employees noticed me), and pressed the button on the keys to locate my car. The reflection in the car reminded me of what I looked like, but I tried to ignore it and got into the driver's seat. There, I could see a clear reflection of myself in the rear view mirror for the first time. It was definitely my dad's face. His double chin was so evident without any facial hair - well except for his ugly mustache. I touched it with two fingers and brushed along to see what it felt like. I grazed the back of my head to find the bald spot he had there. This was so gross! I turned the ignition and was on my way to figure out how to fix this!

Hunter:

After climbing down the ladder, I was back inside the house and I immediately headed towards the bedroom where Quinn and I fucked. There we found our bodies seemingly unconscious on the bed, in the same position we were in. It was really creepy.

“Hey uh. Dad? Wake up…” I said hesitantly. No response.

“Wake up!” I said even louder. No response.

They must be in a coma or something. Oh god what if I was stuck like this? I headed towards the bathroom and found my dad's face staring back at me in the mirror. I made different facial expressions and started to creep myself out. Thankfully I was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I made my way and opened the front door just as Quinn's dad jumped out of the car, almost losing his balance as his feet hit the concrete

.“Sorry, I'm not used to this…” He looked up at me. “Oh uh I mean, hey there Mr. Patterson. Um, have you seen my uh son?”

I think I had an idea what was going on.

“Quinn?” I asked.

“Yeah? I mean- yeah that's his name…I mean…” He paused for a few seconds until he must've realized what had happened too.

“H-hunter? Is that you?”

“Yep. And that's really you in there?”

“Oh god. This sucks! What are we going to do? Wait, where are our bodies?”

“In the room where we last were. Whether or not our dads are in our bodies doesn't matter because they're unconscious or something.”

“So we're stuck like this?”Suddenly I had an idea.

“Well…you did say my dad was hot…”

“What are you getting at….OH.” Quinn replied as I smirked. “But…I mean...it's my dad's dick!”

“Yeah I know. But this may be your only chance to fuck my dad. Same thing for me too.”

“Well…being in a different body means I'm horny again so…”I leaned in for a kiss. The brushing of his mustache against my face felt amazing. Even better than I imagined!

“Shall we go?” Quinn said with a smile.

Quinn:

We didn't know what to do with our bodies so we just left them there and closed the door. Hopefully they wouldn't hear anything if they somehow were still conscious.We went into Hunter's dad's room and he immediately started stripping. He had the sexiest athletic body. Blond hair covered his entire chest and while he didn't have a six pack or anything, he had some pretty decent pecs.

Hunter looked into the mirror and made a frown.

“This is so gross!”

“Maybe don't look at your face in the mirror. Only look at the body.”

“I guess it's not as bad when I do that. But still…” He gazed at me with lust in his eyes. “Your turn.”

I so wasn't ready for this! But he hugged me and began to strip me himself, starting with my tie and vest. Each piece of clothing made my dad's chubby body more and more obvious. He started unbuttoning my shirt until the tank top underneath was revealed. I guess I didn't look as bad as I thought. My dad must've lost weight. I didn't want to go any further than that, but I also really wanted to feel his body against mine so I lifted the tank top off happily…but I was met with a terrifying surprise.

“Shit,” I said. My chubby rolls slapped the rest of my body as I gawked at myself in the mirror. It's no wonder that the tank top felt so constricting. It was holding in all that blubber.

I turned to Hunter and expected him to be upset, but was instead met with a sexy smirk. God, making his dad do those hot expressions was really turning me on.

“Wait you like this?” I asked.

“Of course. You're even bigger than I thought. An absolute muffin top.” He came from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I could feel my dick harden as much as it could and grasped it. It was still gross the idea that it was my dad’s dick but I didn't care. All that mattered was Hunter's sexy body.

He reached his hands over and grabbed my man tits. When he played with them, I experienced sensations I never felt before as a twink. Vibrations went through my body as he jiggled every bit of squishy flesh. I turned around to return the favor - I kneeled down and started sucking his cock. He was huge! Much bigger than what he had before. It wasn't any harder to take it in though; I guess my dad's mouth must've opened bigger than mine. He put his hands around the back of my head and started pushing his cock down my throat. Faster and faster, as I jerked myself.

Suddenly he stopped as I could feel the warm cum shoot down my throat at the same time I shot my own load. In one big gulp I swallowed it all and hopped onto my back, the flabby rolls jiggling as I did.

Afterwards we washed up and Hunter put on one of his dad's t-shirts, while I just put on what I had before, because I knew nothing would fit me. We walked back into Hunter's room to see if our dads had woken up, to find that they had disappeared completely. In fact, the whole room was magically cleaned up and the bed made, as if it was a guest room and always had been.

“So…I guess we're the dads now,” Hunter said with a smirk.

“And best of all, we don't have any sons,” I replied as I opened Grindr.

#strangemaleswaps #male body swap #body swap #male tf #young to old

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beloveds-embrace · 2 hours ago

Text

(Bakery/coffee shop au where you have a specific policy of not serving people what they ask for, but rather what you think they need

141 part || konig part)

The bell above the door chimed, and before you even looked up, you knew this was going to be one of those customers.

The footsteps were confident, unhurried- the kind of walk that belonged to a man who thought he owned any room he stepped into. Sure enough, when you glanced up from wiping down the counter, a man was already flashing you a lazy, knowing grin. The same man you’d seen reading your policy outside right before he’s sauntered inside.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking in the cozy interior of your bakery like it was a pleasant surprise. “Didn’t expect a place like this in a town like this.”

You arched a brow. “A place like this?”

“All warm, sweet, and welcoming.” He gave you a slow once-over before his grin widened. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

You sighed, already unimpressed. “Do you plan on ordering, or are you just here to flirt, sir?”

“Can’t I do both?” He leaned against the counter, eyes alight with amusement. “Tell you what- gimme a black coffee. Strong. No sugar, no milk.”

You barely hesitated. “No.”

His brows shot up, and for the first time since walking in, he looked genuinely caught off guard despite reading your policy. He must have thought it was just a joke, but nope. “No?”

“No.” You repeated, already turning to the espresso machine.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, most places just give a man what he orders.”

“Well, I’m not most places.”

He watched you work, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “Y’know, I can’t tell if you’re stubborn or just like makin’ my life difficult.”

“I like giving people what they need,” you corrected, finishing up the drink. “Not what they think they want.”

A few minutes later, you placed a cinnamon breve latte in front of him and beside it, you set down a brown butter pecan cookie. You wished you could have given him something pink, filled with berries and cream but ah- you knew it wouldn’t fly that well, alas.

He stared at them.

Then he looked back up at you, brow raised. “You real serious about this policy?”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Positive.”

He scoffed, but he picked up the cup anyway, taking a slow, experimental sip.

And that was when it happened, as always.

For just a second- so quick you almost missed it- his shoulders relaxed. His smirk faltered, replaced with something far more genuine. He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that came from someone realizing, damn, that’s actually good. Better than what I ordered, but I’d be damned if I admitted it!

You pretended not to notice that, and instead, leaned on the counter and smirked. “Told you.”

He set the cup down, running his tongue over his teeth as he studied you. “Gotta admit, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“I hear that a lot.”

He huffed a laugh, reaching for the cookie. “I bet you do.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. He took his time with the cookie, alternating between that and his drink, and every so often, you caught him glancing at you like he was sizing you up- not in an arrogant way, but in a huh, I actually like being here kind of way.

…You were talking to yourself a little too much today.

Finally, as he dusted the last crumbs off his fingers, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, you win this round. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you boss me around forever.”

You tilted your head, eyebrow raised though you could barely stop your lips from curling into an entertained smile. “Oh?”

“I’ll be back,” he said smoothly, tapping a finger against the counter. “Gotta figure out what other tricks you got up your sleeve.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But it’s a damn good one.”

With that, he tipped his head, turned on his heel, and strolled out after paying- just as cocky as when he walked in, but with a little more warmth behind the smirk. He’d left you even a little note.

Philip.

And sure enough, a few days later, the bell chimed again, and there Philip was.

Just as he’d said he’d be.

Coffee Shop Masterlist.

#noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #philip graves #graves x you #graves x reader #philip graves x you #philip graves x reader #cod drabble #noona.posts #cod imagines

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blairxbear · 3 days ago

Text

Game of Flirts

Part 1

A/N: GUYYYYYS, I am GAGGED. I loved writing this so much, I'll be releasing all parts this week! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I have! I am a sucker for this man.

Hawks was always a smooth talker, he knew how to ruffle feathers and get reactions from people with his outlandish comments. He thought you would be no different, oh was he wrong. You were about to turn the tables on him.

Pro Hero Hawks x Pro Hero Reader

Keigo Takami—better known as Hawks, Japan’s Number Two Pro Hero—wasn’t used to losing.

He was fast, he was smart, and he was devastatingly charming.

At least, that’s what he thought—until he met you.

You, who had the audacity to turn his own game against him.

You, who lived to see him squirm.

You, who had him completely, utterly, hopelessly flustered.

And what was worse?

You knew it.

It had all started as a simple game.

Hawks was a natural flirt—it was effortless, second nature. And when you first started working together, he had assumed you’d be just like everyone else—blushing at his winks, stammering at his smooth lines, melting under his unmatched charisma.

Easy.

Or so he thought.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to flirt back.

And not just flirt back—but do it so much better than him.

It had started with small things—little counters to his usual routine.

Like the first time he had leaned against your desk with a cocky grin, wings flaring just slightly, and purred, “So, what’s a gorgeous hero like you doing in a stuffy old office like this?”

You hadn’t even blinked.

Instead, you had tilted your head, dragged your gaze slowly down his frame, and smirked.

“I dunno, Hawks,” you mused, voice smooth and dangerous. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing getting all up in my space?”

He had choked.

Actually choked.

And the worst part?

You had just laughed, patted his shoulder, and walked away like it was nothing.

And just like that, the game was on.

The next few weeks had been absolute hell.

Keigo had spent his entire life being smooth, being in control—but you had thrown him so off balance that he could barely function.

You turned every single one of his flirty comments into something ten times worse—flipping the script, making him the blushing mess instead of you.

Like the time he had purred in your ear during a mission briefing, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on you out there.”

And without missing a beat, you had turned to him, smirked, and purred right back, “I’d rather you keep your hands on me, handsome.”

He had malfunctioned completely, wings flaring wildly behind him as his brain short-circuited.

You had winked.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you had walked away, swaying your hips just to taunt him.

Keigo had actually had to take a lap around the building to cool off.

It was infuriating.

It was exhilarating.

It was driving him insane.

The worst part?

He knew exactly where this was headed.

Because this wasn’t just flirting anymore.

It was so much more than that.

It was the way you smiled at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

It was the way he watched you work, completely captivated by your focus.

It was the way his heart skipped a beat every single time you touched his arm, his shoulder—anywhere.

It was the way he ached for more.

And you knew.

Oh, you knew.

Because every time his breath hitched, every time his cheeks flushed, every time his wings twitched with pent-up frustration, you would just smirk—as if to say:

I got you again, bird boy.

And goddammit, you did.

Every.

Single.

Time.

One night, after a long day of flustering him to the brink of insanity, you were sitting on the agency rooftop together, enjoying the cool breeze.

Keigo let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his face. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You grinned, That usual grin that made his heart soar,leaning back on your hands. “That a promise?”

He groaned, tilting his head back. “Oh my god.”

You laughed, and god help him, he loved that sound.

After a beat, you nudged his knee with yours. “We both know where this is going, Hawks.”

Keigo inhaled sharply, wings tensing.

Because yeah.

Yeah, he knew.

He knew that you were meant to be his. That was inevitable.

But this—this flirty, teasing, ridiculous phase—was so much fun.

So instead of agreeing, instead of finally giving in, he just smirked, rolling his shoulders.

“Eh,” he said breezily. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

You laughed again, and this time, you leaned in, your face dangerously close to his, your lips just shy of touching his own. Finger placed under his chin.

He stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hawks,” you murmured, voice low and syrupy sweet. “We both know I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

His entire body erupted in flames.

And then, with a wink, you pulled back, stretched, and stood up.

“See ya tomorrow, bird boy,” you called over your shoulder.

And Keigo Takami, Number Two Pro Hero, untouchable flirt, smooth talker extraordinaire, sat there speechless, his wings flared behind him, his body on fire with frustration, his entire soul screaming for you.

He groaned, falling back against the rooftop with a dramatic sigh.He was so, so screwed.

Tag List:

@peachesvault @fallen-w1ngs @katsusoul @tipheeweefee @2kool4skoolll

#hawks #hawks x reader #mha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo #bnha #bnha x reader #mha fanfic #mha x reader #I LOVE THIS BIRD BOY #pro hero reader #my hero academia #giggling and kicking my legs

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skzartemis · 23 hours ago

Text

𝐿𝒾𝒶𝓇

Chapter 2

Masterlist | previous | next

Pairing: Chan x F!reader x Felix Genre: SKZ ninth member au, angst, forbidden love, cheating, fluff Summary: Felix- the sunshine of her life, someone who she valued the most. Chan- the person that she fell for when she knows it's impossible. Status: ongoing Taglist: Open

Y/N slowly opens her eyes and blinks several times to get used to the surroundings. She grabs her phone which is ringing and answers the call. Chan stirs in his sleep when he hears Y/N answering the call, but doesn't wake up. He adjusts his hold on you and moves closer to you, almost like a koala

Jeongin's voice is heard from the phone “ morning noona, sorry for calling you so early but Chan hyung left his phone in our dorm, and a girl has been non-stop calling his phone for like 30 minutes straight…”

“Innie? He left his phone again?” Y/N asks confusingly, while she is trying to wake herself up

Jeongin chuckles lightly “Yup, he forgets his phone all the time. Anyway, I know you're probably asleep right now and I'm sorry for waking you up, but Chan hyung's phone keeps ringing and it's becoming annoying.”

“It's fine…wait- what makes you think he is with me?” Y/N suddenly becomes wide awake when she realised what Jeongin was saying

Jeongin laughs softly “Oh we all know he has a favorite…he tends to spend the night in your dorm more than any of ours, it's pretty obvious that he prefers crashing at your place more than anyone else…the guy literally considers you an actual pillow”

“Oh yeah- Mr leader's habit of crashing my dorm” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, even though Jeongin couldn't see her face right now

He laughs again “Yea he's gotten really used to crashing in your dorm pretty often, and it seems like you've gotten used to it as well…”

"I mean- I would feel bad to kick him out" She turns to look at Chan who is currently sleeping soundly on her bed, while mumbling something that she couldn't catch. Her eyes softened at the sight of him, his face relaxed and peaceful in a way it rarely was when he was awake. The weight of his arm draped over her waist made her heart flutter—though she'd never admit that out loud.

Jeongin's voice broke her out of her thoughts. “So… you gonna wake him up or should I just keep dealing with his phone ringing every five seconds?”

Y/N sighed, brushing a lock of hair away from Chan’s face. “I'll wake him up,” she whispered.

But just as she reached out to shake his shoulder, Chan shifted—and the name that slipped from his lips made her freeze.

“...Soojin...”

Y/N sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Chan’s peaceful slumber. She glanced at the phone still pressed to her ear and took a quiet breath. "Alright, Innie… I'll wake him up," she said softly, her voice carrying a strange mix of reluctance and nervousness.

Jeongin chuckled on the other end of the line. "Good luck with that, noona. He sleeps like a rock when he's comfortable." His teasing tone made her roll her eyes.

"Tell me about it," she mumbled, stealing a glance at the sleeping figure next to her. Chan's arm was still wrapped snugly around her waist, his face buried into the crook of her neck. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"I better go," she added quickly. "I'll send him back your way once I get him up."

"Got it. Thanks, noona." Jeongin's voice softened. "And… you know, if you ever want to talk about—"

"Innie," Y/N cut him off gently but firmly. "Don't start."

A sigh came through the line, followed by a quiet chuckle. "Okay, okay. See you later, noona."

The call ended with a soft click, and Y/N let the phone fall to her side. She stayed there for a moment, watching Chan’s peaceful face. His features looked softer in sleep—so different from the confident, teasing leader STAYs knew. Here, he was just Chris. The same Chris who showed up with bags of her favorite snacks when she was stressed, the same Chris who held her through silent tears when the hate got too much.

But he wasn't just hers.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut, and she had to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. Slowly, she reached out and brushed a stray curl away from his forehead.

"Hyung…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You need to wake up."

Chan only murmured something unintelligible and tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her even closer.

"Channie…" She tried again, her resolve cracking when he nestled closer, his warmth and scent enveloping her. It would be so easy to stay like this—to pretend that the world outside this room didn't exist.

But it did.

"Chris," she said more firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a gentle shake. "Wake up."

He stirred this time, his brow furrowing as he grumbled sleepily. "Mmm… five more minutes."

"You left your phone at home" she said, trying to inject some urgency into her voice. "Someone's been calling nonstop."

That got his attention. Chan’s eyes cracked open, his voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine," she replied, watching as the gears in his mind slowly started turning. His eyes met hers, and for a second, everything else faded away.

"Morning," he murmured, his lips curling into a sleepy smile. "You look beautiful."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay focused. "You need to go, hyung."

He frowned at that, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "What's the rush?"

"It's probably your girlfriend caliing," she said, and the words tasted bitter on her tongue.

The warmth in his eyes dimmed instantly. Chan's hand fell away, and the space between them grew colder.

"Right," he said quietly, pushing himself up. "I should… I should probably get that."

The awkward silence stretched between them as he stood and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Y/N forced a smile, even as her heart ached.

"I'll… see you later, hyung."

But he didn't answer. And as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N was left wondering if she'd ever really had him at all.

—————————————————————————

The day passed in a blur of rehearsals and meetings. Y/N kept her head down, focused on perfecting every move and hitting every note. She didn't miss the concerned glances Minho kept throwing her way, or the way Felix's touch lingered just a second longer than necessary.

"You okay, angel?" Felix asked softly as they sat in the practice room, their backs against the mirrored wall.

"I'm fine, Lixie," she said with a tired smile, leaning her head against his shoulder.

He didn't believe her, but he didn't push.

It wasn’t until later that night, when she finally returned to her empty dorm, that the loneliness hit her full force. She curled up on the couch, phone in hand, but there were no messages from Chan.

Just when she was about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at her door.

Her heart leapt—only to sink when she opened it and found Felix standing there.

"I… brought brownies," he said with a sheepish smile.

And despite everything, Y/N couldn't help but smile back.

—————————————————————————

As they sat together on the couch, sharing warm brownies and soft laughter, the tension slowly eased. Felix's arm draped casually around her shoulders, his touch gentle and comforting.

"You know," he began hesitantly, "you don't have to go through this alone."

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. "Lixie—"

"I see the way you look at him," Felix interrupted softly. "But I also see the way he looks at her. And you deserve better than being someone's second choice."

The words hit harder than she expected, and before she could stop herself, the tears started to fall.

Felix pulled her into his arms without hesitation, his hold steady and warm.

"I'm here," he whispered. "For as long as you'll have me."

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N let herself believe that maybe… she wouldn't have to face this alone.

—————————————————————————

The next morning, as she walked into the practice room, her phone buzzed with a message.

Chan: Can we talk?

Her heart raced, her fingers hovering over the screen.

But before she could respond, the door opened—and Chan walked in.

Their eyes met, and the world tilted.

"Y/N," he said softly. "Please…"

The desperation in his voice made her chest ache.

And just like that, the room felt too small.

Masterlist | previous | next

Taglist:

@toasty0703 @kpopnonous @ihrtlix @jennibahng @hyunjinstolemyheart @private-vampire

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plant-acts · 2 days ago

Note

for the theatre au, can we get a bunch of fun facts about each of the quadruplets? :D

FINALLY CAN AWNSER THIS YIPPIEE!

I have been waiting until I got the 4 swords manga so I could know the boys a little better

AND I JUST GOT IT!

-------

Blue tried performance theatre for a while, but he switched tracks when he realized how hard it was to portray emotion on stage.

Red was a technical theatre major at first, since he thought pushing buttons would be fun. Then he almost caused a set to fall on Twilight when he accidentally unscrewed something instead of tightening it.

Needless to say those two had the great idea of switching classes and telling no one they did, not even Time and Malon.

Time was pleasantly surprised when Four suddenly could be trusted with a hammer, and Malon couldn't be prouder of Four's stage presence almost bringing her to tears.

Only green is named Link. The others actually have different names, but either people would forget, or just call them Link since Green would stay at the college so much and be seen the most.

They picked their nicknames names after their favorite colors.

Vio might be quiet, but he is the most sarcastic person you will ever meet. Malon wanted him to be a performance major desperately, but the guy has horrible stage fright and will forget all words once he is under the spotlight.

Just like any brothers, the boys fight quite a bit. This was especially a problem when people kept getting them confused. They want to be seen as their own people, not extensions of the same person.

This led to a pretty big outburst at other boys where they talked about their many differences. Just because they look the same doesn't mean they are. They all have different likes, dislikes, and personalities.

He's not technically one of the quadruplets in this AU, but I figured I would throw in a Shadow fact because why not. He shares an apartment with his little brothers, but they don't see each other much since he works nights at a local public theatre running lights, and has a different class schedule than them during the day.

They all find time to catch up in the tech booth during rehearsals though, and the others can only look up and feel unsettled while watching what looks like 5 silhouettes of the same person moving around behind murky glass.

-------

Thanks for asking!

#linked universe #linked theater au #lu four #lu green #lu red #lu blue #lu vio #lu time #lu malon #lu colors #lu shadow #linked theater au asks

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realtapiocafan · 1 day ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/realtapiocafan/776988759562633216/it-fucks-me-up-genuinely-how-you-wrote-how-justin

continuing this train of thought you can see in ja'marrs vids hes drunk as hell and probably high as fuck too and soooo pliant tactile flirty with literally everybody who crosses his path that face he did when zipping up his sweatsuit!! ridiculous!!! so the idea of him getting extra close to the trio to hear them better because his executive function is not really 100% and slyly grinning up at them looking up through his lashes tucking closer when they automatically reach for him hell pressing his cheeks or lips to their cheeks when he accepts their gifts etc etc and then you have the trio just. dying. crush skyrocketing no coming down and theres justin also equally drunk as hell and way too flirty for his own good but hes got a higher threshold than ja'marr for some reason despite being slighter and always takes shameless advantage of him being this way and just tugs him around all over the place and if we bring this around to joe who escaped all the hustle of ja'marrs bday bash in a condo they own in ny together maybe and jjmarr invites the trio to crash there bc its closer than their hotel and the 2023 trio sees how insanely domestic the 2019 trio are and slowly starts to tickle their brain that. oh. theyre together together and them promptly start blushing and struggling to look at each other because. oh. they didnt know that could be a thing. oh.

oh my goodness, anon, your brain 🤯

ja'marr IS a touchy-feely drunk, that is 1000% canon. his love language is physical touch (honest to god i think all of the lsu 2019 trio's love languages is physical touch -joe's just weird and prefers a slightly more violent version than justin and ja'marr <3) so ofc when all of his inhibitions are lowered, he just wants to express all of his love and make sure everyone is solid and safe and there.

meanwhile, 2023 lsu trio is crashing tf out. like they are the definition of 'head empty no thoughts' as ja'marr sees the very Thoughtful and very Meaningful gift that they got him and is just ooh-ing and aah-ing over it and getting so close to them as he thanks them and pulls them in close for the hug and looking up through his lashes and biting his lips (he's flirty in a sober state, do not underestimate how a drunk ja'marr behaves) and DO NOT FUCKING THINK I MISSED THAT KISS PART ANON OMG. ja'marr placing one of those big hands against their cheeks and leaning in (esp since jayden and brian are taller so ja'marr would have to go on his TOES) and they can't fucking believe it, their brains are NOT functioning and he's pressing a messy kiss -ARGH!!!!

how i'd imagine their thought process would go: omfg that's ja'marr chase sharing the same breathing space as me, i can see ja'marr chase's eyelashes, how is this real life omfg -WAIT HIS LIPS ARE ON MY CHEEK!!!

and it is also 1000% canon that justin has a higher alcohol tolerance than ja'marr, thank you very much, and takes full fucking advantage of it, because as stated before, ja'marr is even more touchy when he's drunk and justin's only human, he also enjoys having a ja'marr cling onto him. and justin's absolutely finding the whole 2023 lsu crush on ja'marr hilarious! he's totally snapping pictures and sending them to joe as ja'marr goes on his tippy toes to kiss jayden on the cheek and jayden can smell the tequila (bc i will never ever letting go of my bodyshot-)

wait actually, i CAN insert my bodyshot headcanon in this. ja'marr and justin, hanging off each other, and one of them suggests it and before you know it they're doing shots off each other and licking the salt off each other's necks and just stupidly grinning at each other because even after all this time -it's still them. (and jayden and malik and brian watching with eyes wide, halfway between 'omfg that's so fucking hot' and '😭😭😭🫵 that should be us!')

then as the party dies down and ja'marr turns around (bc they are his three little duckings, his little shadows, latched onto him the second he gave Affection to them <3) and 2023 lsu is just like 😔😔😔 ig we have to leave now. they look like the SADDEST humans you would ever see bc this was a night for their fucking lives. ja'marr liking their present? ja'marr hugging them? ja'marr KISSING them? they'd replay this night over and over again!

and ja'marr, who is a worrier at heart (thinking specifically of him getting tee to his massage therapist here) immediately vetos them getting an uber (athletes still get ubers right?) and invites them to stay over and it's 'head empty no thoughts' pt 2

(justin grinning ear to ear, so amused by ja'marr's protectiveness)

AND THEN A SECRET CONDO IN NY!!! YES! YESSSS

i really like carmen's idea (idk if you saw this anon) about joemarr spending the night BEFORE ja'marr's birthday tgt, bc let's be honest -parties are just not joe's scene. so yes! joemarrjj DO spend the night before ja'marr's birthday and have their own little celebrations (joejj waking up ja'marr with the sweetest kiss oughhhh). maybe they even spend some time during the day, before jjmarr head off to ja'marr's party!

i LOVE the idea of this secret condo being bought by joe after he signed his contract (and justin buys another place in PARIS last year and now they're just waiting for ja'marr's contract so he can buy a place for all of them too <3).

anyways, joe answers the door, probably all sleepy in his pajamas, bedhair sticking everywhere, voice scratchy from sleep (it's probably like. 4AM). and at first, 2023 lsu is like ??? (ja'marr's actual invitation was like 'come back to MY place' bc ofc it is) so they're a lil confused of why joe fucking burrow is here at ja'marr's place... but he might be here to wish ja'marr a happy birthday too?

but then they watch as joe gets the spare sheets from the closet and justin tells them where the toilet is bc out of the three of them, i personally think he'd be the 'do not fucking throw up on my carpets' person and they're even more confused but also drunk af and not really capable of executive thought.

the following morning, 2023 lsu come out of the bedroom (hungover ofc) with joe cooking some eggs or something with ja'marr glued to the back (and joe is moving around the kitchen comfortably like he's been there a million times -bc he has). justin is making coffee and gently teasing ja'marr over the amount of sugar and cream he puts in his coffee and ja'marr immediately grabs onto justin, wrapping himself around and tucking his head and whining. turns out he did have a lil bit of self-control last night but now he's not in public anymore and it's just them three (and the 2023 lsu) so ja'marr is freeeee to cuddle to his heart's content.

it takes a while, bc they're all hungover and their brains are moving slowly but it finally does click after ja'marr kisses both justin and joe in thanks for the post-birthday breakfast and it's like. oh. oooohhhh.

and yes, anon they did NOT think this was even an option and their minds have been opened and they're just like. wow. wowwww.

#damn this got long #i got too excited i fear #anon you have since inspired a whole new part of the 'notice me senpai' fic #drunk ja'marr getting reallll close and 2023 lsu practically hyperventilating bc his eyes are just so damn pretty #then taking them home and opening their eyes up to the fact that throuples exist #(SECRET CONDO i can't get over that sorry)#technically ig #my writing #more like #my headcanons #joemarrjj #jayden/malik/brian #my asks #thank you so much anon i will be stewing in this for a while!

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foul-milk · 1 year ago

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the mental image of Alex acting all shocked when Jost told him that George is moving to Mercedes like the two of them haven't obviously been gossiping about that for probably as long as George has known is sending me 😭😭😂😂

#just got around to watching this and it's actually even better than i thought it would be #the beginning of the episode when he talks about how his mum going to jail affected him at a young age is so heartbreaking #f1 #alex albon #george russell #galex

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yume-no-miya · 5 months ago

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look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

#it's the she fell first he fell harder thing. gooodd hjs have such common dynamic the frustrating and infuriating type #like look at first she have a crush on him right but as a model. that girl is literally a moth she gets attracted by those with light #though at first she admires him as a model and knew him through toma- her kamioshi. though i think... she just starts admiring him a lot?#she literally went through a 'highschool crush' phase but late since she was like. at college 😭#observed him... wow he's a lot similar to her than she thought. that guy puts up a smile in front of strangers and keep people at a distanc #he looked... strangely alone. why? even though he have friends too. she saw herself in hajun and... didnt want to be like him #will she keep putting up a face too? will she keep lying to herself? and would that make her alone in the end as well? she didnt want that.#so shes like yknow what? let's be shameless. her friends had been so loving of her unconditionally.#she thought that they'll leave after highschool and yet... and yet they stayed. they keep approaching her.#and come to think of it... they're always the ones giving effort for her right? when it comes to planning for hang outs-#they're always the one to reach out. never her. shouldnt she return the favor then? love them as much as they love her #pour all her heart out. she used to do it- she can do it again. love people unconditionally without expecting anything from them.#surely this time it'd be different. surely it wont drain her. even if there's a chance they'll leave her- it doesnt matter now.#she knows she gave her everything and that's enough for her. maybe she'll feel better if she had realized this when she was a child...#but that's okay now! so for now! lesson learned: dont be hajun #but also sae. just have a different view of hajun in her head 😭??? like she admits she didnt really know hajun before but actually meeting #him must be so complicated for her lol like this guy used to be her crush! and she got to talk to him but holy shit he's lowkey an asshole😭#not even lowkey but he really is a bitch lmfaaooo so like. damn 'i forgot i used to have a crush on this guy like i used to like him???'#'in what way??? (his looks dont even deny it sweetie)' i think her crush on him in the past made her more snappy towards him now lmfao #like 'gooooddd i used to have a crush on THIS GUY??? that's making me piiisseedd' LMAAAOOO 😭😭#i genuinely have NOOOOO idea how they started having this dynamic but it's just. them lowkey insulting each other? not really INSULT insult #but rather bickering masked by politeness? like 💢^^) (^^💢 selfish ohime-sama vs black hearted prince #but the one who's usually losing here would be sae ngl and hajun's mostly the one being playful tho tbf they CAN calmly talk to each other #sometimes they just become competitive? sae herself is a competitive one at first it would be 'oho~ let's see how long he can keep this up~#to 'give up already!!!! my social battery isn't gonna last long!!!!!!!!' and hajun's just watching her lose it every time 😭😭#ah.... my absolutely pathetic daughter im so sorry..... when it comes to him she gets unreasonably annoyed. just who does he think he is?#and yet she can't even feel arrogant around him. she knows bae are on a different league than her. that's why despite being very friendly a #expressing her admiration towards them she still puts up a barrier around them? it's not that deep she have her own close friends #yumeshipping — hajusae [prri]

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aria0fgold · 1 year ago

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Been playing Sims 2 a lot and now I know what it feels like to be a rookie god whose creations are doing fuck all while I'm here stressing how to repair the relationship between Alec and Ray all cuz Ray got jealous seeing his bestie sleep in the same bed with Marcie, who, by the way, has been living with them SINCE I STARTED THIS GAME.

#aria rants #i aint even letting em work. IM DOING THE WORK. i provide the money with my godpowers (motherlode cheatcode)#all i want is my ocs to live happily but SOMEHOW im watching a love triangle drama happen right before my eyes #rays been having flaming thought bubbles. spending time alone. he nearly lived in the hottub i got for him #he wouldnt get out without divine intervention. meanwhile alec cant get the hint despite my many efforts of always #getting him to apologize to ray just to get rid of his fury. but then he turns around and flirts with marcie and the BUTLER #stop with your floating hearts thought bubbles and CALM YOUR FRIEND DOWN #maybe if i gave em jobs it wouldve fixed this but alas... the consequences of a doting mother and sims 2 ai #altho this did give me an idea for my actual ocs outside of the game in that if alec and ray hadnt known each other #since they were young. i can see ray being insecure bout himself cuz of his ''plain-looking appearance'' and would think #that alec is better off making other friends than him as if ray isnt alrdy the bestest friend alec can have and vice versa

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anqelrafe · 13 days ago

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— ୨ৎ bsf!rafe showing your date what he was missing out on.

synopsis: after getting stood up by your date, your best friend decides he's gonna show him what he could've had. authors note: i'm honestly not sure how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out before i lose motivation. anywayss, enjoy!!. . .♡ content warnings: not proofread. a little rushed cause i'm tired lol. contains smut, mdni. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. oral f.receiving. fingering. praise. on call during sex.

rafe laid on his bed, his head resting comfortably on his pillows with his arm draped lazily over his eyes. he had been listening to you talk about your day for the past hour, just barely listening to bits and pieces. he was really only waiting for you to skip to the lunch date you were supposed to have that afternoon, but you were so stuck on the topic of wanting to try out a new lip combo—whatever that was. so he decided it would just be quicker to just ask you himself.

“what about that date?” he cuts you off mid sentence, moving his arm from his eyes to peer over at you while you leisurely span around in the swivel chair at his desk. “with uhh...what was his name? ayden?” your glossed lips pull into a frown, stopping your spinning “andrew,” you correct, your finger twirling around a loose thread on your shorts. “and it didn't happened. he never came”

rafe's eyes shifted to yours, an annoyed furrow in his eyebrows forming at your admission “you mean that asshole never even showed up?” he scoffed, now fully sitting up against the headboard.

“nope,” your murmur, shifting in your seat “not only that, but he texted me an hour later to tell me he didn't feel like coming.”

“what a pussy,” rafe muttered under his breath, pushing his greasy hair away from his forehead as he tried to suppress an eye roll. he hated it whenever someone wasted your time or let you down. he always thought any guy who you even batted an eye at was incredibly lucky. “he just doesn't deserve you then. n i already told you that you were too good for him. don't know why you don't listen to me. you need to go after guys who would treat you better.”

your lips purse, tilting your head sideways as you toy with the polish on your manicured finger. “uh huh. and who would that be, hm? you?”

“yes.” rafe’s answer is almost immediate and without hesitation. he had no shame, no remorse, no fear. he was straightforward and honest to a fault. “i’d never let you down, you know that. and i'd show you what your date should've done.”

your fingers stop picking at your nail polish, your lips pulling into a thin line. you knew rafe was a good friend, he always had been. but boyfriend material? you weren't so sure. you've seen the way he's run through girls like t-shirts; and you refused to be one of his discards. “rafe—” you started, but he cut you off, waving his hand dismissively.

“nah, nah. don’t ‘rafe’ me. i’m serious. you don't wanna date me? fine. understandable. but at least let me help ya out. y'know, as your friend. i could be uh...setting a standard or...whatever you wanna call it. i could give you a better time than he would've.”

you weren't stupid, you knew what rafe was trying to do. it's how he got all of the island girls to flock over him─manipulation. but was it really manipulation if you wanted it too?

‎ ‎ ─── ✷ ⊹ ࣪

“you taste so fuckin' good. shit — you're drippin for me.” rafe groaned, his eyes trained on drenched folds before they locked on your face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure with every swirl of his tongue against your clit. “feel good, yeah?”

you were only able to force out a few incoherent sounds, the overwhelming pleasure making your brain fuzzy. any guy you've ever slept with never offered or made the slightest effort to eat you out like this. so the new sensation of rafe's tongue had you seeing stars and gasping beneath him. “c'mon, i asked you a question, i want actual words, alright? i want you to tell me how good it feels. and look at me when i'm taking t'you.” rafe spoke against your sex, the vibration of his words making your hips twitch.

“mngh....y-yes.” you breath out, forcing your eyes open to lock to his, “feels good...s'good.” you whimper, glossed lips parting as you stare down at him.

“mmh, there ya go, that's my girl. when i ask something i expect a real answer, yeah?” rafe murmured as two of his long fingers easily slipped into your soaking hole, pulling a mewl from your lips and making your back arch off the mattress slightly. “fuck baby, you're perfect — s'fuckin tight.” he groaned, watching the way your narrow pussy sucked in his fingers, a ring of your slick coating the base of his digits. “y'been giving this pussy to amateurs i bet. don't worry though..i'll stretch ya out real nice.” rafe murmured, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, your eyes rolling back while his fingers moved in slow, deep strokes, finding the spongy spot that made you cinch around his fingers.

“mgnh...fuck, rafe. i—” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets under you, your words being punctuated by rafe purposely humming around your clit, the vibration making your hips twitch. “mmh yeah i know, pretty girl. gonna cum, yeah? go on baby...make a mess f'me.”

his hands squeeze your thighs as they start to tremble, a loud whine falling from your lips as your orgasm hits, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, glossy eyes squeezing shut. rafe groans against you, lapping your juices as he helps you ride out your orgasm. “yeah, that's it, baby...good girl.”

you felt completely boneless, muscles trembling and skin buzzing all over as you slowly try to come down, catching your breath as he pulled himself up to hover over you, his hand tapping your trembling outer thigh “open up f'me baby.”

your eyes flutter open, thighs shaking as you slowly let them fall open. your eyes half lidded as you stared up at him. rafe groans softly at the sight before him, positioning himself between your legs and slowly slid his leaking tip up and down your glistening lips, teasing your clit slowly.

“fuuuck” rafe groaned as he started to slip his twitching member into your leaking cunt, his eyes fluttering at the sensation of him bottoming out. “shit baby, you're so fuckin' tight...suckin' me in s'good” rafe grunted, his hips starting to snap against yours as he drove his cock in and out, watching your lips part and eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

your head falls back onto the mattress as you mewled beneath him, your lips opening but no words leaving your mouth, already too cock drunk to form any coherent sentences. “bet you needed this, hm? needed this pussy taken care of s'bad, you just had to be fucked by your best friend — you like that, don't you, baby? you like your best friend's cock stretching you out?”

before you could even process what rafe said, the sharp, jarring sound of your phone ringing pierced through the air. the loud and harsh sound causing rafe's eyes to snap up in annoyance, his grip on your hips tightening. “fuckin' christ — who's calling?”

with your brain slowly working to catch up to the situation, the persistent ringing of your phone seemed to finally sink in. your hands fumble around as you search for the phone, eventually finding it. glancing at the caller id, your eyes flutter in surprise, and you let out a whimper, forced to keep your eyes open as rafe's hips continue their relentless rhythm. “w-wait,” you stammer, struggling to catch your breath as you see andrew's name flash across the screen. “i — shit — i need to-”

“answer it.” he ordered, smirking down at you as he watched the name flash on the screen. “let him know your best friend's takin' good care of this pussy.” rafe murmured, noticing the hesitance in your expression.

“wasn't a question.” rafe grunted, taking your phone from your hand without any consent, his thrusts getting rougher as he answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “mmh, y/n's busy. fuck— y'know you're really missin' out though, man. this pussy's a fuckin' dream.” rafe spoke between breathy moans, the sounds of skin slapping and both you and rafe's moans clearly heard on the other end by andrew. “hear that? s'the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

“hey, what is…” andrew's voice comes through the other end of the line, his words trailing off when he realized who he was talking to. “rafe?” rafe's smirk only widens at the sound of the obvious confusion and uneasiness in andrew's voice. “uh huh..” rafe groaned, “fuck man, she's takin' my dick so well; she even makes the prettiest noises f'me wanna hear?” the condescending, almost faux sympathy in rafe's voice was clear, it was obvious he was getting off on this.

he angled the phone closer to your face, making sure the sound of your lewd, almost pornographic moans and whines were clearly heard over the phone. “mmh yeah, all those pretty sounds just for me. but i uh— fuck, she might need to call y'back, man. gonna fill this pussy up soon.”

true to his word, rafe led you through four quivering orgasms after he hung up, letting himself go after your fourth one, his hips stuttering as his cock twitched, his warm liquid spilling inside of you.

“that definitely wasn't our last time...pussy's mine now.” rafe breathed out, collapsing next to you.

taglist 🪽: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl @drewswife @plaidcowboy @missquantic @rafesdiorperfume @minitarayummy @this-one-weeb @akobx @mystianqel @lacebambidoll @dolletebun @milamilkie @ch6rm @rafesprecious

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joelsgoldrush · 4 months ago

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“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind.

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later.

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words.

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?”

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out.

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture.

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them.

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable.

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position.

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes.

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know.

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell. It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more. He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration.

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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ybbag777 · 1 year ago

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I could ponder for hours what my favorite Stryker of painting to 'look' at is, but my favorite style of painting to 'paint' is impressionist by w mile. There's something about the impression of it that's just so fun to try to create by looking at a scene.

#i started painting landscapes about a year ago #and ever since ive started loving the world around me more #the small moments in life when you just stare out windows and watch trees fly by #going anywhere or seeing anything felt like a reason to go anywhere or do anything #like is there anything better than seeing trees and the sky and breathing in the fresh air?#im kind of coming out of a period of pretty bad depression #and one of the things that got me through it was just trying to find something loved about anything #even if it was just a color a shape the way that thelight bounced off it #theres more to life than what things look like but i feel like i was trying to love what was going on in front of me #and now im okay with making myself happy #i can still be sad about things but im not sad all day #instead of being the exact same all the time i can be angry one moment and happy a few later #i still like to paint #but its not my only joy now #i was scared of going on meds for a long time because i had a really bad experience with them when i was younger #but im actually really glad that i went to someone to get help #they havent done a ton to supress the i trusive thoughts but they have helped a lot with the depression #i feel better #i know its not perfect but i can feel good #and that little bit of releif feels like the world #i don't know im just thinking out loud now #still hella dyslexic but whatever

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aliyahwritings · 5 months ago

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ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach.

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating.

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy.

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini.

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you.

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

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